Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To capture the gaze of the gods was an enviable thing, to most. Their attention was a blessing as long as it was benign, but to the royal family of Sumeru it had never been so.

Thousands of years ago, the old gods of the sands had reawakened a force so ancient it predated heaven itself. Now they were gone, killed in their attempts to right their own wrongdoing and quell the devastating force they had roused. It was knowledge that was not from their world; abyssal in nature, and the cause of profound human suffering.

Some believed this Forbidden Knowledge to be a sentient being, malevolent and capable of hunger. It grew more powerful and destructive by infecting the bodies of both the land and its people. It wreaked havoc when it began to starve, devouring anything in its path until it was satiated. Others believed Forbidden Knowledge to be a neutral force, made dangerous only when cultivated by human greed and wickedness. Some—a minority—saw it as an opportunity, unfazed by the horrors that resulted from attempting to harness its power.

Whatever the truth behind Forbidden Knowledge, the people of Sumeru had worked ceaselessly over the centuries to find a permanent solution. Some scholars dedicated their lives to finding a way to eradicate it, while others devoted theirs to keeping it contained with temporary solutions using magic or science.

However, before their demise, the gods had already found an effective solution for temporarily stopping its rampage.

They cast their divine gaze upon Sumeru's mortal leaders, and sent upon them a powerful curse. Like a disease, it spread by blood through generations, and outsiders who bore cursed children also became afflicted. Only in death could they suppress Forbidden Knowledge, the sacrifice of their cursed spirits satiating it much faster than anything else ever could.

Fearing they might become targets if this burden of theirs was shared, the royal family kept the knowledge of it close to them; their most protected secret. Every scroll or tablet that held mention of its existence was burned or crushed, carvings and paintings torn from ancient walls.

The rise and spread of Forbidden Knowledge was unpredictable, and so too was the need for sacrifice. Countless generations of royals had been consumed, yet it was clear that their souls could only treat the symptoms, not the infection. As the years went on, it only grew more aggressive, and sacrifices were needed all the more frequently. The royal family slowly began to shrink.

There was never a more dire situation than the one dubbed simply “The Outbreak”—or to the royal family, “the sacrifice.” It was the quickest and most widespread explosion of Forbidden Knowledge in Sumeru's history, claiming thousands of lives. The number of sacrifices required to stop it almost wiped out the royal family entirely. Now, only four remained in that massive desert palace; the king and queen, and their beloved son and daughter.

When the prince was still a child, he often asked his parents about their shared affliction.

Why them?

How did the curse work?

How could they rid themselves of it?

Would he truly have to sacrifice himself someday?

Much to his frustration, some of his questions simply could not be answered. But the king and queen knew that their son, ever eager to find the answers to everything, would someday seek the truth for himself. 

Perhaps someday, he would find it.

Chapter Text

The sun sat high in what looked to be a desert’s ruthless midday, the sky void of even a wisp. Yet it was not hot, as it ought to be. The Goddess was alone, trapped there between boundless sands and cyan sky. With her legs folded beneath her, she sat with the dry, tepid air hanging around her, breezeless. She dug into the cool sand with cupped hands, but after hours, the hole there did not grow wider or deeper.

She dug, and she clawed, and she wept.

Her hair, impossibly long and as white as the untouched snow of Dragonspine, fanned out around her. From it grew towering palm trees, shrubs, and bright blooming flowers. Her tears nurtured the land, and soon an oasis was born, cradling its own weeping creator in the middle of barren land.

The prince, who had been watching in curious silence from afar, entered The Goddess’ oasis. He picked up a fallen Ajilenakh nut and lazily began to peel back the skin. He ate while he pondered the meaning of her actions. 

The Goddess continued ceaselessly until night fell—until her movements grew languid with exhaustion and her eyes dried up—and finally, the prince waded through a shallow, salty pool of tears and kneeled beside her.

“What is it?” he found himself asking, even though he was not expecting an answer he could understand. The two of them had met like this countless times. Every question he posed was met with an answer, but to the prince’s ears her voice was nothing more than white noise. Sometimes it was wind rustling through trees. Other times, a roaring rainforest waterfall or the rapid flapping of a flock of startled birds.

It made no difference; hearing her real voice wouldn’t help anyway. Over the years, the two of them had tried communicating with one another in countless ways. The prince had learned by reading The Goddess’ lips that he knew no language like the one she spoke. She’d written in the sand, carved words into trees, summoned plants and vines to scrawl her words across the earth. But no matter what, the prince was unable to understand.

It was not all that bizarre; he knew that within dreams, written language was difficult to interpret.

He used to wonder if his voice was also indiscernible to her, and what sorts of sounds she would hear when he spoke. Was it the sound of book pages turning, footsteps on marble floors, or coffee pouring? As he grew older, he understood that she didn’t have a consciousness of her own within the confines of his dreams, and so she did not truly perceive anything at all. 

Eventually, the prince had discovered that the only way the two of them could communicate was with emotion. This did not give him all the information he wanted, but it was the closest they could come to understanding one another.

A high-pitched rustling of foliage passed through her lips, like a tiny creature flitting across the rainforest floor. She reached for him, already knowing he wouldn’t understand. When she grasped his hand, he closed his eyes tightly to feel what she felt.

Hunger.

The prince’s stomach was content, the sweetness of the Ajilenakh nut still lingering faintly on his tongue. It wasn’t the physical effects of hunger he felt, but the mental toll of starvation. Having grown up in the royal palace, he’d hardly faced hunger, let alone starvation. Yet somehow, this felt awfully familiar to him.

That was when he understood that this was not a physical hunger. Food grew on the trees of her oasis, and all she had to do was pull her attention away from digging for a moment to see it. Besides that, divine beings should not be restricted by bodily needs like eating or sleeping.

No, it was not food she needed. This was a longing for something intangible. The emotion was so deep and biting that the prince felt weak to it. Like in spite of himself, he too would dig futilely through the sand to find what he sought.

“You’re looking for an answer,” he mumbled to himself. For knowledge.

The Goddess squeezed his hand, feeling his understanding, then released him. She turned her full attention back to her task.

Suddenly, the prince felt the sharp bite of annoyance. Dreams like this were nothing more than a manifestation of his real-life frustrations. He’d spent his entire life feeling this ‘hunger,’ but he had already given up on digging fruitlessly for divine answers that simply weren’t meant to be known.

“Stop digging,” he demanded, “You’ll never find it here.”

Seeming forlorn, her movements slowed. Then, as if startled by something, The Goddess quickly stood up and looked toward the shore. The prince slowly stood with her and followed her gaze. At a glance, he might have missed it; a little desert fox watched them from a distance, its ears standing tall and its tail drooping behind it.

When he turned his attention back to The Goddess again, she was gone. He looked all around him, squinting through the dark, but the existence of the oasis was the only trace of her that remained. He turned his attention to the hole beneath the water, and kneeled before it in the exact spot The Goddess had just abandoned. Curiosity clawed at him, and even though it felt ridiculous, he also began to dig.

It only took a moment for his hand to graze over something. Had it really been there all along? He grasped the object tightly, prepared to force it free from the sand, and reveal what The Goddess had so ardently been searching for.

But before he could, there was a hand firmly grasping his shoulder. His heart lurched, and he stood to face whoever had snuck up on him. As if a switch flipped from night to day, the sun blazed in the sky once more, shining directly into his eyes.

He woke, never learning what had been buried there.

—

Thick tree roots began to rise from a break in soft earth, reaching upward for Al Haitham’s extended hand. They twisted around one another like snakes writhing, and then curved back toward the ground in an imperfect arch. Moss sprouted on the roots, and soon grew thick and soft as a cushion, while a single giant leaf unfurled above to block the sun.

“Al Haith—“

He didn’t have to look to know it was the palace architect. Hardly anyone in the palace referred to him by only his name, rather than ‘Prince’ or ‘Your Highness.’ Kaveh’s informality didn’t bother him. What did bother him, however, was his temper.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kaveh demanded, not at all attempting to hide his horror.

“I’m making myself a place to read. What is it?”

“Could you at least think about aesthetics? I spent a lot of time designing this garden, and that,” he pointed at Al Haitham’s creation, “is an eyesore."

Al Haitham frowned, and turned to fully regard Kaveh. He was looking a bit disheveled, as if he’d been frantically running around.

There were plenty of comfortable places to read in the palace, but it had been some time since he’d been out to the palace garden, and he wanted to properly enjoy it. However, the garden’s benches were meant for a short rest, not hours of lounging like he was planning. He’d thought of having some servants bring out a chaise, but using his Vision to reshape some tree roots in less than a minute would have given him more reading time, had Kaveh not interrupted.

Al Haitham didn’t feel like explaining any of this to Kaveh, who had already decided to be upset with him. Instead he said, “Normally, I would find a place to sit in the library. But as it turns out, it’s been closed for months. If only the royal architect would hurry up and complete his work.”

Defensively, Kaveh crossed his arms. He appeared as though he wanted to argue, but to Al Haitham’s amazement, he managed to hold it in. “Right. That’s why I’m here. I came all this way to tell you that it’s finished. I figured you’d want to be present for its reveal.”

This new library’s reveal was something Al Haitham had been looking forward to for some time. After all, the library was where he’d spent most of his life, and at some point it had become more familiar to him than his own living quarters. He worked his way up to higher shelves as he grew taller over the years, taking any book he could reach. At this point, he was sure he was close to reading every book there.

“Yes. But we’re leaving this here for now,” Al Haitham said, referring to his makeshift reading chair.

Kaveh hesitated, considering undoing Al Haitham’s work with his own Vision, but ultimately left it alone to follow him inside.

Once they made it there, the two of them found a mass of people loitering in the hallway outside the closed double doors of the library. Standing farther off were the servants and attendants, as well as a gaggle of scholars. The king, queen, and crown princess were all standing together at the front of the group, closest to the doors. 

Al Haitham’s older sister was the first to notice his approach.

Princess Faruzan, the firstborn child of Sumeru’s King Jamshid and Queen Tilila, would one day ascend to the throne. Looking at her now—her expression that of the snooty older sister he’d always known—Al Haitham couldn’t picture it. There was a difference in age of eight years between the two of them, which was precisely why they’d never been particularly close. Despite this, he could easily admit she was one of the most ambitious people he knew. Responsible, intelligent, and eager to one day rule her nation. 

