Chapter Text
It was cold, freezing even.
Even for a certain someone who didn’t know much else than pain, the misery of a cursed land far away from the bone chilling downpour, where nothing but burning ashes fell from the sky, this was cold in a way that hurt. Hiding below that tree, that same tree where he’d been left, he’d stayed, huddled up into a ball of rags, midnight hair spilling out over it and covering unusual tan skin.
This world was strange.
Foreign.
Nothing like the reality he knew. The ashes he’d known, falling onto his skin to burn, burn until everything hurt, until he screamed, had turned into something chilling, something wet. Something that wasn’t made to be a reminder of the burden, of the shame the old world carried. Rumbles echoed through the cloudy sky, it’s grey color being only another of many things he didn’t have words for, among other things that he did not know. This new world was beautiful. Enchanting. But at the same time, dangerous and hostile. This was no place for the child of sinners.
The beauty was intoxicating. Even if he simply sat idly below a tree, waiting faithfully for father’s return.
Where was he? He wasn’t supposed to be gone for long.
He’d said it.
Promised it.
Promised to be back.
The soft grass and the lush trees around him offered little comfort for a being so young and fragile. As if the gods themselves had forgotten about their pet’s existence and stopped caring, turned their backs on him just like they had with his people. He was lucky. He didn’t know the meaning of the word. Not what it meant or what it was for. Only that everyone had used it to describe him. A blessing from Celestia itself. The little fruit of what could come from a land where things never grew, rivers never ran. A god in the eyes of the godless. Their one and only hope.
And hopefully, their savior.
Bolts of electro came from the sky, blinding him. Scaring him. He cried out for father, knowing that he must be there somewhere out in the rain, warm drops running down his cheek, racing the cold rain over that blessed skin, his thin body tumbling down on the soft green mat below him, the already dirty rags being his only comfort, stained by the soil below.
Noone answered his cries.
Noone appeared amidst the rain showers and flashes of powerful electro.
Father… was gone.
He would come back. Surely he would. If he just stayed long enough, if he just waited there, below that tree for long enough then-
Something was approaching. The sound of something big travelling along the gravel path, among the shine of the warm lights along it and it frightened him. Should he run? No… then father might not find him again. He remembered his parents words, that he must never be lost from them or else he’d be gone. Lost forever. He had to stay but the thing came closer. So did the crackling sound of electro, striking the now once green and lush tree with immense force, it’s bright purple color lighting up the world as if he was in Celestia itself. He prepared to feel surging pain run through him, but nothing ever came. The puddles around him crackled with electricity, the tree burnt from the sheer force of the impact. But he was fine. Seemingly unharmed. The sound had come closer but he no longer had the energy to care. He had to wait for papa, even if the tree he’d been left by for who knows how long ago had lost it’s canopy, the rain freely splattering against his skin and soaked remnants of a shirt.
Despite the pouring rain, despite the stubborn thunder, this world was heavenly. A place where even those without hope could dream. Dream for the very first time. But he did not belong in this world. As an impostor, a tool, a savior for a place lost in time, surely the gods reigning over this mortal realm would not let a tainted soul like his stay there. Surely he would never dream.
An eye as bright as the brightest ice of Dragonspine awaited the arrival of what was approaching down the road, it’s pupil shaped like the great celestial bodies on the sky of this realm that he’d never seen, silently watching.
What arrived, he had no clue. It was big, but nothing like the monsters he’d seen. The darkness that had settled made it’s colors mottled, along with the creature it was attached to. It had to be hostile. If he stayed still, stayed quiet, perhaps the creature wouldn’t notice him. Perhaps, if he just stayed where he was, he could continue his waiting. But with another sound, one much more familiar, like a voice, the thing stopped close to him.
Should he scream for father again?
Should he get up?
Should he run?
The sight of something a vibrant crimson caught his eye. A splotch of color in the tones of grey. He didn’t know the words to describe it, his mind only screaming at him to run.
You cannot trust other people. You will never know when they’ll transform into monsters and kill you. We cannot lose you. Khaenri’ah cannot afford to lose you, little star.
Mother’s words echoed through his mind.
A warning.
