Freedom is walking to Mondstadt and asking for help

by Wenticora

Summary:

In which Venti, Zhongli, and Nahida signed a joke contract centuries ago that might be less of a joke now…

In which Nahida was forcibly imprisoned, didn’t know she was halting the dreams of the Sumeru people, and broke out to find Venti—in the hope that their contract is still valid.

In which no one but Diluc and Jean knew about the whole Archon thing, and Kaeya may have a problem with this. Rosaria too, but she's quieter about it.

Chapter 1: Arrival

Venti was at the tavern, doing nothing in particular but enjoy a night like any other. Mondstadt was safe, Dvalin restored, the traveler out somewhere—last he heard in Inazuma—and things were peaceful. He should’ve expected something to come up, but all things considered, he was slightly tipsy on wine and mostly overtaken in laughter and the company of friends. Kaeya and Diluc were squabbling, Rosaria throwing pointed barbs at the two of them for wasting time arguing over nothing. And Venti was there, simply existing. He was nothing more than Venti the Bard here in Angel’s Share—and really, he should’ve expected something to go wrong. Something always went wrong. The world had, perhaps, lulled him into a false sense of security with all that went right nowadays. He was scheduled for a bit of mayhem of the highest order.  

…

Eula took her role as a knight very seriously. Extremely seriously. More seriously than perhaps logical. Or healthy. She was taking a break after a long Reconnaissance mission, but the word "break" didn’t really mean anything in practice. 

It was late, not that it mattered much to her, and she was on her 3^rd extra patrol around the city. Some wrong feeling had gotten under her skin ever since she received a message from Collei about a week ago. Supposedly, Sumeru was in panic because of…something. Something that had happened but no one seemed to understand. It seemed clear that some people knew, but they couldn’t tell anyone else, and whoever knew kept it firmly shelved in secret. Even Collei didn’t know, and Collei’s superior didn’t know either. There was, however, a group consensus that a storm was coming, but no one quite knew why or when. Eula felt grateful that Collei had bothered to reach out and inform her of the strangeness, but perhaps her friend shouldn’t have bothered doing anything at all. 

Just a couple hours after receiving the message, Eula had heard about how the Sumerian main clans had apparently shut down, as in all the clan members went dark just a couple days ago, and all exports had halted completely. She had been a member of a large clan like that before, and she knew. Productivity didn’t simply cut off like that. 

So, Eula was on edge. Very, very on edge. She was sensitive to strange going-ons, and this reeked of something bad, even from all the way across Liyue. She half wondered if her contacts in Liyue would know anything, but she also knew she had a tendency to overthink things like this and not a lot of good friends in Liyue. So, she kept herself quiet—contained. There was no need to worry herself or anyone else further with needless questions. She could just patrol a couple more times and work a little bit harder. Just in case. If the strangeness made it to Mondstadt, she’d be the first to know. And she definitely wouldn’t take any more missions out of the city until whatever the hell all of this was cleared up. 

Which is why she instantly summoned her claymore when she saw a small girl hobbling up toward the main gate. 

It was just a child. Surely….she wasn’t dangerous. Eula’s weapon remained at her side. The girl was dirty, barefoot, and bruised. Eula…wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she had seen stranger in the way of spies. 

“State your name.” She said. And then added in a whisper so quiet it was barely heard, “strange yet respectable traveler.” Good thing Amber wasn’t here. 

The girl jumped, as if she hadn’t seen Eula until that moment, and Eula hesitated. 

It may have been sunset, but it wasn’t that dark, not yet. Now that the girl was closer and Eula could see her properly, it was incredibly clear that this girl wouldn’t make a very good spy. The chances on the whole seemed that she needed help, not an interrogation. In the past, Eula was always one to lean towards kindness, but that habit had gotten her in trouble plenty of times before.

And if her kindness got her in trouble again, so be it, she supposed. She dropped the tension from her shoulders.

Eula cleared her throat and hoped she could recover this. “Excuse me,” she leaned down, “Could you please give me your name?” Now that Eula got a better look, the raggedness definitely wasn’t artificial. There was grime in the girl's dress and ragged tears in the fabric. She shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions…she de-summoned her claymore.

The girl inched ever so slightly forward and clasped her hands together. “My…my name is…uh,” she fidgeted with her torn dress, “well…you can call me Nahida.”

“Ok, Nahida. Do you need help? Are you lost?”

“No. This is Mondstadt. This is the city of freedom.”

Eula wondered if she could get a knight that had a better track record with kids. Maybe Huffman. Despite his protests, the man adored Klee, and he was good with her. Well, as good as anyone could be. However, since she had picked up so many extra patrols and said a bunch of things about how she didn't need their help, there weren’t any knights nearby. She’d have to figure it out herself.

“Well, miss Nahida, do you know where your parents are?”

“I don’t have any,” she said plainly. 

If Eula was being honest, it was a little eerie the way the child brushed off the question. “Ok, well…” she racked her brain; she had no experience with this kind of thing whatsoever! “Where are you from, Nahida?” That seemed like a good place to start.

“Sumeru.”

Eula froze. The idea graced her thoughts for just a moment. A strange child from Sumeru…and no information about what had happened. Then again, interrogating a defenseless, innocent child was a level she never intended to stoop to. Better focus on what was important. “and how did you get to Mondstadt from Sumeru alone?”

“I walked.” She rubbed her eyes and seemed to pout a little. “Can I get in, please? I’m looking for a friend, and they should be in Mondstadt.”

“Do they live in Mondstadt? Did they tell you to come here?”

“Yes. He said if I needed help to come here.”

She would like to give this young girl’s friend a firm whack for ever telling her to travel across Liyue just for help. Surely there was a better way to do this. “Who is this friend? I know everyone in Mondstadt—I could find them for you.”

“Barbatos.”

Ok then. Nevermind. Someone had, apparently, told this young girl that if she needed help, she need only travel halfway across the world to find a missing archon. That was it. She was going to Jean with this. 

“Our archon has been absent for a really, really long time, but I can take you to our master, Jean. She’s very nice, and she’ll help you, okay?” Wow, Eula was truly terrible at talking to kids. She would never make fun of Lawrence for avoiding Klee ever again. 

Eula went to grab Nahida’s hand, and the girl flinched, hard, and moved her hands behind her back. 

“No, no, really, it’s fine. I can find him.”

Eula sighed. Why did all the difficult stuff always happen to her? “Look, I can’t leave a kid to run around Mondstadt looking for our absent Archon. It’s my job as a knight to help you, okay?”

She tilted her head at that, curious. “Barbatos isn’t absent.”

Seriously. Eula never should’ve taken the extra patrols. If this kid had shown up when Swan or Huffman were on duty, this would’ve been taken care of with more finesse and tact than she was capable of right now. She hated to admit it, but she was too wound up and not in the correct frame of mind for carrying out proper knightly duties. She hadn't been stationed in Mondstadt for a while now, and with everything in Sumeru...her mind was anywhere but here. 

Eula looked around; nope, still no knights. “Barbatos hasn’t been sighted in Mondstadt in 500 years. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m not even sure he’s real.” She probably wasn’t supposed to say that to random foreign girls, but all things considered, she wasn’t sure how else to get the idea of Barbatos out of Nahida’s head. 

“He—he’s in Mondstadt, miss knight,” she said. “I mean, I don’t know where he is exactly; you see, I only charted a course to Mondstadt in general before the Akasha system went down. But he should be here.” Nahida looked between Eula and the gate. “I can manage on my own, miss knight, really.”

Eula’s world cracked, and her mind zeroed in on that one interesting piece of information. “What do you mean the Akasha System went down?” she asked, a bit harsher than she should’ve.

Nahida’s eyes widened. “Uh, I thought that would be common knowledge by now. Yes, it’s down, and it’s not coming back.” Her little hands shook.

Well, no wonder the Sumerian clans ‘closed’ so to speak. Without the Akasha System, how were they managing at all? Eula needed to report this to Jean. If only there wasn’t a strange, dirty child right in front of her…

“Nahida, I can’t let you walk around Mondstadt by yourself,” Eula said sternly.

Nahida pouted and started walking forward with determination stronger than expected. “Then come with me.” And then she passed right by Eula. Eula had half a mind to stop her, but all things considered, Nahida didn’t seem very dangerous, and she was significantly slower than Eula anyway. 

Eula kept pace easily. “Where are you going?”

“To find Barbatos,” Nahida said, sounding a little more desperate than comfortable.

“I told you, he isn’t here. But I can take you to someone who can actually help you.”

Nahida kept walking, and Eula kept following. A couple knights saw her trailing after the strange child, and she glared at them, hoping it would inspire them to help her. 

It didn’t. If anything, they all cleared out of her way faster. Cowards. How could they call themselves knights if they were scared of a child?

Nahida finally stopped at Angel’s Share, possibly one of only two places Eula didn’t think a child should enter.

She moved to grab her, but not quite fast enough. “Wait, Nahida, that’s a bar.”

“My friend is there. I can tell.” Her voice was shaking, and perhaps if Eula was any more confident in her ability to handle kids, she would’ve stopped her. As it were, she watched as the child rushed into the tavern like she was being chased by rifthounds—and Eula promised to see this through to the end.

…

Venti felt it the moment something familiar—and strange—entered Mondstadt. 

Normally, he would go track down the visitor, see who it was, but he was starting to feel the wine, and Diluc had, for once, been rather lax about his precious stores. Venti wasn’t sure why, but he suspected it had something to do with the whole I’m-secretly-your-archon thing that had gone down a little while ago. He recalled that tonight, Kaeya might’ve mentioned how nice and peaceful things were and how he was glad Klee was safe, and suddenly, Diluc was pouring Venti another glass of wine. It wasn't like he was going to complain about it. 

Whether that was the reason or not, he was comfortably mellow, so he didn’t track the new arrival to his city. 

(He should’ve.) Instead, he took another sip of his 14^th glass of wine.

Rosaria raised an eyebrow. “Bard, if you keep going, I won’t be the one to drag your unconscious body from this tavern.” 

“Oh Rosaria! How you care for me~” he said, leaning his head on his hand. 

“Tch.” She rolled her eyes. 

Kaeya momentarily paused his squabbling with Diluc. "My friend, she has a point. I don’t care how much you drink, but I’m not dealing with the aftermath.”

Venti smiled. “Did you hear that, master Diluc? What good friends I have.”

He paid no attention when the door to the tavern crashed open, and he closed his eyes, comfortable in the confines of the tavern and good company. 

He heard the monotone drawl of Diluc’s voice, “Eula, you can’t bring your kid in here.”

Venti snapped to attention at that. Wha—why? Why would Eula have a kid? What happened there? He was never out of the loop! And he pouted, feeling incredibly disappointed in his apparent inability to pick up that particular piece of gossip.

“I didn’t bring—she’s not mine, Diluc.” Hmm…maybe Venti didn’t miss anything then?

“Honestly, knights, thinking a kid belongs in a tavern,” 

“Diluc, I didn’t bring her here—I was trying to get us to Jean,” Eula squabbled back. 

Diluc scoffed. “You can’t take one kid to Jean? Seriously?”

Venti stole a glance in Eula’s direction and—-and he came eye to eye with someone he hadn’t seen in 500 years. Shock would be too calm a word to describe how his heart sped up, how he blinked to make sure the girl at the entrance wasn’t a mirage.

Nahida, bruised and battered, (but surely her) stood at the mouth of the tavern, sight locked onto him. She, Zhongli, and Venti, 500 years ago had had a get together in the wake of the Cataclysm, and they’d promised to keep in touch, mostly because he and Zhongli wanted to make sure she’d be okay…and then she’d dropped off the grid, stuck in Sumeru all the time, and he had thought her either uninterested in his friendship or…or hiding perhaps. He looked closer.

She…hadn’t changed, and wasn’t that strange? Even immortals change, especially young ones. For all Ei went on about eternity, even she understood that fact. It was why she locked herself up on that theoretical plane of existence. Nahida, whose jurisdiction was over Knowledge, shouldn’t have that kind of ability. Yet, here she was, scraped up, but on the whole, virtually the same.

He certainly found that surprising, but decided not to push her on it. She hadn’t visited in all those years, and considering he had heard no communication prior to this, she likely wasn’t here for him anyway. Which means he was utterly unprepared in the worst way to the name she spoke aloud with quiet reverence.

“Barbatos.”

In that one word, he felt relief seeping through her figure. And he felt fear. She had come to him for something, and it was likely something he couldn’t run away from. There wasn’t much that running failed to work on, but a long-lost friend (?) in his city was an exception. 

The people in the tavern seemed to disregard her, and only Diluc’s eyes had narrowed warily. Kaeya was laughing. Rosaria was stone-faced. Venti would’ve been laughing too had anyone else said it. 

Nahida came closer, and there wasn’t anywhere for him to go, so Venti sat there as she stared and truly saw him. He had forgotten what it was like, for one Archon to read the fact of another Archon. Like recognizes like, and their magic resonated for one steadfast moment. 

No one but them felt it, and the second after it passed, Nahida began to cry softly. 

“It’s---it’s really you! Barbatos, I-I need y-your help.” Her eyes were watery. Her hands shook, and Venti instinctively reached out to hold them. 

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?” He would’ve preferred to be heartless—to sit there and pretend that name didn’t belong to him—but no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t do that, not to one of the few who understood the weight of immortality. 

She took a large breath and sniffed lightly. “Uhm, right, so. I-uh, I wasn’t sure I’d make it this far. Right.” She rubbed her eyes. Her voice went solid, “in accordance to the contract we signed, I hereby formally request asylum and,” she paused, righting herself strong, “and retribution.”

Venti barely remembered that contract. It was something Morax had cooked up on a whim after the Cataclysm in hopes of seeding trust with the newly risen Archons. Only the three of them had signed it at first. More joined later, but by then, the contract had changed to something more along the lines of general allyship and an offer for asylum only, and contact with Nahida had been lost, so she hadn’t been included. However, the original contract still held true with all of its original parts.

As it stated, any of them could request asylum in any of the other’s nations, and if they so requested, retribution would be served to those who had wronged them—to those that had lead them to seeking asylum to begin with. 

The retribution thing had been an extra addition, considered rather silly at the time to all parties—as if Venti or Nahida would seriously request retribution. The two of them were too kind, too soft. And Zhongli, well, realistically speaking, Venti doubted Zhongli would ever go to another Archon to deliver any retribution he deemed justified, especially the two kindest Archons of the lot. It was a joke addition, added on the whim of wine and a sudden swell of peace and laughter. 

Yet, here was Nahida, requesting that which he never expected to be called on for.

What happened?

She must’ve taken his silence as rejection, as she immediately began stuttering again. “It-it’s just I thought, it was a c-contract. That means for-forever. Also, y-you’re the A-Archon of f-freedom! A-and that m-means you’d help, no matter what.”

Venti cringed; that’s not the impression he meant to give. “It’s okay, little sprout. Of course I’ll help. I need to know who you are requesting retribution on. And maybe a bit of context, if you would.”

He hadn’t noticed until this moment how quiet the tavern had become. It was as if all action had frozen, and as Nahida contemplated the question and how to answer, they all remained still, as if balancing on a wire the width of a hair.

“The sages. The Akademiya. They,” she hiccuped, “they trapped me. In the Temple of Surasthana. A-and they lied. And it was horrible, Barbatos.”

He bit his lip at his own name spoken aloud. There was nothing to do about it now.

She continued, “Nobody in Sumeru could dream, and it was my fault, and I didn’t know it! And they wouldn’t let me go. So I escaped and walked here.”

Oh goodness. She had walked? All the way from Sumeru to Mondstadt? Venti was completely baffled. “Why not go to Liyue? Surely you remember; Morax signed the same contract, and he would’ve helped.” He pointedly ignored the shattering of a dropped glass in the corner. 

She hesitated. “Well, you’re the Archon of freedom. A-and I didn’t know if…if what we promised 500 years ago would hold. But I figured even if the contract was now null, you’d help for freedom’s sake.” She yawned, large and exaggerated. “And there was one other thing too.” She glanced away, as if she wanted to hide from the world. “I heard Morax was dead.” She cringed, tucking her chin down and squishing herself smaller. “Sorry. I know he was your…friend.”

Ah. 

That—that blockheaded, thick-brained, rat-tail adorned idiot.

Venti had heard about the whole ‘death’ event from Xiao, and he had a few choice words to say to the old dragon himself. This would not stand. Zhongli would take responsibility for this, one way or another, if nothing else for psychological damages.

He didn’t know how to address Morax’s current…situation with Nahida, though, so he’d wait for now. Besides, there was one other misconception that had to be remediated immediately. 

Venti placed a hand on his heart, and he let anemo energy flow through his veins. His braids glowed ever so gently in a teal hue. “Contracts are forever, Nahida. I, of anyone, know this. It’s an occupational hazard of being Morax’s closest friend,” he said with a little wink. Venti pointedly did not look at anyone in the tavern but her. She needed confirmation, and it would shatter everything he had worked for here in Mondstadt under the name “Venti,” but she deserved it, even at the cost. That was how important this was. There was nothing that meant more to him than the upholding of freedom and the promise that he would do so, regardless of any consequence.

His eyes and braids glowed teal. “I, Barbatos, God of freedom and Archon of Mondstadt, do hereby swear to uphold the contract I signed 500 years ago.” Even in the tavern, the wind resonated with his declaration. “I will provide you asylum, and I will deliver retribution to whoever has wronged you.” 

That was that, and he meant it. He wasn’t the type for retribution, but any danger to freedom was different. He wouldn’t let it stand, not against such a young Archon. In the ensuing silence, he let the energy die down, and he offered a hand, crouching down to her level. “Ok?” He asked gently.

Nahida looked from him, to his hand—-the entire tavern clearly forgotten—and she took it. “Ok.”

That seemed to be the trigger, and she sequestered herself in his arms.

Venti held on tightly, a hand cradling her head. “It’s ok. You made it.”

“I made it,” she said, voice muffled in Venti’s shirt. “It was really hard to get here.” That seemed to unlock all the feelings, and she started rambling, “I didn’t want to get found, so I avoided all the settlements. There were lots of monsters, and I’m still not used to using Dendro. I’ve been in stasis so long, and it was—-it was hard.”

Venti sighed. It seemed like his relative peace had ended. Although, this was surely for the better. He’d always advocate for freedom, and the fact that Nahida had sought him out for this reason warmed his heart. 

Now that she had made it, though, there was work to do. And he didn’t like the idea of work so much. 

“Okay, Nahida. Let’s get you cleaned up, and in the morning we can go find Morax.”

“Um…I thought he was dead.”

Venti blinked. Right. That. “Well, you see, his death was…greatly exaggerated.” He didn’t feel like explaining this right now in a busy tavern of all places. “Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded. “That’s illogical, but I’ll trust you.”

Venti nodded, perfectly content with that. Trust was all he asked for. 

Then, the scene shattered. People started talking, asking questions, and noise overlapped over more noise in a cacophony of pure chaos. 

Diluc jumped out of the bartender’s nest and was now blocking people from Venti and Nahida. Venti would need to do something nice for him later. 

Eula raised her voice, finally reasserting her place among the chaos, “Bard, what is this? What are you doing, lying to a child about such things?” She hissed, loud and commanding.

Venti wasn’t sure which thing he had said that was supposedly a lie, and he wasn’t going to ask. No need to specify that which was unspecific. It was one of the best tricks for holding a secret identity—not that it mattered much anymore. 

For now, he simply took Nahida’s hand and left the tavern. No one moved to stop him. Eula glared, but Diluc whispered something to her, and she backed off. Although she did start following them from a bit of a distance away.

It seemed like the other people in the tavern also wanted to follow the two of them, but no one else did. So, Venti held Nahida’s small hand in his, and he hoped Jean wouldn’t mind an interruption this late. Part of him ached to disturb his people like this—because honestly, they were barely his people anyway. However, a contract was a contract, even one that he signed 500 years ago. He could only hope all would end well. 

…

Diluc stood by the door, and he refused to speak while his patrons whispered hushed questions in his general direction. 

One man asked, “is the bard serious? There’s no way he means it.”

“No, of course not. This is a set up, clearly. He’s a trickster, that one.”

“But…the teal light? How did he do that?”

“It’s a set-up.”

“He does have an anemo vision,” another added. The patrons nodded at that, although a sliver of something askew had wormed its way into the room, and no one dared consider the true implications of what they had seen. Maybe they would when sober, but for now, they all sat in uncomfortable reverie.  

Diluc wasn’t going to let this go on, though. “The tavern is closed tonight. I recommend not thinking too much into it.” He shuffled people out, noticing belatedly that Rosaria was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t sure when she’d left, but he hoped she wasn’t doing anything rash. 

He had gotten Eula to back down with some choice words and a brief mention of how Venti was a good guy, even if a drunkard, and there was no way he’d let a kid wander off or sleep outside. After that, she had, he expected, trailed behind the two of them from the shadows. But at least that let Venti take control of this this particular situation.

Kaeya was the only one still in the bar, leaning against the wall, gaze dark. As soon as the tavern door closed, his kind-of brother whispered quietly, “He knows, Luc.”

Honestly, Diluc didn’t have the energy to deal with this nonsense. What the hell was Kaeya talking about now? “Knows what?” He asked, irritated. 

“About me. Where I’m from.”

Oh. Diluc…had already come to terms with that fact and deemed it completely irrelevant to everything. If Venti was Barbatos, that meant he knew things. Important things. Venti had let said important things lie, and that meant he would probably do so forever. Diluc wasn’t sure how he was supposed to convince Kaeya of the same. 

“He hasn’t done anything about it, so it’s probably fine.”

“But---but then he must not know.” Kaeya said hurriedly. 

Diluc needed to wrap this up. Kaeya’s well-being mattered, but this really wasn’t the most important thing going on right now. 

That girl—she said the sages had trapped her. There were only six sages he knew about, and they were all in the Akademiya. If Venti was being called on for retribution, then that meant Sumeru was in for one hell of a storm. Diluc needed to get all of his people, contacts, suppliers, everyone, out of Sumeru as quickly as possible. He immediately started drafting some letters. He didn’t know how much time he’d have, but anything was better than doing nothing. He hated doing nothing when the air buzzed with energy, when he could feel intimately that something invisible had twisted into a different shape all around him. 

Kaeya was still rambling, “because, Diluc, if he knew, then why am I still alive? There’s no way that if he knew what I was, he’d leave it alone. He’s an archon. And that means I need to tell him. Don’t I? If I don’t tell him, then when he finds out I was hiding it, it’ll be worse. Maybe I’ll just leave. Move somewhere else.”

Diluc finished the first letter, which simply said, ‘Cut all ties with Sumeru and get out as quickly as possible. I’ll explain later.’ For those that trusted him, it would be enough. For those that didn’t…well. He wasn’t going to bother worrying about it. He finished a second with a simple signature. 

“Maybe Venti is, you know, the Archon of freedom and doesn’t care to restrict you,” he offhandedly mentioned. 

“Venti must not know. There’s no other logical option.”

Ok, Diluc had to put a stop to all this nonsense right now. “Kaeya, he definitely knows. Even if he didn’t, it’s Venti. There’s no way he’d do anything to you, and if he tried, I would stop him.”

Kaeya considered this, and looked toward Diluc’s letters. “What are you doing?”

“You heard the same as I; our God is, apparently, going to be delivering retribution to the Sumerian sages. I’m going to get as many of my people out of there before it happens. I’m not having Sumeru collapse with people that work for me inside.”

Kaeya straightened, and his gaze flickered over the letters. “That’s awfully quick of you,” he said coyly. 

“I have a business to run, Kaeya.”

Kaeya’s eyes narrowed. “Even then, this is a little too fast for you. How did you accept it so easily? So quickly?”

Damn Kaeya and his wit. “Accept what? I’m simply looking out for my people.”

“Ha!” Kaeya laughed. “No, this is too fast. You aren’t the kind of person to take this kind of action on a chance—a whim, really. There’s no reason to be that sure that Venti is Barbatos right now, that he isn’t messing with Mondstadt for the fun of it. Venti’s done plenty of stranger things.” His gaze was calculating, now. Then, it turned sour. “You—you knew,” he said, lips pursed. 

“What?” Fuck. 

“You knew he was Barbatos!” Kaeya said, inching slightly towards the door.

Diluc had underestimated Kaeya’s deducing abilities. “That’s ridiculous.”

“But it’s not. Because…you are acting on all of this too quickly. And you instantly went to protect him earlier. That’s not something you do. You always need to know who’s in the right first; you would never protect him if you thought it was a joke or if there was even a chance of it being a joke—if he didn’t need protection.” He started tapping his hand against his leg. “What’s more, you’ve thought this through,” he said, breathless. “You are supposedly willing to protect me from him, as you said, and you’re serious about it, and you’re serious about sending those letters. Which means…Venti really is Barbatos, and you knew.” They stood in the ensuing silence. “You didn’t tell me.”

“Kaeya…”

“You didn’t tell me.” Kaeya opened the door. “Good night, Diluc,” he said every so softly. The door slammed behind him.

…

“I know Barbatos,” Rosaria said in the silence of the church, only Barbara still present, carrying out some final tasks of the night. 

This was not how Barbara had imagined her night going. She was pleased that Rosaria seemed to finally know their God’s name, but why she suddenly believed she knew him…well, Barbara wasn’t in the mood to be made fun of like that. She wasn’t that naive. Oh archons give her strength. 

“Rosaria, we don’t need to know Barbatos in order to worship him,” she stated plainly, and she continued sweeping the main hall. She really wished Rosaria would pick up a broom, too, but she calmly reminded herself that it was important to maintain willpower in the face of situations like this.   

Rosaria seemed to completely ignore her. “I was in Diluc’s tavern and… oh hell, the bard is Barbatos.”

Barbara stopped sweeping for a second. “The…bard?”

“Venti.” Rosaria responded. It did nothing to ease Barbara’s annoyance. 

“Venti isn’t Barbatos.”

“Yes, he is.”

Barbara rolled her eyes. She was tired and definitely wanted some backup for this conversation. “Why don’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

Rosaria stilled, and her pose went slack. “You’ll see, I guess.”

…

Sumeru was in for one hell of a reckoning. Then again, maybe Mondstadt was, too. 

Chapter 2: When in Mondstadt

Notes:

Um. Hi. There’s another chapter now. It’s a lot of words. Like, a lot of words. I swear it wasn't supposed to be that long. I was having fun, though, so. There is fluff, there is destruction. It might be entertaining.