She was already wed, and though her husband was quite a prominent figure amongst the elite in Sumeru, he was certainly not the ruling type. So while the current king and queen co-ruled Sumeru on equal ground, Princess Faruzan would one day be the sole ruler. For this reason, the king and queen poured most of their attention and time into their eldest daughter.

The princess greeted her brother with a hand on her hip. “Finally.”

“Haitham,” his mother greeted, smiling. She approached him and raised her hand up. Like a reflex, he bowed his head to her and let his hair be patted. “We’re so excited for you to finally see it.”

Queen Tilila was known for her smile, ever present and warm as a rainforest breeze. Al Haitham often wondered how she could wear it so easily in her position. She was not born afflicted with the royal curse, but acquired it when she conceived a child with someone who was. Those who were betrothed to members of the royal family were not made aware of the curse until after they wed, and she was no exception. Al Haitham found it despicable, and couldn’t fathom how she retained her loving spirit after learning all the ways the curse would make her suffer.

She turned to Kaveh and said, “Thank you for fetching him.”

He bowed, a hand over his heart. “Of course, Your Majesty. I figured he of all people should be here.”

“Of course he should. It’s essentially his new bedroom,” Princess Faruzan teased, lighthearted.

Al Haitham said nothing to dispute this, because she wasn’t wrong. It was no rarity to find him late at night in the library, slumped forward against a table or reclined on a couch with a book on his chest. In fact, this habit of dozing off in the library was how he had first met the royal architect in the first place.

Kaveh often spent late nights working tirelessly on new designs for their outdated palace. Unlike the servants and librarians who found the prince as he slumbered, Kaveh had never been afraid to wake Al Haitham as he was leaving for the night. Whenever the half-sleeping prince grumbled and attempted to shoo him away, he’d simply continue to pester him until he finally got to his feet. Sometimes Kaveh walked him back to his bedchamber. Just to keep him company and finish up their discussions, of course.

“Are you ready?” Kaveh asked him.

Al Haitham nodded, and watched him step forward to stand before the doors. He took a deep breath, and pushed his way through.

The first thing to hit Al Haitham was the scent that wafted out of the open doors. He inhaled deeply, suddenly dizzied with nostalgia. Despite its newness and vastness, the place had retained its old smell.

The entire group passed the threshold, heads tilted back to look up at towering, domed ceilings. The clicks of their shoes on the tile drew Al Haitham’s attention to the geometric, flower-like designs on the floor. Ornate, rounded arches, swirling designs, and frosty stained glass made it dizzying to take in at first. The design was as dramatic as Kaveh, yet tasteful and elegant all the same. In the very center of the room, a tree towered above a small garden of ferns. The ceiling directly above it was made of glass so clear and spotless it looked like there was nothing there at all.

This wasn’t a simple remodeling. Kaveh had added onto the palace, doubling the size of the library. There were now three levels, spiral staircases ascending to each one. The walls of the top two levels were all empty shelves that needed to be filled with new literature.

Al Haitham had to admit that he was at a loss for words. His family did the speaking for him instead.

“This is stunning, Kaveh. I am in awe,” the queen gasped.

“As am I. Truly, you never fail to astound me with your designs,” the king added.

Sputtering a little, Kaveh’s face bloomed red at the praise. He quickly attempted to gather his wits about him, bowed, and said in as even a voice as he could muster, “I’m just happy it pleases Your Majesties.”

“As expected of the Light of Kshahrewar,” Faruzan said, and nudged him gently with her elbow.

Kaveh was unable to contain his grin. “Thank you, Your Highness. You’re the reason I was able to do this in the first place.”

“Oh, please.” She waved off his words, but it was clear by her pleased expression that she enjoyed some of the credit.

“It’s been a while since we last hosted a celebration. Perhaps we ought to have a banquet soon, and show off the new library,” the queen said quietly to her husband. Hearing this, Kaveh’s eyes grew wide.

They all began to meander in their own directions to explore the newly built wonder. The scholars who’d followed them inside seemed to be analyzing the architecture, while the attendants trailed behind the king, queen, and princess, all going separate ways. That left Al Haitham and Kaveh.

“If the royal family wants to show off my design, then I have definitely reached the peak of my career,” mumbled Kaveh, mostly to himself.

“Don’t limit yourself like that. You’ve only just begun, haven’t you?” said Al Haitham.

Kaveh whipped his head around to look at him with urgency. “Well? What do you think?”

“Good work,” he said, with just a hint of a smile.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?"

“Your potential was truly showcased here. It’s like Faruzan said; you’ve earned your title as the best of Kshahrewar.” 

Looking a little smug, Kaveh said, “Wow. It’s rare to hear such high praise from you.”

Al Haitham shrugged. “I know how to give credit where it’s due. I’m only being honest.”

Awkwardly, Kaveh cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, there’s a special feature I have to show you.”

He followed him to a corner of the library the others had not yet ventured to. They stopped in front of a section that appeared to be dedicated to comprehensive books about law around Teyvat. Al Haitham couldn’t say he had a particular interest in the topic…

“Elemental energy isn’t exactly my area of expertise, so Cyno helped me with this part. And Princess Faruzan is the one who helped me with the actual mechanism.”

“Huh. How’d you manage to get their help?”

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t hard. Friends are usually willing to help if you ask nicely. Now, are you watching?”

Kaveh reached up and placed his fingertips flat against the spine of a book, right over one of the characters in its title. The text, once white, glowed green with Dendro energy. Kaveh began to touch more books within the same section, while Al Haitham paid close attention to the order. Before long, the glowing green letters on each book formed a single word. Silence. An entire door-sized area of shelving sunk into the floor, revealing a hidden room behind it. 

Al Haitham peered inside and released a breath, thoroughly impressed. He opened his mouth to begin asking questions, but Kaveh didn’t give him the opportunity.

“No one else knows the location of this place. Even though the construction of the library was for you, the king and queen wanted it to match the rest of the palace in aesthetic and grandeur.”

“For…me?” he asked, but Kaveh didn’t hear him, already having stepped inside the room. Al Haitham followed.

“I know it’s not really your preference to hang out in big places with a lot of people, so I built this addition for you. No one can disturb you in here while you’re reading, and if you fall asleep you’ll have somewhere comfortable and private.”

Al Haitham was too focused on those few perplexing words to properly take in his surroundings. “Wait. What do you mean the construction of the library was for me?”

Kaveh’s head cocked in confusion, like a puppy hearing a strange noise. “I thought the library was meant to be a gift to you from the king and queen. They didn’t tell you?”

Al Haitham was a bit perturbed, and it must have shown in the furrow of his brow.

“Why? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head, storing this new information in the back of his mind for later. “It’s nothing.”

“If you say so. Well, what do you think? There’s more shelf space for you to hoard your favorite books here. A larger desk and a more comfortable seating area. The lighting should be sufficient, even without windows. There’s a one-way exit in the back that leads to a nook in the eastern courtyard.

There was a sweetness to the air; the scent of newly chopped athel wood and fruit. Though the spacious room was much less extravagant than the rest of the library, it was well-decorated. There were more shelves and a work desk further in. In the center sat low sofas that encompassed a table rather conveniently sized for holding several wine cups and perhaps even a game of cards. Al Haitham found it ironic that a place meant to remain a secret had been furnished to adequately host a gathering.

“This is ideal. Definitely more my style,” Al Haitham said, nodding in approval as he inspected the area.

Kaveh smiled, satisfied with that answer. “Glad you like it. I should get back out there and speak with the king and queen.”

He turned to leave but before he could, Al Haitham caught his arm. “Kaveh.”

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

When Al Haitham was a child, he’d read books about royalty, princes, and palaces. In many of these stories, there inevitably existed a younger sibling living in the shadow of the one who would someday sit upon the throne. Characters such as these never failed to set the stage for lies, betrayal, and usurpation.

As much as Al Haitham had enjoyed some of these stories, he found that he simply couldn’t relate to those resentful younger siblings despite being in their exact position. He was an expert at being second in line for the throne and to him, it was a fantastic position to be in. Living in the shadow of his ambitious older sister meant that nobody expected much of him, and he was free to live how he pleased. Having no actual responsibilities had earned him a reputation within the walls of the palace—spoiled, lazy, selfish—but he cared little about the labels others assigned him.

Other than to be left alone, Al Haitham hadn’t ever asked for much. He’d gotten gifts from his family over the years for milestones and birthdays, but never anything quite as extravagant as the new library. As appreciative as he was, he couldn’t help but wonder why his parents had suddenly felt compelled to have it built for him.

They had left the palace on official business the morning following the library’s reveal, and they’d been gone for a week and a half.

“When will they return?” Al Haitham asked an attendant.

“They will be back before nightfall.”

“Good. Then I’ll be joining them for dinner.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” they said with a low bow.

When the king and queen returned that evening just as Al Haitham had been told, there was food waiting for them. He waited until after they ate to ask his burning question.

“Mother, father, I have something I’d like to ask.”

“Of course,” said the king.

“Why did you have the library built?”

“We had it built as a gift to you,” the king answered after the slightest hesitation that Al Haitham didn’t miss. “In addition to that, there are over a thousand books on the way from all over Teyvat to fill the empty shelves.”

“But what exactly is the occasion for such generous gifts?”

Silence descended around the table, and the king and queen exchanged a long look.

“Leave us,” the queen said, and without hesitating every servant exited the room, leaving the royal family alone.

“We need to ask something of you,” the king said.

“I’m leaving,” Faruzan said, and pushed out of her seat.

“Okay, my dear. We understand,” the queen said, watching her daughter’s back with a frown. Once the door was firmly closed behind her, the king and queen turned their attention back to a very unsettled prince.

“We need to have a discussion about the future,” said the queen. “Faruzan will ascend to the throne once we are no longer able to rule, and we have utmost faith that she will be a wonderful queen for Sumeru.”

“But?” Al Haitham’s mind was racing with ideas, and he wished that they would just hurry up and get to the point.

“But Faruzan’s bloodline will end with her,” the king finished, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

Al Haitham stared down at his father’s hands, noting how tightly his fingers were intertwined. Then he looked at his mother, who was holding her breath.

“Faruzan…isn’t going to have an heir?” Al Haitham said slowly.

“She isn’t able to have an heir,” the queen corrected.