He should run.
It was a man. A tall man, with hair like crimson flames like the brightest of the burning ashes, a worried look on his face, was approaching him, mumbling something in a language he couldn't understand. Until the man saw. Noticed him.
No.
He had to run.
He tried to get up, sobbing as his limbs trembled, small sparks of electricity keeping his legs numb, leaning against the tree only to fall back down on the grass again with a shriek. And he looked around, panicked. Papa wasn’t there. Only that tall figure, now also soaked in the rain, coming closer and closer and-
He bent down. Stretching out a hand. Talking in words that he didn’t quite hear as words, their meaning beyond him.
You can’t trust people.
You can’t trust him.
Run.
Run.
Run.
It was too late. He felt the grip on his thin arm, the warmth and gentleness of it just as foreign as the man himself. The gods had made their move for the godless child. Perhaps it was in that moment that a curse was casted and the path of the long future was set. Perhaps he had in that moment, decided this man’s fate by upsetting the order of this world, for a filthy thing like him should not be here. The man didn’t know what he held. He only saw the little trembling child, soaked and covered in dirt, scrapes and bruises telling of the long journey there and the smell of the burnt tree. Not as the cursed soul that he was. He was oblivious.
He didn’t fight against being carried over to the wagon which he didn’t know the name of, knew that it was better to admit defeat and stay cooperative when he was already caught. Mother and father had taught him that too. They’d taught him what he knew, told him of a world beyond the hellscape they called home, still under the divine protection their people once rebelled against. He’d been told the stories of their defiance, the tragedy that unfurled and transformed an ancient, prospering land into the remaining ashes it now was, it’s people cursed to atone for their great sin.
Even this night would become a blessing for the product of sinners. But he wouldn’t dare to dream that night, nor the many nights after it. It was forbidden even for the savior. He didn’t know how to dream. No one in the lost land did.
The carriage followed the road he’d been left by for a while longer, he barely noticed it stopping as his head rested on his knees as he had curled up into a little ball again, hair spilling over his face and shoulders like a waterfall spills over a rock, his only visible eye staring emptily at the opposite wall. The sound of people outside still scared him. He felt too terrified to move but eventually he did, following the tall redhead out of the carriage and into a mansion bigger than any building he’d ever seen before. It was giant, awestriking, untouched by the foul curses and the cruel touch of war. Unlike anything he’d ever seen before.
The great doors were opened, warmth and welcoming light flooding out of the entrance as the man stepped in, taking off his coat and gave it to someone who bowed before him. It was magnificent, the room giant, built in wood of a rich color he’d never thought could exist. There was a fireplace in the corner, the fire there not raging and brutal like the fire he knew, instead calm and warming, it’s glow strangely relaxing.
“Diluc?”
The man next to him asked and for once he understood what he said. A small head with fluffy hair the same color as the tall man’s hair, peeked around the corner of the armchair he sat in, looking at them with a grin much too large for his round face only to immediately get out of the chair and run towards them.
“Dad! You’re home!”
He exclaimed excitedly, hugging the tall man's legs since he was too little to reach higher. Then he looked over at him, standing there next to the tall man like a stray cat that had been brought in from the streets, still dressed in dirty rags that could barely be called clothing.
“Who are you?”
The flaming ball of hair asked, still as excited. The tall man looked down at him as well, expecting an answer from a boy who didn’t understand the language they spoke. The other boy looked at him confused, disappointed to not have his question answered immediately, his childish and innocent impatience showing.
“Hmph. I guess I’ll go first then. I’m Diluc. What’s your name?”
The other boy went first, his excitement earning a fond smile from his father who still watched, slowly growing impatient as well, though determined to not show any of it. And this time, it seemed like he understood them. Name… They were asking for his name. That young fluff ball was Diluc, that was his name. No harm should come from him telling them his name. He only had one after all. No last name… or he just didn’t know it. Once upon a time his people might also have been like this. Happy. Excited. Asking for names as if it had any significance, like it was something beyond just trivial facts. Noone cared about names in a land where death and misery reigned free. Noone cared about the names of those who’d transformed into the beasts and monsters that would forever haunt him. So he decided to say it.