Heed the tags; they have changed and may keep changing. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how posting works. :3

There was no other way to describe this situation in Venti’s mind other than ‘bad.’ So horrendously, impossibly, bad . Venti didn’t know how he was supposed to feel. It wasn’t, like, ‘Mondstadt is getting attacked’ bad or ‘something is on fire’ bad but more like a bad of the shadowy type. This was the kind of bad that hid behind locked doors and threatened to break out at any minute, and it was all because of that single word.

‘Retribution.’

It had been a joke at the time, that’s it! None of them were serious about it, and it’s not that he felt resentment toward Nahida for calling it in—he felt worse that she thought she had to—but what was done was done, and he had signed the contract. 

That was his first problem: he was never careful enough.

The other Archons always made fun of how careless and naive he was, and Morax poked at him because Venti had no sense of gravitas, and now he was inclined to agree because this was pinnacle negligence. Because Venti was the one who had suggested the dumb retribution thing. Sure, the others had accepted, but they had been drunk! He had been drunk! He had put himself in this position to begin with.

And what did retribution even mean? Technically, it was punishment of equal measure to the crime, but how could this crime even be quantified? Was there any true, equal punishment for imprisoning a God for 500 years? There wasn’t, not really. Time was cruel that way. 

Venti could destroy the entire Akademiya, and he wasn’t sure if even that would be enough—not really. He could level it to the ground, and it would be a sliver of what he had promised because no mortal knew the concept of 500 years. They didn’t know what they had stolen. 

Stupid old contracts with imprecise wording. Maybe…that was the out? Because, well, how did Nahida define retribution? He could ask her. Not now, of course, but later. 

Although, that was his second problem: everything was always for later. He’d handle that later, do something about it later. Tell someone later. Figure it out later.

He didn’t think anything through, and then he didn’t deal with the consequences. This was different, though. He had promised, and there was no way he’d break it, because—and he was trying really hard not to think about it—he was pissed . How dare they? How dare they do such a thing? For what reason? 

He just wanted to talk to Jean. He wanted her to hate him for what he would ask her to do, even though she wouldn’t. He sighed as Nahida held onto his hand.

“Sorry, Barbatos.”

He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I think…you did the right thing coming to me. I’ll do something about it. Also, call me Venti. It’s the name I’m going by nowadays.”

“Wait, you’re not going by Barbatos?”

He cringed. “Well, I guess I am now .”

“You weren’t using that name before?” She asked.

“No, but it’s okay! I don’t mind, not really.” That was another lie, and not even a good one, but she let it rest. 

When they got to the Knights’s headquarters, he breezed by the guard with a quick “hi-bye-need-jean-thanks!” without giving anyone a chance to stop him. It’s not like they thought he was dangerous. But he was . And he was going to start something terrible. 

They should’ve stopped him. 

Lisa was in front of Jean’s door with an expression that screamed exhaustion, and she visibly deflated when she saw them. “Don’t bother Jean, please. She’s tired.”

Venti laughed, as if he wasn’t about to make it all much, much worse. “This is important. Like, actually important. I know I’m always making work for you guys, but seriously, I really need to see Jean right now .”

“Oh?” Lisa must’ve sensed how frazzled he felt because she backed down and turned her attention to Nahida. “And who is this cutie?”

For a brief moment, he had forgotten Nahida was even there. He wasn’t very good at this.

“I’m—” she started to introduce herself, but Venti cut her off.

“Nahida! This is just Nahida. She’s…my friend. I’m doing a favor for her, is all.” Yup, that was technically true—a favor that might decimate Sumeru’s relative prosperity. Venti and his completely inconspicuous friend doing nonsense things. That’s all it was. 

Lisa crouched down. “If Venti’s going to talk to Jean about important things, that might get awfully boring. Do you want to hang out with me?”

A flash of adrenaline shot through his system, all senses on high alert, and his hand clenched down on Nahida’s. Take her? No, he wouldn’t let that happen. 

But it was just Lisa. Lisa was fine. She was safe. And maybe this whole Sumeru thing was a conversation he’d rather have with just Jean and him, anyway. Lisa was so good at that, knowing what would be best for people, even with absolutely no context. 

He wouldn’t force Nahida to do anything, though. “What do you want? It’ll only be a moment. Lisa could get you food. But you can stay with me, too.”

She bounced her gaze between the two of them. “You’ll be talking for just a couple minutes?”

“Yep. You won’t even notice time has passed at all.”

“And you trust her?” Her eyes flickered over at Lisa.

“Completely,” he said. Lisa knew discretion if anything else—a consequence of working in a library that held some rather sensitive information. 

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

He let go of Nahida and wished it didn’t scare him as much as it did. She would be fine and so would he. Jean’s office had never before seemed quite so intimidating. It was sort of pathetic, really. 

Why was it so hard to enter one room? It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult.

“You okay?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just…nevermind.” 

He pulled the door open, like lifting a lead weight, and there was Jean, sitting right where she always did. Nothing was different, not really. The door closed behind him, and she looked up from her papers. 

“Oh, Venti. Do you need something?” She asked. “Or are you just here to pester me?” She laughed.

“Me? Pester? I would never .” He paused, letting the mirth die down. “I need something, actually. It’s sort of important.”

She hummed. “I’m finishing up a document to approve a park beautification project, but it’ll only take another five minutes. Do you mind waiting?”

“Of course not.” 

He could’ve said, ‘yes, I do mind,’ or ‘I need your help with something far more important than Mondstadt’s parks,’ or ‘Jean, I’m afraid you’re going to hate me forever for what I’m about to ask from you, but I need you to listen to me anyway,’ but he didn’t say any of it. Instead, he sat on a couch, and twirled wind around his fingers while Jean signed inconsequential documents about little things that he wished he could expend energy to care about.

She didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t right for him to come to her about this. Then again, there wasn’t really another option. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she refused his request. Contracts had no opinion on his interpersonal relationships, after all. Would he have to order Jean to do it? He really hoped not. 

No wonder Morax had no friends.

Jean scribbled a signature at the bottom of a page, and then she lined all the pages up and set them aside. “Finished. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

He collapsed in on himself a little. “Do I start with the big thing or the…tiny inconvenience?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Big thing. Better to address the worst thing first.”

How resilient of her. “Right.” He still wasn’t sure how to go about this. “So, I was, maybe, possibly, called on to uphold a contract I signed a really, really long time ago.”

Jean straightened, and her eyes widened. “Are we talking Archon things?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. He might’ve been blushing—from shame, really. “I signed it like, 500 years ago. It wasn’t—it wasn’t really serious. We thought it was funny more than anything.”

“We?”

“Yeah—Buer, Morax, and me. You see, Morax and I wanted to seed trust with the new Archons at the time, at least to keep them from attacking each other, but just the three of us signed it because the others were busy or not receptive to our attempts.” 

Venti thought back on it. The new Archons really had been (mostly) horribly destructive. And he was about to become like them. It was rather hypocritical of him in hindsight. Well, he’d try to keep the aggression to a minimum if he could.

“And?” Jean prompted. 

“It was a contract for allyship, essentially. It promised that we’d provide asylum to each other for any reason. I mean, we were all a little paranoid at the time, and it helped to at least offer sanctuary. Even though the other Archons besides Buer didn’t sign the first iteration, I think offering it de-escalated a lot of the tension since Morax and I were pretty straightforward about how we didn’t want to fight them.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”   

Yeah, he was avoiding it again. There was no more later. Later had arrived, and it was terrifying. He cleared his throat. 

“There was a second part of the contract that we agreed to add because—well—we were drunk and not really thinking, and it was just the three of us, and we were friendly. It, well, it stated that we could request the others who signed it to deliver retribution to anyone that had wronged us.” He looked away, refusing to meet her eye. The silence was suffocating, full-bodied and relentless.

Jean sighed. “I see.”

“Buer—Nahida, is actually what she’s going by—requested retribution on the Akademiya, and I promised, Jean, I promised .” He twisted the wind into a little figure eight and laughed to himself. “The worst part is that I want to do it, deliver retribution, I mean,” his voice cracked. “And that’s horrible, but what they did was horrible, and I still don’t know the whole of it.”

Silence sat heavy, devastating in completeness with the dim light of the room. 

“Jean?” He asked, looking back at her. “I’m sorry. This might get a bit…rough.”

“What do you need from me?”

And there was that steely knight attitude he loved her for. If only it wasn’t aimed at him. Jean was definitely mad, even if she wouldn’t dare yell or berate him. He had put her in a rather impossible position, and he only wished she’d forgive him when all was said and done. 

“I need you to cut off all contact, all exports, all imports, all everything from Sumeru as soon as possible.” 

And you’ll do it because I’m your Archon was left unsaid. Or else , was, just the same, left unsaid.

She hesitated, scrunching her face in that way she did when concentrating. “That’s awfully aggressive.”

“Yeah, well, they wronged their Archon.”

“They what?”

 “The Akademiya imprisoned Nahida, forcibly, and she escaped and came to me, calling on that contract I mentioned.”

Jean tapped the table in thought. “Isn’t there another option, though? A better way to do this? Surely we could figure out a way to uphold your contract and keep the Sumeru people out of it.”

Good old Jean, always altruistic until the end, thinking they could right it with a bit of positive intention and kind words. Venti cracked. 

“This is literally the kindest thing I could do,” He said in pure, desperate frustration. 

“But cutting off connection with Sumeru would be seen as extremely hostile. Both economies will inevitably suffer for it, too.”

He stood up and started pacing back and forth, hoping she’d stop looking at him. “Jean, you don’t understand . Proper retribution would be, like, total destruction of Sumeru. They imprisoned her for 500 years. This? This is tame, and it’s where I’m starting because I don’t know what to do , and I still need to understand what happened, and I don’t know if I’m even capable of upholding what I promised, but I have to do something —not just because of the contract,” he added, “but because what the sages did was wrong. My friend was hurt.” 

He was breathing heavily, and he didn’t know when he had gotten so riled up about it, but he just couldn’t stop. “So, I need you to do this for me. Please. I can….I can fix this, I hope, but if I make a move, Mondstadt is going to come under fire whether you help or not, and it was a contract. I signed a contract to do this if asked. She asked me, and the last thing I need is Morax pursuing me for not upholding it, because he would.”

Oh Archons, Morax . Venti hadn’t considered the fact that Morax knew retribution intimately. Violence was his stage, strength his spotlight. He could do real damage, and he would never hesitate to uphold a contract either, not like Venti would. Not like how Venti was getting cold feet and being a little coward about it.

Venti was initially planning to go find Morax tomorrow, because all things considered, he shouldn’t be handling this by himself, but maybe he shouldn’t do that. Morax wouldn’t consider the greater implications at all; he’d just jump right in and support insanity. 

Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. 

Surely Morax would try to reduce damage, but it was also likely he wouldn’t consider what Nahida truly wanted, and she was so confused right now. 

She didn’t know what would be right, nor did Venti, and Morax would ignore the both of them in favor of cold, hard violence. And that meant that the situation had, somehow, gotten even worse. Was he seriously going to—on purpose—keep this from Morax? That sounded tricky and sort of like a really terrible idea.   

Jean relented. “Okay, then. We’ll cut ties with Sumeru for now. However, I will need a full explanation and plan of action following this.” 

She backed down, he knew, because he was destined to win this fight, because he was Barbatos, which was the worst reason to win anything. He was her Archon, and that always mattered. No one else could’ve barged into her office and demanded she cut Mondstadt off from another nation. It was ridiculous to even consider.

But he could, only because Mondstadt was his city. He felt sick.

“Thank you, Jean.” 

“But! I can’t make an order like that without reason, or people won’t stand by and let it happen.” She frowned. “The only way I could think of justifying it—and you’re going to hate this—is if Barbatos himself issued it.”

Ah. Even when she didn’t want to do what he asked, she felt bad for making him reveal that which was important to him. Jean was so nice. Too bad niceness wouldn’t get them anywhere. The situation was too bad for that.

Venti cracked an awkward smile and clapped his hands together with a pop. “So, about that tiny inconvenience I mentioned earlier…” 

Suddenly the inconvenience was convenient, and he wished this course of action hadn’t been made possible at his expense. He was getting the feeling it had become a trend.

Tomorrow, he’d go to the Cathedral, and all of this would crack open viciously. 

____________________

The purple lady, Lisa, had given Nahida pancakes—and a room, and a bed, and a lamp, and blankets, and pillows, and a stuffed golden finch. 

She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing with them all. Maybe Lisa just liked to give people things, and the only point was in receiving them. 

The finch was pretty cute. She wondered if she could keep it. Although, where was she going to go after this? There was nowhere to go. She hugged it tight to her chest and nuzzled the soft felt. She just didn’t know. Maybe Venti would let her stay here, or Morax in his nation, but it’s not like she belonged in either of those places. She belonged in Sumeru, which didn’t seem to want her. The sages didn’t want her. No one else cared to find her, or talk to her, or see if she was even still alive. 

They didn’t need her. Best to just…try and forget them. Right?

Besides, now that she was finally alone, there was something she wanted to take care of. 

She whispered ever so quietly into the quiet dark of the room, “Are you still there?”

Then she waited, and a woman appeared in the corner, all fuzzy edges obscured in a glowing green silhouette. 

Hi, the woman said.

“Hi.” She hugged the golden finch tighter to her chest. “Thank you. For helping me escape. You were right. Venti is nice. I had forgotten.”

Nahida stared at the…person (memory?) hovering just off the ground. It was her that had properly helped Nahida escape from the permanent prison the sages had kept her in. She was the only reason Nahida had gotten out, and yet, all that this memory loved would be collateral because Nahida couldn’t just work up the courage to forgive.

Nahida pushed her face into the plush finch. “I’m sorry. For—for ruining it.” 

This apology was long overdue. She should’ve said something back when she left Sumeru to begin with, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to say it. Even now, the words tasted like ash.

Ruining what? The memory asked.

“Your device, the Akasha system.”

You didn’t ruin it, just took back something that was always yours to begin with.

Nahida summoned the gnosis, a glowing chess piece of intertwined green and silver. It felt heavy in her grip, as if she wasn’t actually meant to hold it. She didn’t think it was supposed to be hers. She almost wished someone would come and whisk it away from her. 

“It’s just, they were using it wrong,” Nahida said. 

I’m not mad.

“You should be. It was my fault. The sages stole all those dreams, and they treated knowledge as exclusive, seeding misinformation, hiding information from others. I should’ve known. That’s my domain, knowledge. I’m supposed to know things.”

All you had to reference was the Akasha terminal, which as you say, the sages put false information into. Of course you didn’t know that was why people couldn’t dream. Of course you didn’t know their plans. That’s not your fault. Your entire education was facilitated through a database controlled by your jailers. 

“But I’m supposed to be the Archon; it’s my job to fix what doesn’t make sense. The Akasha didn’t have any information on why Sumeru people didn’t dream, and I gave up because of it. Just because I didn’t know what they were doing doesn’t make it any less my fault. They were able to keep me trapped because I’m weak and because I couldn’t do my job properly.”

That’s not your fault. You didn’t have an opportunity to stop them. You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.

“But I should’ve known! I was supposed to be…I don’t know. Better. No wonder they wanted to make a new God. I wasn’t even strong enough to resist the prison they made for me. I needed you to pull me out of it. I should’ve been more.”

You are only what you are, and you’re perfect that way.

“Stop it. I’m…you should be mad. I’m supposed to love Sumeru, supposed to protect it.”  She fiddled with the gnosis. Now that it was out of the Akasha system, the entire knowledge database was down, and there was no way she would let it come back. She wasn’t just deconstructing a legacy, but also permanently forcing it to remain forever in pieces. 

“All I did was break the last thing you left behind.” 

The last thing I left behind was you.

Nahida startled. “But I don’t count.”

Why not?

“Because I’m—I’m not good enough. I can’t even do what I was made to do.” She stared at the glowing chess piece, that which she had stolen. Rukkhadevata had given it to the sages, and Nahida had taken it, like a thief. It had never belonged to her.

“I want to love Sumeru,” Nahida said. “I want that so, so badly, but I don’t. I don’t even know anything real about Sumeru or how to love it. All I know of it is a list of information learned through the Akasha, some of which must be false, and it’s all just data. I can’t love data, and I’m sorry.”

It’s okay. I understand. The memory whispered.

That’s impossible, Nahida thought. Because you already know how to love. 

She put the gnosis back inside her chest where it sat like an awfully heavy anchor. She fell asleep then, connected into reality, but just barely. She slept for quite a while, safe in the confines of Mondstadt and its knights. 

____________________

Venti didn’t sleep that night. At all. Instead, he sat in a state of stasis, hiding on the top of the Knights of Favonius building. 

It wasn’t exactly a good place to hide, but that didn’t stop him because it was really high up, and he felt untouchable there. He was still sitting there when the sun made it halfway through the sky.

Nahida was still sleeping in the building, so he had to stay nearby, but he didn’t want to get in the way of the knights now that it was about midday and they were all crowding inside. He didn’t want to hover about her room, anyway. The knights could keep her safe.

The roof would’ve been a nice, empty place to relax, except that at some point during the time he’d been sitting here, a little bit after the knights’ morning meeting, Eula had noticed him and decided to position herself in the middle of the street to glare at him. Relentless, she was.

She had been staring for about an hour now, and it had become pretty clear to him that there was no way he could descend without getting caught, either verbally or physically. He could use a bit of crafty anemo manipulation and fly away, but she would probably get him eventually. It might be better to just engage, but she sort of scared him, so he stayed perched up top, watching the city from where no one would normally see him.

He would’ve remained successfully hidden if Eula wasn’t down there, acknowledging that he was, in fact, very visible to anyone who cared to look. 

It was getting worse, too, as people would notice her standing in the exact middle of the road, and if they were brave enough, they’d ask, “Hey Eula, what are you doing?” because anyone that knew Eula knew that she didn’t stand still. Ever. And she, in proper Eula fashion, would say, “I’m on a stakeout.” Then, she’d look back up at Venti, and whatever unlucky fellow who had asked would also look up, because who wouldn’t, and then they’d see Venti hanging out on the roof. 

The townsperson, or knight, or adventurer that noticed him would immediately freeze, and then skitter away, whispering—about what, he could probably guess. Somehow, it was already common knowledge that he had done something…strange last night. The townspeople probably hadn’t heard the full story, since the looks were either curious or skeptical, but regardless, he urged to back out of sight every time Eula invited a new spectator to observe his hiding spot. 

And here came her newest accidental victim, Kaeya.

He, similarly to the others, swaggered on over to where she was exhibiting very un-Eula-like behavior.

“It’s a bit early to be standing around, slacking,” he said lightheartedly. “I’m pretty sure there’s work I could give you if you need something to do.”

“I’m on a stakeout.” 

“You’re what?” 

And here it came— ugh . Kaeya made eye contact with him, and even from all the way up here, Venti noticed how Kaeya flinched backwards. Kaeya immediately asserted himself back into proper, proud knight stature, but Venti caught the slip up, and he wished that reaction didn’t hurt as much as it did.

“I need to go,” Kaeya said. 

“Don’t you have work today? In the headquarters?” Eula asked.

Kaeya didn’t even bother responding, just ran out of view. Great. Was Kaeya afraid of him now? Was this going to become a thing? How was he supposed to make people think he wasn’t dangerous when, technically speaking, he absolutely was? He sort of wanted to chase Kaeya down, but that would definitely give the wrong impression. 

Imagine that, Barbatos hunting down his townspeople until they don’t fear him anymore—as if that would work. He didn’t even know why Kaeya was afraid, and there didn’t seem to be a way to fix it. Venti slumped down, and tried not to overthink it.

At the most inopportune timing, Nahida walked out of the building, glanced around little, and sighted Venti. She had been asleep for a super long time—it was about noon—which was good, but now she had unintentionally added a new, surprise element to this confrontation. 

“You’re awake!” He said. “Sleep well?”

“Yes.” Nahida probably didn’t sense the tension. “That’s a strange place to spend the day,” she yelled up at him.

“Haha yeah. The sky from here is…pretty,” he responded. Screaming from the roof of a building really was an awful way to hold a conversation.

Nahida waited, but Venti made no move to come down—he absolutely would not with Eula standing right there . But he did need to talk to her…

“Should I join you up there?” She asked.

Oh, no, no, no that wasn’t safe! She probably had very little experience climbing buildings. “Nahida, no, just…” 

Fine. He was the one Eula wanted, not Nahida. He stood up and prepared to jump down, and that’s when Eula crouched into a ready position. 

This wasn’t fair. He knew he was pouting, and it was completely childish, but come on! What sane person got into a fighting stance to intercept a perfectly docile target attempting to scale down a building? As Nahida seemed to consider climbing the walls and Eula stood there menacingly, he shifted from foot to foot. Why. How had this happened.

He’d just suck it up. All he needed to do was remember to dodge if necessary. Right? 

Venti jumped, and the wind caught him on the way down, floating him gently down. As soon as he landed, Eula promptly grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and physically lifted him completely off the ground. 

“We need to talk, bard .”

His feet dangled helplessly in the air. This seemed a bit much. “You’re very strong,” he chuckled nervously.

“And you’re being avoidant. You will tell me the truth of who you are and what your agenda is or else .”

His agenda? That seemed such a ridiculous word to use for his disastrous attempts to conceive of and carry out any kind of plan. He was not smart enough to have an agenda!

“Okay, okay! I’m…Barbatos, like I figure you’d guessed already…” He trailed off at the end. 

She pulled him closer. “Try again. I want the truth, not some ridiculous lie.”

“No, no, I really am Barbatos!”

Nahida intervened, “He is, miss knight.” 

That made Eula fumble a bit, and she winced, trying to look anywhere but the small child. “You’ve tricked this child into believing it. Why? What do you gain from this?”

“Nothing! I don’t want anything, really.” Venti gasped a bit, hoping she might put him down now. But she didn’t.

“You’re Barbatos.”

Oh, finally. They were getting somewhere. “Yes.”

“That makes no sense.” Nevermind. Still at step one. “Even if it was true, who is this child? Why is she here? Who’s child have you kidnapped?” 

“No one’s! She’s—” Oh, there was no easy way to explain that one. “She’s my friend, and she needs help. I’m not doing anything bad, just helping a friend, really! It’s a very knightly objective.” 

“That’s true also. He promised to help me,” Nahida added.

Eula pinched her brow. “That’s it. The two of you are coming with me, and I will make someone explain this properly until it makes sense and until I’m convinced you are not endangering Mondstadt, or this child, with whatever nonsense you’re involved in.” She grabbed Nahida’s hand—far gentler than she was holding Venti, might he add. He could sense some discrimination, here.

With sheer presence alone, she got the guy standing guard at the Knight’s headquarters to open the doors for her. To be fair, her hands were full of people, and she probably cut a rather intimidating figure considering her boiling frustration. 

Luckily, Jean intercepted them in the foyer.

She took one look and promptly put her head in her hands. “Venti, it’s only been sixteen hours. What’s happened now?”

“This wasn’t me!” He sputtered, barely coherent. “I did nothing at all! Eula doesn’t believe me.” He felt strangely vindicated now that Jean could get Eula to stop her one-man crusade to discover his nefarious plans, or something. 

“Because what he’s suggesting is ridiculous,” Eula said. “He’s telling everyone he’s Barbatos , of all things.” Jean went still, and Eula kept going. “Last night I backed off because I figured you had it handled, but then this morning, you tell me we’re cutting off contact with Sumeru, and that I need to wait for Venti for it to become official, but he was just hanging out on the roof, doing nothing. So, someone better explain what’s actually going on right now because this is ridiculous.” 

Yeah, Venti could agree with that. Ridiculous. 

Jean stepped forward. “He’s telling the truth.”

“What?” Eula asked.

“Venti really is Barbatos.” 

Jean to the rescue, yet again. His debt to her truly had ballooned to a ridiculous size. 

“That’s...Jean, come on, that doesn’t make sense,” Eula said.

“It really is true.”

Eula hoisted him up higher. “Prove it, then. Let’s duel.”

“Huh?” He asked, startled. She couldn’t be serious.  

From every angle that he thought about it, a duel seemed like a bad idea. On one hand, say he was just a bard. People see Eula, someone who is notoriously feared, who wants to not be feared, beating up on a beloved bard for no particular reason, and her reputation takes a permanent dive. On the other, he is Barbatos, in which case she had no chance to win, and then the Mondstadtian people would hate her anyway for trying to fight him! The nuns would never let her into the cathedral again! There was literally no potentially positive outcome. Maybe he could just dodge until she gave up?

“No,” Jean said sternly. “Let’s all calm ourselves—put Venti down, please.” Eula obliged. Jean smiled, and shivers went up his spine. “Here’s what we’ll do. Let’s all go to the cathedral together, and Venti can do what the two of us agreed upon yesterday, like he should’ve done earlier.” She sent him a pointed look, clearly frustrated he hadn’t handled it this morning. It wasn’t his fault he refused to go reveal himself during morning mass. “And Eula? If afterwards you’re still skeptical about Venti’s identity, then on my honor as the Captain of the Knights of Favonius, I will allow you to override me on the matter of Sumeru.” 

Eula still seemed sour, but she nodded, and backed off, probably because she respected the headmaster and knew Jean’s word would be honored—not like Venti’s, apparently. Venti’s word didn’t mean anything. He wished that fact didn’t irritate him.

Jean turned his attention to him. “Venti? What do you say?”

Great. They were all looking at him again. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go to the cathedral.” He literally couldn’t stop inconveniencing Jean, and now it was like she was babysitting him or something, making sure he did those chores she had assigned. It was kind of true, though. “Yay,” he added in a flat drawl. 

Now it was all up to him. He’d actually have to convince them or else. 

Jean’s order summoned the final death knell for ‘Venti.’ But hey! At least he wouldn’t have to duel Eula. Little victories, he supposed. 

____________________

Rosaria was a patient person. She was also cynical and jaded, but nonetheless patient, especially when it came to situations with inevitable conclusions. 

She had shown up to morning mass today, and all the nuns had been completely dumbfounded. If only they knew why. She had been asked three times now if she was feeling well, which she had to actively avoid scoffing at. 

Truth is, she had resolved to be here when Venti bothered to stop by his own church because logically, he would have to come here. Last night he had essentially promised to turn against Sumeru, and he would need popular appeal to get that through the knights on a city-wide level. 

There was no better popular appeal than being God. 