He sat with this information for a moment, mind buzzing. “So in order to bribe me into carrying on our bloodline, you had a library built for me?”

“Haitham,” the queen chided gently. “It was not meant to be a bribe. We’ve discussed this situation with Azar, and—”

“With Azar? So naturally I am the last to know about my new duty as royal seed bearer—”

“Haitham!” the king shouted. The prince froze, entire body tensed under the furious glare of his father. Al Haitham had always known his father to have the mildest of temperaments, and it was the first time he’d ever seen the man lose his composure. Looking at the king now, he could only see a man who was exhausted.

Seeing the stunned look on his son, the king took a deep breath before he continued, calmer, “We know this isn’t what you want, and we have tried tirelessly to find another way. There is no other way.”

Al Haitham’s heart was pounding fiercely, but he refused to back down. “As long as our purpose is to act as human sacrifices, I won’t. There has to be another way.”

The queen took her son’s hand and squeezed it. “I am sorry, my dear. This is how it has always been, and how it will continue to be until we are able to find the permanent cure for Forbidden Knowledge.”

Al Haitham pulled his hand from her sharply. How could she, of all people, so easily accept this fate that had been forced upon her? His father had once told him that when the curse had initially been explained to her, newly wed, she did not weep for her own life like most did.

To be a victim of Forbidden Knowledge was a frightening ordeal. It tore the mind apart slowly, like untangling knotwork. In rarer cases, it manifested physically, causing discomfort and gradually inhibiting the body’s natural functions. This was how it took the lives of the common folk. For those who were cursed, to die at the hands of Forbidden Knowledge was to suffer. It shredded consciousness and body and soul alike. Like a starved animal, it left nothing of them. A soul ripped apart was one that could not reenter the cycle and could not ascend, even with a Vision. For them, there was only a cruel promise of suffering, and then of nothingness.

When these details had been explained to the queen, she did not try to leave or cause a scene. She did not refuse to bear the king’s children. Instead she smiled, pondering only briefly before she promised to offer her soul when the time came.

Al Haitham was not full of love and selflessness like his mother. He was not ambitious like Faruzan or dutiful like his father. He could not accept this as easily as they had. He stood to leave his parents, but before he did he told them, “The curse will end with us then. The gods will find another way, or they will have nothing left to rule.”

—

Al Haitham’s entire life, the curse had sat on him like a wet blanket, heavy and uncomfortable, and his parents had never been able to sufficiently answer his questions. So he’d always sought his own ways to sate his desire to understand it. He’d read most of the books in the palace library, noting spells or equations or even vague ideas in fiction about how one might get rid of a powerful curse inflicted by the divine. Of course, he’d had no luck, but easily developed a love for reading, even when it didn’t give him all the answers he sought.

He was a Haravatat scholar, and spent his final years at the Akademiya as a Driyosh, scouring Sumeru in an attempt to find the cure for Forbidden Knowledge in ancient desert ruins. As the prince, he was limited in which corners of the world he could wander to on his own, and so he also regularly coordinated with the team of researchers his family had employed to search the rest of Teyvat.

In thousands of years, no one had found evidence that a cure even existed at all. If Forbidden Knowledge was a poison that was not from this world, then so too was the antidote, and that meant it would be impossible for them to reach. Eventually, Al Haitham had come to accept this.

Their curse didn’t affect him day to day, other than looming over him and giving him a desire to live a leisurely life. If he was going to have to sacrifice himself one day, then he was going to live his life exactly how he wanted. To stray away from what he found tedious, and spend his days doing only what he enjoyed.

The notion that he’d someday have to pass the curse on had naturally crossed his mind before. His parents had brought it up in their discussions of suitors and marriage, and each time Al Haitham had expressed his distaste. His parents hadn’t pushed the issue very far with him, wanting nothing more than for their children to be happy. And besides that, they already had Princess Faruzan, who was eager and willing to fulfill her duties as crown princess.

Now that duty had fallen into Al Haitham’s lap alone.

Since the night the king and queen had told him this, Al Haitham had been avoiding them. In turn, Faruzan had been avoiding him. Most likely, their parents had told her about their discussion, and she was angry with him. Regardless, he sent a servant to request her presence in the library. Whether she accepted the invitation or not was up to her. 

The mid-morning sun beamed through the library’s towering windows, and Al Haitham sat directly in its path. The lighting was excellent for reading, though the sun was beginning to make him too hot. Around him, it was pleasantly quiet, and yet the book he held was failing to hold his attention more effectively than the issue his parents had forced on him.

With a sigh, he snapped it shut, and was about to rise to find another when he heard the sound of footsteps echoing off the tall ceilings—quick heeled shoes stomping on marble floors. Distantly, Al Haitham heard his sister’s voice asking a librarian for his location. He stayed put and waited for her inevitable wrath.

Faruzan rounded the corner, and Al Haitham immediately gestured for her to sit with him. She didn’t.

“What do you want?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Oh, just get to the point.”

“I want to know your thoughts on the situation of heirs and curses.”

Faruzan gave him a nasty little smile and said, “Well, Haitham, I think you’re an entitled, selfish brat.”

“Entitled to what, exactly? Bodily autonomy? I don’t want to have children.”

“You haven’t had to do anything in your entire life, and now you’re refusing to do the only thing that’s ever been asked of you. All you need to do is have sex!”

Al Haitham groaned, waving off her words. She was intentionally oversimplifying it. Having something like that planned by other people felt violating, to say the least. And that was, of course, ignoring the elephant in the room.

“You don’t think it’s cruel bringing a child into the world for the sole purpose of having them sacrificed?”

“Letting the entire world slowly die is crueler, I’d say.”

“That sounds like a problem for the gods who rule said world, doesn't it?”

In disbelief, she shook her head. “You’re really serious? You’d rather watch the world end than see your cushy life uprooted?”

“I’m simply not keen on cleaning up messes made by others. I didn’t ask for this curse.”

“Nobody asks for it, but this is the reality that we’ve accepted! We are the only solution to stopping Forbidden Knowledge.”

“We’re not," Al Haitham said. "All we can do is further delay its ending the world in exchange for our suffering. That is not a solution.”

“Fine then. Go and find the cure. If only you’d had this vigor for eradicating Forbidden Knowledge all this time, before it suddenly affected you personally.”

He frowned. “It’s always affected me personally. Just like you, I have to live with the fact that someday I’m going to have to sacrifice myself.”

A complicated expression flashed on Faruzan’s face then. Finally, with a sigh, she took a seat beside him. “You know, your life won’t change all that much if you do this.”

“How would having a wife and children not change my life?”

Faruzan made a sound of frustration. “If you hadn’t stormed out on mother and father, you would know the whole plan. I will be taking care of the children as if they are my own. As for your wife…well, royal marriages aren’t for love most of the time anyway. Mine is a rare exception.”

This did little to sway him, but he wanted this conversation to be over so that he could return to his reading. “Give me more time to think about it,” he said to placate her for the time being.

She sighed, looking defeated, and let herself sink into the cushions. She squinted against the sun that shone on them and reclined her head to stare up at the intricate designs painted onto the ceiling. Eventually, in a melancholic voice she said, “This conflict would be solved if I could just fulfill my duty and have an heir.”

Al Haitham regarded her for a moment, wondering if he had been wrong about something crucial. Faruzan had given the impression that having a family one day was something she’d always wanted.

“Is that even what you want?” he asked her.

The question seemed to catch her off guard, because she hesitated for a long moment before saying, “I’m not opposed to it. Even if I was, I wouldn’t have a choice, would I?”

“If having a family isn’t something you truly want, and is only something you have to do, then why does it upset you so much that you can’t?”

She looked at him like it was a ridiculous question. “How am I supposed to be the perfect queen I’m meant to be if I can’t fulfill all of my duties?”

He cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed by her deflection.

She sighed, growing more serious. “My priority as queen will be to protect Sumeru, but I can’t protect it from Forbidden Knowledge if I can’t pass on the curse. I want to be able to do this on my own, but now I have no choice but to rely on you.”

“Then you understand how important choice is.”

Faruzan’s eyes were glassy when she looked at him. “I’m sorry for being harsh before. I still think you’re an entitled brat, but for other reasons. Not because you don’t want to pass on this dreaded curse. I’m only frustrated with you because you really are Sumeru’s last hope, and you don’t seem to care.”

Al Haitham scowled, not liking a single part of what she said.

“No pressure, of course,” she added. Then she stood to leave. “Be prepared for mother and father to continue pestering you about having babies.”

She bounced away before Al Haitham could respond, leaving him alone with his book.

—

Kaveh and Al Haitham agreed to give a proper name to the new hidden room in the library, to maintain its secrecy. Al Haitham didn’t find it necessary to put much thought into it, and simply went with “Room of Silence” which he shortened even further to “Silence” to act as a code-word of sorts. However, instead of the modern language of Sumeru, he chose an obscure dialect of the old Deshretian language.

“That’s way too obvious!” Kaveh protested, clearly just displeased with his lack of creativity. “‘Silence’ is the password to enter the room.”

“Among those who frequent this library, I’m sure there are a plethora of Dendro Vision bearers who are familiar with this very specific, ancient dialect,” Al Haitham said, “but we’ll worry about that when they figure out just where to look for this room, and which specific characters to activate on the books.”

Kaveh grumbled, but argued no further.

They sat facing one another on the majlis sofa as Al Haitham explained most of his current predicament to Kaveh. Flickering delicately nearby was a small primal torch, lending them a fireless light just bright enough to see one another across the table. There sat two cups and two bottles, each filled to some degree with sweet wine.

It would have made for a calm evening if not for Kaveh’s howling laughter. “They want you to become a father?!”

Al Haitham took a long drink, deciding not to be insulted.

“Have you met any suitors yet?” Kaveh asked, pouring more wine into his empty cup.

“No.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry too much. Raising kids as royalty couldn’t possibly be that difficult right? Don’t attendants look after them most of the time?”

“Making the child is the first obstacle in this scenario,” Al Haitham muttered.

Kaveh guffawed, wine coming dangerously close to the rim of the cup in which it sloshed. Al Haitham held his breath as he watched it, thinking it would be a shame for such good wine to go to waste. They’d only just made it through their first small bottle, but it was clear that Kaveh was already crossing the line between tipsy and drunk. Al Haitham was certainly feeling it as well.