“Kaeya”
It was only a mumble. But it seemed enough for Diluc to get to know.
“That’s a really cool name, I like it!”
There was that too big grin again, proudly displayed on his face as if it meant something big to him, like knowing his name mattered more than Teyvat itself. It told so much more than the words that the boy had said, words that he didn’t understand.
Was he… happy?
Was this happiness?
He didn’t know. How would he know? Filth shouldn’t know what happiness and joy looked like, it wasn’t something meant for him. That, the gods had made very clear. But it seemed like this Diluc and “Dad” didn’t care about it. They still looked at him strange, still looked at him like the pitiful being he was. Perhaps they knew. Or they could just sense it from him.
The tall man spoke again to some other people in the house, still in this foreign language that he couldn’t understand. He knew nothing more than the name of the boy in this house. He didn’t know why they were being kind to him when all he’d known was the harshness of a reality that would never hesitate to kill you.
He only followed the tall man blindly, already grateful for the shelter he’d provided but unable to express his gratitude. Sometimes… a lack of words wasn’t very welcome. The kind man took Kaeya upstairs, someone had already poured a bath full of clear warm water. He looked at it, confused. He’d never seen a bathtub before, nor water this clear and beautiful. How would he know what to do with it?
This new world was strange indeed. A different reality, a beautiful one. And if he’d known the word for it, it would have been dream-like. Like nothing that he and his people could ever have dreamt of before… as the people of sins could not dream, eternally trapped in their torment. But still. He’d escaped that labyrinth of suffering even for a moment, being shown the kindness of a land that wasn’t cursed. Wasn’t godless. Wasn’t hopeless, where nothing grew, the skies were grey with burning ashes of the transformed, lost in time. Their hourglass had stopped turning, the sands of time frozen in a ever so agonizing state while Teyvat’s mighty hourglass still turned, it’s sand of time still flowing by, gently and carefully. Noone upset the balance in this world. That was why it was still blessed by Celestia, guarded under the watchful eyes of the Archons. Until the tainted soul set foot in this world. This other reality, breaking the world within his mind and reshaping what he knew life to be in the very moment the hellscape was behind him.
Kindness, being taken in and given shelter like this, being given a bath in the purest water he’d ever seen with his own eye, given clothes that smelled of warmth, being allowed to eat on a big table filled with more food than he’d ever seen in his entire life, it was… more than he could ever had hoped for. It was overwhelming.
Finally the night settled in, the warmth of the fires glowing brighter in the dark rooms. It must be midnight. It was late. Had father been here he would have tried to sleep. But he couldn’t. It was lonely, even though he’d been given a bed for the night, to rest in one of the guestrooms of the house, even though he deserved none of this, shouldn’t have any of this. Yet… it wasn’t enough to stop the tears rolling down his cheeks.
Father would come back.
He had to.
He wouldn’t leave him.
We cannot lose you. Khaenri’ah cannot afford to lose you, little star.
Kaeya couldn’t lose them. But they were both gone. He felt so greedy, for wishing for more than the hospitality and kindness he’d been given instead of being left to die that night. It was like a clump that formed in his stomach, something within him that just knew that if he had not been picked up by the tall man, he might not have made it through the night. It was a feeling he’d had every single day for eight long years and counting. He doubted it would ever go away.
What he missed was the one thing he’d had. Company. Mother has stayed for so long and father had been by his side right until this fateful day. Why hadn’t he come back yet? Didn't he realise he’d left his son to strangers? Strangers that could not be trusted.
But no matter how much he thought, he’d still stay lonely. So perhaps it was best to forget about that feeling. To chase it away and ignore it. There was no need to keep it around. It wasn’t needed. And what wasn’t needed, was cast away.
“This is your chance. You are our last hope”
Those words repeated themselves in his mind, only reminding him of papa. They refused to leave him alone. As if sleeping peacefully, without dread and pain still in his soul was no option. So he sat there that night, tears falling in silence as he saw the moon for the very first time, it’s light shining through the window in the room, casting it’s pale colors on the bed where he sat.
This foreign world was still so beautiful.
A beauty in which he could never belong.