She had suspicions that Jean knew, but it’s not like having the grandmaster on his side would be enough for making an order this intense. So, he was destined to arrive eventually; it was simple logic. And, well, damn . She couldn’t miss that. Chaos was lovely from a distance, doubly so if she knew it was coming. 

If that meant showing up to morning mass and evening choir practice until he decided to involve his church, so be it. The fallout was destined to be delicious.

Yesterday she had been rash in her judgement. She thought it over for a while last night, and she had calmed down once it had occurred to her how much of a dork Venti was. He was capricious, egotistical, and silly—and he probably hated being an Archon just as much as she hated being asked to pray to one. 

Then, she had realized that being present for this would provide some generous material to someday make fun of him with. Imagine Venti the bard showing up in full Archon gear. Hilarious. She could reference the day for years to come. 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit nervous, though. 

Something about an Archon having shared a drink with her in the past seemed sacrilegious, and he must possess enough power to realistically do whatever he pleased. And that scared her. Who knew how spontaneous he might feel someday? But it was also Venti , and that significantly reduced the fear factor. Hopefully she had judged his character correctly, and the people of Mondstadt had nothing to worry about. 

Sumeru on the other hand…they might not be safe. But why would anyone think that about Mondstadt? Venti loved it here, and he loved the people here, hence why she had a kamera prepared to catch every awkward expression on his squishy little face, so that they could laugh about it after Mondstadt returned to common sense about how Venti was still Venti, no matter which costume he decided to don. 

If she acquired good blackmail material, maybe he wouldn’t be able to run away afterwards. She knew all the stories about him, and although she’d never admit it aloud, she wanted to keep him here, especially if it meant taking photos that embarrassed him greatly. He would have to stay to keep them from becoming public or preserved forever in the cathedral. It was a perfect win-win. 

Barbara had asked her earlier about what she had said last night, but Rosaria had brushed it off with a simple, “I was drunk. It was nothing,” and Barbara had let it go. 

The stage was set. Now, all she needed to do was sit back and wait. She sat in a pew and pretended to pray because there was absolutely no way she was going to pray to Venti. 

Finally, a group arrived at the cathedral. About time . It was a larger group than she had expected. Venti, Jean, Eula—for some reason—and the small green child all wandered in, and Rosaria instantly became aware that Venti seemed apologetically uncomfortable. It was rather ironic, really, a God nervous in his own church. No matter how many times she tried to repeat that fact to herself—that this church was technically Venti’s—it became no less strange.

She pulled out her kamera and positioned it to be peeking just above the pew.

Jean pushed Venti forward, and he stumbled awkwardly. He really was nervous, huh? She almost felt bad for finding his predicament funny. She took a photo. 

Barbara met them at the front of the room. “Jean! It’s good to see you. Do you need something?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. I’m just here to bear witness.”

“To…to what?” 

Jean cleared her throat, and Venti jumped. 

“Ehehe right.” He pursed his lips. “I, uh, have something to ask the church.”

“Yes?” Barbara asked.

“I’d like to request the, um, church’s support in cutting off trading and relations with Sumeru, and more specifically, the Akademiya.” 

Rosaria took another photo, this time of Barbara. She didn’t think she had ever seen the deaconess so completely baffled and devoid of anything to say. Barbara’s face was just blank, as if her thoughts had fled into the night. Waking up early was so worth it, holy shit.

Barbara eventually regained her composure. “I’m not sure how the church is related to this. We work to remain neutral in political matters.” What a good response. It probably would’ve worked if the situation had been anything different. 

“I know, but it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Venti said. Then his mirage fractured.

In one moment, he was Venti, the goofy, music-loving bard, and in the next, he had become divinity itself. 

White cloth wrapped around his figure in large, billowing swathes. His hair lit up, glowing as bright as the full moon, and his entire figure became swallowed in wind, lifted by the air itself, as if gravity had become null where he stood. 

Wings wide enough to cast shadows all the way down the aisle unfurled delicately, as if a flower blooming in spring. They fluttered, and a couple feathers light as air descended to land on holy ground. 

Rosaria couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized at that which truly was, in every sense of the word, celestial. Her finger slipped, and she took another picture, catching the moment when his figure fully materialized in physical form in rays of delicate teal light. 

She knew he was an Archon. She had known he was telling the truth when he first admitted it in Angel’s Share because she knew what truth looked like, but there was something different about knowing it and ‘bearing witness,’ as Jean had put it. This was…special, something far beyond her. She almost felt it was unfair to even look upon him, and a certain fact suddenly seemed so obvious: he was not mortal in any sense of the word. 

No wonder he didn’t want people to know. 

When he spoke, it was as if his voice became that of a pure stream, and it washed over the room, asserting whatever authority he had to spare in perfect tone and clarity, “I am the anemo Archon, Barbatos, and I formally request the church assist me in disconnecting Mondstadt from Sumeru, for a time. The Akademiya sages have done something very near unforgivable to my friend, and I intend to punish them for this action. I do not want Mondstadt to engage with them in any way. I—” He blinked, and for a moment, the divinity slipped, like a chip in pure porcelain. “I will handle this myself. This is something I promised, and it’s my responsibility to deal with them, not yours— never yours —but I’d like support from Mondstadt and its church,” as if it wasn’t his church, “If you don’t mind,” he said in delicate harmony.

Ha. That little add-on suddenly reminded her that Venti was speaking, and it became clear that this entity, whatever he was, didn’t even feel like Venti anymore, although it may be using his words. In vivid shock, it occurred to her that perhaps this was why the church existed. She still wasn’t going to worship Barbatos, but then again, now she understood the pull. He truly commanded an otherworldly presence.

She had to actively remind herself not to get caught in the grandeur, and clearly, the others were also having trouble with the strange dissonance of their bard-turned-Archon and which half took supremacy.

Barbara was almost falling over herself in confusion, “I-I-I uhm. The church…can help? Will help. We will help you. Yes.” 

Barbara’s response would’ve sounded more humorous had Rosaria not been stricken with the same unintelligible pressure at the fact of their Archon’s undeniable existence. It was unnervingly strange.

Even though she was uncomfortable, though, the reactions of the gallery were truly a sight to behold. All things considered, Barbara was doing better than most at holding her own. The other nuns were whispering like a bunch of gossiping schoolchildren.

Jean just seemed aloof—so she definitely already knew. That strange child, too. 

Eula, though…Rosaria wasn’t sure she had ever seen Mondstadt’s rigid reconnaissance knight so bewildered before. She sort of liked to see Eula knocked down a peg, but this was surreal and not in a particularly good way. She wanted to snap her fingers to see if Eula was still capable of blinking.  

Venti moved forward, as if walking on clouds. “Thank you, Barbara. I’m really sorry to ask this of you.”

“No, no, don’t be.” Barbara breathed deeply, as if she had forgotten how to do so manually. “We thank you for everything you’ve done for Mondstadt. We wouldn’t be here without you.” She clasped her hands together and bowed her head. “We bless you, Barbatos.”

All around the room, the nuns mimicked the form in pure devotion and respect. Rosaria didn’t, but that didn’t really change anything. The air felt charged—electrified—with reverence, and it held strong, even without her participation. Rosaria took another photo.

Venti backed up and offered a hand to the green child. She took it without hesitance, and he hoisted her into his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered one last time. 

Then, in a whip of wind, he flew out of the cathedral. Actually flew. Apparently the wings weren’t just for show. Right outside the cathedral, they all saw as he blasted off into the air with the child, going who knew where. She really hoped he wasn’t making an early getaway from Mondstadt. 

He better come back, the damn idiot. 

Jean took control, then. She was clearly the most put together of anyone. “The knights will immediately take action to temporarily halt connection with Sumeru. We hope the church will support this action.”

Barbara nodded. “Of course. The church shall abide by the wishes of our Archon.” 

As Jean moved toward the exit, Eula put a hand on Jean’s shoulder, and Rosaria overheard her hushed words, “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did earlier. I will return to headquarters and reflect on my behavior.”

Jean shook her head. “No, Eula, you did the right thing. Your skepticism was completely justified. Your actions showed you cared, and that’s all I can ask of the knights; please do not feel like you’ve made a mistake because you haven’t, truly.” 

Rosaria didn’t know the whole story behind that one, but she could guess. The two knights left after that, and all semblance of professionalism among the nuns disintegrated into dust.

They immediately started making a racket about once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Jilliana was particularly peachy. “I can’t believe it was Venti, and he’s been in Mondstadt all this time! Does this mean all those ballads he sings are actual historical fact? Do you think we could we ask him to fact check our archive?”

“Maybe? We shouldn’t be giving him jobs though, should we?” Victoria asked. “What are the procedures for long-lost Archons suddenly appearing, anyway?”

Then Grace came barreling into the church from outside where she had been leading her daily prayer service. “Did I just,” she huffed, “see what I think I saw?”

While the other nuns immediately crowded around, filling her in on what had happened and talking in excited tones, Barbara migrated over to where Rosaria was calmly sitting on the fringes of all the bustle. 

“Rosaria. Rosaria, that didn’t—tell me that couldn’t have—and you said—I’m…what just happened?”

Of course she had to handle the most frazzled one. “Our Archon asked for help and support, I believe, and you obliged.”

“Rosaria. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Rosaria replied coyly. 

Still jittery, Barbara fell down into the pew next to her. “I’m just. It’s been 500 years, and, and I’m who…oh my God, it was Venti.” She instantly fell into disarray, her image torn cleanly into two. “I’m a terrible worshipper. I’ve told off our Archon. I’ve scolded our Archon!” 

Rosaria couldn’t help the light huff of amusement that escaped her.

“This isn’t funny! Rosaria!” Barbara whined. 

The other nuns were watching the display at that point, and they clearly found this whole event funny, too. If Barbara was going to nag Rosaria for laughing, she should’ve just addressed the entire room. 

“If it makes you feel better, I got a good photo of it,” she casually mentioned.

Barbara’s face twisted into bewilderment, mouth hanging open. “You what ?”

“A photo. I have one.” Rosaria lifted her kamera and clicked through the photos, selecting the one she had taken accidentally when Venti’s wings had fully opened, his figure literally glowing, surrounded in billowing winds and white cloth, and she handed it over.

Barbara took it and stared at it for a good long minute, clearly in deep introspection—or potentially, she was debating the height of Rosaria’s gall to snap photos during all of that. 

 Barbara eventually settled on a response. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“I had predicted it was a possibility. I told you about him yesterday, after all.”

Barbara stared at the photo like a petulant child, frustrated and defeated. “Yeah, you did. I would say you should’ve pushed harder last night, but I never would’ve believed you.” She handed the kamera back. “Uhm, it’s a really good picture, by the way.”

“Glad you appreciate my efforts.” 

Rosaria pointedly did not speak of her intention to use it as blackmail material on their Archon. 

____________________

“Sorry I just…ran away like that,” Venti said. 

He had flown all the way to the Windrise statue by the big tree, and he felt a bit guilty for essentially dragging Nahida here, but he had to get out of there as fast as possible, and he wasn’t going to leave her there with that lot, so he just…brought her with. 

They were alone out here, and he finally felt like he could breathe again.

He built his Venti disguise back into place, banishing the wings and every other piece of Archonhood that clung to his skin.

Advertising his Archon image had been awful. It had been the only way he could think of proving his identity irrefutably, but it hurt that he’d never be able to take it back. A decision like that could only be made once in a generation.

“I didn’t mind,” she said. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you so much.”

“Never. This isn’t a problem, and there’s no way it would be. Your freedom matters so much to me, and I’ll help you obtain it, whatever that takes.” The promise resonated in his heart, even with the piece of him that remained horrified at following through.  

She fiddled with the grass as they sat in it, alone together and surrounded by wind and wide, open plains. She perked up, as if hearing something far off in the distance, and he wondered if she found this spot as magical as he did. It was certainly calm, which he belatedly realized he was in desperate need of.

He just wanted to forget all the people and crowds and responsibility for a second more. Being here slowed everything down, returning to him a sense of peace he didn’t remember losing.

Was this the right time to address what retribution meant to her? Venti wanted to bring it up, but then again, she seemed so calm, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask. He also wasn’t in the best state of mind himself for that kind of conversation. The remnants of the transformation still lingered below his skin, contaminating little pieces of his current disguise. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, his braids still glowed faintly, though no one but him could tell in this sharp sunlight. 

“Are we going to go find Morax now, then?” She asked.

Venti hated how blindsided he felt by the question, as if it were a flat note. “Aha, nope! We are not going to Morax. Not yet. Definitely not.” Sure, that was the initial plan, but Venti had convinced himself out of it. 

“Oh. Why…why not? Are you guys, uh, fighting?”

“No…” How was he supposed to phrase this without admitting that he didn’t think he could keep Morax from doing something incredibly stupid if they involved him? 

“Because he’s grumpy.”

She thought over it for a bit, fingers combing through the grass in delicate swirls. “That makes sense, I guess. I’d be grumpy too if I had to attend my own funeral.”

NO. Abort. That was not at all what he meant to…oh damn it. He really wasn’t thinking straight right now, and he wanted this topic over with. 

“Yes, well, he’s a grump, and we’ll go to him eventually. Later.”

She nodded as if that made all the sense in the universe, as if being a grump was one of those afflictions that faded with time. Just wait till she learned Morax had been a grump for several centuries—and how that wasn’t actually the reason. 

Venti wasn’t very good at this whole ‘honesty’ thing. Before Nahida, he wasn’t sure he had anyone to be honest to. Maybe a long, long time ago, but not anymore. Zhongli might count, but Venti was literally planning to not tell him what was going on, and that seemed pretty dishonest.

Morax had been an initial member of that first contract, and he would definitely be mad the longer Venti didn’t tell him, but what was he supposed to do? If he told Morax, the old blockhead might actually raze Sumeru to the ground, and that would be very much not at all good. But, well, he’d find out eventually. 

This wasn’t working. He wasn’t going to spend all his energy worrying about what Morax might do when he discovered what Venti wasn’t telling him. Maybe…this was a good time to start earnestly pursuing honesty, and not just as an idealistic fancy. 

After all, he always left things till later, and look where that got him. So, he could do this right now. 

Maybe. 

No, that was a defeatist attitude. He could be honest now because he cared to be. (Just not about Morax.) He needed to find a safer thing to be honest about. 

“Hey Venti?”

“Yeah?”

“Why was everyone so startled when you returned to your Archon form? Do you never show them your wings?”

Ah. It was about time she asked, what with all the staring and strange behavior from people, but what a horrible time to bring it up, coinciding with his current plans to pursue sincerity. There wasn’t any good reason to lie, though. He could tell her.

“So, Nahida, thing is, people sort of don’t— didn’t —know I was Barbatos.” He cleared his throat and repositioned his hat. “I’ve been going by Venti. Just normal, mortal , Venti. The bard.”

“Oh.” She stopped and stared down, as if the world around her had halted completely. “And I…in the tavern …oh goodness, I’m so sorry.” She bent over, as if falling into herself.

“No! It’s fine. I revealed myself, not you. I could’ve played it off as a prank, but I didn’t. I chose this. It’s just that now, I think people are confused. The Archon form was a bit surprising because they were expecting Venti the bard, not Barbatos the Archon.”

She sat on that answer for a while, and then she started growing little green clovers around where she sat. She might have been doing it accidentally. “That makes sense. I had read in the Akasha system that Barbatos was supposedly missing, but when I saw you in the tavern, I figured they must’ve known since you were right there . The Akasha has been wrong before, and I wasn’t really thinking. I thought…well, I thought the sages might’ve been trying to keep me from getting help by putting into the Akasha system that Barbatos was missing. It would be a believable lie considering you aren’t an active ruler.”

What did she mean false information? This kept sounding worse and worse. “Hey, this might be a good thing! Mondstadt has been missing its Archon for centuries, and who knows? Maybe it’ll work out in the end.” 

“I hope so. I’ll try to repay you someday.”

Venti brushed it off. “No need. You don't owe me anything. This is my own problem, anyway. I think I was just…afraid. I thought if they knew I was an Archon, it might take away their freedom, that they might think they need to follow me. I don’t want to become the same tyrant I helped dethrone. I love the place these people have built for themselves, that they made without me.”

He plucked one of her clovers and gave it to the wind, sending it onward. “I don’t want to influence what they choose, but that also means I don’t undermine my own choices, either.”

She nodded and watched as the clover spiraled through the air out of sight. “I guess I get it. I don’t think there’s any reason to be afraid, though. You love them, and they love you, after all.” More and more clovers continued springing up till a small patch of them surrounded her. Venti didn’t know much about plants, but he hoped they’d keep growing after she left. They were awfully adorable. 

“Why,” Nahida began, but paused mid question. “Actually, nevermind.”

“What?”

She turned away. “It’s not important, nor relevant, really.”

“Now you have to tell me, and I’ll keep pestering you until you ask. I’m very persistent, you know.” It was one of his most endearing qualities, in his opinion.

“It’s just…I’ve wanted to ask since I arrived, and there was never a good time, and you don’t have to answer, but I want to know, if you don’t mind.” She plucked one of the clovers and twisted it in circles between her fingers. “Why do you love Mondstadt?”

Oh boy that was a loaded question. And the true answer took more than he was willing to give right now. “It’s complicated, I guess.” He saw her wilt, and quickly backpedaled. “Well, I can try to explain it.” 

He didn’t want to discuss how he had gained Mondstadt to begin with, which was part of it, but there were reasons other than those linked to Mondstadt’s history. 

Although it had never been thing he’d asked himself before. He just loved it. Why contemplate the reason something matters if it’s so obvious that it simply does? He loved the songs, the wind, the people, the life that teemed within this space he built up himself and left to grow. 

His reason for action, for being, had always been freedom, and this city—his creation—had gained its own life when he wasn’t looking, and now it had evolved into something he never could’ve imagined, and how was he supposed to explain why he loved it?

He wasn’t sure. And how was she supposed to understand without simply experiencing Mondstadt? 

And then he realized he had forgotten something incredibly, fundamentally crucial. 

“Oh Archons, I never gave you a tour!” He shouted.

 Nahida looked at him like he was speaking a different language. “What?”

“ A tour! I’ve been so sidetracked by everything that happened last night and today, but this is your first time in Mondstadt, and I never showed you around! I am a disgrace.”

“I don’t need a tour.”

“Yes you do! Come on, I’ve gotta show you all the best places and the cool sights!” He jumped up, and with startling shock he realized that if he followed through with this, people might stare more than usual, ask him questions….but this was of the utmost importance. Besides, this might actually be his last day to walk around freely before that option was taken from him.

Also, he couldn’t believe he had missed such an obvious excuse to brag about Mondstadt. That was so unlike him.

Sure, walking around Mondstadt might be awkward, and he wanted to do anything other than face those people that called themselves his, but Nahida had barely seen her city or any other cities in centuries! She literally said she had avoided settlements to get here in order to keep out of attention, so this was her first time properly out of her hometown in essentially forever, and Venti hadn’t given her a welcome tour! This must be rectified immediately by penalty of forever-lasting shame at his own horribly distractible spirit. 

How could he become so absorbed in a promise made 500 years ago when a perfectly good opportunity to boast had appeared right in front of him? It was his job to tell her all of the wonderful things about Mondstadt before the other Archons got to her and convinced her that his beautiful city was an awful mess as they liked to claim.

“In fact, we can start right here.” He gestured wildly toward the giant oak tree towering above them. “This is the Symbol of Mondstadt’s Hero. It’s like a monument to someone who was said to have saved Mondstadt from a tyrant long ago.” He wasn’t ready to discuss Venessa, but the tree was a necessary stop in a proper Mondstadt tour. “It’s also a great place to relax because it’s quiet, and you can see the entire Mondstadt skyline from here, too.” He stood up and pulled Nahida to her feet, out of the clump of clovers.

“This area is Windrise,” he said. “To the north is Starfell Valley. To the West, Windwail Highland, and to the South, Galesong Hill. Although, I’ll keep the tour to the main city for now. Come on! There’s so much to see in Mondstadt, and I want to show you everything.” He started walking backwards, watching to see if she’d come along.

She followed. “Okay.” Nahida smiled, and Venti realized it was the first time he’d seen her smile since arrival.

“Good. Glad we agree on this.” He would make this the best tour he’d ever given in his entire life. “And about your question? I don’t have an answer yet, but I’ll try to find one.”

Then, he whisked them off towards Mondstadt.

A couple knights wandered about, but they probably hadn’t heard about what happened at the cathedral yet, so they said nothing and did nothing out of the ordinary. Venti had never before been so happy to be ignored. 

When they got to the bridge, he paused. “I know you must’ve come through here already, but let me formally welcome you to Mondstadt, city of wind and freedom.”

Nahida giggled. “Thank you, I’m glad to be welcomed.”

“Good! Now the tour can really kick off.” 

He brought her to Flora’s shop first. Flora didn’t seem to be in the loop yet, so they stared at flowers while under no scrutiny. Nahida enjoyed it, and Venti guessed he did too, but not like her. He was a bit preoccupied with tallying strange looks his way, which were surprisingly slim, but occasionally there.

“These are really beautiful, flowers,” Nahida said. Flora preened under her praise. “Hey, Venti? What’s your favorite flower?”

A townsperson bowed to him, and he had to scrape his attention away from it. “Huh?”

“I wanted to know your favorite flower.”

“Oh. Cecilias.” He gestured to his head, where one was garnishing the rim of his hat.

“Okay. I’ll learn how to grow them someday, and then I can give you one whenever you want.”

The sentiment felt so terribly unearned, and there was something so special about that kind of promise, that she’d learn it for him . He didn’t think anything could make him happier.

He took her to Marjorie’s shop next, and the blacksmith, and they passed by the two bars where he eloquently told various stories of rowdy nights and fun-filled parties. He kept talking animatedly the whole time, pointing out little scuffs in the pavement and buildings and explaining where each pothole had come from in the past. He talked more about Mondstadt’s history than he ever had before, and eventually, he realized that he was getting centuries mixed up. He kept jumping between anecdotes separated by a wide chasm of time, and he didn’t even realize he was doing it until he and Nahida had moved to the upper quarter. 

It unsettled him a bit, but then again, he never talked this vividly about the past because it would’ve given him away. No one ever listened that closely, either. But Nahida did. Several times she would ask little questions about what long-dead people he casually name-dropped had been like, and he would describe as perfectly as possible these people he had sworn to never forget. He never spoke of them like this. Normally, they were hidden in a song or fairy tale as a made up entity, existing only between one word and the next, but when he told Nahida, he spoke of them as the real people and friends that they had been, and it ached like he didn’t expect. He never realized how much he earnestly wished to tell their stories.

The tour was going well on the whole, even with the emotional gut-punch he hadn’t anticipated, but then they made it to the plaza with the giant statue, and this was when he finally saw a small gaggle of spectators observing from afar. 

Venti had noticed a significant lack of stares or people impeding on his movement, and he considered it conveniently strange that it had taken till now for a larger group of people to notice him waltzing around Mondstadt. 

The group, however, was mostly made up of the nuns, and they seemed to be…pushing townspeople away from the area? Were they…trying to help? That was so incredibly sweet. Of course he’d have to face the music eventually, but it seemed his worrying had been for naught. This tour, at least, would be free of interjection, and he could ignore for just a little longer what he had done. 

“And the next stop on the tour is the plaza!” He announced. “Over there is the cathedral, and in the other direction, if you look out over the edge, you can appreciate Mondstadt from one of the best views of the city.”

Nahida raised an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for something. When he apparently failed to guess what, Nahida simply stated, “There’s also a giant statue of you.” She pointed at it, and damn it. 

Now he had to acknowledge it.

“Yeah. I guess that’s here too.” He laughed, and hoped it covered up the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that overcame him while standing near it. But of course it’s not like he could skip the plaza on the tour! The cathedral, though…yeah he was going to argue she had already seen it. He would not go back in there.

“It’s a really nice statue,” she said.

“It is, I guess. Doesn’t look much like me, though.” 

“I think it does.”

“Well, no one in Mondstadt noticed the similarities between it and me, so it probably looks more like Barbatos than Venti.” He was feeling startlingly defensive, and that was so unnecessary. They were just discussing a statue. That’s it.

“I think it looks very much like you—not just in image, but in pose, too. The hands are in a state of offering. In the stories, all you’re ever doing is giving to people, to help them, to let them be free. It reminds me of you very, very much.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. 

So, he didn’t.

He cleared his throat and pointed over to the Knights’ headquarters. “The last stop on the tour is the Knights of Favonius building, where you stayed last night. Did you know they have a library?”

She lit up at that. “They do?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice library, too.” He left out the part where he didn’t exactly read books for fun. He knew it was a good library, though. He had checked the books in there before for accuracy and stored a couple he wanted to stay safe. “Lisa is the librarian, and I bet she would be glad to let you read any book you want.”

Nahida fiddled with her hands and shyly rooted her gaze in the ground. “That…would be nice. Can we go ask?”

“Mhmm.” He offered a hand, and she took it.

“And it had real books, right? Not visual perception holograms like the Akasha terminal?”

“They’re made of real paper and everything.” 

He said it in jest, but she squeezed his hand harder and started walking faster, dragging him slightly, even with her smaller stature. What a perfect distraction he accidentally stumbled across. He’d take it, though. He’d rather discuss books than talk about the statue of him, which really said a lot about the situation at hand. 

He waved to the nuns as he and Nahida left, hoping they knew just how appreciative he was of their efforts in keeping people off him, even if it just delayed the inevitable. At least the library would be blissfully empty, and the two of them could remain isolated in there for as long as they wanted. 

____________________ 

Something had become intimately clear to Kaeya the more the time ticked away while he sat by himself at home, hiding. Even with books to read and alcohol to drink and a sword that needed sharpening, one single thought made itself known no matter how he tried to justify staying out of it entirely. He had literally been sitting here for maybe an hour tops since running from Venti, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He needed to investigate the child.

It had been, what? Half a day since she arrived? And she was just sleeping in the Favonius building itself, completely free of questioning, as if she wasn’t the biggest mystery to grace Mondstadt in years. Jean had offered no plan to get a story from her.

No one seemed to care about that little imp, but she had started this whole mess, so why no one knew a thing about her was beyond him. 

Somehow, she had known Venti was Barbatos. 

Ha. Even thinking that fact felt like being on the wrong side of a bad joke. Whatever. Point is, she had known, somehow, and if that wasn’t suspicious, then he had lost his ability to sense abnormalities.