“I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaveh wheezed, wiping away tears. “But shouldn’t you have seen this coming? I thought suitors and heirs were all part of being royalty.”

Al Haitham took another long drink. “They didn’t push the issue this hard until now.”

“Hm. What would I do if I were in your situation?” Kaveh mused. He reclined back into the sofa, one arm slung over the back and legs crossed comfortably in front of him.

“Knowing you?” said Al Haitham.“You’d probably do exactly what you were asked, regardless of what you actually want.”

“Whatever,” Kaveh grumbled. “If I were the prince, at least I’d have a sense of duty.”

Nobody outside of the royal family and their most trusted officials were aware of the curse, so Al Haitham couldn’t fault him for his nonchalance. Though he was curious to know Kaveh’s thoughts on the situation in its entirety, he was in no hurry to share a family secret that had transcended generations.

“If I marry, there will be no more escorting me back to my bedchamber on nights like these.”

Kaveh stilled for a moment, considering this. Then, he resumed idly swirling the liquid inside his cup, humming in agreement. “That’s probably for the better anyway, right?”

At the start, Kaveh had insisted on a clandestine romance, fearing his position may be compromised if the king and queen learned he had taken the prince to bed. Though Al Haitham was certain his parents would never fire their beloved architect over something so trivial, he respected Kaveh’s wishes.

However, theirs had been a short-lived dalliance, and the stress of secrecy had proven to be their least trying obstacle. They were faced with several problems—a difference in goals and a clash of personalities that led to near-constant bickering—but the most arduous one was quite uncomplicated. Al Haitham was simply not the sort of lover Kaveh sought; someone who could reciprocate his passion and devote his heart to him entirely. Al Haitham quickly realized that he was unable to give Kaveh what he wanted, which was certainly not a man still haunted by the ghost of unrequited love, the object of which was still around, and still visited him in his dreams from time to time.

It ended quickly and amicably, and now nothing more remained of their flame besides a rare rendezvous on wine-drunk nights like these.

A comfortable silence had settled between them as they both nursed what was left of their second bottle of wine. When Kaveh’s eyes met his and their gazes held, Al Haitham came closer.

“You leave tomorrow?” he asked.

Kaveh raised his head and wet his lips with his tongue. “Yes.”

“One last time then, before you leave. Let me thank you properly for the library.”

Chapter Text

It was as if the sun was fed by the exhaustion of those who were forced to traverse the desert in the day; the more worn the traveler, the more potent its heat. Tighnari had prepared for his own particular sensitivity to it, knowing well his limitations. He set out just before sunrise so that he could avoid both the unbearable heat of the day and the moon-roused monsters of the night. A borrowed Sumpter Beast carried his packs for him, allowing him to conserve his strength.

The journey to Auru Village was about a two-hour walk from the oasis he’d camped at the night before, but his trip was lengthened by his need to take it slow and stop for short rests. He knew he was finally growing close when he walked beneath towering rock bridges weathered by wind and sand.

Up ahead, a group of people gathered outside of an isolated building. They all turned to look as he approached, and one of them stepped forward to greet him. She was a beautiful woman whose eyes were starkly different from one another. She stuck the butt of her spear in the sand and said, “Welcome. I am the guardian of Auru Village, Candace. Who might you be, traveler?”

He recognized her name. A few weeks prior, Candace had reached out to the Akademiya for help. Tighnari’s master had informed him of her request, filling him in on the village’s predicament and the rumored cause. Though he knew it was unwise to underestimate the situation here, words like dangerous and risky did not succeed in deterring him from offering his assistance.

“My name is Tighnari,” he said. “I’m here to help.”

Candace’s face lit up with recognition. “Tighnari. The doctor sent by the Akademiya.”

He hesitated. “I guess you could say that. My master, one of the sages, is the person who informed me of the situation. I am no longer affiliated with the Akademiya, but I figured I’d still come and help as best as I can.” 

“We will take all the help we can get.” She smiled at him, but there was sadness in it. “You can tie your Sumpter Beast here. Fodil, will you help with his belongings?”

Candace and Fodil helped Tighnari unpack his bags from the Sumpter Beast. They led him across a wooden bridge and into the village proper, and Tighnari took in the state of Auru as they passed through. He’d been here once or twice before and, though it was quite small when compared to the other desert cities, he could recall that there had been children running around, residents chatting and smiling, and people hustling about for work. Now, the roads were empty, and the few people he saw kept to themselves.

Auru climbed up the sides of a large butte, so it took the three of them some time to climb up every stone step with Tighnari’s many belongings. Eventually, they paused beneath a canopy that shaded the entrance to one of the village’s largest buildings. Supply crates were stacked outside of it, and a few doctors in Bimarstan uniforms loitered nearby, exchanging hushed words.

“This is the village chief’s home. The sick are being kept here for the time being,” Candace whispered to avoid disturbing their rest.

They continued on until they reached a row of square houses right at the top of a curved stairway that leveled off into a large, flat area. A wide, stone path stretched in front of them, separating each identical house from a wooden fence that blocked the steep fall into the canyon below the village.

They brought him to one of the empty houses and opened the door to set his bags inside.

“Thank you for your help,” Tighnari said to both of them, offering an apologetic smile.

While he and Fodil were nearly panting from the climb, Candace seemed entirely unfazed when she said, “It’s no trouble. You are a guest. I only wish I could offer you nicer accommodations. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. Take some time to rest, and join the other doctors at the chief’s house when you are ready.”

Candace and Fodil made their leave, and Tighnari collapsed on a chair inside, taking in his surroundings. It was a simple, two-roomed home—rather cute, and comfortable enough for a temporary stay. There was a large pitcher of water and a bowl of fruit on the table in the corner, and immediately, he drank and ate some to regain his strength. After a short rest, he began to unpack and sort through his belongings.

Stepping out into the heat of the day again was a battle, but his little house wasn’t far from the chief’s. He only took a couple steps down the stone path when he picked up the soft sound of footsteps behind him. His ears twitched, and he turned on his heels to see someone quickly duck out of view behind one of the neighboring houses.

Tighnari’s brow furrowed as he listened, catching quick breaths and a tiny, pounding heartbeat. He called out, “Is there something you need?”

There was a drawn-out silence before the child finally emerged from the shadows. He approached cautiously with his hands behind his back and his head lowered.

“Um…” he said, “I saw you with Miss Candace earlier…”

Tighnari sank to one knee to speak with the boy. “Yes, she showed me the way here. I’ll be staying here for a while to take care of the sick people in your village. What is your name?”

“Isak,” he said, finally raising his head to look at him. His gaze wavered between kind eyes and tall ears.

“I’m Tighnari. Nice to meet you, Isak.”

Isak smiled politely. “Um…my grandpa is sick. Do you think you can make him better?”

Tighnari mustered a reassuring smile, even though he wasn’t sure of the answer. “I’m going to try my best. I was just on my way to the chief’s house. When I get there, I’ll make sure your grandpa is my first patient.”

There was a hopeful sparkle in the child’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Really?”

Tighnari nodded, then stood. “Of course. I should get going.”

“Wait! Can I…pet your tail?” he asked.

Tighnari sighed. Before he could decline, someone else spoke. “Do my eyes deceive me, or are you a descendant of the Valuka Shuna?”

Tighnari turned to the approaching figure: A man who towered over them. He was dressed in something quite unsuitable for the heat of the desert—long, skin-tight sleeves, a blue scarf, and heavy boots. The strangest part by far was the mask that obscured the upper half of his face.

At the sound of the man’s voice, Isak immediately shrunk back and hid behind Tighnari.

“Yes, I am,” Tighnari said evenly, despite his fur standing on end a bit. His strange appearance and Isak’s reaction aside, this person gave him a bad feeling. Perhaps it was the unpleasantness of his grin.

“Fascinating. I have been alive a very long time, yet I’ve never seen one of your kind in person before now. There mustn’t be many of you left.” Tighnari wondered if he was imagining the mocking tone behind those words. The cold and uncaring aura of the man was nothing compared to the icy look Tighnari gave him.

“There are plenty of us,” he lied, and then turned to Isak. “Maybe you can pet my tail later. You should get going.”

Isak frowned, looking between Tighnari and the other man. Then, without another word, he turned and ran away. Tighnari watched him go, until he was out of sight.

“I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you,” said the masked man.

“Who are you?”

“I simply go by The Doctor.”

Tighnari looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Hm. Don’t you think that might get a bit confusing, considering how many doctors are currently in Auru?”

“That’s quite alright. There’s no need for people to know my name or exchange pleasantries anyway. We’re all here for one reason, right? To help people afflicted with sickness caused by remnants of Forbidden Knowledge.”

Tighnari frowned. “So you’re saying the rumors are true?”

“Indeed. Forbidden Knowledge is already on the rise again. A pity, but I’m sure our leaders will find a way to quell it, just as they always do.”

Tighnari hummed in thought, recalling what his master had told him. The most recent severe outbreak of Forbidden Knowledge had happened when Tighnari was a small child, so he didn’t have any personal experience treating the symptoms of it. His master remembered it well though. He had insisted to Tighnari that if the symptoms currently plaguing the people of Auru Village were the same as what had happened to the people of Sumeru en masse back then, then there was no doubt it was Forbidden Knowledge.

It was mostly an illness of the mind, but some cases showed on the skin in the form of hard, painful scales. There was no permanent cure, and it was fatal if left untreated for too long.

Interrupting his thoughts, The Doctor said, “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Tighnari,” he said curtly, and made to leave for the chief’s house.

The Doctor smiled, a sinister-looking thing. “Very good. I look forward to working with you, Tighnari.”

—

His entire first day at Auru Village was spent tending to the ill. With the help of doctors, pharmacists, and Amurta researchers, they managed to stabilize the situation. Every symptom Tighnari had seen that day indeed matched what his master had described to him. For the time being, all they could do was feed their patients mind-soothing medicines and treat the discomfort of their skin with mild anesthetics.

Though things had settled for the time being, the sick would require more care and monitoring. Additionally, the land around Auru Village would require supervision, lest Withering Zones begin to bloom there and make the situation worse. Tighnari, being a Vision-wielder, had volunteered to help with both.

