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“What if she just switched sides? Finding her would do more harm than good.”
“Just switched sides? You make it sound like such a trivial affair. We are Shades, shadows of the Heavenly Principles, it’s unthinkable,” Ronova had answered.
Back in her void where there was no concept of time nor space, Istaroth perched on a tree, staring at the nothingness before her.
Asmoday was still missing, now loyal to her new master. What had always been four was now reduced to three. Ronova was right to say that it was unthinkable. The four of them were Shades, and would always be Shades. Not even Naberius, having merged with Rhinedottir, could be free of what they were.
But as Istaroth closed her eyes once more and opened them, she found herself still perched on a tree, only that there was wind blowing gently against her cheeks, and there was a faint twinge of grape sweetness, lingering in the breeze.
With a soft sigh, she took in a deep breath and let the winds of Windrise fill her lungs.
Istaroth did not believe in the existence of truths and falsehoods.
As the God of Time, she understood better than any other that the concepts of truths or falsehoods were mere constructs, meaningless in the face of temporal infiniteness.
For who could say for sure that something would always be true, or say that something would never come to pass?
There was, however, one time that she had uttered something that would be considered a lie.
Just that one time.
Her shameful little secret.
“That Anemo Archon is claimed to be a God of Time,” Ronova had said during one of the meetings, pausing to look at Istaroth. “You don’t have anything to do with it, do you?”
“You know my little wind spirits hold fragments of my power,” Istaroth had answered, smiling back at her gently. “It seems like this little one got lucky.”
Ronova had accepted her explanation and moved on, while Asmoday had shot her a brief look of suspicion but did not act on it, because Istaroth never lied.
But Istaroth did lie.
The being who inhabited the Anemo Archon, who lived and breathed as the Anemo Archon, was not some little wind spirit- it was her.
For as long as she had existed, she had always yearned to be free of the shackles of being a Shade, to be free of the prison of time. She was always trapped between the dawn of existence to the end of it, experiencing and controlling all of it at the same time.
She had wanted to be part of something.
She had wanted to be part of some time.
She had joined the resistance against Decarabian as a little wind spirit, a quiet cheerleader going initially unnoticed.
But one thing led to another, and somehow, for the last thousands of years, she had led a parallel existence as Barbatos, the Anemo Archon.
And the others never found out the truth.
How could they have? She alone was capable of existing in two places in the same time.
“Venti,” a familiar voice called out, shaking her from her stupor.
Right. Venti. That was who she was now, at this present moment.
“Hello there, traveller!” Venti called out, wriggling his fingers playfully as he leapt from the tree. “How was Fontaine!”
“We just came back from Natlan, Fontaine was months ago,” Lumine answered, a touch of light exasperation in her voice.
“Have you been drinking too much again, Tone-Deaf Bard?” Asmoday- no, Paimon- mocked, her sense of humour same as ever, undulled by her apparent memory loss.
“That depends on what you define by much, my little friend,” Venti answered cheerily, pulling out a lyre. He began to sing, “A pint is too much for a wee little runt, but nothing at all to someone who’s a grunt-“
“Alright alright,” Paimon interrupted, making vague noises of protest, “We get the point! We came to find you because we wanted to ask you a question!”
“Oh, and what would that be?” Venti asked, tucking the lure back in his pocket void.
“Tell us what you know about the Shades,” Lumine said.
Venti’s smile froze.
“So you do know something about them!” Paimon said triumphantly.
“I can’t say that I do,” Venti said, his words completely true.
“Even if you don’t know much, just a little something will help,” Lumine said, her eyes wide and bright. “It’s important. We’ve only managed to piece together a few bits and pieces- the one who separated me and my brother was Asmoday, and the Shade of Time is-“
“Do not say their names,” Istaroth said quietly, very carefully not looking directly at Paimon, “For you may summon what ought not to be summoned.”
Lumine swallowed. “Got it. But still… I need to know.” She bit her lip. “Please.”
Istaroth looked away, staring at the statue of the Anemo Archon next to the tree. “Just as there are words that should not be said, there are some stories which must not be known,” she said, reaching out to catch a stray falling leaf. It would seem that even after all this time, the traveler still has not learnt this lesson. The leaf crumpled and yellowed between Istaroth’s fingers. “You have been to Sumeru, I am sure you have heard of the tale of King Deshret and Forbidden Knowledge.”
“But I am not of this world,” Lumine said, a note of determination in her voice, “Changes to the Irminsul or forbidden knowledge will not affect me.”
Istaroth set the withered leaf on the ground lightly, rising back to her full (not-very-tall) height as Venti. She knew what the traveller was referring to - the story of Rukkhadevata being unwritten from reality. Istaroth, who had personally planted the seeds of that story, had naturally knew of its loss.
But Venti, a mere Anemo Archon, would not have known. So Venti answered, the leaf at his feet turning green as he spoke, “I am afraid I cannot help you- after all, I am just a bard.”
“Dodging our questions again… I knew you wouldn’t help us,” Paimon grumbled, crossing her arms, “I guess we’ll have to go adventuring to find answers about the Shades on our own, as usual!”
Oh, Asmoday, if only you knew.
“Safe travels, my friends,” Venti said brightly, waving his hands as he hopped back up to his favourite spot on the tree. He gave a playful curtsy. “And may we next meet on a better occasion.”
“Bye, Tone-Deaf Bard!” Paimon called out, while Lumine simply waved back.
—
The next time they met, it was across a battlefield, Istaroth flanked by Ronova and Naberius, while Lumine and Paimon stood at the other end, no hint of recognition in their eyes.
Some time and some place far far away, Venti wept.