The worst part was that no one else felt bothered by this. Why? How is it that everyone became instantly careless about uncovering literally any fact about her? Some strange kid shows up, knows their Archon’s secret, calls in some contract, and suddenly everyone cares more about Venti, and she fades into the shadows. It sounded like a set up, even if ridiculously elaborate. He needed more information about her and who she was, and he’d pursue it until he dropped from exhaustion for all he cared. She wouldn’t get through with a pass because no one thought her as thrilling as their long-lost Archon. 

She was the most interesting part of the entire equation. 

He also wanted to ignore the simple fact of Venti for as long as possible, and this was a perfectly justifiable fixation to bother with considering she very well could threaten the safety of Mondstadt. She was an unknown. 

Kaeya didn’t like unknowns. 

He couldn’t go to Jean, though, because then she’d know he was investigating the ‘adorable, clearly innocent child,’ and she would probably ask him to stop. Venti trusted her. Wasn’t that enough for Kaeya? No! No, it definitely was not. Clearly, Venti didn’t deserve any trust to begin with. Anyone that claimed to be his friend wouldn’t get a free pass in Kaeya’s eyes ever . 

Who else had been around when she first arrived?

Eula. 

Eula might know something. Ugh. He…did not at all want to try squeezing information out of her. She would probably be insufferable just because. There weren’t really any better options, though. Eula it was.  

Oh goody. He’d have to go track down Miss Responsibility herself and just hope that she would actually give him any kind of information and not ask him what he planned to do with it. She definitely thought he was a devious individual, which was sort of true, but still. Maybe he could provoke her into talking if necessary. 

This all meant he’d have to go back to the Favonius building and hope that no one he was actively trying to avoid would be there. Like Venti. (Or Diluc.) That was only two people in a fairly large city, but knowing his luck, he’d run into both of them at once.

With a silent plea that the world would leave him alone for one, singular day, he trekked back to the Favonius building, only a couple hours after his initial getaway, and aggressively ignored the attempt of anyone to get his attention or ask something of him. He had a mission, and the longer this took, the higher the chance his bad luck would screw him over for real. 

Check Jean’s office. No one was there, including Eula. Check the library. Lisa looked at him curiously, and he didn’t bother explaining anything. No Eula. Check the alchemy lab. No Eula. Check the—and there she was, casually walking the halls. Who knew. 

The world had decided that just once, it would give Kaeya an easy time. Jean was with her, too, and hopefully, she wouldn’t stop him. If Kaeya jumped on Eula fast enough, Jean would have no choice but to leave him be. She was nice like that. 

He approached, all confidence and charisma. “Eula! Just the knight I was looking for.” When he actually saw her up close, though, she was clearly at the edge of composure. Weird…what the hell had she been doing? Well, it didn’t really matter. She’d be easier to crack this way. 

“Kaeya,” she said, frustration lacing every word. “Please, return to your job and leave me be. I’m not in the mood.”

“Wait, wait! I don’t mean to bother, really. I just…wanted to say good job on all the extra patrols. I heard from the other knights how you’ve been working really hard. Maybe a break is in order, hm?”

“Don’t patronize me, Kaeya.” She pushed past him, and he dashed to keep up.

“I would never.” 

She had the nerve to scoff. “I have work to do. Unless you have something productive to contribute, go run along and bother some other knight.”

“I’m just curious about a little detail regarding…yesterday.” Nothing else needed to be said to indicate the event in question.

“I have nothing to say about it.”

“Just indulge me, then, since you seem to know everything about everything. I was simply curious; that little girl, did you know her? A friend of yours, perhaps?”

Eula stopped hard and twisted to face him head on. “No, not a friend. We don’t know each other. She just showed up at the main gate, and I was there at the time, and I was attempting to help. We are not related in any way. Is that all you wanted?”

Kaeya hummed nonchalantly. He was winning. “Where’s she from, then?”

Her eye twitched. “Sumeru.”

“Ah. I see. How interesting. Thanks for obliging my casual curiosity. Your breadth of knowledge is always spectacular.”

“Hmph.” 

Kaeya watched her leave, one eye narrowed. Sumeru. He could work with that. 

…

As it turned out, ‘Sumeru’ was more than enough as a hint. Strike up a casual conversation with enough outsiders and drop a couple compliments, and information is as easy to acquire as air, especially since Sumeru seemed to be in the middle of an internal crisis.

After what had to be one of the simplest reconnaissance missions Kaeya had ever ran, even if self-assigned, he had acquired a great deal of information. 

Sumeru had essentially imploded a couple days ago, but no one was sure why. He would need to find the right kind of person who knew the extra details not shared with the public if he intended to try tracking Nahida back to it all, which meant seeking a contact absent from the light side of the city. People always traded all the juicy information in the shadows.

For this job, though, he needed a partner. Sure, he was a by-himself kind of guy, but truth was, this sounded like a particularly dangerous kind of problem—what with the strange girl who might’ve decimated Sumeru’s internal structure all by herself. That was his ongoing theory, at least. 

Forget how not all cause and effect is straightforward: he’d bet the arrival of the child and collapse of Sumeru were directly correlated because it sounded like the kind of shit the world liked to pull. 

If he was right, then this was definitely not the kind of thing he should attempt solo. He wouldn’t risk the safety of Mondstadt for his ego’s sake, even though he felt rather bitter at the idea.

Unfortunately, Venti had allied with the Knights, so he couldn’t invite any of them on this little quest of his. He needed to avoid Venti at all costs. He couldn’t face that piece of his past, and without knowing if Venti knew the truth of his lineage, he wouldn’t risk engaging in any way, not until he had implemented a quick escape plan in case things went south when he decided to test what little ground he had to stand on in Mondstadt. 

So, all the Knights were a solid no-go. All of them. 

Normally in a scenario like this, he’d go to Diluc. 

The two of them might be barely better than friendly on the best of days, but if he asked, Diluc would keep him from getting hacked to pieces, and he’d do the same for Diluc. They were what he liked to call functionally dysfunctional when it came to paired fighting. No matter how much they hated each other, there was an unwritten agreement that when it came to the safety of Mondstadt or the safety of each other, there was no option to disengage, regardless of how stupid the other may be at any given moment. It was a no holds barred event for criticism and name-calling, but they’d end up with all their limbs intact by the end.

That system worked fine for him, except Diluc had just shattered any trust Kaeya had in him in a single sweep yesterday. Diluc had known a crucial piece of information critical to Kaeya’s entire life here and had said nothing. The wound was too raw, and that predicted an uneven kind of partnership. It felt rotten to think, but he didn’t know if he could still trust Diluc to hold his back, so he couldn’t ask his kind-of half-brother for support here. Unfortunate, but there was no value in wallowing in the facts. 

But it meant he was alone. No knights, no Diluc, and he couldn’t involve any townspeople in this mess, either.

That’s why he found himself in the cathedral, plastered against a pillar, waiting until that certain someone found him because there was only one person left he would consider working with, and they happened to spend most of their time here, of all places.

At least Kaeya could rest easy with the fact that there was no way Venti would come to the cathedral of his own accord. 

Although that seemed to him an obvious conclusion, he overheard the quiet whisperings of the nuns mentioning some pretty damning evidence to the contrary, and he realized that he might need to rethink his angle. 

It sounded as if Venti had come here, which was preposterous in so many ways he could barely keep count. He was about to consider the benefits of asking them up front and then calculating the risk-reward of giving up on this idea to avoid any other surprise visits from their Archon when Rosaria stalked on over.

“This isn’t your usual haunt,” she said, flattening herself against the pillar beside him.

“Thanks for noticing.”

“It’s easier than you think. Charisma you can do, but masking discomfort, not so much.”

He would disagree with that sentiment; he was awfully good at hiding every negative feeling whenever he pleased. That’s how he kept from constantly pissing people off. She just had a sharp eye. 

“Let’s cut to the chase, then, since you know why I’m here,” he began. “I want to recruit you to help me with some info gathering.”

She tapped her fingertips on the pillar and leaned in closer. “Make it worth my while, and maybe I’ll help.”

How snide. “Fine, fine. Mora and alcohol. Everything you could possibly want.” He waved his hands without any further explanation. 

The two of them had made these deals before, and she knew what the benefits would look like. At this point, he theorized that she only mentioned compensation to annoy him.

She snapped her fingers. “And one more thing. I reserve the right to demand your presence at any place, at any time, once in the future,” she said. 

He avoided making eye contact to keep the surprise on his face off the table. It wouldn’t do for negotiations to run down just because of an unexpected ask. “That’s an odd request.”

She smirked. “All or nothing.”

There was no option. “Then I accept. I’ll show up at one place wherever and whenever you want— once .” He rolled his eyes. Honestly, what kind of an ask was that, anyway? It’s not like Kaeya was that hard to find, and he always thought himself open to new experiences. He’d chalk this one up to Rosaria being an exceptionally eccentric individual even with her ‘normal citizen’ routine, and he’d hope there was no vindictive reasoning behind it. Knowing her, though…best to not think about it.

“What’s the job then?” She asked. 

“The mystery child, Nahida.”

“No wonder you want my help.”

“Look, no one’s been asking the very obvious question of where the hell she came from and why she had signed a contract with our Archon who barely no one knew the identity of. Isn’t that strange? I want to know what she’s doing in this city and whether she poses a danger.”

“Hm. Sure. I don’t mind helping with that. Got any leads?”

“She’s from Sumeru.” But that was just the opening to a dark, uncharted depth. “I’ve asked around, and many people say all productivity in Sumeru dropped off a couple days ago—right before Nahida arrived—but they’re all super tight-lipped about it. That or they really don’t know why. It’s possible we’re simply too far from Sumeru to have access to the latest news. Regardless, something serious went down, and we should probably start with untangling it.”

“I have some ideas of who to ask.”

His smile was all teeth. “I knew you would, the wonderful detective that you are.”

She pinched his arm right where it hurt. “Don’t butter me up, smooth-talker. There’s work to do.”

He let the barb remain unchallenged, and they decided upon their night patrol route together, preparing to go rumor-hunting. He hadn’t done this in ages; he’d forgotten the rush of running a job out of sight of the proper, knightly channels. Kaeya almost felt bad for hoping this led somewhere sinister. 

Almost. 

If he got kicked out of Mondstadt later, he hoped Rosaria wouldn’t be too upset. She was always ridiculously independent—and she didn’t need him in any sense of the word—but her extra favor wouldn’t apply if she couldn’t find him, and he knew not to get in between her and her compensation. 

Hopefully she’d call it in before he vanished completely. Or maybe he’d prefer it if he got away first… 

____________________

Venti had spent the rest of the day tucked inside Lisa’s library with Nahida.

And the day after that. And the day after. He had now, what? Spent two and a half days in a library, far away from anyone else. That was not normal Venti behavior in any way, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to either leave the library or pull Nahida out of it.

They had now slept in the library for two nights in a row, and it was starting to feel like a proper home.

Jean had tried to get him out on day two.

…

“Venti, seriously, it’s important to go into the sun now and again. I’m sure Nahida would also appreciate getting out of here once in a while,” Jean had said.

Nahida popped her head up from behind a pile of books. “But Venti is nervous about the townspeople, so I’ll stay with him in here until he feels more comfortable.”

Nahida was an actual beam of light, just, so sweet.

And yes, maybe she was helping affirm his bad hermit tendencies, but he thought it’d be all fine in the end. He’d leave eventually, and he told Jean as much. Jean did relent, but she kept poking her head in every couple hours to try and coax them out of the library. 

…

So, perhaps his original, begrudging attitude toward the library was undeserved; maybe Nahida was onto something here. Lisa had essentially closed off the library to visitors for the foreseeable future, leaving the two of them in blissful silence for hours every day. 

He wondered if Lisa did it because Nahida was the best listener ever. In fact, she probably liked Nahida more than him for a whole variety of reasons, and that was fair. 

Nahida would read a bit of everything from fairy tales to historical documents to letters salvaged from Dragonspine, and the two of them were getting along rather well, talking about stuff that he literally never even knew was in here to begin with. 

He wasn’t much of a reader, but Nahida was actively changing his opinion on it as time passed.

Earlier that day, in follow-up to Jean’s constant nagging, he had asked her, “do you really like reading? Or are you really staying in this library just for me?” It had been a bit of a worry to him, and he had wanted to make sure she had chosen this for herself as much as for him.

She had said, “A bit of both. You matter, of course, but there’s also a story in the handwriting, and I never knew how wonderful it would be to read from normal pen and paper. I really am glad to have the chance to read all these books.”

Venti…sort of got it, which was why he smiled and nodded and left spoken words out of it. He was worried that should he speak, he would betray the truth of the matter, which was that he used to write all kinds of poems and songs with all his heart and soul, and he knew exactly why it mattered to see the flow of every letter, but he didn’t want to admit to it because then she’d ask to see this writing of his. However, he had too many secrets out in the open already. He’d rather keep at least one thing of his hidden. 

Later on, while reading a book about who knows what, a rather obvious fact had occurred to him. 

“You know, Nahida,” he started, “Sumeru has the largest library in Teyvat.”

She paused. “I know.”

“You wanna see it someday?”

She slid a bookmark in between the pages and set the book down. “I guess so, but I don’t think Sumeru really wants me there.”

Well, he had entirely been intending on taking her there without advertising who she was, but now he was curious. “Why would you think that?”

“The sages, when they had me kept in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, no one ever came to check if I was okay. No townspeople, no one.” She sighed. “I know you think Jean is hovering right now, but at least you know she wants you here. At least she checks to make sure you’re okay. I never had a Jean.”

He didn’t really have an answer for that. It was becoming a more common occurrence the longer Nahida stayed here—not having answers. He really didn’t know what to say at all anymore. Somehow, this Archon far younger than him seemed constantly caught up in situations which he tended to run from rather than face.

He didn’t know how this had happened to her or why. He didn’t know how to fix it. Although, maybe it wasn’t his job to fix it, just to oversee and make sure she found her way eventually. 

He wasn’t sure why the Sumeru people didn’t check on her, and he theorized it had something to do with the sages, but there’d be no way to prove or disprove it unless they went to Sumeru and asked around. He wasn’t going to drag her to Sumeru, though.

“We could always disguise ourselves and go check it out. I have quite a lot of experience with secret identities, you know,” he said in a cheeky tone.

She laughed at him. “That…would admittedly be nice. And, well, it brings up a point I’ve been meaning to mention. I just didn’t know how to say it.” 

Then she looked around the room, and Venti wasn’t sure what for, until she curved her head around the bookcases towards Lisa’s spot. The librarian in question wasn’t there right now, and upon that realization, she nodded once. 

He wondered why she wanted the room empty. 

Nahida took a deep breath. “I know I came here asking for retribution.” Venti’s breath caught. “And I know that you’re not sure what to do, likely because I don’t know, either. And I’m guessing you’ve been waiting for me to make a decision, and I have.”

He nodded and put his book down as well. He knew this would come eventually, and he wasn’t sure if he was proud or terrified.

“I…” she paused. “I want the sages ousted. I want the Akademiya to return to a place that seeks knowledge for everyone. I don’t want to hurt people, and I don’t want to destroy what knowledge they’ve acquired. But…that place…I don’t know.” She was shaking lightly now, and Venti gently shifted over to be pushing against her side—not invading her space—just next to her. “Well, to be honest, I want the entire Akademiya gone, but I don’t think that’s right . It isn’t right to punish people for what they didn’t know about. There’s a lot I don’t know, after all.

“But…I want them to know. About me. I want the sages to regret what they did, and I want the people to know what happened and why I left, and I want the Akademiya to be a place for learning again.”

Venti sat beside her, letting her head drape over his shoulder. “Okay. Got it.”

“It might be presumptuous of me to try controlling what Sumeru does with itself when I don’t even know if I should or will return, but either way, the sages need to be taken from power.”

“Okay.”

“I want to help the Sumeru people, all of them, and that means letting knowledge once again be the purpose of the Akademiya.”

“Okay.”

“I want Azar gone. Permanently. I…I want him to know what he did keeping me there. It was all his fault, really. He was the reason I remained stuck.”

“Done.” 

“I…don’t necessarily want to destroy the Akademiya. I mean…I do want that, and I’m not sure if I could ever return while it’s still standing, but it isn’t right, and so I shouldn’t ask for it.”

That was both a better and worse reaction than Venti had expected. “You can ask for whatever you want,” he said softly. The mortals might not have a concept of 500 years, but he did, and that time was worth whatever she wanted. 

“Then…then I don’t know about the Akademiya. But I want what physical knowledge they’ve acquired to remain with them, specifically the library. Not because I want to go there, but because everyone deserves knowledge, and I sort of…stole it from them.”

Venti tilted his head questioningly. “You…did what?” He was missing something. How was one supposed to steal knowledge, exactly? 

“The Akasha system was run by the dendro gnosis.” 

And then she promptly brought out, with no fanfare at all, that which was a divine piece from Celestia herself, a green chess piece. Venti hadn’t even known that Nahida had it. If what she said was true, though, how had she managed to get it out of Sumeru? Better she have it than anyone else, though; it belonged to her, after all. What was Sumeru doing using a gnosis to power their catalog system while leaving their Archon imprisoned anyway?

She held it out. “I took it, and I’m not giving it back, and this represents all the knowledge they’ve worked to gather through the Akasha. I’m keeping this, so the library stays. It’s only fair, really.”

“Okay.” He had several choice words he would’ve liked to say about them repurposing her gnosis without consent, but he let it lie. It reminded him horribly of Signora and her complete disregard for him in any sense of the word. This was the same situation, wasn’t it? And in any city, it was unforgivable. 

He agreed, and that meant he would prepare to travel to Sumeru. One way or another, he would need to dethrone six sages and impart onto the Akademiya the sins they had committed. 

Nahida hadn’t asked for it, but he also needed to make sure she would be able to live freely, not tied down to Sumeru or any other nation. He hoped she knew she could always find new homes and that a home wasn’t a commodity in short supply.

“Mondstadt will always welcome you, Nahida.” He hugged her tight. “Lisa loves your company, you know. I swear she likes you more than me.” 

Which...he sort of deserved Lisa’s ire, but he wouldn’t admit to it.

She stuffed her face in his shirt and let out a muffled, “Thank you. I’ll remember this time, I promise.” 

____________________

Nahida thought she may have cried more in the span of three days than in the last 500 years combined. It was a strange idea, really, that someone might be there for her if she needed it. She had never known how important it was to have someone. 

She and Venti were sleeping together in the library as they had for two nights concurrently now. Well, Venti was sleeping—she was awake, and that was good because Nahida hadn’t imagined this scene in her wildest fantasies, and her eyes needed to see it so she could be sure it wouldn’t fade away like a really, really good dream. 

When she initially escaped Sumeru, she recalled standing on the outskirts of the city, holding the dendro gnosis, and feeling completely blank on what to do next. There was no one she could call on, no one who might come help her, give her somewhere to stay for a night.

That’s when she remembered the contract she had signed, and it had clicked in place. If all she had was a single promise made 500 years ago, then so be it. 

The piece of memory that had helped her escape told her that Venti was nice and would always be nice. Nahida hadn’t spent a single second longer contemplating what to do. There was nothing else. She would have to hope. 

Then she had found him, and he was kind, and his city was lovely, and she realized the greatness of what she had lost. It didn’t occur to her when stuck, but once she was unstuck, that’s when it really hurt. 

Had she really been sitting in the Sanctuary of Surasthana for years, missing out on all this? 

Yes. 

She had been.

Nahida picked herself up gently, extracting herself from the pile of books and various pillows that lay strewn on the library floor. For what Venti had done, she would at least figure out how to grow flowers for him. It was the only thing she could do, and she believed he’d be grateful, just because. She wanted that, for him to be happy because of something she made.

Of course, she couldn’t practice in the library where the precious books were stored, so she decided to take her experiments outside. She grabbed a book, one with lots of flower images including Cecilias and how they grew, and she took it outside with her. She wanted this to be a surprise, so better to keep it out of sight.

Sneaking out was easy when it was this late, mostly because she was small and had a ghost of a memory that only she could see. Her memory friend could guide her around the knights so she could escape the building without being noticed.

Once outside, she sat behind the building in the grass, where the outside wind sang of quiet little things, and the cool air kept her company, even when alone. In that serene, perfect calmness, she began her tests. She could grow a flower with four petals, but not three, and so she kept trying to slim it down. Her “Cecilias” also ended up more cream than white, and so she was trying to pull color from them as they grew.

She was focused—too focused. It was supposed to be a good thing. 

Mondstadt was supposed to be safe. 

Watch out! The memory screamed, shrill and panicked.

Nahida caught a single glimpse of Sumerian garb, a shot of orange fabric, partially hidden in the dark of the night, before someone grabbed her. Between one moment and the next, a knife sliced through her arm, and she gasped. Instinctively, she pulled the book back, hoping to not damage it. 

“What are you…” she said, words curdling as they tasted the air. 

The man went fuzzy, grin twisting into incomprehensible shapes, and she fell. He pocketed the knife and reached out to grab her. Poison , her mind supplied, but nothing to do about it as sleep crept up her mind. Her voice failed her, and the flower book lay haphazardly strewn on the ground beside her. 

She was out like fire in rain. 

____________________

Kaeya and Rosaria made a fantastic duo. 

He would turn on those wiles and loosen people up, and then she would scare the shit out of them. Perfect teamwork. 

Unlike the knights, she had no care for proper procedure, and unlike Diluc, she wouldn’t nag him every time he wanted to make a potentially rash decision. Instead, she just scoffed and followed along. She was a bit hard to work with, but only because Kaeya couldn’t forget that she was helping only to get something from him. It was a bit unsettling, but he could forgive it.

Give and receive, he supposed. At least she’d do what he asked. 

After a couple sleepless nights, they had tracked down a potential informant. On that first night of investigation, they had immediately hit the jackpot. The guy they found didn’t know a lot, but he had directed them to someone else, who had said how a group of people were arriving in Mondstadt today, one of whom was a well-known informant.

Kaeya felt a bit like they were playing the world’s slowest game of hide and seek, but whatever worked, he supposed. 

The group from Sumeru was likely setting up in the Goth Grand hotel, so Kaeya and Rosaria had paid a couple people in the inn to pretend that the two of them were supposed to be there.

Most people in Mondstadt would know that Kaeya the knight and Rosaria the nun had no business at an inn, but not visitors. All Kaeya and Rosaria needed to do was acquire some foreigner garb and hand out some Mora so no one pointed out the discrepancy.

Although a bit problematic, Kaeya found that people were glad to keep to themselves and didn’t much care what two random Mondstadt people did in their free time, whether that be run around in the dark or pretend to be foreigners at an inn—especially nowadays when a far more interesting topic consumed any conversation.

Venti really had kicked over the anthill of the info trade. All anyone had to say nowadays was about him, where he was, how long he had been in Mondstadt, and then there were those extra people who claimed the whole thing was just a farce. The amount of conflicting information Kaeya had heard about Venti in the last couple days almost completely crippled his trust in the informant networks. Then again, no one knew where Venti was hiding out, so maybe it was logical for people to debate the validity of his identity. 

It really wasn’t Kaeya’s business, though. He just wanted to know about Nahida. That’s it. Venti could remain in hiding for as long as he pleased. Kaeya just wished some people would stop thinking that stuff on ‘Barbatos’ was the most interesting type of information they had to auction.

It was honestly refreshing to hang out in the Goth Grand Hotel, masquerading as a Liyue merchant, listening to Sumeru travelers talk about something other than Venti. None of these Sumeru people even knew who Venti was! Which was great. It made him remember that this strange occurrence didn’t mean the entire world had gone mad. 

Rosaria didn’t seem as thrilled, but they were also on night three of this little escapade. She was also the superior one of their little duo at crowd reading, and locating the guy they had been told about wasn’t an easy ask. 

They stood by the bar, sipping gently at their drinks, until Rosaria tapped him on the shoulder and pointed further in, where a nondescript guy lounged at a table in the corner.

It was always corner tables, huh?

“Got it.” Kaeya put his glass down. “Make sure no one interrupts us.” 

With a nod and flicker of her eyelashes, Rosaria gestured he get a move on, and Kaeya set out to carve out a place for himself next to the guy. He easily slid into a chair at the table like a long-lost friend, all posturing.

“Seems lonesome over here. Have a drink, on me.” Without checking for a response, Kaeya waved to a waiter till one came sauntering over. “Two glasses of dandelion wine for my friend and I, please.”

The informant smirked, definitely knowing what Kaeya was trying to pull. Once the waiter was out of earshot, he said in a smooth voice, “Call me Nod. It’s not my name, but I don’t think you’re here for that.”

Kaeya smiled back and leaned on his elbow, casually, as if the two of them were discussing the newest fashion or the weather. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

“Get to it, then. I’m a busy man, you know.”

He most definitely was not, but Kaeya could work with feigned reluctance. “I’m just a curious guy, that’s all.”

“Sure you are. About what, though? Now, that’s the question.”

The waiter returned with the glasses, and Kaeya left his strategically untouched.

“The same as everyone else, I suppose.”

“Of course. The Akasha System went down, and it’s all anyone wants to know about nowadays.” Nod took a languid sip. “The story hasn’t changed. The sages say a malfunction occurred and that it’ll be up and running in no time, but then again, it’s been over a week.”

“Hmm.” Kaeya swirled the wine around in slow circles. Jean had told the knights about how the Akasha system went down, and he didn’t much care about that. It was good to know that the informant believed something shadier was happening behind the scenes, though—that indicated he was a good informant and not swayed by the ones in power. 

Kaeya didn’t get how this theoretically connected to Nahida, though, and he had begun to think his initial assessment had been wrong. Maybe they really were two separate issues. 

Whatever the case, it was time they move into the expensive stuff. 

“Have you heard about a young child? Perhaps on the run from the sages? Medium length, white hair, green eyes. Any clue?” Kaeya pulled out his money pouch and slid it onto the table.

“Now that, I haven’t heard anyone ask about recently. Is this description…from experience?”

Hm. Nahida was, apparently, a topic of the underground circles considering Nod bothered to ask. Better to keep his own interest purely distanced. “No, of course not. I haven’t seen her, just heard about her.”

“She is information that costs, you know. I’m not giving this out for free.”

“You first.” Kaeya looped the pouch around his hand.

Nod sighed. “Only because I need money, you brat. It costs to travel between Sumeru and Mondstadt.” He leaned in close. “According to an acquaintance of mine, she’s a thief.”

“A…thief?” That was incredibly less suspicious than he had expected.