When it was time to call it a night, they all ate a delicious dinner together, prepared by Candace and a few of the other villagers. There were a couple of familiar faces from Tighnari’s Akademiya days, so the conversations flowed easily as they caught up and reminisced. The mood was mostly pleasant, save for something looming nearby—a distant shadow in the shape of The Doctor.

Though Tighnari had interacted with many new people that day, The Doctor was the one he’d seen the most. He seemed to be everywhere Tighnari was, even when he left the village chief’s house to get more supplies or take breaks. Despite working in a relatively close proximity to him all day, Tighnari was never able to warm up to his presence. He had an ugly, uneasy feeling whenever he saw him, and his apathetic attitude toward the patients gave him the impression that caring for the sick was not the man’s true purpose for being there.

Even now, as everyone else ate and chatted, he stood at the other side of the room and simply watched, making everyone slightly uncomfortable.

Tighnari was the first to leave after he finished eating, feeling utterly exhausted and on-edge all at once. As he stepped outside, he heard a little voice say, “Doctor Tighnari?”

He looked over and saw Isak standing nearby. With a smile, he greeted, “Hello, Isak.”

“Did you meet grandpa? How is he doing?” the boy asked, looking hopeful.

Tighnari forced a smile and said, “He’s doing alright now.”

The relief on Isak’s face caused a pang in his heart. In reality, his grandfather was one of the worst cases in Auru Village at the moment. It wasn’t a total lie though—as long as he was medicated, he was stable and calm.

“Will I be able to visit him soon?”

Frowning, Tighnari shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. They’re all going to need a lot of rest before they’re well enough to have visitors.”

“Oh…” Isak said, eyes welling up.

“Hey.” Tighnari knelt in front of him. “Earlier, I said you could pet my tail. Do you still want to?”

Isak wiped at his eyes with his fists, sniffling, but nodded and came closer. Hesitantly, he reached out and ran his fingers through the fur of Tighnari’s tail. “Wow, it’s really soft. Like a puppy!”

“That’s because I take good care of my fur.”

Isak was smiling again. Tighnari had only just begun to feel the relief of successfully distracting the child, when he suddenly exclaimed, “Wait! Please hold on a second!”

Startled, Tighnari watched as Isak ran off, cutting sharply around the corner of a nearby building. He waited patiently for the child’s return, wondering what in Teyvat he could be up to.

Not long after his sudden departure, he emerged back around the corner of the building with four other kids in tow behind him. Tighnari turned to regard them all, brows raised.

“Um…” Isak began sheepishly, “petting your tail made me happy, so…can they do it too?”

Dumbfounded, Tighnari just stood and stared at the little group of Auru Village kids for a long moment. Normally, he would say no in a situation like this, not overly fond of strangers touching him so freely. But looking between all of their hopeful little faces, he acquiesced with a sigh.

For several minutes, Tighnari stood surrounded by children, answering all their burning questions.

“Does your mom also have big ears and a tail?”

“She has big ears, but not a tail.”

“What about your dad?”

“He has both.”

“Did you have them when you were a baby, or did they grow when you got older?”

“What?” Tighnari couldn’t help but laugh. “I was born with them, of course.” 

His face was a little flushed with the silliness of this scenario, as they all oo’ed and ah’d over the soft, bushy fur and green patterning. More than that, he felt a twinge of sorrow for them. Though it was such a simple thing, these kids had to cling to every hint of happiness they could find.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough, everyone. You should all head home. I’ll be staying in Auru for a while, so I’ll see you all around.”

The kids were sure to thank him, and once they all went their separate ways, Tighnari headed straight back to his house. After washing and changing into clean clothes, he decided to step back outside onto the stone path to get some more air before settling in. He still had a message to send before heading off to sleep, but he’d been cooped up inside the village chief’s house nearly the entire day, and the relentless sun had finally left the sky.

He didn’t walk too far—only a short distance from the front door—and leaned forward against a wooden fence that blocked the steep drop. The cool, arid breeze was pleasant against his skin, and he thought that perhaps if the desert was always like this, he wouldn’t mind visiting more often.

Tighnari snapped to attention when he heard footsteps approaching on the path behind him. His stomach sank a bit when he saw who was there.

The Doctor calmly walked toward him, and stopped a short distance away. “I happened to overhear your conversation with your classmates at dinner. Years ago, there was a little game set up by Haravatat. If I’m not mistaken, you were one of the students who participated, were you not?”

This took Tighnari by surprise. One of them had indeed mentioned the event offhandedly at dinner. He never thought he’d be recognized by a stranger, not for his academic achievements or research, but by a silly event he’d participated in as a student years ago.

“Yes, I did. How do you know about that?”

A smile stretched across The Doctor’s face. “I was the one who organized that little game,” he said. There was an emphasis on I that Tighnari found strange.

“Hm. I see.”

The Doctor continued, “I thought your name and countenance were familiar when we met earlier. You are still very young. To think you are so knowledgeable in both medicine and language.”

Tighnari was about to refute his words—languages were certainly not his area of expertise—but he didn’t want to invite further discussion. So instead he politely said, “Thank you.”

Despite The Doctor’s behavior being exceedingly odd, Tighnari still felt the smallest bit of relief. Perhaps he’d only been following him around because he thought him familiar, and not because he had some sort of ill intent. But Tighnari did not let his guard down; the Doctor still gave him an uneasy feeling, no matter what his intentions toward him were.

“It’s getting late,” Tighnari said, turning to head back to his temporary abode. “I’m going to head to bed.”

The Doctor ignored his obvious attempt to end the conversation and said, “Just a moment. I have a proposal for you.”

Tighnari sighed. “Whatever it is, I’m not interested.”

The Doctor frowned, which was somehow less unsettling than his smile. “Come now. Won’t you at least hear what I have to say?”

“I can’t imagine it’ll be any better than what the sages have already offered for my return to the Akademiya.”

“Oh, not to worry,” he chuckled. “I am not affiliated with the Akademiya.”

Tighnari was growing more frustrated by the minute. It had been a long day, and he had stepped outside to briefly enjoy the cool quiet before bed. The Doctor’s presence was nothing short of an irritation at this point.

“I’m still not interested. If you absolutely insist, perhaps we can discuss this another time. It’s going to be an early day tomorrow.”

When he began to make his way back to his house, The Doctor came to stand directly in his path. Instinctively, Tighnari backed away when the man began to slowly walk toward him. The Vijnana Stormheart he always kept on his person suddenly felt heavy, reminding him that in an instant, he could confuse The Doctor with strange visions, and make his escape. However, as useful as it could be, people could become dangerous and unpredictable while hallucinating, and the last thing he wanted was to endanger the residents of Auru Village. He considered summoning his bow, but injuring the man with an arrow might just get him into unwanted trouble with the guards. He would need to think of something else…

“I’m afraid it cannot wait. Finding you again is not an opportunity I can overlook.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The Valuka Shuna are escorts to knowledge, are they not? As well as a symbol of fertility and abundance. You would make an excellent gift.” He began to close in on Tighnari.

He didn’t have time to try and decipher the meaning behind The Doctor’s disturbing comments. Instead, he took a deep breath and began to summon thick vines from beneath the man’s feet. They crawled up his legs and held him firmly in place as Tighnari dashed toward the stairs leading to the rest of the village. He needed to find Candace.

The Doctor chuckled, and instead of struggling against the vines, he calmly folded his hands behind his back.

Suddenly, there was a deafening ringing in Tighnari’s ears. He stopped in his tracks and threw his hands up to cover them, but his mind was already beginning to grow foggy. His legs betrayed him, giving out as his entire body became strangely numb. From the rocky ground, the last thing he remembered was The Doctor easily ripping free from the vines. He felt his body heaved from the ground, and then he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Tighnari woke to the grunts and brays of Sumpter Beasts, and the grind of worn wooden wheels beneath him. Light bled through hair-thin cracks in the wood that made up the enclosed space—a wagon, he concluded. His ankles and wrists were bound by chains. His Vision, the Vijnana Stormheart, and strangely, his shoes, were all gone. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but it was clear from the arid heat that he was still in the desert. His throat burned with thirst.

There were voices outside the wagon, and he listened closely for any sort of details on what was happening, or where he was being taken. Mostly, they were aggrieved foreign voices. There was some softer, more distant chatter in Sumeru’s desert dialect that he tried to focus on. These voices were too far away for him to make out any full sentences, but there were words close by that rattled loudly in his mind. Fatui. Dottore. Ay-Khanoum. 

His thirst and the heat of the desert were unbearable, and he spent the rest of the day with his consciousness waxing and waning. Much later, when the wagon finally came to a stop, he sat up and listened again. This time, he heard the hiss of footsteps through sand, approaching the wagon. The double doors opened, and on the other side stood a masked Fatuus. He didn’t say anything, but tossed a waterskin in front of Tighnari, who glanced outside and saw a setting sun. It must’ve been at least a full day since he’d been captured, he realized with dread.

“Wait,” said Tighnari hoarsely in Teyvat’s common language when The Fatuus began to shut the doors again. “Are we going to Ay-Khanoum?”

As expected, there was no reply; only a scoff before the doors slammed shut. The Fatuus began to shout at those nearby the cart. “This one has big ears, so just keep your mouths shut and keep moving!”

As Tighnari desperately drank the water he’d been given, he distantly wondered if it might be drugged. But he was so thirsty, he simply couldn’t care. He drank in small spurts until his empty stomach hurt, and forced himself to leave some in the waterskin for later.

Once he was strong enough to stand, he began to search the entire wagon for weak points, hoping perhaps he could bust out while his captors slept. It’d be risky, as there would probably be someone keeping watch, but it was the only option he could think of. However, the wagon was sturdy, and he found no possible way to break through it without immediately drawing attention. 

He would simply have to be patient and wait for an opportunity.

But several days passed, and no opportunity came. If he did manage to sneak away unnoticed, where could he go in a giant pit of sand? He had no supplies or rations, and he was not given enough water to stay fully hydrated, or enough food for his body to feel strong. He was weak, and there was no way he could make it out alive on his own.

Every time he made a fuss—pounding on the walls of the wagon, shouting, bargaining, or simply demanding answers—he was completely ignored. The wagon, though protected from the sun on the inside, was still exceedingly hot, and his sensitivity to it caused his continuous fall in and out of consciousness.