“Yep, a thief. They say she stole something from the Akademiya, and the sages are paying ridiculous sums of money up front to very specific parties to have her returned alive.”

Kaeya pulled out ten coins and slid them over. “Why alive? Surely if she’s a thief, they could kill her and get back whatever she took easily enough.”

Nod shrugged. “Who knows. They specified alive, though, and the job is remarkably hidden considering how angry the sages seem about it. That’s all I’ve got. I have reason to believe someone in my traveling group was one of the parties contracted by the sages to track her down and bring her back, though, so best stay vigilant, my rich friend .”

Kaeya held the rest of the money at arm’s length. “Tell me who. Tell me who was paid to take her.”

Nod’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Come now, I’m not that giving.”

“You will be though because all this is yours if you spill.” Kaeya jingled the bag lightly.

“Even with that, who’s to say you won’t rat me out? Sorry, kid, I’m not into self-sabotage.”

Kaeya leaned forward, his nicest smile plastered on overtop his own fuming frustration. “You can trust me, Nod, because I’m not like the other knights. Good knights don’t go tracking down suspicious informants, but I do .” And he had snuck a shred of doubt into the conversation. “I’m familiar with how this goes. I’ve done business in the shadows long enough to know it’s better to have friends than enemies. I want to be your friend. The real question is whether you want to be mine. But here are the facts.” This wasn’t a game Kaeya ever lost. “You want to be my friend. I’m a good friend. You must’ve heard of me before, cavalry captain Kaeya. People like me. You don’t get people to like you by ratting out friends.

“Enemies, on the other hand…” Kaeya pushed the entire pouch completely forward. “So?”

Nod sat as if caught between two sides of a very large chasm. Apprehension reigned as he hovered right between the two choices presented to him before finally, he pulled back and let his figure relax like jelly into the seat. He brought a hand to his face, perhaps rethinking how he had gotten here, before he leaned in close with a hand around Kaeya’s shoulder. They probably looked an awful lot like close friends from far away.

“The man with the orange scarf, back right,” Nod said.

Kaeya let go of his Mora pouch bargaining chip. “Nice doing business with you. You made it wonderfully straightforward and honest, just how I like it.”

Nod scoffed. “Oh, please. That’s a complete lie if I’ve ever heard one. Besides, I know better than to try pulling one over on a guy with a vision.”

Kaeya flashed a smile. He had left his vision on display purposefully, of course. It was always easier to fleece people when he looked dangerous. It worked like a charm—Rosaria hadn’t even had to get involved this time.

He signaled to her, and they left the inn, regrouping right outside.

So. Nahida was a thief, and whatever she stole must’ve been super valuable. That was the first informant they had found who knew about her even after several days of asking around, which suggested the sages really didn’t want people to know they were looking for her. Nod had also mentioned it was an exclusive job, given only to a select few. To keep a hit like that on the down-low and assign it specifically to certain people seemed suspicious when considering the sages could apprehend almost anyone with a public announcement. The fact that they didn’t announce this made it all the stranger. Why didn’t they advertise that they had been robbed? Was it ego? 

He should’ve come across information about Nahida sooner if she was a simple, common thief.

It was also extraordinarily curious that they wanted her alive . Surely a thief’s loot was worth just as much regardless of the state of the thief—not that Kaeya wanted her dead. He wasn’t that cruel. He just didn’t understand the logic behind it.

He filled Rosaria in quickly, intentionally exaggerating the whole ‘she’s a thief’ thing because he felt awfully justified in his paranoia. Nahida was technically a criminal! And that shouldn’t make him happy—but it did. Thank goodness the world made sense once again, and it really was everyone else that had gone crazy, not him. 

Thing is, he couldn’t go to Jean with sketchy information and cite it as reason enough to question Nahida. Even though that’s what he wanted to do. Damn rules. 

Rosaria leaned back on the wall, tilting her head all the way back. “I don’t know why you’re disappointed. It seems to me you got exactly what you wanted.”

“What I want is Mondstadt to stay safe.”

“Sure. Keep chasing after the random child, then.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but Rosaria was kind of right. He couldn’t keep chasing her shadow forever.

“What do you suggest I do? Tell Jean?” He asked, voice light and hesitant.

Rosaria relaxed as she huffed out a sigh. “We both know that wouldn’t do anything. Look, Kaeya, if Mondstadt’s safety is your priority, go to Nahida and ask her up front. Make her tell you what she stole, and judge for yourself whether it’s something worth getting worked up over.”  

In theory, sure, that was a great idea. In practice, though? He would have to track her down, separate her from Venti and the knights, and somehow interrogate her without anyone stopping him. This promised to be annoying—but at this point, he’d find out a way to do it.

He might as well go straight to the source and deal with it right now—tease it out until it unraveled properly. 

Everything made sense for once, and he wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know this information. She was a thief, and he couldn’t let it lie. 

“Yes, well, that’s great, but how do you suppose I separate her from the knights for long enough to do so?”

“I don’t know. This is past what I agreed to help with. Let’s just go back to your house, and you can think it over more there.”

As Kaeya was getting ready to relent for the night, the inn door opened and the man with the orange scarf walked out. That was…yes, that was definitely the man Nod had pointed out as the mercenary hired to track down Nahida. What was he doing? Where was he going? He was clinging to the shadows as he inched around the building, and the only ones who did that kind of purposeful maneuvering in the dark were him and Rosaria. (And Diluc.) But his kind-of brother would’ve been worse at it. No, this person was skilled, and definitely attempting to evade perception very much on purpose.

Well. This was an awful conundrum. Should he go home or chase the suspicious man? 

Hah. As if there was a choice; he was a Mondstadt knight, after all. He wouldn’t let a known Sumeru mercenary roam the streets alone at night. 

“Hey, Rosaria? I…just remembered a knight thing I have to do.” He didn’t want to involve her more than necessary. She was right, anyway; her part had already been completed. Anything after was his problem. “Feel free to crash at my place for the night, I’ll be back in…an hour or two.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “ Kaeya Alberic h,” she said sternly, “do you really think I’ll believe your nonsense excuse?” 

Kaeya laughed, sound echoing high in his head. “Uhm. No. Because you’re very smart. Of course. But I figured I might go try to corner Nahida, and you don’t want to be a part of that, right?” The mercenary was getting away.

She scrunched her face into frustration, brow creased. “Fine. Go run along, then. Honestly —thinking I want your excuses.” She pushed off the wall. “I’m still staying at your place, though. The cathedral is far, and I don’t want to deal with tiptoeing around the place.”

“Sounds good.” He tossed her the house keys. “If I’m not back by morning…well, nevermind.” Not her problem , he had to remind himself. 

As he bid Rosaria goodbye, he dashed through the street he had seen that mercenary slide down. For a moment he wondered if he had missed his chance because of meaningless conversation, but he quieted down, listened, and followed the telltale sound of shoes scuffing pavement. There . He took a right. 

He eventually caught sight of the guy turning another corner of Mondstadt’s curling streets, and from there, it was easy enough to keep back and follow from a distance for a nice, low-speed chase in the dark. 

Mondstadt streets were quiet and calm this time of night, and he could keep track of one guy—although Kaeya was primed to expect Diluc to jump out of a shady back alley in a dumb costume. He did not need that kind of interaction tonight. Kaeya was still avoiding the idiot and would continue doing so for however long he pleased. 

Besides that little shred of worry, though, it was easy. 

Kaeya crept along the street walls, keeping an eye on the man, and he followed all the way to the Favonius building. So, the man knew Nahida was probably being sheltered by the knights. Clearly, this was destined to become a problem whether he was being nosey about it or not. 

From where Kaeya sat crouched, he caught a glimpse of someone else right outside the building.

There was a girl sitting in the grass—and not just any girl. Oh, no, Kaeya’s life couldn’t be that simple. It was Nahida. 

There were people in town planning to take her back to the sages, but Kaeya hadn’t thought it an immediate problem. Forgive Kaeya for thinking that, just maybe , there would be someone, anyone , watching her! 

It was still fine. No mercenary worth their salt would jump right in at the first opening—it was the first lesson for anyone in the trade.

And yet. And yet . Kaeya genuinely couldn’t believe his eyes when the mercenary dived straight in with a knife. This kind of hired help usually exercised more care and planning, so for him to take any opening made Kaeya reframe his entire perspective on the situation. 

What the hell had she stolen?! Because this was peak desperation on the side of the mercenary. 

Well, it didn’t matter. Not on Kaeya’s watch would anyone ever successfully kidnap a child—even if he suspected said child of devious activity. 

Kaeya jumped out of the shadows just as he saw Nahida fall. That knife was definitely coated in fast-acting poison. She was wanted alive, so it likely wasn’t lethal. But still. Kaeya drew his sword.

“Step away from her.” 

The man startled and whipped his head around. At the sight of Kaeya, he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head curiously. “Don’t get involved, kid. What are you trying to be? A hero?” He grabbed Nahida, limp in his arm, and he slid one foot back into a crouch.

Oh, right, Kaeya was still wearing his Liyue merchant outfit. “Ha! No, I’m no hero. I’m worse . I’m a knight of Favonius, and you’re not getting away.” He raised his sword, pointing the tip straight at the man’s heart. “It’d be better to give up now, save me the trouble of catching you.” Sweet talk them till they gave up, he always said.

That was, however, too intimidating a thing to say, apparently, as the man immediately bolted, turning tail back through the streets, holding Nahida in one arm.

Damn it. Kaeya could’ve snuck up on him, but no, he thought he could just approach the man and that would be reason enough for him to put down the child. Perhaps...that was Kaeya’s mistake. Usually when he showed himself, the other party would back down or at least face him for a fair fight. How unfortunate.

Kaeya immediately ran after the man, taking turn after turn through the streets he knew by heart. Unfortunately, it seemed this particular mercenary had done his homework; he knew the streets and which direction would lead right out of the city, and Kaeya, once again, was reminded of the terrible choice he had made to engage when he did. Surely the man knew he couldn’t really get away; everyone always knew that much. Except maybe not. 

Kaeya sent a slash of cryo frost toward the man’s back, but he parried with a sword that suddenly caught flame. That guy didn’t have a vision! What kind of crazy weapon was he using? Kaeya hadn’t known his opponent wielded a flaming sword, and unfortunately, that meant Kaeya’s vision was benched. 

Kaeya couldn’t do anything that would tempt the guy to use that sword. Then, the whole city could go up in flames.

Luckily—or perhaps unluckily—the man made it to the side entrance where he jumped up several crates and scaled the wall one-handed, escaping the city and heading for the plains. Kaeya remained right behind him. 

Had Kaeya not been a witness, surely the man would’ve made it out without anyone in the know. Mondstadt was the city of freedom. They weren’t big on restricting people from leaving. For those entering, sure, there were procedures in place, but come on! They weren’t going to forcibly keep people in the city.

However, Kaeya was paranoid on the best of days, and that man was taking the person he wanted to interrogate. Also, he was fairly sure that if Nahida got a single scratch on that pretty little head, Venti might actually do something destructive for once. It was in Kaeya’s best interest—and that man’s too, really—to save her. Technically speaking, he was acting as a savior for them all. 

They were outside of the city limits now, and there was no longer any issue with using cryo or tempting his opponent to conjure flames. Kaeya could go all out, and so he did. 

He conjured several ice spikes and shot them at the man, one clipping the orange scarf in frost. In return, a wave of fire slashed towards Kaeya, and he ducked into a roll. He wanted to use a wider effect attack, but there was no way he could with how Nahida remained in the man’s grip. 

Kaeya hated hostages—they made the dangerous moves in his arsenal harder to justify using.

The chase carried on into the plains, and after they had run quite far, the man finally began slowing down.

With a large swoop of Kaeya’s sword, several large shards of ice swirled into existence and barreled in perfect aim towards the man’s feet. They struck, and a sheet of crisp white froze him to grass, locking him in place.

The man swore and tried helplessly to jerk his legs out of the ice prison while Kaeya calmly walked over to collect his prize. It was his win— or maybe not .

The mercenary flipped his sword around, and after arcing it straight up and surrounding it in flames, he plunged it into the ground where his feet sat stuck to ground. Fire gushed out around the strike, and Kaeya felt the heat billow upwards, washing over his skin. However, his ice remained mostly solid.

With a quick twist of his flaming blade, the mercenary stabbed towards his frozen feet once more, and the ice melted into water. The field was set back to equal.

Kaeya raised his sword to meet him, and they entered into combat. He sent one swing to the shoulder, one to the leg. Both missed, but Kaeya laughed, because he had forgotten what Sumeru fighting styles were like. It was a real rush, barely avoiding each wide arc of the mercenary’s curved weapon. 

Ice crept up Kaeya’s blade, and on the next hit to the man’s sword, frost swarmed and multiplied up to the hilt, and the man had no choice but to drop the weapon. Finally. 

As the man’s focus remained on his grounded sword, Kaeya rushed in with a jab of his scabbard into the mercenary’s chest, folding him in half like paper.  

“You can’t win,” Kaeya said. With a little spin of the blade, he pointed the tip down to his neck. “Surrender.”

The man dropped Nahida to the ground and raised his hands. As he gulped, his throat bobbed. He seemed a man at the cusp of relenting.

Yet, when Kaeya should’ve won by default, in a vicious display of hard power, the man spun and kicked straight into Kaeya’s ankle, and he heard a telltale cracking sound which definitely indicated something bad that he refused to consider.

Kaeya was done with this. He conjured a giant ice crystal, sending it behind his opponent, and while the mercenary’s head turned, Kaeyea launched up and hit the man in the head with his hilt, hard.

Then Kaeya fell because his ankle could barely support the move he had just pulled. But he had won. Falling was just a part of surviving. 

He was still alive, and so was Nahida. The mercenary was passed out cold. 

That had been, perhaps, the worst disaster to end any chase with, but they were all generally ok. Well…the mercenary was definitely injured, and Nahida was still asleep from poison, and Kaeya was pretty sure his ankle was either sprained or broken. But hey. They were all ok. Definitely. 

(Diluc would never let him live this down.)

First things first. He checked on Nahida where she lay. Her breath remained even, and her pulse steady.  

Next, himself. His ankle was throbbing, and that definitely wasn’t good, but he couldn’t exactly go find help. 

He had extra fabric from his Liyue merchant garb, so he methodically coiled what extra he had around his ankle in multiple passes until the bandage was firm enough to keep it sturdy. He briefly tried to lift himself onto it, but that sent a sharp pain up his leg. 

Unfortunately, he’d have to push through the pain. There was a mercenary and a little girl to bring back to Headquarters. Sure, it would fucking hurt, but it was what it was. 

As he prepared to summon some courage, he realized that there might be a better option.

He had intended to figure out a way to corner Nahida to question her, and well, wasn’t this perfect?

Okay then. New plan. Rosaria might notice he was missing when he failed to return, but that would take a while, so the situation as it presented itself seemed to be one filled with time. All he needed to do was play injured—which he could do because technically, he was! How convenient. 

He scooted over to where the mercenary was passed out. On the man, Kaeya found rope, no doubt meant for this little kidnapping job, and Kaeya repurposed it to tie the man’s arms and legs together. Then he made a serviceable gag because there was no way he would let this guy interrupt his interrogation.

He also fished out an antidote for that poison, as any good mercenary carried just as many antidotes as poisons, and he dripped it into the open wound on Nahida’s arm. He bandaged that, too. 

After he deemed them all collectively comfortable and relatively safe, he relaxed against the ground and waited. 

The mercenary woke first, but with the gag in his mouth, there was nothing to say. 

Nahida woke a couple minutes later. Once she was lucid enough to process the situation, she snapped to attention and looked around skittishly. When she caught sight of Kaeya sitting against a tree next to the tied up mercenary, she seemed completely confused. “Um. Hello? Who are you? Where…where are we?”

The game was on. “I’m Kaeya. I’m a knight of Favonius, and we’re just a bit away from Mondstadt.”

“Okay.” She sat up and inched closer to him. “I remember…someone cut me?” She glanced down to her bandaged arm. “And I think I passed out? But I don’t know what happened next.”

Ah, right. Perhaps she would appreciate context. “This guy tried to kidnap you. I stopped him, but he injured me, and I can’t walk right now.” Sure, he could walk, but for this story, he couldn’t. “So, we’re going to wait here until someone comes looking for us. I’m a knight, so I know the patrol routes. Another knight will likely find us in the morning.”

She sat on that answer for a second. “But you’re injured. I could return for help.”

“And risk getting captured again? Not worth the risk. I have a vision, and as I mentioned, I’m a knight. The two of us are going to sit right here and stay safe.” He casually left out the part where, to his knowledge, there was one mercenary in town seeking her and he was tied up right next to them. 

Nahida quietly mumbled, “Venti is going to be so worried.”

Kaeya crossed his arms. “Probably.” 

They sat in awkward silence. He would get on with it and open with the ‘curious’ card. 

“Hey, Nahida? Could you help me understand something?”

“Yes, I’d be glad to. What is it?” She answered instantly.

“I want to protect you, but to do so, I need to know the situation thoroughly. I was just wondering, this guy?” He gestured to the tied-up mercenary. “He says you’re a thief.” The mercenary in question mumbled something, likely along the lines of ‘no, I didn’t,’ and Kaeya ignored him. “And, well, you seem too sweet to be a thief.” He saw the blush creeping up her cheeks. 

He continued, “But the thing is, Mondstadt is my home, and I want to keep the people safe. If you stole something, I need to know so I can make sure everyone—including you—can remain safe.” He said it with such softness that was unsuited for him, and he awaited her response. All the pieces were falling perfectly into place.

“I…I did steal something from the Akademiya. I am a thief, but they were using it for bad things. If I hadn’t taken it, the people of Sumeru would’ve suffered.”

Kaeya felt a little blindsided by that answer. She had jumped very far, going from ‘yes, I stole something’ to ‘it was something important enough that it affected all the Sumeru people.’ Yet again, he found his curiosity peaked. What kind of thing could have that wide-reaching effect? Maybe his original theory about her relation to Sumeru’s internal collapse actually was true.

“And? What was it?”

She bit her lip. “It’s a bit complicated.”

“We have time.” She was still hesitant. “I won’t judge you. Just explain it to me, and I’ll listen. Mondstadt will remain a safe haven for you no matter what.” It was a blatant lie, but he didn’t care. He needed a straightforward answer. He didn’t feel guilty in the slightest. 

“It was knowledge. The Akasha system. That’s what I stole.” Her lip was quivering now, but Kaeya was more stuck on the idea of stealing the Akasha system. 

He thought…wasn’t that a huge interface that shared knowledge between all the Sumeru people? How exactly was it stolen? Very rarely did his interrogations leave him more confused than before. 

“I’m sorry, I think I’m not following. Isn’t the Akasha system the database of knowledge that the Sumeru people can tap into?”

“…kind of?”

“How do you steal something like that?”

She blinked, confused, as if he was the one that made no sense. “Oh. It was built on the dendro gnosis. That’s what I stole.”

Huh. That was a pretty eccentric, theory-based story. Sure, maybe the Akasha system was built on a gnosis, but that’s as far as the logistical realism of that tale went.

If Kaeya was being honest, the rest didn’t sound possible. One small girl steals the heart of a God straight from the Akademiya. Yeah, he didn’t buy that for a second. 

“Forgive me for being so confused, but how exactly did you do this? You’re not exactly Akademiya student age. How did you get in?”

“I was already in the Akademiya. I’ve been in the Akademiya my whole life.”

Oh, that’s right. She had mentioned something along those lines at the beginning: the sages had trapped her in some…place? He didn’t recall the name of where exactly. 

“Why?” He asked.

She pulled her knees into her chest and rested her chin on them. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone since it’s a secret—Venti said so—but I guess I could tell you if you really want to know, since you’re a knight.”

Kaeya was already in too deep to back out just because his Archon, who he refused to acknowledge, deemed a certain piece of information better kept in the dark.

“Tell me.”

She faced him, and even in the dark of night, her eyes glowed a verdant green. She leaned forward and whispered ever so quietly, “I’m Buer, the dendro Archon. I was there because the sages kept me trapped. They thought it…best.” 

The air seemed inexplicably thinner. 

She backed up and said, “I know the dendro gnosis isn’t mine. Venti says it is, but Rukkhadevata gave it to the sages, so I have no right to it. But the sages were doing horrible things with it and planning to do worse, so when I escaped, I made sure to take it with me.”

Perhaps, just maybe , this was outside the purview of his paycheck. He had officially met two Archons too many. He wanted to go sleep in a bed in his house away from people for a very long time. She wasn’t even a kid, and he wished that wasn’t the piece his mind stuck onto ruthlessly.

(And he had been looking for evidence to justify kicking her out of the city. As if!)

How had this all started again? 

Here’s the timeline. Nahida arrives at the tavern. She is looking for Venti. She requests sanctuary and retribution. She says the sages kept her trapped. She is henceforth kept with Venti at the Knights’ Headquarters.

Add the new information.

She’s the dendro Archon.

Oh, fuck. 

Nope. He was done. He was done with Gods, with his job, and with any attempt at maintaining sanity in any sense. Nahida was an Archon, because of course she was, and Sumeru had essentially forsaken her for reasons that he would absolutely not look into at any cost, no matter how much it interested him. And now, they had tried to kidnap her back for stealing that which belonged to her by right. Because it was hers. At least, he thought it was. A gnosis belonged to its God.

Retribution, she had requested. 

How long had she been imprisoned, again? If she was an Archon, then her lifespan would be—

Actually, he didn’t want to know. He wasn’t going to ask. He wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t think about how the current dendro Archon had been around for— nope . Not his problem. 

He sort of felt like apologizing. Even though he hadn’t actually done anything. Kaeya had thought her suspicious and nefarious.

She shouldn’t have told him. He shouldn’t have asked. 

“Sorry, Nahida.”

“For what?”

“For asking. I shouldn’t have pried into your secrets.”

She pouted, frown barely visible in the dim moonlight. “I don’t get it. Everyone keeps apologizing to me. Why? This wasn’t your fault. Venti does it too. It’s not his fault, either.” She paused. “I have a lot to apologize for, more than I could ever pay back, but everyone seems to think they’ve hurt me, when the exact opposite is true. I’ve done nothing but be a problem, and I will never be able to help them as much as they’ve helped me. Why apologize?” 

Kaeya was not paid enough for this. Not by a long shot. Yet, he understood, and maybe he needed to give her an answer for that reason alone, because the all-encompassing need to repay every debt followed him like a second shadow.

While looking down, hoping to find an answer, Kaeya noticed a whole swarm of tiny green clovers scattering the ground around her. Had those always been there? He didn’t think this section of Mondstadt could grow plants like that, but then again, it was awfully dark. Maybe he wasn’t seeing it right. And he forgot what he was trying to think about. 

“I think,” be delicate, Kaeya . “I think I can’t speak for Venti. I know far less about him than I once thought.” That fact still burned, but that wasn’t the point.

He cleared his throat. “Regarding myself, however, I apologized because I made a mistake, and I understand that fact. I shouldn’t have asked you to reveal your secrets to me, especially because I know what it’s like to have secrets.” He would say nothing more to clarify on that subject. “And I realize that, so I wanted you to know that I won’t do it again. It’s not about whether you owe me, but about the fact that I deserve your scorn, and I hope to be forgiven. That’s why I apologized.”

“Oh.”

Maybe he hadn’t said it quite right. This was so hard. He wasn’t a kid person! Ok, well, Klee was an exception, but because Klee never asked him questions he couldn’t ignore or send away with a quick, half-false word. Kaeya wasn’t exactly the philosophical type; Lisa would’ve been better at this. In fact, anyone would’ve been better. 

Nahida spoke up, “This is the nation of freedom, though. I choose to tell you. That’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t mean I should’ve pushed it.” 

He had become a not-so-good person, huh? Forcing others to reveal secrets, suspicious of everyone no matter what: that’s what he was like now. 

“I don’t get it.”

“The point is my apology is a promise to you, a promise that I will be better because I think I should be and for no other reason. It’s not an exchange, or a payment, or a fact. I don’t say it under consideration of what is deserved.” 

That’s what it meant to apologize to him. Others did so out of obligation or because they thought the other person deserved better. But who was deserving of anything? What did it mean to deserve something? No one was deserving of anything; that was something sad people said to try justifying accepting goodness when it appeared. 

He apologized because he made mistakes, and because whoever he wronged needed to know that Kaeya could be better. Kaeya could learn, and he cared enough to do so. 

Apologies were how he promised that he would fix whatever he had broken, at any cost. 

“When I apologized to you, I meant to say that I will never ask you to tell me your secrets again, and what I know, no one will learn from me. I promise.”  

She plucked a clover from the ground and gave it to him. “Okay then. I can’t pretend that I understand. But thank you.”

He took it, delicate, soft and shining green. “And you.”

The interrogation concluded with a perfect success score. All the information he wanted had been acquired, but at what cost? 

Maybe he needed to take some time off—go on a vacation. He had gotten as bad as Eula.

He spent the next several hours in the dark with Nahida, telling her random stories about whatever came to mind because he wanted to think about anything other than the current situation he had trapped himself in. 

____________________

In the library, Venti woke to someone lightly slapping him on the cheek.

“Wha….huh?” He opened his eyes slowly to see Rosaria standing over him, clearly cross, but about what, he couldn’t pretend to guess. “Hi?” He asked. It was clearly the wrong thing to say because she instantly scowled. 

“Where’s Kaeya?”

“Uh, Kaeya?” Venti hadn’t seen him in days. In fact, wasn’t Kaeya actively avoiding him for reasons that remained shrouded in mystery? Why would Rosaria ask Venti of all people? 

“You didn’t smite him, right?” She asked. 

“Um...no?”

She clicked her tongue. “You hesitated.”

Venti sat up straighter, rather confused as to why she was asking to begin with. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I did—whatever you said—to Kaeya. What’s going on?” 

Rosaria hummed and narrowed her gaze sharply in that way she did when done with people. “He said he’d be back last night, but he didn’t show up.”

He blinked slowly. And then again. “Be back…where? Like, back to his home?” Venti wasn’t sure he followed. “You guys…spent the night together?” He was feeling supremely disappointed he had been completely deprived of the latest gossip for the last couple of days. He hadn’t felt so out of the loop since that time when Diluc insinuated Eula had a kid. Seriously. Why couldn’t people just make sense? It was way too early for this!

She sighed—aggressively—which was so ridiculous considering she woke him up. “I didn’t ‘spend the night,’ bard. I just crashed at his place. Kaeya said he’d be back, but he never returned, and last I heard, he was looking for Nahida. Do you at least know where she might be?”