On the rare occasion he was let out to relieve himself, he tried to take in as much information as possible. Unfortunately, it was never much to work with. Tighnari could never hope to ascertain their exact whereabouts, but he continued to hear whispers about Ay-Khanoum, the royal city. The Fatui seemed to be traveling there with an entire caravan made up of both merchants and Eremite mercenaries. The Doctor wasn’t there, but it seemed they were following his orders.

They must have been taking a round-about way. Having been locked in a dark wagon and sleeping at irregular times, it was becoming hard to keep track of exactly how many days passed. However, he knew it had to have been over a week since his capture. Tighnari had never ventured this far into the desert before, and so he could not claim to be an expert on traversing it. But he was certain that at their pace, the trip from Auru to Ay-Khanoum shouldn’t have taken that long.

The days began to blur even more. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was stuck with nothing to do besides agonize over all the possibilities. Slowly, the unknown was beginning to drive him mad.

“The Valuka Shuna are escorts to knowledge, are they not? As well as a symbol of fertility and abundance. You would make an excellent gift.”

The Doctor couldn’t have meant that literally, could he? Had Tighnari really been captured to be someone’s gift, like a pet? He was somewhat familiar with the infamous Fatui and their questionable morality, but he never thought they were involved in something as low as human trafficking. Perhaps they didn’t see it as such—it was fairly common, considering the rarity of Tighnari’s people and his fox-like traits, for him to be dehumanized. Even so, he’d never experienced anything more than inappropriate questions or in rare cases, creepy advances. Never did he think something this extreme would happen to him, all because of his ancestry…

One day, there was a sudden burst of morning light that filled the wagon, and he sat up to squint at the open doors. There were two silhouettes, but it wasn’t until they properly entered the wagon that Tighnari could make out the details of them. One was an Eremite mercenary, and the other a Fatuus.

“Ah. So this is him?” the mercenary asked.

“Yup.”

“I’ve never seen one in person before.”

Tighnari tensed as the mercenary came closer and bent over him. He reached out and took Tighnari’s chin in his hand, turning his face this way and that to get a better look at him. He tried to shrink away, but his back was pressed against the wall of the wagon.

“Besides the ears and tail, he just looks like a normal human to me.”

“That’s really the only difference. On the outside, at least,” the Fatuus said, shrugging.

The mercenary stared at him for a long moment, and then grinned. He was so close that Tighnari could feel his hot breath against his face. The man brought his thumb up to trace Tighnari’s bottom lip and said, “No wonder The Doctor wanted him sent to Ay-Khanoum. He really is beautiful, even like this.”

Tighnari couldn’t be sure what compelled him in that moment—delirium from the heat, primal fear and anger, or a desperation to be set free—but all his senses left him as he bit the mercenary’s hand, hard. He let loose a blood-curdling shriek as pointed canines bored into skin. He thrashed about in an attempt to free himself from Tighnari’s locked jaw, but all that did was worsen the pain and deepen the wound. He grabbed and yanked at Tighnari’s hair, trying desperately to pry him off.

It was the horrible feeling of hot blood getting into his mouth and dripping down his chin, that brought Tighnari back to his senses. He released his hold, and the wagon rocked as the mercenary flew out in a rage. Tighnari felt himself dragged out as well, and then thrown onto the sand by the Fatuus.

Merchants, Fatui, and mercenaries alike began running over to view the commotion. Tighnari could still hear the mercenary shouting curses in the distance, but his attention was on the Fatuus stalking toward him with a murderous look in her eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she screamed in his face as she lifted him off the ground by the collar of his shirt.

Weakly, Tighnari said, “You think I’m an animal for viewing? Then I’m going to act like one.”

The Fatuus brought the back of her hand across Tighnari’s face, leaving a bright welt in its wake. Tighnari cried out, and fell back onto the hot sand, head swimming from the impact of the hit.

The Fatuus grabbed his collar again, and leaned in close. “Then I won’t hesitate to put you down like one.”

Tighnari spit what remained of the Eremite’s blood on his lips at her masked face. The Fatuus cursed furiously and brought a closed fist down against his cheekbone. Tighnari brought his bound hands up to his face to block more strikes, but the Fatuus was restrained from further violence by a few onlookers.

“Are you out of your damn mind? Calm down!”

“He destroyed that man’s hand with his teeth!” she yelled.

“So what? We’ll be in Ay-Khanoum soon, and he’ll no longer be our problem.”

Tighnari scrambled to sit up, ignoring the pounding in his head. “Why are you taking me to the royal city? What does The Doctor want with me?”

“You, be quiet,” one of the mercenaries said, bending to take hold of his restraints. He pulled Tighnari off the ground and began dragging him back to the wagon.

“Answer me, someone!” Tighnari cried, struggling weakly. He looked around from face to face for any semblance of a hint. Some turned their heads away entirely while others looked on with pity or disgust.

The Fatuus who’d struck Tighnari ripped away from her comrades’ half-hearted holds and said, “The wagon is too much of a luxury for him. Make him walk through the desert like the rest of us.”

He was chained to the outside of the wagon, forced to move at the same pace as the Sumpter Beast that pulled it. He remembered passing out from the heat several times, dragged through the sand by the wagon for a time before he was awoken by a hard kick or a splash of warm water.

Tighnari’s memory of the rest of the trip was fractured and blurred into vague impressions.

He remembered one early morning before setting off again, a merchant came over to measure his feet, and gave him new shoes to keep them from burning any more than they already had on the hot sand. He remembered a mercenary silently tossing a blanket his way as he shivered on the cold ground one night. He remembered someone sneaking over to rub ointment on his sun-blistered skin once the caravan made camp for the night. And he remembered more young men being shoved inside the wagon that he was once alone in.

But what stood at the forefront of his mind from those dreadful days was the thirst. The hunger. The pain. The heat. The hopelessness.

“Back in the wagon,” he was told after several days of trudging barely conscious through the sand. He collapsed on his back on its wooden floor, grateful for a solid surface that didn’t shift beneath him, and ignored the curious stares of the young men around him. Within minutes, he was asleep in a wagon full of other captives like himself.

But it wasn’t nearly enough. Soon, he was shaken awake again.

“We’re getting out,” someone whispered. Tighnari sat up just as the doors opened. One by one, they were ushered out and led up a blinding white staircase.

Nothing could have prepared Tighnari for the shock of where he stood. He let out a stuttered breath, in awe of his surroundings. Disoriented, he could do nothing but keep numbly moving forward, just as he’d done in the desert.

He was surrounded by people—six other prisoners and their Fatui captors. Their restraints were a silent reminder that though prisoners outnumbered the guards, they still had no choice but to cooperate. The group stopped just before entering towering doors.

“They are filthy,” said a new voice. It belonged to a white-bearded man, looking pompous and utterly disgusted at the sight of them. Behind him, there was a horde of servants. “They will all need to bathe and dress properly before entering the palace. Take them to the bath house.”

The servants acted immediately, swarming like flies. Two of them approached Tighnari, placing their hands on his shoulders to steer him in the correct direction. He tried shrugging them off, but their grips only tightened.

“Don’t struggle,” one of the servants said quietly. “You are dirty. A bath will feel good.”

“It hurts,” Tighnari hissed, attempting once again to get away from the too-hot hands atop the burned skin on his shoulders.

“Wait a moment,” the man with the white beard spoke up, and the servants froze immediately. “We were not expecting seven.”

“Ah, yes. Not to worry. I found a rare beauty on the way here that I simply couldn’t help but bring along.”

That voice caused Tighnari’s stomach to twist up. Some horrible mix of fear and anger and confusion crawled through his entire being.

The Doctor’s awful gaze was on him when he said, “That one, right there.”

Chapter Text

Lying low was something the prince, despite his height, had become quite adept at. He’d honed this skill over the years to avoid unwanted social interactions and to go unnoticed when sneaking out of the palace, and it had also successfully kept him from having to do tedious chores for his parents. If they couldn’t find him, how could they drag him to their long political meetings to act as their scribe, or order him to oversee research he had no interest in?

His new Room of Silence made hiding away all the more easy. He hunkered down there for days—only leaving when absolutely necessary—after Faruzan had warned him that their parents would continue to pester him about suitors and heirs.

It seemed Kaveh had kept the room a proper secret, the librarians inevitably being the only other people aware of its existence. In the past few days, several attendants had come to the library seeking the prince on behalf of the king and queen. Much to his relief, the library keepers were willing to cover for him like they always did.

Alas, it was impossible to stay hidden forever, and on one of his few excursions, he was finally caught.

“Your Highness,” came a voice from behind him—one that prompted a biting irritation. Of all people, it was Royal Advisor Azar. Immediately, Al Haitham began to formulate some clever excuse to get out of this interaction.

“Your presence is required in the Great Hall,” Azar said.

Al Haitham sighed. "Visitors?"

“Yes. You are to receive gifts.”

The new books.

Azar barely managed to keep up with Al Haitham as they made their way to the Great Hall. The entire walk was filled with one-sided chatter; Azar assuring him he would enjoy these gifts, and rambling on about a “rare beauty” and a doctor from Snezhnaya. Al Haitham wasn’t listening to most of it, but he found himself relieved when they finally made it there, somehow favoring a room full of people over Azar and his prattling.

He went straight for the dais at the front of the room and ascended the stairs where the king, queen, and princess were already seated. He ignored the pointed glares of his parents, and made himself comfortable, appearing entirely unapologetic for keeping them waiting.

Al Haitham took a closer look at their guests, standing in a disorganized cluster before the throne. He had expected a room full of pompous merchants, and was surprised to find that the crowd was made up entirely of Fatui. The individual at the front wore a mask just like the rest of them, but easily stood out as their superior. There was an arrogance that saturated the entire space around him, even as he stood before the most powerful people in Sumeru. There was no doubt that this was one of their Harbingers.

To find the Fatui in the royal palace of Sumeru was a rare occurrence. With an extensive history of dubious dealings, their presence never failed to put the generals of the Guard on edge. Their distrust was displayed starkly by the number of their men stationed around the dais.

“Your Majesties,” the Harbinger said with a low bow. He spoke the language of Sumeru fluently, but his tone was laced with insincerity as he introduced himself: “I am the second Fatui Harbinger, known as Il Dottore or The Doctor. It is a great pleasure to come before you to present these gifts. I hope they will reinforce good relations between our nations. The king and queen have ordered a thousand books from all across Teyvat to fill the royal library. I have personally seen to it that our humble contribution has arrived, safe and sound.”