She was right beside him—nope. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there. Huh. 

“Have you asked Lisa? Or Jean?” In his humble opinion, the other knights would be a much better reference for where another one of the knights might be. Venti still didn’t know why he was the in-between on this quest for Kaeya.

“I’m not asking them.”

He stared, eyes half-lidded, but she didn’t back down. 

 He wished Rosaria’s aversion to people hadn’t suddenly become his problem, but it was fine. He had caused issues in the church, where she worked, so maybe he deserved it. Apparently, a bunch of people kept coming to the church, asking the nuns about the truth of what happened and about where he was. The sisters had been kind enough to leave out of conversation the fact that he was holing up in the Favonius library. So, in all honesty, he did owe her. And to be honest, he would rather Rosaria call in a favor than anyone else. Sure, the other nuns were sweet, but who knew what kind of inane tasks they’d ask of him? The sweeter they seemed, the greater the potential depth of their insanity. 

“Come on, then.” 

He pulled himself up out of the little library nook where he had been sleeping. It was far too early for this—sun barely at the skyline—but he was awake now, and he doubted he would fall back asleep till this cleared up. 

They went down the hall to Jean’s office, where they found Jean and Lisa sorting a large assortment of documents.

“You guys busy?” He asked.

Jean sighed. “This better not be a repeat of the last time you asked that.”

He chuckled, avoiding her gaze. “…but are you?”

“…not particularly.”

Venti casually lifted his arms in the classic style of surrender, hoping they’d get the hint. “Relax! I’m just looking for Kaeya. Any idea where he is? Oh and Nahida, too.” It seemed his perpetual state was being in search of people nowadays. 

“I don’t know,” Jean said. “Kaeya hasn’t turned up for work in several days now—although I figure he’ll come around—and I thought Nahida was in the library with you.” 

Oh. Maybe…maybe he should start worrying now. That sounded awfully like an excuse to worry, didn’t it? 

“Gotcha. Kaeya might be running a sketchy job, or he might be missing. Keep an eye out, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jean said, instantly at the ready. “Do you need help looking? I can mobilize the knights if he doesn’t show up within the day, too. Him or Nahida.”

“Thanks, but it’s probably nothing. I’ll let you know when I find them.” Because Venti would, without a doubt, find them, no matter if it was nothing…or something.

As they left Jean’s office, he spotted a knight walking the halls, carrying a book. But that wasn’t any book; it was the book on flower anatomy Nahida had been reading. There better be a good explanation for this.

“Hey, Huffman!” Venti called. The knight turned. “Where’d you get that book?”

Huffman lifted it and glanced between it and Venti. “Outside. When I checked the building perimeter, it was just lying on the ground. I figured it would be better to put it inside. You didn’t…mean to leave it outside, right?”

“No.” Venti smashed a lid on his anxiety. “Show me where you found it.” 

He and Rosaria shared a silent look. The two of them, out of anyone, knew how to keep their feelings silent even when submerged in the depths of worry. They understood each other, and that meant Venti knew what she felt and vice versa with only one look. They shared the sentiment that this wasn’t at all stacking up correctly.  

“Sure,” Huffman said, and he lead them outside to a patch of grass where nothing but a crushed flower or two lay. 

There was always more to find, though, if one only bothered to look. 

“Step back,” Venti commanded. They did as he said.

He called upon the winds, swirling them around his figure in grand waves of fresh life, asking them to spare him any fragments or wisps of information they might have regarding his missing friends. Please. I need to keep Nahida safe. She’s my responsibility. I need to find her. Kaeya, too. 

They whispered in words unknown to the human tongue. They spoke in shapes and spiraling patterns of two friends stuck, just a little ways from the city. Not far at all , they whispered. Still safe, they cheered. We will guide you , they promised. And he trusted them. 

“Rosaria? Hold on to me.” He offered a hand, and she seemed surprised for a moment before obliging without any fuss. 

With a little wish and intention, he wrapped wind around her form too, and as he took to the sky, he kept her afloat next to him. She seemed a bit freaked out by the whole thing, eyes wide and arms locked in position.

“Calm down! It’s fun!” He wanted everyone to love flying just as much as him, but he supposed some people weren’t really right for it. Rosaria liked her feet firmly planted on the ground, it seemed. 

As he soared through the sky, he followed the delicate pattern of a small chain of wind currents, taking him out of the city and right along to the plains. He glided lower, and as he scanned the terrain, he caught sight three figures sitting together. Kaeya was there, and Nahida, and…someone else who was tied up. Why?

Venti waved, and called out, “Kaeya! Nahida!” 

The two of them instantly snapped their heads over to where he hovered.

Kaeya yelled, “it’s about time, you useless God!” He didn’t look very good, eye half-closed, leg splayed out with a makeshift splint buffeting it. Venti was instantly glad he had brought Rosaria. She was strong and could help, though she wouldn’t admit it. 

He landed, placing Rosaria down too, and instantly grabbed up Nahida in a large hug. “You’re okay. Although, you’re gonna have to fill me in on what you’re doing all the way out here…and with Kaeya.”

She fiddled with her hands. “Oh, well, I sort of…” she trailed off, and Venti urged to poke her until she finished the sentence.

“She got kidnapped,” Kaeya casually finished. “A mercenary from Sumeru was paid by the sages to take her back, and I stopped him. He’s over there.” Kaeya pointed to the tied up guy. 

“I see.” Venti felt shameful, like a complete and utter failure. He didn’t once look at the mercenary, and he tried very hard not to look at Kaeya’s ankle. Nahida was silent—probably feeling guilty, and it was his fault. How—how could he let that happen? Venti had promised her safety, and this is what she got for trusting him. The sages had gone too far this time. They couldn’t just let her be. They had to come after her even when he had taken her into his city. This was simply a blatant form of disrespect toward his town and his ideals. And who’s to say they wouldn’t try again? 

Okay. Venti was done, done trying to pretend that all was fine or that it would be if he hoped hard enough. When Nahida first arrived in the city, he had promised to uphold their contract, and it had been so many days already, and he had failed to live up to that promise. There would be no more ‘later.’ 

There was only now. 

He leaned down to Nahida’s level and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nahida.” She started to shake her head, and he continued, “I thought maybe we could figure this out slowly. I thought I had time to remain impartial, or hesitate, and I was wrong . I was so, so wrong. 

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I wanted to find a way to work around my own beliefs, but that was never my choice to begin with. I shouldn’t have waited, and for that, I’m truly sorry. This will not happen again, ever , because I’m taking care of this now.” He hugged her, feeling the tender pattern of her jittering breath. “I’ll be back, okay? Just wait for me.” 

He pulled back and extended his pinky, and she wrapped hers around it. 

“Promise me,” She said.

He smiled. “Mhm. I promise.” 

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you back at Mondstadt.”

He turned away so he wouldn’t have to see any of them, and he cast off his bard disguise once again. He summoned his wings, the majesty of flight granted to his person in fullness, and he took off toward Sumeru. It would barely take a moment when embracing his true nature and true form, that which was made to live in the skies. 

This would not be forgiven. There was one option left. 

…

Venti arrived in Sumeru like a hurricane, without regard for those present or any building in his way. He stormed to the Akademiya, gathering hushed whispers and gasps from anyone who witnessed him move forward as a pure force of nature.

“I will speak with the Grand Sage.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a command. It was a fact . And he would see it done.

He ignored the looks, the words, the questions. He wasn’t here for any of that, and he would see the man responsible for all the horridness his friend had endured for so many years. As people hurried around him in every which direction, none daring to confront him, he began surveying the area. 

A man, clearly important, wearing distinguished royal blue garb, a purple cap, and a monocle in one eye strutted forward, surrounded by guards. 

“I am Grand Sage Azar of the Akademiya, and you are trespassing. This isn’t your nation.”

Arrogant , was the first word that came to mind. “No, it’s not.”

“What are you here for? Planning to continue tormenting Sumeru after cutting all connection from Mondstadt? For what reason do you enjoy stifling the Sumeru people?” Ah, so he would play it as propaganda. What a guy. It seemed the people were picking up on the sub context there, but Venti wouldn’t bother fighting a popularity battle.

He already felt tired, and he wished to be anywhere but here. “It was never about them, just you.”

“How dare—” Azar began, words drawn-out and thick with righteous indignation.

Venti snapped. 

“How dare you!” His voice rang out through the courtyard, sending shockwaves through the trees. “You imprisoned my friend.” He saw the Sage’s face pale. “Oh yes, I know all about it, because she came to me.” He stalked closer, a step away from Azar. “You chased your Archon out of her own nation, and for that, you will pay.”

“Ha!” Azar finally seemed slightly wary, but still ignorant of the true weight of what he had called upon himself. “You’re Barbatos, not worshipped, weakest of all Archons, and holder of anemo of all things. What will you do? Make it windy?”

Azar was nervous; Venti could tell. That’s why he was playing it large and flamboyant, perhaps expecting to scare him away. Venti had been missing for so very long, and there was plenty of reason to think he might be intimidated into leaving. But that information was out of date.

“I signed a contract, Azar. You will face retribution.”

That was the only warning Venti gave before he sent a sharp blade of condensed anemo straight into the Akademiya roof, and the green tiles fractured into several splintered pieces.  Azar’s mouth dropped open, and the people nearby immediately backed away from the building. 

Nahida had said destroying the Akademiya wouldn’t be right, but he didn’t care. It would be retribution. 

Azar yelled, “You can’t do this! These are the Sumeru people, and this is their refuge for learning. Aren’t they innocent? Aren’t you the Archon of freedom?”

“They should’ve picked a better leader.” He sent another blade of wind into the building, glass windows shattering into fractals that crashed to the ground in a cacophony of noise. 

People were running, pleading he stop, and Azar was ordering the guards to just, Archons , do something. It was just noise , Venti told himself.

Venti continued chipping at the building like a block of wood. With a flourish and a beat of his wings, gales spiraled out from where he stood, cracking the ground beneath him and every railing, post, wall, potted plant—everything—broke into at least two uneven pieces if not several more. 

He entered the Akademiya, facing no resistance from a single person, and people rushed out around him, like he was working against the current. He noticed a couple people looking like they had been preparing for a fight, weapons in hand, but at the sight of Venti strutting in, encompassed with full glowing Archon brilliance, they chose to retreat instead, and he resumed summoning carnage.

Deeper into the building, there was a massive collection of books. That was the one thing Nahida requested he save, so while the innocent retreated and spread the message of him as an entity of destruction come to ruin, he asked his winds to please lift all the books up and out of the way. The winds obliged, and soon, he had a bunch of books safely hovering around him. Then, with a wave, he crunched the bookshelves into splinters.

He must’ve been quite a sight when he exited, surrounded by a tornado of books, the building crumbling behind him in abstract glory.

With a powerful gust of anemo, he took to the skies and up to the Sanctuary of Surasthana at the peak of the Akademiya. This prison had to go, too. The people had abandoned it by now, probably to get out of Venti’s way, and so he felt no regret at all for wrapping wind around the building, cracking it under the pressure of all his latent fury laid bare. 

It broke just as everything else had, and all of that glorious architecture disappeared into structural mayhem.

Surrounded by all the books still, he flew down out of this tree, surveying his destruction properly. Any gazebo left standing received a wind blade to wreck it completely. The walkways got ground into dust, lights crushed like ripe fruit. He kept going, hacking away at the building rhythmically until every last piece had been spliced to death. 

Shards of everything from concrete to porcelain to glass to wood lay in a pattern of chaos where the Akademiya once stood, and so Venti turned and let it be.

He landed in the city proper where people in normal Sumeru garb and Akademiya uniforms swarmed in a large courtyard. They hung as far back as possible once he had taken his place in the center. 

With a flick of his finger, Venti stacked all of the books he had gathered into a giant mass, the piles reaching higher than possible, held aloft by wind. 

“If you want the Akademiya back, build it again from the ground up. You still have your books and each other, after all.”

The courtyard was the perfect, idolized form of silence, and even Azar seemed to have lost all words. 

A man with white hair and a dendro vision eventually pushed his way to the front, drawing attention from the mass of spectators and Venti himself. “Do you not seek our destruction?”

“No. Just the Akademiya.”

“Why just that?” 

The question at the tip of every tongue. Brave man, he was, for daring to ask. 

Venti answered, “Your Archon was forcibly imprisoned by the sages there. She has remained stuck for 500 years prior to a couple days ago. She escaped and asked me for help and proper punishment to those that wronged her. If my friend is hurt again, I will not hesitate.” He pointed to the massive piles of texts. “The books are safe only because Buer wanted them to be.” Venti ran his hand against the spine of one of them before taking it and handing to the man. “Pick a better Grand Sage. Azar will be dealt with, and he will not return to the position.” 

The man tentatively accepted the book, unsure, but solid in resolve. “I’ll see it done. It may be presumptuous to say, but thank you for helping our Archon.”

Venti smiled, full and mostly fake. “It’s all yours, then. The rest of the sages I leave in the jurisdiction of Sumeru. Decide well.” That was the only form of compromise he could think of. The people of Sumeru could judge what to do with the rest of them. It was better, he supposed, for the people to root out as much of the corruption themselves as they could, although the mastermind would be Venti's to deal with. 

With a little wave, he recalled his winds, and the stacks of books fell into a grand heap. No one was hurt, but several did get a book to the chest or leg. It was all rather comical, but he didn’t have time to laugh.

He remained strong, catching the eye of the crowd itself. “Mondstadt will resume trade and communication with Sumeru on the condition that the dendro Archon, Buer, remains forever free and never again trapped by the people here. She is no longer your Archon unless she decides it herself.” 

The audience rippled with gossip and so, so many questions, but the general tone seemed to be grim acceptance. That was enough for him. He thought the point had been pretty well made, rubble decorating the top of their city. Besides, they had done well enough without her. 

Venti grabbed onto Azar’s clothing before the man could think up something new to say, and he dashed into the air with one new occupant. He didn’t surround this passenger with wind to keep him aloft. Instead, Venti let him hang there limp, crying out curses, while he took them toward the desert. 

…

“This is your punishment,” Venti began as he landed in the yellow sand.

Azar sputtered, face in the grit where Venti had dropped him, seeming a hair away from attempting something violent. “What is this? What do you think you’re doing?”

“You took from the dendro Archon the earth, her people, and her gnosis, all things that define her existence itself. Perhaps the most fair comparison I could make for a mortal man is water. So, here we are, in the desert.”

“This is ridiculous. Bring me back at once! The people will not stand for this treatment of their Grand Sage.”

Venti tilted his head in confusion. He thought that part at least had been clear as glass. “You’re not Grand Sage anymore. The Akademiya is gone.”

“And they won’t stand for that either!”

Venti began hovering above the ground, and he criss-crossed his legs in midair. “Then I’ll accept their hatred, ire, and everything else. But you will remain here.”

“I didn’t even imprison her! My predecessors did. I was merely following in the footsteps of my teachers.”

“Oh, but I don’t believe it’s that simple,” Venti hummed. “I think you wanted her in your little prison, and it was merely convenience that she was already there.”

Azar was fuming at this point, angry and hateful. “What will you do with me, then? Kill me?”

“I won’t kill you. The desert might, though.”

“You coward,” he spat. 

Venti spun the sand in his winds, whipping it into curling patterns around them as a distraction from what he had already decided upon. “It seems you forget, Azar. I have killed before.” His eyes flashed violent cyan. “This desert is your prison, your Sanctuary of Surasthana. If you can escape it, then you will have earned your own freedom.” 

Venti’s gut curled horribly, the weight of what he proclaimed sinking into his bones. 

“This is cruel,” Azar chided. “Surely, a benevolent God such as yourself understands that. It isn’t right, it isn’t good!”

“Of course I know, but it’s what I promised.” Retribution means equal punishment. “I imprison you in this inescapable land, and it is fair.” He rose higher, ignoring the screams sent his way. Azar threw sand in handfuls, shouting things Venti didn’t dare repeat. He fell to his knees, in a position of abject surrender, and it didn’t change anything. Venti ignored all the symptoms of this dying man. 

Venti said one last thing. “Goodbye, Azar. It took Nahida 500 years to escape her prison. Now, it’s your turn.”

He flew away. With each beat of his wings, Venti sped up, moving as fast as he could, until the shouts were nothing more than auditory hallucinations nesting in his mind. Perhaps at one point he had been crying, but the heat of the desert overwhelmed his senses in every way, and he couldn’t tell. 

Azar was right. He was a coward.

He just wanted to go home. 

…

Mondstadt welcomed him with open arms, her gates wide, wind friendly and whispering lovely happy things. 

Venti was a bard again, at the edge of his own city, and he wondered why it seemed so scary to just…walk in. 

He wandered around the plains for a while, hoping to work up the courage to go face them. He found his way to the statue, one of those symbols of his dominance, that which didn’t look anything like him. Nahida thought it did, but she wouldn’t think that anymore. 

The tree shook in the wind, and perhaps some good friend far away hoped to cheer him up. It wouldn’t do to remain so solemn in this favorite place of his. So, he brought out his harp, and sang a slow, quiet song. 

These were words that he would not share with the rest of the world. This wasn’t a song for anyone to hear. He sang it for himself alone, and as the last note rang out, he dipped his chin and noticed a little patch of clover. They were still there, and that fact invited a smile to his face.

Right. He needed to go back, for her, at the very least. 

He found his way to the gates once again, and this time, he went all the way there, where two knights stood at attention. 

“Hello, there!” He waved to them, and their eyes went so horribly wide. “Can I request entry? I’m a citizen of Mondstadt already. I just…had an errand to run, but I’m back, and,” the words felt a bit heavy this time. “I plan to stay.”

“Of—of course!” The one on the right stuttered. “You’re always welcome. We—the Mondstadt people—are glad to see you safe. And here. Thank you.”

Ah. Right. How…how was he going to handle the gratitude? That wasn’t something he ever got used to even back when he was known as Barbatos. He felt sort of squeamish considering he had never founded Mondstadt so that people might be thankful. That was never the point. 

“Thanks for protecting Mondstadt. It means a lot to me, you know,” Venti said. He gave a little cheeky wink and the end, and the guy seemed about to fall over where he stood.

“Of course!”

 Venti smiled and entered the city, catching gazes like dandelion seeds in a spider’s web. It was sort of uncomfortable, but he had avoided facing the people for long enough. 

He waved and smiled and shook hands when people approached him. No one said much other than thank you, or may the wind guide you, or something along the lines of abject praise. Every interaction had him squishing his feelings tighter into a box, and it just kept on coming. 

The stares might’ve gotten to him the worst. He was used to being looked at—a consequence of working as a bard. He liked it. When he sang songs, the people stared at him, but what they really saw were the tales he twisted in music and verse. Now? Now they were looking straight at him, no song to buffer whatever emotions they felt toward him, whether it be appreciation or outright reverence. 

It had been weird enough in the cathedral, but out on the streets, it was different. His other name had invaded this space meant for living in, and that meant there was nowhere that name could hide anymore. Children called out ‘Barbatos,’ and he was lightning quick to correct them with Venti—not that it would stick. 

Then, people started giving him things.

A child approached and handed him a red pinwheel first. Of course, he had to accept! “It’s beautiful, thank you!” He said. And that signaled everyone else to also start giving him various items. Apparently. 

An old woman gave him a dandelion.

A young boy gave him a piece of Mora.

A shopkeeper gave him a sunsettia.

Venti raised his hands. “I can’t just take it!”

“It’s on the house,” he said, pushing it into Venti’s arms in a way that simply couldn’t be refused.

When Venti finally made it to the Knights’ building, he was tired, more than ever before, and about fifteen miscellaneous items richer. 

The knights also looked at him like a miracle. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

He rushed past all of the people and threw himself into the library, slamming the doors behind him. He stood, back against the door, just existing, hands shaking while full of random stuff. All of it dropped to the ground, and he sunk down, alone and surrounded by all these lovely gifts. 

Venti sat on the ground by the library door for a while probably. He wouldn’t know; he lost track of time. Come on. You’re fine. You’re still the same you.

Yeah. He was still Venti. Still the same silly bard as always. And hey! Maybe more people would want to listen to his music now. Maybe he wouldn’t have to pay for anything anymore. Considering his constant state of lacking Mora, maybe that would be nice.

Oh, who was he kidding. He didn’t know if he could do this. What if he just hid in the Favonius building forever? They couldn’t kick him out! He was their Archon! And if he did that, he wouldn’t have to move ever again since he was already here, hiding in their library, surrounded by little toys, and flowers, and fruit. 

It was sort of funny, he supposed. Their Archon, scared of them. Kaeya might’ve been onto something before. Venti sort of wanted to run away, too. 

His sight caught on the pinwheel. What a wonderful present. He picked it up and spun it, watching the contraption whistle. Ok. He could live with this. He could. And he could do it because he loved Mondstadt. His people were so kind, so imperfectly perfect. They loved him, and even if he didn’t think he deserved it, he loved them, too. They were all living here, free to do whatever they pleased, and with this freedom, they had showered him with sweet little gifts. 

He had to trust that they hadn’t done so out of obligation, and it had to be true, because all of these things weren’t expensive or precious, just gifts. That’s what he always wanted Mondstadt to be, a place where one may give a gift for no other reason than because they wanted to. It wasn’t right to deny them that, even if he felt caught between two selves that hadn’t done much of anything for anybody. 

That wasn’t the point, though. Hadn’t he told Nahida the same thing? She didn’t owe him for the help; he helped because he wanted to. That’s the kind of place he had made, and it was the place he loved.

He picked himself off the ground and went to inform Jean of what happened. He told her about how they could resume connection with Sumeru. She asked if he was okay. It all happened sort of far away, mind still stuck on one toy pinwheel, but he had said yes, and that was that. 

Why were they worried anyway? He’s an Archon; being permanently safe was sort of in the description. He said he was sorry for doing something rather extreme, but he hadn’t known how else to keep them away permanently. This message they would remember. 

He found Nahida next, hanging out with Lisa in a side room. The second he arrived, Lisa ducked out of the room, giving him a slight side hug on the way out. 

“Nahida,” he said. “I finished it. The Akademiya is gone.” He thought he might want her to be mad, but he couldn’t be sure, not while his thoughts tripped over themselves.

She set her book down. “Gone?”

“I know—I know you said that wasn’t necessary, and that you didn’t think it was right, but I needed to make sure they’d never try taking you again.” He wouldn’t discuss what he had done to Azar. It wasn’t her problem.

“So…Azar, the Sanctuary of Surasthana, they’re all gone?”

“Yes.” That was a whole lot less anger than what he wanted, than what he deserved. “The books are all safe, though, and I bet the people will rebuild.”

She stood up and gave him a hug, reaching his waist. “Thank you, Venti.”

“No problem.” He ignored the cloying guilt and all the consequences that this had brought with it. 

Nahida had found her freedom. And that made him so happy, even at the unfathomable cost.

He took her hand and tried to put on a brave face. “You can go wherever you want, do whatever you like. That’s what Mondstadt has always been about after all. It’s why I love it, because here I can be whatever I am. So, what do you want?”

She hesitated, stuck on an answer he couldn’t see. “I want to experience everything.”

“Good answer!” He pulled her out of the room, unabashedly running through the Favonius halls. He was attracting attention, but he didn’t care. “I have a good idea that I think you’ll like.” 

…

“I’m not sure about this,” Nahida said, standing on the railing near the courtyard with the large statue. She had a glider strapped to her back, and Venti was standing right next to her with his wings stretched wide. 

(There was a whole bunch of people behind them, but he kept focus on the future.)

“You’ll be fine! Mondstadt gliders are second to none. I invented the glider, you know.” The model she had was the standard grey one, very safe and functional. “Besides, I’ve carried you while flying before. This is no different.” He gestured to the wide, open air. 

“I think this is categorically different.” 

Nahida and her literal definitions for things could not stifle this adventure, and besides, he knew she wanted to jump. She would do it. He just knew.

“I’ll catch you if you fall, no matter what,” he said.

“I know.”

He bounced on his feet, leaning ever so slightly over the ledge. He offered a hand. She took it.

“Start the countdown?” He prompted.

“Three,” she said, voice shaky, yet bursting with courage and spirit.

“Two,” he continued, the sky stretched out before them.

Nahida smiled, eyes wide, “One!”

They jumped, and then they soared. She made a small screech, but Venti guided the winds below into looping lazy circles around her so she would harmlessly float overtop any buildings. 

He gingerly let go of her hand, falling back behind her. “You’re doing great! Isn’t this fun?”

She didn’t respond, only laughed like he had never heard before. He had done the unthinkable and received something unimaginably precious in return. There was no correct answer, no perfect solution, but they were here, flying under the midday sun, and that was enough.

The wind ruffled his hair, hugging him like a giant friend, and he couldn’t think of anywhere else he would rather be. He let her lead, let her go in any direction she wanted, and they spent the day flying wherever felt right, spinning and tumbling all the while.

They didn’t return till very, very late.

She kept the glider.

____________________

The ghost of Rukkhadevata had been following Nahida for a long time. 

Nahida couldn’t say exactly at what point this memory had appeared and begun talking to her, but she had forgotten what it was like for her invisible friend to be absent. No one else could see her, but she was real. Sometimes the memory was incredibly clear. Sometimes it faded. But it would always return eventually.

Tonight, it found her in her room in the Favonius building, where Nahida sat with her stuffed finch and a bunch of books from the library. The memory hovered just out of sight, but Nahida knew she was there. 

Nahida had something important to ask of her. 

“I want,” Nahida said, “to learn about Sumeru. Tell me about it, please? Tell me everything you love about it. I have a choice now, and so I’d like to learn about it from someone who lived there, not the Akasha or a book.” Nahida met this memory of a person face-to-face, and she saw herself. “Would you tell me stories about Sumeru?” 

Gladly.

Notes:

I will go sleep now :)

Chapter 3: Consequences

The last thing that belonged to Rukkhadevata alone were her stories.

After she told Nahida every story she knew, she decided it time to call attention upon the one request she had of her friend.

Our promise was that when you were safe and no longer needed me, you would complete my final wish, she said. With this, with these tales of our nation, the stories of my life, I have shared with you the last thing I have. 

If you would save the Sumeru people, I would be forever grateful.

Nahida didn’t deserve this order, but all Rukkhadevata could do was ask for kindness from this small incarnation that didn’t understand its place in the world.

At her words, Nahida stiffened, lying down in her bed, and whispered into the darkness, “I know.”

Rukkhadevata was supposed to leave her last quest with her offspring, her self fated to fade away into nothingness. She was supposed to die too many years before today. 

And yet so long ago, when Nahida had nothing but her own name, neither could bear to leave the other. 

However, Rukkhadevata had told Nahida everything she could of Sumeru and what it meant to her. Now it was time for her to go, even if Nahida would push against it with all that she was.

Rukkhadevata had nothing more to give.

It was only too tragic that she could not do the deed herself. 

___________________

Zhongli often strolled the streets of Liyue. 

He enjoyed seeing the bustling activity and general pattern of behavior that overtook the city each day. Within the daily tide of conversation and chatter, he was a silent observer. His life had returned to a general calmness since the battle against Osial, and every day he was thankful of his ability to listen to the heartbeat of the city without responsibility. 

As he passed by the adventurer’s guild on his casual stroll, he noticed several adventurers all huddled together, gossiping. 

Adventurers were of an odd type, full of zeal for travel and independence, and he certainly didn’t know them to clump together like that. Consider him intrigued.

A girl in the group was trying to whisper, but the effect in reality was an awfully loud hissing noise, which she used to animatedly tell her companions about how Mondstadt’s Archon had returned.

Zhongli stopped in his tracks. Mondstadt’s…Archon? Barbatos?

He stood like a statue in the street for longer than he’d like to admit, contemplating why exactly Venti would reveal himself now of all times. Zhongli was under the impression that Venti was quite pleased with living the free-spirit life he liked to wax poetics about. It was genuinely off-putting, the idea that Venti would throw that away. 

Had anything out of the ordinary happened recently? Nothing he could think of besides his own funeral. There was that vision hunt issue in Inazuma; maybe that was it? Perhaps Venti was planning to oppose Ei. Zhongli hadn’t thought him the type, but to be fair, Zhongli understood the sentiment. He was quite enraged at Ei, too, although he wouldn’t dare interfere with her country considering she hadn’t attempted to extend her order out of Inazuma. And he assumed Venti wouldn’t involve himself either. 

Zhongli’s assumptions have been wrong before.

Then, the adventurer girl mentioned Sumeru. 

Zhongli interfered on instinct. “What did you say?” He asked.

The group of adventurers gave each other sideways looks, but the girl who was speaking ultimately sighed and gestured they all let him into their little conversation circle.

“Mondstadt’s leadership is cutting off trade with Sumeru,” she said, “Supposedly because Barbatos himself ordered them to.” They all nodded at him.

He blinked. “Does anyone know why?” He was under no obligation to pry, although he wondered the reasoning. A decision like that wasn’t made half-heartedly, especially not regarding Venti. Why would he reveal himself only to antagonize Sumeru? There was no bad blood there, quite the opposite, in fact. 

“No one knows.” She switched into an enthusiastic tone, “although there are theories that the Akademiya was developing technology to kill Archons; maybe Barbatos felt threatened by it.” Her companions agreed, and a whole new wave of ideas took over.

One boy said, “Maybe Barbatos and Buer are feuding.”

“I bet the Akademiya tried to uncover Barbatos’ secrets.” 

“I bet they were developing weather technology, and Barbatos was mad about it.” That seemed to be the theory that got them all buzzing again. 

Zhongli hummed. 

The rumors were well kneaded into the story, it seemed, but all theories were likely false, which is why Zhongli was encouraged to think it all a trick. Concealment begets creativity, after all. If Barbatos’ reasoning wasn’t clear, that meant someone was purposefully obscuring it. The truth likely stood far from expectation.

Which meant someone was likely pretending to be Barbatos. And yes, that seemed a likely theory.

It would be simple enough to do in the heart of Mondstadt where they told stories of his image and longed to see him. Besides, this was not the first time he had heard about a sighting of an Archon followed by a deeply controversial order.

Mortals had a tendency to pretend their Archon had issued a command if they wished to put through an aggressive reform—to justify it through divine right.

So, Zhongli thought nothing of it, really.  Mondstadt had someone impersonating their Archon, and either they hadn’t caught them yet, or the Mondstadt leadership had done it on purpose to push their own agenda forward, using Barbatos’ image as fuel for their campaign.

The situation seemed fairly simple, and sooner or later, the truth would rise to the surface.

Despite common thought, Venti was in Mondstadt, so surely he’d be able to contain the problem if the need arose. 

It wasn’t Zhongli’s business what the neighboring countries did with the image of their Archon. 

He went on his way, savoring the cool Liyue weather and salty breeze blowing in from off-coast. 

___________________

Beidou had decided that whatever the fuck had happened between Mondstadt and Sumeru made no sense. 

Because honestly. The two nations might as well be in a silent war with each other, and she couldn’t for the life of her pinpoint where or why this had begun. One second they’re perfectly happy living far apart with Liyue between them, and the next, it was like they hated each other’s guts. 

Sure, she had heard about how Mondstadt, citing divine request as reason, had outlawed any trade with Sumeru. That wasn’t great, but it didn’t do any debilitating damage to the economy. After all, Sumeru and Mondstadt weren’t reliant on each other for economic prosperity.

But then again. She also heard about how that seriously pissed off the bigwigs in Sumeru anyway because they couldn’t take a hit. She suspected unfathomable arrogance. Well, whatever strange nature of fuckery they had going on would not mess up her plans. She liked to enjoy her life, thank you very much, surprise antagonistic behavior aside.

Most of her trips went from Inazuma to Liyue, but she had just agreed to ship some goods between Port Ormos and Liyue. Of course . It was just her luck, taking that request a couple days before hearing the news. Oh well. 

Beidou could handle anything; that’s why people paid her extensively. But if she got dragged into a political battle between the two nations, chances are she would take sides, because of course she would.

Truthfully speaking, she expected this to blow up in her face. She was used to facilitating illegal deals—they were her bread and butter. If anyone in Port Ormos knew of her, there was a chance they’d ask her to aid them in a bit of…contraband. 

It wouldn’t be the first time she helped people act against their Archon’s wishes.

Except she didn’t know enough here to make an appropriate judgement call for which side deserved her assistance.

Well. There was no value in stewing in it. She’d show up and see how it played out and persevere regardless. It had been a couple days since the news, and maybe it had calmed down already. 

“Hoist the sails!” She called from the wheel of the Crux, her shipmates scurrying around the deck to begin the trip. Here’s to hoping Port Ormos was far enough away from the heart of the Akademiya that the people there wouldn’t try involving her. A quick trip there and back. 

Simple enough. 

…

Chaos.

Absolute, sheer, unhinged chaos.

She took it back. Beidou should’ve cancelled this trip, apparently. 

Don’t get her wrong—chaos was fun. Her soul breathed chaos on most days. The sea was the purest form of chaos imaginable, and it soothed that part of her that shriveled in boredom. 

But this was something else entirely. 

Port Ormos was packed, to start with. On first thought, it seemed normal enough. Port Ormos was a pretty important place for trading, the most important in Sumeru, that’s for sure. So, yeah, it was busy. Nothing new.

But it was really busy. Like, people were tripping over each other, busy. There were enough ships to fill the port two times over, and most of them hung out at sea, waiting for a place to dock. Her ship had, of course, gotten dibs on a dock because every sailor knew what the Alcor looked like, and they wouldn’t dare stand in her way. The approaching departure was already weighing on her, though. Steering her massive vessel through all those ships? Yeah it was gonna be a challenge, that’s for certain. 

Anyway, people and ships were one kind of busy, but there was another kind here, too. There was the kind of busy found in anxious energy. The people were all incredibly worried. Why?

She approached her second-in-command. “Hey, Juza? Keep close to me. Just you and I are going to disembark for now.”

“Got it, captain,” he said, gaze steeled forward.

“Good.” 

She announced everyone else would remain on the ship while the two of them went looking for their contact for the trade, and although they complied, they clearly knew she was choosing caution for a reason unknown to them all, including herself.  

As Beidou stepped off the plank, a distressed young dockworker met her on the way down.

“Wait, miss! As an employee of the Port Ormos docks, I must require you declare your purpose here before entering the city.” The girl seemed distressed, clearly lacking sleep, too.

Beidou raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new regulation.”

“Yes, well, in light of recent events, it is required. Please state your name and purpose.”

“Recent events, eh? Can I hear more about that, perhaps?”

She scowled. “No, this isn’t a space for gossiping. Name and purpose.” She raised her pen. 

“Fine, fine. Beidou, captain of the Alcor. I’m here to exchange goods.”

At that, the dockworker stiffened awkwardly. “From where?”

“Is this necessary?” 

“From where? ”

Beidou knew she was poking the wolf, but come on! The state of things kind of mattered to her. If she was going to do trade here, she needed to be up to date on why everyone in the vicinity seemed impossibly frazzled. 

“Liyue,” she finally responded. “It’s just some ore and silk.”

The dockworker finally loosened up. “Okay then. Please fill out these forms, and then you may enter.”

Forms?? Why the fuck was Sumeru making the incoming ships fill out this long list of forms upon immediate arrival? She accepted the paper and clipboard despite her serious hesitation to engage in any proper way with the institution. They weren’t very strange or suspicious forms, anyway, just a contract of sorts that had her swear that she was, in fact, coming from Liyue with the goods she had claimed at entry. Considering she did most of her business through Liyue, contracts were a familiar terrain. Although Sumeru wasn’t generally this thorough. 

She finished up and handed it over. “Why are you guys switching over to these bulky contracts? Something happen?”

The woman scowled, and just as Beidou started to think she had pushed too hard, the dockworker rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Sumeru is having a…reconstruction of its leadership. Things should go back to normal when the Akademiya decides who’s gonna run this damn nation.”

Um.

What?

“That’s all I’ve got time for,” the worker said. “I’m a bit busy if you hadn’t noticed. Enjoy your stay in Port Ormos, or whatever.” She left after that, yelling at some new ship and its occupants who had started to wander into the city without signing one of her little paper contracts. 

Beidou narrowed her eyes toward Juza. “Come on. We’ve got some information to dig up.”

She signaled for the rest of the crew to wait on the ship. She’d make sure Port Ormos was safe before anyone else planted their feet on shore. Her crew could handle themselves, but in this kind of chaos, they could easily get separated or, if it came down to combat, hit an ally.

And new leadership? That meant something had happened to the old leadership. She didn’t spend much time on Sumeru and its ruling habits. It really wasn’t her favorite trip destination; she much preferred the rocky seas between Liyue and Inazuma.

 But she knew enough. The Akademiya was the leading party here, and tearing down the wise from their throne of power couldn’t have been a casual accident.  

She led the two of them straight through the mob of people, elbows wide. If they wouldn’t move, she would make them move. It didn’t take too much strength, though, because as previously considered, the people here were so terribly nervous.

She headed to the Djafar Tavern, as any place with alcohol made good hunting grounds. She knew how this game worked, and she was scary enough to make people oblige her. With this many people scurrying about the place, someone there would have some damn answers. 

In a couple minutes, she had pushed, shoved, and forced a path straight towards the tavern and to the bartender at the back of the room. This was not the time for dilly-dallying, after all.

“The name’s Beidou,” she began, tossing a couple coins the bartender’s way. “I’d like whatever alcoholic drink you do best, two of em.” She’d much prefer a beer, but she wanted this guy to talk, and if that meant she let him charge her twice for his most expensive drink, so be it.

He scooped up the coins and got to work. “The name’s Eymen. That’s some interesting clothing, by the way. Where are you guys from?”

“Liyue. We’re stopping here for a bit to drop off some goods.”

“Oh? That seems nice.” He spent a couple moments shaking, pouring, and adding light pink foam to the first drink. He passed her the glass and got to work on the second. “Truth be told, I always wondered if I’d enjoy traveling. I bet I would.”

“It’s great, I will say.” She took a sip and let the harsh kick of it hit her stomach.  “Although with all this traveling, I tend to miss the big news. This is my first time back in Sumeru in a while, and it’s way busier than I remember. What’s going on?”

“Ah.” Eymen paused mid pour. “That’s…it’s complicated.” He tipped the rest of the contents from his shaker into the glass and added the same strange foam to the top of the second drink. He slid it forward. Juza didn't touch it. “Truth be told, we’re not sure.” 

That was a lie if ever she’d heard one. 

“Well, a dockworker told me you guys are switching up your leadership. A rather strange choice. Did the last guy do something wrong? Anger the wrong people?”

Eymen froze. “You…could say that.” He immediately turned his attention to a new customer and took the man’s drink order. This new guy firmly refused to even meet Beidou’s eye. It seemed the Sumeru people were rather embarrassed about the questions she was casually throwing around. Now she was even more curious.

Juza leaned in and whispered, “You hit it on the head with the second guess, I think. Everyone listening in looked away when you said it.”

Yeah, that’s what she thought, too. The next question was, who constituted the ‘wrong person’?

She would get her answers. 

Beidou took her glass, chugged the rest, and slammed it on the table. “Eyman, I want a straight answer. I don’t exactly have time to wring it out of you slowly. What happened?”

“O-oh. Well. It’s not like it’s a secret.” He nervously scratched his head. “The, uh, Akademiya was destroyed a couple days ago.” Everyone in the tavern went quiet. “And the Grand Sage was…ousted. So the scholars and the Matra are trying to pick a new Grand Sage.”

Beidou wished she had more alcohol in her system for tackling this one. “When you say destroyed, do you mean actual destruction? Or figuratively?” Please say figuratively. Because I don’t know what I’ll do if there’s a creature capable of destruction in the literal way walking around unleashed.

He licked his lips. “…Literal.” Damn. “The entire building is literally dust, or so people say.” 

She tapped her fingers on the counter. “That must be some story. How the hell does an entire building get turned to dust?” She had been up close with that kind of power before. She had fought vicious, magical monsters to the death. The kind of creature capable of destruction on that level didn’t simply wander into nations. This sounded like a job, like something needed to be hunted down.

What made it even more suspicious was that no one dared answer clearly, for some reason. Silence reigned. It was a rather intense experience, a quiet tavern in the middle of a city so busy, even Beidou thought it unusual.

Eyman finally spoke up, “People say it was Barbatos.”

“The Mondstadt Archon,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Really.” She sounded skeptical, but she couldn’t help it!

Barbatos, Archon of Mondstadt, destroyed the Akademiya? Now that was some story. And yet. She couldn’t disregard it—every single person in the room had gone deathly still, as if it was definite fact. They all believed it. Every single one. 

A boy in scholar robes raised his hand awkwardly, as if asking permission to speak. “I saw it. I was there,” he slurred. “Barbatos showed up, wings and everything, and he destroyed it. He took the Grand Sage—no one knows where to. And…and it really was him. There’s no one else it could be.” His tone edged on mania, and Beidou realized she had finally found someone willing to provide answers. She’d hold on with claws if need be.

Beidou strutted over to the kid, who was clearly drowning his feelings in alcohol. He looked up when she approached, as if she might strangle him.

“Why,” she said. It wasn’t a question. 

The boy gulped. “Um. He…was mad.” He took a large gulp of his drink.

Beidou slammed her hand on the table, and the sound reverberated around the tavern. “And? ” If one more goddamn person kept the truth from her, she was going to pull out her claymore.

“He…said that the sages kept Buer imprisoned,” he hastily spouted. “And Buer escaped and asked him to punish them, I think. That’s all I know, I swear.”

Beidou hung her head. 

Damn it. Divine punishment wasn’t the kind of thing handed out like candy, especially not from Barbatos— at least according to history books. Sumeru and its sages had really fucked up. What a crazy bunch of idiots. 

“Thanks for the tip, kid.” She straightened and headed to the exit, motioning for Juza to follow her. “I wish Sumeru luck on their…reconstruction efforts.”

She left the tavern, Juza close behind. She got what she came for. No need to stick around where the people clearly wanted her and her questions far away. 

Once they were in the clear, surrounded by the unusually chaotic chaos of Port Ormos, Juza jogged forward and took a place next to her side. 

“What do you make of it?” He asked.

“True. I think it’s true, and I think we need to finish this job and get back to Liyue now. ” Forget taking her time or pretending to be subtle about it.

Ningguang and Beidou were practically buddies—thought the Tianquan would reject that notion wholeheartedly—and Beidou sure as hell would get this information to her as soon as possible. Liyue was right between Sumeru and Mondstadt, and if anyone here had a taste for vengeance, they’d pass right through Liyue. She’d rather her home town not get blindsided by a surprise wave of fools with swords. There were idiots everywhere, after all.

…

The actual trading of goods was the easiest part of the journey, funnily enough. 

Beidou had never before had felt such respect for a simple goods-for-Mora trade. Normally this part bored her to death. By the end, though, she lightened her ship by a good twenty crates of goods, and she actually felt a lot calmer. It was maybe due to the fact of functionality. Even when Sumeru was clearly borderline splintering, the people here could initiate a new, temporary system for keeping incoming ships straight and facilitate the trading of goods. Her job was over faster than she would’ve thought.

She also remained out of the radar of any suspicious individuals. No one wanted to anger Mondstadt right now, contrary to her original expectations. Granted, when she assumed people would be smuggling goods between the two nations, she hadn’t known it had been the Mondstadt Archon himself who led the destruction.

She needed to tell people about this.

Hopefully the sea would be kind on the return journey. 

___________________

Zhongli had come down to the wharf because while inspecting some antiques, he had heard an awful racket coming from the docks. 

It was his day off of work, and while he enjoyed the time spent on talking to Liyue residents about historical artifacts, he also liked to remain updated on the events here. So, he had sauntered down to observe from a distance. All kinds of news that carried through Liyue interested him, and he believed remaining up to date on important matters a good thing to do. Just in case.

When the sea came into view, he immediately saw the Alcor docked, and Beidou was arguing with a Millelith guard. He hadn’t met her personally before, but he had heard of her. Zhongli approached them, joining a ring of people observing the verbal scuffle.

“—you don’t understand. I need to see Ningguang,” she was saying, hands on her hips.

“She’s busy. You can file a request to meet with her, and it may be scheduled in the near future.”

Beidou grumbled audibly. “No, that’s not—this is urgent! It took me long enough to get back, and I sure as hell am not waiting any longer.”

“Then inform us, and we can relay it to her.”

“We don’t have time for this!” She put her head in her hand, and whispered words not appropriate for young ears. “Here’s the deal. Barbatos demolished the Akademiya. If you won’t let me meet her, then you can tell that to Ningguang.”

The guard raised an eyebrow, seeming seconds away from crumbling into laughter. “That’s—what? You can’t be serious,” he said, exasperated. 

“You bet I am. I was just in Port Ormos; there were witnesses!”

Venti…did what now? Did Zhongli hear that correctly? Barbatos, Venti Barbatos, the drunkard bard who would rather run a thousand miles than throw a punch did what exactly? He didn’t think that estranged friend of his had any interest in the Akademiya. To his knowledge, Venti had no major conflict with Sumeru at all prior to, what? A week or two ago? How had this gone from Mondstadt disconnecting from Sumeru to Mondstadt attacking Sumeru?

Zhongli inserted himself in the confrontation. “That’s a rather interesting tale.“ 

Perhaps it wasn’t his place to intervene, but the two of them seemed so involved in their confrontation, surely they wouldn’t bother spending extra effort trying to cut him out of it. 

“It’s no tale!” Beidou said. “It’s fact, alright. Barbatos showed up at the Akademiya, destroyed the place, and then dethroned the Grand Sage.”

“So what? What do you think they’ll do,” the guard said, “retaliate against Mondstadt? Land of freedom and carelessness?” Clearly, it was meant as a joke, but Beidou didn’t take it that way.

“A God did it, ya moron. What are they gonna do? Stab him with a mortal sword? Shoot him with some mortal arrows? Besides, just because Sumeru won’t do anything officially doesn’t mean Liyue won’t end up involved.”

Not that attempting to shoot Venti down didn’t sound awfully appealing, but Zhongli wasn’t sure how the conversation had diverted quite so far from its origin point. 

Zhongli raised his voice slightly. “And what does Lesser Lord Kusanali have to say about this?” 

“No statement has been given as far as I heard,” she said. “It is rather strange, though, considering. You’d almost think Barbatos wanted to conquer Sumeru, but all he did was break some stuff and leave.” Beidou crossed her arms. “Which is why Ningguang needs to be notified immediately. This is an unusual situation, and who knows how it may develop.”

Zhongli did not comment the very obvious retort that Venti would never conquer anyone. The fact that someone thought he might added to the mystique of the situation as a whole, though. It was true that these people didn’t know Barbatos as he did, but he figured the bard’s reputation preceded him in historical writings.

 “Strange indeed,” he whispered to himself. 

What had Venti done? Or perhaps a better question would be what had someone framed Venti for? 

But if it truly was a pretender, how had they destroyed the Akademiya?

Maybe his original theory had been wrong. Pretending to be Barbatos to issue a command was not on the same level as pretending to be Barbatos and then destroying something. Actual, proper destruction took power. And he couldn’t think of anyone who had that kind of power and who would also go through the trouble of dressing up as Venti to exercise it. 

The guard cut in, clearing his throat. “Barbatos has been gone for years—why would he show up now?”

Beidou was clearly at the end of her patience. “Who cares? Someone needs to inform Ningguang.” Repetition wasn’t serving her, but then again, he wasn’t sure what else she could do without engaging in clearly illegal force—which she clearly wanted to do.

That’s when Zhongli drew himself away from the two bickering individuals. Their conversation wasn’t going anywhere in particular, and he had a part to play in this, it seemed. 

Perhaps his appearance was warranted in Mondstadt, if only as a preventative measure. He was half inclined to believe Venti had gone mad, after all. 

Venti had bothered him plenty of times in the past; Zhongli was well in his right to bother him back. 

First, though, he’d need to secure leave as unsuspiciously as possible.

…

“Hu Tao.”

She startled, almost dropping a stack of square wood panels. The second she saw him, though, her expression lit up, all light and bouncy. “Isn’t it your day off?” She asked.

“Yes.” Zhongli reached out to grab some of the panels from the top of the stack. “Let me help you.”

“Thanks!” She directed him where to move them. “They’re samples of some imported wood. I was planning on asking your opinion on which would work well with our current stores of specialty lacquer.”

“Ah, certainly, I’d be glad to, although not today. I’m afraid I must ask something of you.” Analyzing various wood samples seemed far superior to preparing for a trip, but that was simply the way of things. He also hated to ask, truly, but this seemed the best option, just to be safe. 

“What’s up?”

“I need some time off.” 

“Really? That’s unusual. What does our esteemed consultant need time off for?”

He put his hands behind his back. “Please, it’s nothing interesting. I simply had an impulse to visit an old friend.”

“Oh? For a couple days, though? Where are you going?” She asked, overcome with intense curiosity, eyes practically sparkling. 

“Mondstadt.” 

There was nothing inherently suspicious about it, although Zhongli felt a deep sense of unease at the idea of announcing his destination, as it currently sat caught in some hidden conflict.

“Hm, I didn’t know you had a friend there. Seems a bit out of character if ya know what I mean.” She winked, and he couldn’t say he understood. “Well, don’t let me stop you. You never take time off, so a week or two shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Thank you, Director.”

“No problem! Do tell me how it goes!”

He would not be doing that. Goodness knows the events of this particular trip would seem a collection of miscellaneous nonsense since Venti was concerned. He could already feel a headache coming on in anticipation.

He didn’t know why Venti’s nation had engaged in hostile interaction with Sumeru, but since Liyue sat right between the two, Zhongli seemed destined to get involved regardless of either party’s intention. 

Not to say that the current leadership of Liyue wasn’t capable. The adept and Qixing did well in taking care of Liyue, but as far as godly affairs regarding his oldest friend went, that was his domain, and he wouldn’t want Ningguang to be forced into intervening in such a case. He would let them face Osial themselves. But Venti? That was a different matter.

If Venti was not involved, Zhongli would stand back and leave it in mortal hands. If Venti was , however, then some reordering of priorities may be in order.

He sincerely hoped his strange friend had nothing to do with this particular drama so that he could simply stand back as he wished. Too bad there was a trend that where Venti was present, nothing could be simple. 

If any of the rumors were true, then he needed to seriously consider one other important element. 

To anger Venti…that must’ve taken an awful lot of vitriolic cruelty. So, the question stood broad and dark: what had Sumeru done?

He would make it to Mondstadt immediately with no delay. There was no time for anything less.

___________________

Venti was having an okay, not great, not terrible, just fine day. It was the next to follow the general themes of the week, which were avoidance and pointless attempts to ignore his problems in favor of showering Nahida with comfort. 

He had been shoving Nahida towards food and blankets and books for several days now because she seemed oddly despondent, and he couldn’t think of what else to do. And truly, he much preferred focusing on her than himself. 

(People still looked at him funny. He didn’t dare consider the greater implications of that.)

In the meantime, Kaeya had returned to his knight duties, and he was oddly invested in making sure Nahida was okay, but he still averted his eyes every time Venti attempted initiating conversation. 

It always turned awkward because although both of them cared greatly for her happiness, they simply wouldn’t talk, as if caught in a bad marriage. That particular image wasn’t great for Venti’s rapidly depleting sanity. 

Kaeya found them in the parlor enjoying tea and sweets this time, and as always, when he entered, he completely disregarded Venti’s existence entirely. 

Venti tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, but that didn’t really work anymore. 

He felt horribly hypocritical about it, though. He hated when the townspeople stared at him, but Kaeya wouldn’t stare at him at all, and that also made him uncomfortable. At this point he wondered if he was just being sensitive and childish about it. 

“Nahida, here you are,” he said.

“Oh, hello! Do you need me, sir Kaeya?” She set her teacup down.

“I got you something.”

“Really?” Her face brightened. “No one’s ever gotten me a gift before.”

Oh. Well. Venti would definitely need to rectify that as soon as possible, but for now, he was equally curious. What had Kaeya gotten her?

“I didn’t come up with the idea,” he said quickly. “Someone else inspired it, and I thought it prudent, considering.”

“Considering what?” She asked.

He sighed. “It has occurred to me that your current plan is to hide for a while, pretend you’re not an Archon, attempt to stay away from people. So, I got you this.” He pulled out from a pocket a metal object with a crystal green center, illustrating the symbol of dendro. 

Kaeya handed it to her, and Nahida inspected it closely.

Venti just about broke.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Yeah. Wearing a fake vision wasn’t something I came up with, clearly.” They all knew who that idea belonged to. “But I think you’d best have one, and the person in question who inspired the idea probably isn’t willing to confront the necessary people to get it made, so I did it instead.” 