“We are appreciative of your commitment to this matter,” the king said.

“It is my pleasure, Your Majesty. I also bring you several books from the Tsaritsa’s own personal collection.”

“That is quite generous of the Tsaritsa and the Fatui. We accept your contribution to our new library,” said the queen.

The Doctor gestured at his subordinates. They approached the stairs, intending to present the Tsaritsa’s books to the royal family directly. Before they could, there was an order barked by a voice Al Haitham recognized well. Everyone in the room looked to the one who’d spoken, aside from the line of armed guards that now stood like a wall between the royal family and the Fatui.

The General of the King’s Guard approached the throne on which the king sat. He whispered something in his ear so quietly that even Al Haitham—sitting close by—could not hear. The king’s lips pursed in reaction to the general’s words and he gave a subtle nod.

General Cyno stepped forward, piercing eyes locked on The Doctor. “My guards will hold onto these gifts while you finish up business.”

The king said, “It has come to our attention that you have made yourselves allies with some mercenaries that have caused problems in the past.”

“As expected of the king’s loyal guard dog,” The Doctor said with an unsettling falseness to his smile. “I may be a Sumeru native, but I must admit I’m not familiar with traversing the desert. We did indeed utilize the knowledge and expertise of some local mercenaries to make our way through the desert safely. Nothing more than that.”

There was a moment of shuffling around as the books were passed on. The wall of guards crumbled, and they stepped to the side to let The Doctor speak to the king and queen once more.

“Now, to get to the next order business. It is my understanding that Your Majesties have been meeting suitors for your prince. Is this true?”

Given how often his parents had been traveling recently, Al Haitham already suspected they had met some of his potential suitors. Still, he was irked to find that the Fatui of all people had also been made aware of this.

“Yes. This is true,” the queen confirmed, glancing briefly at her son.

“And is it also true that Prince Al Haitham is uninterested in suitors and marriage?”

“Perhaps that mask is obscuring your vision. I am right here,” Al Haitham said. “Instead of speaking about me while I’m right in front of you, speak directly to me. And get to the point.”

“Of course, Your Highness. My apologies. We have brought additional gifts for you.”

The silence that followed was a momentary relief to Al Haitham. Then, came something far more grating than even Azar’s ramblings. It was the icy rattle of clanking metal, and the smack of something hard against marble floors.

Chains?

Over the craning heads of the crowd in the Great Hall, Al Haitham could see them. Escorted by towering Fatui agents were seven people dressed in servants’ attire, and they each had shackled chains around their ankles and wrists. Al Haitham could only watch in stunned silence as they were brought before the thrones and forced to kneel before them.

The entire room froze over for several long and unbearable moments. With a short burst of laughter, The Doctor was the first to disturb the stillness of it.

“What a splendid reaction! Are they to your liking, Your Highness?”

“Explain yourself immediately,” said the queen, “so that we do not misunderstand your intentions.”

“To put Your Majesties at ease, we have brought these gifts, in hopes that they might awaken in Prince Al Haitham a desire to have an heir to the throne. A way to push along your late bloomer, if you will. They are all quite handsome, aren’t they?”

An heir to the throne.

The Doctor did not say these words to the crown princess, but to her younger brother. Silence once again descended upon them, but Al Haitham did not find short-lived solace in this one. Faruzan looked pale, like she was going to be ill. The king and queen were hardly able to contain their displeasure and disgust, though Al Haitham noted they did not necessarily seem surprised.

“These people are meant to be bed slaves?” Al Haitham said slowly, letting the words fall off his tongue like a bite of food he found disgusting. “You’ve brought me bed slaves.”

The Doctor dipped his head and asked, “Will you accept these gifts?”

Al Haitham stood and stepped closer to the edge of the platform, gaze briefly sweeping over them. Some of them looked back at him, waiting anxiously for his answer, while others could focus only on cowering away from the Fatui standing nearby.

A sudden twitching motion caught Al Haitham’s attention. He watched a tail anxiously jerk back and forth before fully taking in the sight of who it was attached to—someone who appeared to be a Valuka Shuna descendent kneeling amongst the other captives. The man’s dark hair framed his face, but when he turned his head, Al Haitham caught a glimpse of faded bruising on his cheek. His bare arms and shoulders were covered in burns and sun blisters.

He wondered what these people must have gone through in the Fatui’s captivity, and just how far they’d been forced to travel through the desert to reach the palace.

He could feel the stares of his parents digging into his back, but he did not bother looking to them for guidance. There was someone else whose attention on him dug far deeper than theirs. Look at me, Al Haitham could nearly hear him say, and so he did. When their gazes met, Cyno’s face tightened, and he offered the subtlest of nods.

Al Haitham immediately turned his attention back to The Doctor. “Yes. I accept.”

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, grinning. “I am glad they are to your liking.”

The prince returned to his seat without another word, tuning out whatever other ceremonious nonsense the Fatui had in store. When it was all over, the crowd split. The Fatui were escorted out of the hall, the seven captives stayed right where they were, looking collectively lost and confused, and the Guard took the places of the four Fatui who’d escorted them in.

The king rose from his throne, turned to his son, and whispered, “You will release them once the Fatui are gone.”

“Yes,” Al Haitham agreed, then watched the backs of his family as they silently descended the stairs with their attendants in tow. They exited the Great Hall, and Al Haitham was the last to descend the stairs to stand directly before the captives. 

“We do not keep slaves here. Your chains will be removed,” he said in Sumerian. Only three of them showed any sort of understanding—one of which was, unsurprisingly, the Valuka Shuna descendant. It was clear from the look in his eyes and the set of his jaw that he had something he urgently wished to say. Al Haitham considered asking, but his attention was stolen by the sound of his own name.

“Haitham.”

He looked. “Cyno.”

“Keep your distance,” he warned, pulling him carefully away from the captives. Al Haitham allowed it, finding far more importance in the place where Cyno’s hand touched his arm. “Some of them could very well be assassins or spies.”

“Assassins? I can’t imagine they’d be very successful with so many guards nearby.”

“Caution doesn’t hurt; it only takes a second to take someone’s life,” Cyno said, “We’ll remove their chains, but they aren’t free to go until we question them all. We can decide how to proceed from there.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll sit in on the questioning.”

Cyno was skeptical. “You realize this is going to be a long and painful process.”

“They were left to me. That would, unfortunately, make them my responsibility.”

“Yes, it would,” Cyno agreed. “Let me finish up here and we can talk somewhere else.”

While Al Haitham waited for Cyno to issue orders and delegate tasks, he made a mental list of questions to pose to each captive. Surely by asking the right ones, they could begin to piece together the Fatui’s motives. He stole a glance at the Valuka Shuna captive and his enormous ears, and wondered how much information he’d been able to hear directly from the lips of the Fatui and the mercenaries they’d traveled with.

Those ears were standing directly upright now, and his full attention was on something far away. Guards bustled around him, helping each captive to their feet and rounding them up to have their chains removed. Past the clamor, Cyno had finished up business with the Guard, and was looking straight back at the captive. His lips barely moved, in a whisper. A pair of ears twitched, hearing it.

Al Haitham saw it, and stored the exchange in the back of his mind for later.

Once everything was squared away in the Great Hall, Cyno brought Al Haitham to a place he’d never been before. A table stretched across the room’s length, and the worn upholstery on the chairs around it gave the impression that long, tiresome hours of discussion had taken place there. This must have been some sort of meeting hall for the Guard.

In both body and mind, the General of the King’s Guard was known for his strength. Al Haitham had known it far longer—since they were children, before he’d even earned his title—and had been witness to the forcefulness of his determination and the fierceness with which he fought, even in spar. Al Haitham had practiced his swordsmanship with many guards over the years, and Cyno was the only one who’d never gone easy on him simply because he was the prince. The only one who’d never handed him an easy victory, in anything.

Yet, alone in the quiet of this room Al Haitham could see that this situation had taken a toll on him. He gave Cyno a moment to breathe, content in allowing himself to simply watch as the tension in his shoulders began to ease.

“What a mess,” Cyno muttered.

“Surely you knew about the Fatui’s captives as soon as they made it to the palace gates,” said Al Haitham.

“Yes, and before that. Dehya investigated their caravan before they even reached the city.”

“Interesting. I’d have thought it to be against your strict moral code to allow slaves to be smuggled into the palace.”

There was a suspicious pause before Cyno replied, “It’s not my place to turn away gifts addressed to the prince.”

“Oh? I wasn’t aware that you were suddenly concerned about formalities. When has that ever mattered between us?”

“Fine,” Cyno sighed. “I let them in because I trusted that you’d accept and release them.”

“I haven’t ordered for their release. I simply had their chains removed, that’s all.”

“I know you don’t actually want to keep those people as bed slaves.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Al Haitham asked, curious to know his reason even if he was right.

Cyno gave him a disbelieving scowl. “Because you know that it’s wrong. And that aside, the resulting backlash would be far too much trouble for a spoiled prince who always gets his way.”

“Always gets his way,” Al Haitham repeated, breathing a quiet laugh. “I’d argue that with you, nothing has ever gone my way.”

Neither of them moved, but it was like the few paces between them suddenly shrank to nearly nothing, and Cyno’s expression became one of half-concealed uncertainty. It gave Al Haitham a small bit of pleasure to see the general’s composure break, even if this was nothing more than a small chip on a brick wall.

“Don’t change the subject,” Cyno said, softly clearing his throat. “We’re here to discuss the captives.”

“Yes,” Al Haitham agreed. “Then let’s start with that Valuka Shuna descendant. You know him.”

Cyno went still. For a moment, it looked as if he would try to deny it, even if it wouldn’t matter if he did. The hesitation, though brief, was more than enough to confirm that suspicion.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“He’s the real reason you didn’t turn the Fatui away, even though it was illegal for them to bring slaves here.”

Cyno said nothing, but avoided his gaze, which was as good as saying yes.

“Because he would be safer here than in the Fatui’s hands,” said Al Haitham.

“It wasn’t just him; they are all better off here than with the Fatui. Isn’t that why you accepted them?”

“That’s part of the reason,” Al Haitham said. “Regardless, weren’t you taking a huge risk letting them into the palace if you suspected some may be assassins or spies?”

“Since Tighnari is among them, it’s probably safe to say that most of them are just victims. I have no proof that any of them are cooperating with the Fatui; I’m only being cautious so that none of you get hurt.”

In that, Al Haitham could tell Cyno was being earnest.

“I see. Well then, since it was your decision to let them in, you will be responsible for helping me figure out what to do from here. Tell me everything you know about the captives and their arrival.”

— — — — —

In everything between friendly card games and the throes of battle, Cyno was an intense man, and there were two starkly different versions of him. One played games and shared meals with the rest of the Guard, cracking terrible jokes without a fraction of a change in his ever-serious face. The other was like a blazing chariot, deadly and unstoppable.

With the Fatui set to arrive in just a day’s time, Cyno had become the latter, willing to trample any obstacle in his path. They were traveling all the way to Ay-Khanoum to deliver books for the new royal library in a seemingly innocent act of diplomacy. He had always held a deep mistrust for them, but this time, there was a far greater potency to it. Deciding to trust his intuition, he sent a small group of guards into the desert to spy on them as they made their slow approach.

He could think of no rational cause for this sense of foreboding that was following him, and feared his judgement was clouded by his own personal worries. Namely that his best friend, it seemed, was missing.

In their most recent correspondence, Tighnari had informed Cyno that he was traveling to Auru Village, and had promised to send a message when he arrived safely. Tighnari was always timely and precise, and while a small delay wouldn’t have been cause for concern, over two weeks without a word had left Cyno sick with worry.

The journey from Caravan Ribbat to Auru was not terribly long or difficult. If Tighnari followed everything Cyno had taught him about desert travel, he should have been able to make it there in one piece. Tighnari was a genius, a skilled archer, and a Vision bearer, so if his adversaries were monsters, humans, or injury he should be able to overcome them with relative ease. Nature, however, tested even the strongest.

With the Fatui’s imminent arrival, the general was unable to go and search for Tighnari himself. So he sought help from another close friend—General of the Queen’s Guard—hoping she could reach out to the guardian of Auru for him.

Dehya looked thoughtful when he brought the situation to her and asked, “What’s your friend’s name? What does he look like?”

“His name is Tighnari. He’s a Valuka Shuna descendent with dark green fur, a little younger than me. He’s exactly my height, excluding his ears.”

He watched the crease in Dehya’s brow deepen, as contemplation became concern. His heart sank into his stomach as he listened to her explain: “I got a letter from Candace about the disappearance of a young doctor in Auru Village. That’s definitely him.”

She retrieved the letter and relayed its contents to him.

At first, Candace believed Tighnari had left of his own accord. All his belongings and his Sumpter Beast were missing the morning after he’d arrived. There were a few doctors who, throughout their stay, had traveled back and forth between Caravan Ribbat and Auru to restock their supplies. One doctor had even traveled all the way to Ay-Khanoum to research more effective remedies. Therefore, it didn’t strike Candace as particularly odd that Tighnari had gone. She was sure to keep his accommodations vacant under the assumption that he would eventually return.

Soon, the village children began to ask after him, wondering why he’d gone so soon after telling them he would stay a while. To quell the kids’ worries, Candace checked in with the other caretakers Tighnari had worked with, hoping they knew when he might return. According to them, he hadn’t given any indication that he planned to leave, and had even offered to help make dinner the following evening.

For someone to leave so suddenly after expressing their intent to stay was indeed suspicious, but it was still entirely possible that he’d seen the state of Auru or heard the rumors and changed his mind about helping them.

Over the years, Candace had learned that children could be quite perceptive, and often picked up on small things that adults didn’t notice, especially when it came to strangers they were wary of. She often eavesdropped when they gossiped, and sometimes listening without intervening proved to be quite useful in keeping peace in the village. This time, there was one particular sentence that caught Candace’s attention, and confirmed her suspicion that there might be something wrong.

“That weird guy with the mask was probably the reason Doctor Tighnari went away.”

The children went on to discuss how the masked man had been following and watching Tighnari the entire day before they both disappeared without a trace.

Much like Cyno, who was stuck in the palace, Candace could not leave Auru unprotected during this tumultuous time. The best she could do was reach out to the Guard for help.

“The masked guy called himself The Doctor,” Dehya said, tucking the letter away, “That’s the Harbinger we're expecting tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Cyno didn’t react right away. He could only try to sort through his own suffocating thoughts.

“It’s going to be okay,” Dehya hurried to say, clutching his shoulder reassuringly. “We don’t know for sure something bad happened. Maybe he left on his own because the guy made him feel uncomfortable.”

Cyno shook his head. “He should have answered my message by now.”

“We’ll figure this out, alright? Let’s wait to hear back from the guards you sent—”

“No. I’ll go meet The Doctor’s caravan and confront him myself.”

He shrugged her hand off and began to walk away, but she caught his arm instead.

“Think about this, Cyno. It’s not going to look good if you accuse a diplomat of something serious when we have no proof.”

Cyno attempted to lightly shake her hand away, but her grip only tightened.

“Storming out into the desert to confront a Harbinger alone is a stupid move, especially when you’re this upset. You can’t go.”

“Enough.” His patience draining quickly, he yanked his arm away and stormed past her.

Nothing else mattered now, apart from this.

Suddenly, he was faced with his own countenance trapped inside the cold, glinting metal of a greatsword. It was a hairsbreadth from him, and he was forced to an abrupt stop by it. Slowly, he turned his gaze to its wielder, a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Dehya,” was all he said, like a warning.

“You’re not going,” she said. “Do you trust me?”

Their altercation had attracted the attention of a flock of nearby servants. Some gawked nervously, while others ran off to seek the assistance of the Guard.

“Do you trust me?” Dehya asked again.

He did. But this was far too important to leave in someone else’s hands. He needed to see with his own eyes that Tighnari was safe and unharmed.

 “I know you’re worried. If you confront the Fatui and start a fight, you might get yourself killed. You’re strong, but you won’t be able to take on their entire retinue by yourself. I don’t know Tighnari, so I can go and investigate with a level head. Let me go instead.”

Guards began to clot the hall, but they only stood uselessly at a distance, afraid to raise their weapons against their own leaders. A long moment of biting tension stifled the entire room.

“Fine,” Cyno eventually said through his teeth.

Relief audibly flooded the hall in the form of sighs and hushed chatter when Dehya’s greatsword dissolved into embers and ash.

“Good,” she breathed. “I’ll go right away. Wait here for an update from me, okay?”

Cyno was silent as he watched her go, reminding himself that Dehya was one of the most reliable people he knew, and that she had never given him a reason to doubt her judgement. She was right; in his anger, he would have done something rash and caused unnecessary trouble. But that wasn’t enough to squash the worry he held for Tighnari, and the frustration that resulted from his own helplessness.

For hours, Cyno was forced to sit with that horrible amalgamation lodged inside his chest, able to do little else besides pace up and down the Grand Courtyard. He balanced on the edges of the decorative fountains that lined the path to the palace’s entrance, rarely taking his eyes off the front palace gates.

Eventually, he heard voices on the other side of those gates just before they began to open. One of Dehya’s messengers passed through and waved to him when she saw him there. He met her halfway, and she breathlessly relayed Dehya’s message.

The Fatui were much closer to Ay-Khanoum than they’d thought. They weren’t expected to arrive at the city gates until late the following morning, but their camp was already set up less than an hour away. Dehya found one of Cyno’s guards, who had managed to sneak into the caravan undercover, and he filled her in on everything he’d found out.

There were three separate groups traveling in the caravan; the Fatui, some mercenaries employed by them, and merchants relying on their strength to safely transport their goods. There was something other than books the Fatui had brought with them; seven prisoners, and among them, Tighnari.

The Fatui seemed to be the only ones privy to why they were transporting prisoners through the desert, and they remained tight-lipped about them. It was assumed they were traitors or criminals that the Fatui were offering up as an act of diplomacy along with the books. But Cyno knew that couldn’t be the case with Tighnari being one of them.

With the knowledge that Tighnari was alive and headed straight toward the royal palace, and that Dehya would be following them closely until they arrived, Cyno’s mind became clear and focused. With this new information, he issued new orders to the Guard.

“Before they enter the city, make sure the prisoners are hidden away in the wagons where no one can see them. Keep quiet about what the Fatui have brought.”

When they arrived the next day, Cyno watched from afar as they passed through the palace gates. Their group had shrunk considerably, each faction having parted ways once they entered the city. Now it was just the Fatui with their large, boarded wagons filled with books and people.

It wasn’t the generals’ duty to receive guests, but Cyno stood with a procession of guards just beyond the palace’s entrance, waiting. The Doctor approached ahead of the rest of his retinue, and when he crossed the threshold with his hands folded behind his back, he offered Cyno a polite smile.

“Greetings, General.”

Cyno gestured for him to follow, and the sea of guards in their perfect lines parted to let them through. As Cyno led him through the foyer, he said, “Explain yourself, Harbinger. Why have you brought prisoners to the royal palace?”

“Straight to the point. How very expected.” The Doctor chuckled. “I would not call them prisoners, exactly.”

“Then for what reason do you have them in chains?”

“Think of it as an added layer of security. Some of them are a bit nervous and unpredictable, and we wouldn’t want any of them lashing out,” he explained casually, as if talking about a few unruly pets.

Cyno swallowed the nasty words he wanted to spit in The Doctor’s face and asked instead, “If they are a risk to the safety of the royal family, then why bring them here at all?”

“It is all for Prince Al Haitham. The books have been brought on the Tsaritsa’s orders, as a gift from her to the royal family. The people are an added gift from myself. They are for Prince Al Haitham’s pleasure, hand-picked to suit his tastes.”

Cyno’s steps faltered, and he stopped to face The Doctor in the middle of the room. Behind them, chains rattled. The noise echoed horribly off of arched ceilings and sprawling granite.

The meaning behind The Doctor’s words sunk too deeply into Cyno, making him burn from the inside. The only thing preventing his rage from boiling over was the knowledge that Tighnari was just behind them, beyond the open doors of the palace. If Cyno fought The Doctor here and now, he and the other prisoners might be taken away.

Seeing the look on Cyno’s face, The Doctor’s smile grew. “Well? Will you let them through the doors, General?”