She was still turning it over in her hands, fingers dusting over the intricate carving. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“No, really. Thank you.” She said it with pure, genuine happiness.

Venti didn’t know how to feel. 

On one hand, he should’ve thought of that. He should’ve done that for her because Kaeya was completely right. She intended to hide, and she would definitely need a fake vision to do so. Venti had thought up wearing a fake vision in the first place, so why had he been unable to consider getting one made for her?

(Kaeya had been right about that part, too.)

The last thing Venti wanted to do right now was find a blacksmith and ask for anything at all. Then people would stare more, and he would need to make up a reason for wanting a fake vision, and it would seem so horribly pathetic because they’d think it was for him, perhaps, but there was no going back and—Kaeya had stepped in where Venti had faltered.

He was pathetic. 

Kaeya still wouldn’t meet his eye.

As Nahida twisted her gift around, holding it up to the light streaming in gently through the windows, a soft knock came at the door. A moment later, Jean stepped in with a very familiar figure trailing behind her. 

“Venti, this man says he knows you, and he requested an audience. I assumed him…important.”

Venti looked at the stranger for less than a second before he realized the grand, unfathomable extent of the mistake he hadn’t dared consider deeply until now. 

Damn it.

“Yeah. I know him,” Venti hesitantly said. “He’s my friend.” Although that title would be in hot debate shortly. 

“Good. If you need anything, just ask.”

Jean left the man with them, closed the door, and Zhongli cast his all-seeing gaze around the room.

Venti’s throat felt dry. “Hey Mo— Zhongli . Ahem. Crazy to, uh, see you here. In Mondstadt. Where you don’t live. Where you never visit. For any reason.” 

What in Teyvat was he doing here? 

No, really, why was he here? He never bothered to pay Venti a visit before! What possible reason could he have for showing up now? So what if Venti revealed himself. So what if he destroyed a building. So what if he had abandoned a guy in a desert—ok maybe that one was actually pretty bad. But still. Why would Zhongli care?  

Venti had planned to either go to Zhongli way later with a well-crafted story—or go to him never and then avoid the subject for the rest of his life. He was exceptionally good at deflecting, and he figured Zhongli’s general disinterest would finally serve him for once. 

“Hello, Venti.” His eyes caught on a certain someone. “And Nahida. I wasn’t aware you were here,” he said.

“I arrived about two weeks ago. Venti let me stay. He’s been showing me around.”

“Excuse me, who are you, exactly?” Kaeya asked. By all accounts, Zhongli was a tall, well-dressed, formal figure, clearly not from Mondstadt, and there was justification for suspicion. Then again, Kaeya was suspicious of everyone.

“Ah, I am Zhongli,” He put a hand on his chest, “a very old friend of Venti’s.”

“An old….” Kaeya stared. And stared some more. And then his eye went wide. “No,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry?” Zhongli asked, half apologetic and half confused.

“No . Two was already too many. Three is—nope.” He turned on the spot. “Goodbye. I’ll be back never. I’m glad you liked your gift, Nahida.” He slammed the door behind him. 

The three reunited Archons remained alone together.

Zhongli looked to Venti. “Is that man alright?” 

Venti would’ve laughed at Zhongli’s confused face if his future wasn’t actively hanging in the balance.

“Who, Kaeya? Sure! He’s fine,” Venti said, trying desperately to believe his own words—and after all the (minimal) progress Kaeya had made, too! At least he was now willing to exist in the same room as Venti. “He’ll come around. Probably…”

“Hmm. Well, I didn’t come here to discuss your strange acquaintances.”

He was one to talk. Most of Zhongli’s acquaintances had tried to kill him at some point or another. At least Venti’s acquaintances weren’t actively murderous. Venti held his tongue regardless. He wasn’t in the mood to actively cause his own demise today.

“I am in actuality here to fact check the validity of certain…rumors I’ve heard,” Zhongli said. Hm. Not good.

“Rumors? What rumors?” Venti’s voice went so high that he definitely sounded nervous. 

“I heard you destroyed the Akademiya and removed the Grand Sage from power. I had assumed it false, but Nahida is here, which I was unaware of. May I assume that these rumors are therefore true and that she approved of this action due to corruption in Sumeru?”

That…was one way to explain it. Good on Zhongli for immediately narrowing down a much better reason for what he did.

Yes, this action was entirely sanctioned by Nahida for no other reason than corrupt leadership—not at all because they imprisoned her for centuries. Of course. It’s purely political and not personal in any way. He wasn’t going to get away with lying for much longer. He was sort of a horrible liar when caught as the center of attention.

Also, what had Zhongli assumed? That Venti did all that without asking Nahida first? What kind of brute would do that? (Zhongli would.) Why he projected that kind of attitude onto Venti was beyond him.

“Yeah,” he finally confirmed.

Zhongli’s features went dark. “And you did it? Because she asked it of you?”

“…Yes?” 

“Well, that doesn’t add up.”

Venti chuckled awkwardly. “What do you mean by that?”

“You don’t act violently just because someone asks nicely. It’s rather out of character, is all.”

Okay then. 

He had, it seemed, made a mistake—by saying “yes.” 

Was this unwinnable?

There must be a way to outsmart him, deflect somehow. Because admitting to the truth might be a super bad thing. Venti didn’t know how to play this, and the longer Zhongli stared at him, the more his time to conjure a reasonable lie depleted like sand through his fingers.

Nahida, the wonderfully clueless darling, did not get the memo— because Venti had never told her the truth about why they didn’t tell Morax. 

“I called on our old contract for retribution,” she said. “He only did what he determined fair.” 

Oh no. 

All the air in the room instantly increased in density, like a blanket of rock on the skin, and Zhongli’s eyes glowed, as if he were a nocturnal beast in the depths of midnight. He breathed in so sharply, Venti worried something was about to break from sheer pressure.

“Our contract, you say.”

“Yes?” She asked.

“The one about retribution.” 

“Yeah. I guess you never got the full story. We were going to tell you, but, well.” She nervously twirled a piece of her hair. “Anyway, the Sumeru sages trapped me in this sanctuary at the top of the Akademiya for 500 years, and when I escaped, I came to Venti and called in our contract. That’s why he did what he did.”

Zhongli stood still, staring with the weight of a thousand mountains. “They. Did. What?”

“Exactly what I said. What’s wrong?” She asked. “I got out, after all. And came here. And Venti punished them for their transgressions. Everything’s ok, now.” She patted him gently, as if that made it any better.

Zhongli clearly sat on the edge of insanity. “You.” He turned his gaze on Venti. “When did you know about this?”

“Well, I’m not sure. I don’t really keep track of the exact timeframe, you know.” A lie. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because. Because…I didn’t want to…bother you?” Ah yes, possibly the worst thing he could’ve thought to say. It’s not as if Venti bothered Morax constantly or something. Oh wait.

“This cannot be tolerated. I will not let them get away with this.”

“AH! Wait! You heard Nahida!” He gestured to her. “I took care of it! The Grand Sage is gone, and the people will choose someone else to lead them, and—and the Akademiya building is gone now, so they’re way too busy to try another kidnapping attempt.”

“Another what? ”

Ah. Right. They didn’t mention that part yet. Venti remained completely still, unsure how to even begin broaching that particular…event. 

“Nevermind,” he said in a rush. “Forget I said it. Just— Zhongli!”

The giant idiot left the room, and Venti chased after him.

“Seriously, wait. We should talk about this! And about acting rashly!” Venti said, chasing after him, speed-walking out of the Favonius building and through Mondstadt’s streets.

“You cannot speak to me of rash action, Barbatos.”

Oh shit. He was actually really angry. Venti could barely believe he had switched to Archon names. Venti wasn’t going to get forgiven easily, was he? If ever?

“Ok, you’re right, and your anger is completely logical, but also, have you considered what Nahida wants? Because I don’t think throwing rocks at people is really good for anyone here.”

The two of them were attracting attention from the residents lolling nearby, but no one dared interfere. 

“It doesn’t matter. They have committed an unforgivable sin. Imprisonment for the immortal is akin to torture. Surely, you, the Archon of freedom,” he spit the word, hoarse, “understand that.”

“Yes, I do, and I agree. Your feelings are so incredibly valid, but—”

“And that means they must be made aware of what it is they have done.”

“But—but wait! That’s not what Nahida wants! She’s confused, that’s all! She just wanted to make sure she’d be safe, that there would be no way for it to happen again.” Zhongli was still speed walking away, but he had slowed down, just a little. 

Venti continued, “She requested retribution because she didn’t know if I would help otherwise, if there would be any other way to save herself. I mean, Zhongli, really think about it. She thought she was alone in the world! All she had was that contract; it was the only proof of friendship she had.”

“The contract called for retribution. I will uphold this promise.”

“Wait! Please!” This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. “Nahida didn’t request the deliverance of retribution from you. That contract clearly said something along the lines of ‘if requested.’” Venti did not at all know the literal phrases from that contract. He sincerely hoped his random conjuring of nonsense quotes would work. “Nahida never asked you. So, you’re not required to do anything at all. I was asked, not you.”

“I will not let you break a contract either. What of your actions—destroying the Akademiya and dethroning the Grand Sage. Do you seriously think that’s fair? As if that is enough for proper retribution for this sin.”

The ground shook, as the edges of an oncoming earthquake had begun to creep through the stones.

Venti grabbed Zhongli’s arm and pulled him toward an area with less people. “Well. We never really defined retribution. So. I guess…I think it’s fair. I think what I did was enough. Nahida just wanted to be safe and free.” The girl in question was a bit behind them, catching up. “Isn’t that enough? She’s the one that matters right now. Right?”

Zhongli scowled, pausing his quick escape. “You should’ve told me she was here calling in our contract. You had a responsibility to come to me when this happened.” He crossed his arms in that way he did when he was about to ruin someone’s day.

Nahida finally caught up, joining them in this sparse section of the city.

“Hey, this isn’t entirely on me!” Venti complained. “She walked all the way to Mondstadt instead of going to Liyue because she thought you were dead. See, this! This right here is why you should inform your friends before staging your death.” Venti nodded once, hoping to appear sagely.

Nahida raised her hand. “…Because your friends might be imprisoned for 500 years, and when they escape, need a friend to go to?”

Oh, wow, when had Nahida learned to be sarcastic? Venti was so proud! But also this was not the time for it, not when he was about to be eviscerated . 

“Well, yes?” He was so dead. Metaphorically, of course. (Maybe.)

Zhongli’s brow furrowed as he stared between the two of them, seeming a man living on the barest dregs of sleep. “I am aware that my actions regarding my staged death were not kind and that I should’ve informed my friends of the situation.”

“Then why didn’t you?” 

Venti didn’t mean to ask that—it just slipped out. He had been successfully ignoring his feelings about Morax and his little death act, but he hadn’t realized just how mad he was until this moment. Morax shouldn’t have kept Venti in the dark, leave him to find out from rumors and second-hand sources about his oldest friend’s supposed demise. 

Except this was not the ideal time to be mad at Morax! A superior time would be when Venti wasn’t being accused of something that he most definitely did do. 

“…I apologize,” Zhongli said, far more meek than Venti was used to.

He didn’t know what to say back. “It’s fine. Just…tell me next time.”

“Next time I stage my death?” 

Clowns, the both of them. It wasn’t often that Venti was the odd man out in a joke. It was sort of nice, though, like old times when they’d chat about dumb Gods doing dumb things, when Zhongli was aggressively, accidentally clueless. 

On second thought, he was still just as clueless.

“Yes,” Venti finally said. “And the next time you do something stupid. Because I guess you wouldn’t know, but all I had to reference about your death were rumors. I had to ask Xiao to find out what happened. I was worried about you, blockhead.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” 

And now it was awkward—great. Might as well ask the burning question camping out in his mind. 

“Why do we never…talk? Or visit? All our problems would be solved if we just made an effort to check in with each other every couple years or so.”

“I was busy.”

“But you’re not now.”

“I suppose I’m not.”

Had Venti successfully avoided Morax’s wrath by…distracting him with feelings? That wasn’t his intention—and Venti sort of felt sad now—but he’d take it! Although, now a much stranger sense had taken over the conversation. 

Friendship to immortals didn’t look like friendship to mortals, at least that’s what he had thought after all this time. Immortal friendship meant occasional assistance and someone to share annoyances with, but not feelings. 

It might’ve been wrong of him to ask for anything more. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t broken it.

“Well, you’re here now. Just…stay for a bit with Nahida and me. We can figure out a compromise and decide whether Sumeru deserves anything worse later.”

Zhongli huffed. “Sumeru will certainly deserve it, regardless of your personal opinion or what Nahida wants. However, I suppose I may have been a bit…hasty.” He turned to Nahida. “Do you currently desire further punishment for the people of Sumeru?”

She instantly stiffened, likely not expecting that kind of question. Morax tended to be aggressively forthcoming.

“I…don’t know. I mean, they weren’t responsible for what was done to me. They were just…there.” She looked away.

“I understand.” He straightened himself and pulled back the threads of power he had accidentally weaved into the earth. “We will continue discussing this, and I will make a decision for what is to be done after.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will not back down until I understand the whole story. We will talk through this immediately, and you will tell me everything in detail.”

…

Three Archons sat in a bar.

One of them looked like a child. One of them didn’t even like alcohol, really.

And one of them was Venti, who was starting to think all his bad luck in life might’ve decided to take pity on him in a super weird way. Morax wasn’t destroying anything. Nahida seemed happy. 

Venti wasn’t happy. 

He was nervous.

Which was fair considering the astronomical mistake he had made in withholding information from Morax. His old friend certainly wasn’t going to let that go anytime soon. 

But hey! For a moment, they were something close to ok, which was new. Did that count as luck? Or had he somehow, on purpose, patch-worked this into something similar to success? 

The entire Angel’s Share was closed for now, and it was just the three of them with Diluc over in the corner, brooding. He hadn’t been pleased when Venti showed up, towing his two friends along, requesting a bit of privacy. 

Diluc had obliged, of course, because he was courteous under that thick exterior. But he was still mad. Venti seemed to be making everyone mad nowadays—Jean, Zhongli, everyone in Sumeru—it wasn’t great. Which is why he was unbelievably relieved to be in a bar for this. A place with alcohol . He would’ve indulged days ago, but he didn’t dare bring alcohol anywhere near Jean’s office. 

However, the second his eyes flickered over to the alcohol stores, Zhongli just said one word, “no.”

And that was that. Oh, how sorrowful. Although in all fairness, doing this completely sober was probably a better bet, anyway. So, he began the story.

It took Venti a good half hour to explain the entire situation. This included what had led Nahida into coming here in the first place—with occasional interruptions from Nahida—how he had disconnected Mondstadt from Sumeru, revealed himself to the Mondstadt people, the kidnapping attempt, and finally his deliverance of retribution. Zhongli asked for quite a lot of clarifying details about every single piece, and Venti obliged all the questions while his figurative executioner sat stone-faced the entire time.

Venti. Was. Tired. 

At the end, Zhongli leaded back and muttered, “I see.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Zhongli was obtuse on the best of days, but Venti really needed to understand what he was thinking right now because they were one hair away from complete catastrophe. 

“Uhm. Yeah. What do, uh, what do you say, then? Can we just, leave Sumeru alone for now?” Venti asked, meek and quieter than normal. 

He sighed, sitting back into his chair. “Venti, you should know that’s not possible.”

Venti went cold. “What do…what do you mean? Why isn’t this good enough?” 

Why couldn’t this be the end of it? Why couldn’t they just let it be? Live their own lives separately? Let Sumeru lie?

“They no longer have an Archon.”

“So?” Venti asked. “It’s not like she was doing anything for them while there.” That might’ve been a crude dig, but come on! She had literally been locked up! It didn’t seem to matter if she was there or not. 

Zhongli folded his hands together. “One of two things will happen. Either Sumeru accepts their new position of weakness. Or they try to lay claim to her.”

“I told them that if they tried to take her again, I would not hold back.”

“Perhaps. Yet, the minds of mortals are often nonsensical and driven by thoughts which are not under the jurisdiction of logic.”

“What are you saying?”

“That they will not remain stagnant. Nahida must either return to Sumeru as their Archon or remain purposefully hidden.” He turned to her. “That’s a good start,” he said, pointing to the fake vision she was still carrying. 

Even Zhongli instantly noticed the importance of the fake vision. What had Venti been doing all this time? Playing hide and seek with a bunch of harmless townspeople, that’s what. How useless.

Zhongli continued, “Although the institute of the Akademiya may take Venti’s threat seriously and leave you alone, you should not expect the same from independent parties. Within a month, I bet Sumeru will forget, and someone will invest in tracking her down.”

Venti recognized that voice. It was his mastermind voice. 

“You’re planning something.”

“I intend to make the point a bit clearer, is all.”

“The…point?”

“That what they did is unforgivable. Nahida, I am so terribly sorry this happened to you. I am the eldest of the Archons, and I should’ve known something had gone awry. Although you did not request for me to uphold the contract, I still wish to act upon this insubordination. Do not worry, however. I will do nothing to fully upend the people’s lives. I will simply accentuate the point made thus far.” He stood up from the table.

“Wait a second, you can’t just leave. Where are you going?” Venti asked.

“Liyue and then to Sumeru. I have certain plans to carry out before my leave of absence from the funeral parlor concludes.”

The…what? Funeral parlor? If Venti had more energy to spend on strange subjects, he would’ve questioned it more, but as is, he thought Zhongli’s plans for Sumeru more worthy of consideration.

“But it’s too soon! You just arrived! There’s time for nefarious planning later.” If Zhongli left right now, Venti wondered if they’d ever meet again within the decade.

Zhongli’s face turned dark, and he got quieter. “Do not think I have forgiven you.” 

Ah. That struck him right in the heart. He really wasn’t trying to get Zhongli to stay just to repair their friendship, and the idea that Zhongli had assumed as much hurt. “That’s fine, I figured that would be the case. Stay here anyway, just for a little bit. Please.”

“I…”

“Would you?” Nahida asked, hopeful. “I haven’t seen you in so long. I have so many questions, and there’s so much I don’t know, and Venti’s only ever lived in Mondstadt.”

Ha. Zhongli seemed so split. His eyebrow twitched, and he pursed his lips, clearly in contemplation mode. 

“Two days. That is all.”

Venti felt so immensely relieved, even though he had no idea what to do with Morax in Mondstadt. Forget trying to avoid catastrophe in Sumeru—he was asking the catastrophe to hang out at his home.

It couldn’t be that bad, though, right?

…

Venti got Zhongli a room in the Favonius Headquarters. Zhongli glared the entire time. (Nahida excused herself to the library. She knew something was up, and she was kind enough to leave when her presence clearly wasn’t helping the matter.) 

“Do you want to, maybe, talk about it?” Venti asked. “Let me explain?”

“No. I’m going for a walk.”

Venti didn’t dare try to stop him this time. It’s not like he had a good explanation anyway. If he was to explain it properly, what would he say? ‘I was afraid of what you might do?’ ‘I was afraid I couldn’t stop you?’ The more he thought about it, the more he wondered how friendly they really were with each other. 

He wasn’t strong enough to go against Morax, and he never knew what that crazy old man might do. Too weak, too scared, too slow. 

The only strength Venti had in spades was persistence, and that didn’t do much against an immovable object. 

Venti watched Zhongli stalk off into the streets, hoping desperately that the man wouldn’t make a run for it once out of sight. Although Zhongli was, if anything, honorable. Venti trusted his word. Venti wasn’t sure Zhongli would honor him with the same expectation anymore. 

Jean joined him right as his sort-of friend edged out of sight, quietly slotting herself right next to him. 

“That man, you’re sure he’s your friend?” She asked.

He looked up at Jean, who stood with her hands on her hips and a calculating spark in her eye. He was thankful that she had agreed to help house Zhongli for the time, but he had to admit, friendship must seem awfully unbelievable considering their recent interactions. He wondered how much she had heard.

“Yeah.”

“Hm. I hope I didn’t offend him. I’m not aware of proper etiquette for hosting Archons.”

Venti did a double take. “Uhh who said anything about Archons?” His voice cracked. Although there was no point in trying to obscure the truth if Jean already knew. “Did…did Kaeya tell you?”

She smiled. “No, you did.”

“I…didn’t though?”

“In my office,” she said. “When you first told me about all this, you said you were worried about what Morax would do if you broke the contract. I assumed that must mean he wasn’t dead. It didn’t really seem appropriate to bring up in the moment, though. You seemed preoccupied.”

“Oh.” He flushed. 

“When a well-dressed man from Liyue showed up looking for you, clearly otherworldly in that way I can’t quite describe, I connected the dots, is all.”

“I didn’t mean to reveal that. Thanks for not saying anything,” he said earnestly, avoiding eye contact. “And for going along with it.” 

“Of course.”

Well, that was one hell of a slip. He knew he had said something similar in the tavern, but no one had mentioned anything about it publicly yet, so he figured it wasn’t a big deal. He had banked on the fact people would find him more interesting than his supposedly not-dead friend, or on them not hearing what he had said to begin with, or on people misinterpreting it. There were a bunch of ways for his mistake to get shoved under the rug. He should probably tell Zhongli, but that would just give the man one more reason to be mad at him.

“He is my friend,” Venti said, feeling the need to defend him even though said friend had quite clearly stated he wasn’t in the mood to play friendship. “I just didn’t tell him about all this, and he’s mad about it. It’s a fair reaction, though.”

“Is it?”

“Yes? Maybe? I mean, it wasn’t right to keep it from him.”

“But you didn’t tell him, and I assume you made that choice for a reason.”

“Well yeah. I just thought that Nahida might not know what she wanted, and to call in a contract indicated that she wasn’t sure I would help otherwise, and…I just wanted to help her. And Morax might’ve been more preoccupied with retribution than the friendship part.”

“Sounds like a good reason.”

Venti laughed, light and heady. “Not really. I should’ve—I don’t know. I should’ve found a better way to navigate this.”

“You’ve been awfully busy yourself, though. All of Mondstadt knows who you are now. I highly doubt that positively impacted your ability to help someone else.”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Jean paused at his continued silence. “What a phenomenal defense,” she said snidely.

Venti didn’t even try to fight against that. He couldn’t really describe why he was so disappointed with himself. It originated from one point, though. 

“My oldest friend doesn’t trust me anymore, and that’s my fault.”

“Not to be invasive, but from my perspective, you didn’t trust him, first. According to your logic, that would make it his fault.”

Venti stopped, attempting desperately to parse out what she had said, repeating the last two lines again and again. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, you’re not making sense either. Just give him time. As I understand it, you’ve known each other for centuries. Surely you’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah.” The wind brushed gently against his cheeks. “Thanks.” 

Venti still thought Jean hopelessly idealistic, but sometimes, he really liked to hear her speak of such things as if they were easy to piece back together. He really hoped he could mend what he broke.

“By the way, not to make worse an already bad day,” Jean began, “but the Cathedral wanted something from you.” 

She smiled bashfully, lips just upturned slightly, clearly aware of how distressing that announcement was.

“Great. That’s just what I wanted to hear.” His hands shook slightly, and he wondered how he had become so pathetic so quickly. “I’ll see what they want, then.”

Jean put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t feel too nervous. They’d never want to inconvenience you in any way.”

“That’s not really a good thing.” Frankly, he preferred them chasing him out of the cathedral over inviting him into it like an honored guest. This felt wrong, like he had suddenly been possessed by an alter ego that had every townsperson smitten. 

He never did any of it for praise. 

Just remember the gifts, he told himself. They’re free to give gifts. That’s all this is. Townspeople giving little gifts of appreciation, which you are very supportive of in your city of freedom .

… 

Venti made his way to the Cathedral, slinking through the streets like a criminal. He logically concluded that the less he was seen, the more appreciation he avoided. It was like a game! And he got points for remaining unseen and stealthy. Yes, he was being completely ridiculous, but if he didn’t make this horrible situation pseudo fun in any way he could think of, he would spontaneously implode.

So, he kept to the back alleys and unfrequented streets, garnering some strange looks from those that were observant, but on the whole, remaining far less seen than he would’ve been. Luckily, whoever did see him seemed to inherently understand that he was trying to remain hidden, and they respected that. He loved Mondstadt so much; if only it didn’t love him back in equal fervor. It was rather suffocating. 

When he entered the cathedral, all activity halted. 

“Hello,” he practically whispered. “Jean told me you needed me for something?” He still looked like a bard, but it didn’t seem like they saw what he knew was visible on the outside.

Barbara instantly rushed over, straightening her dress when she arrived, put together as always. “Yes, I did. I hope you weren’t troubled.” 

She said it so earnestly, Venti wouldn’t dare crush her hopes with any admission of horrible embarrassment.

“Nah. Of course not.”

If only she wouldn’t talk to him as if he was her God. Because that’s what everyone sounded like. They talked around anything that might insult him, and he wished they’d just call him names again. Well. They were calling him a name, just not one he thought belonged to him, like drunkard, idiot, or bard. Those certainly fit him correctly.  

“Come with me—if you don’t mind,” she said, and he signaled that he would with a short nod. Barbara walked down the aisle and into the entrance at the back of the church behind the altar, and Venti followed her down the stairs. “It occurred to me recently that we have something of yours, and considering what happened before…I just assumed you might want it back.”

Oh. 

“You mean the lyre?” He asked. Okay, but him wanting it had been motivated by a very specific kind of situation. 

“Yes, Barbatos.” She went all the way to the altar and plucked his sacred instrument from the pedestal it sat upon, wood slightly splintered and a couple strings snapped. “It’s a bit broken, and we’ve been trying to fix it, but I guess you’d have better luck than us.” 

She presented it to him, and he wondered if she understood the weight of what exactly she was giving up. That instrument, it meant so, so much. It represented so many stories, so much time, that she clearly had no idea about, and even while broken, it was his greatest prize. 

However.

He recoiled from the offering. “I can’t take it, Barbara.”

“Why not? It belongs to you, and it wouldn’t be right for us to keep it.”

Taking it willingly would be the final admission of character. 

“I think the church takes better care of it than I do.” 

He played it off as a joke, but it was also the truth, and that burned. Any time his hands got on anything, said thing seemed to break, whether it be literal objects or friendships or…buildings .

Venti held his hands close to his chest, far away from the instrument. 

Barbara visibly drooped, brow pinched in worry. “Are you sure? I don’t think it’s right for us to keep it, and I still feel awful about what happened with Stormterror. I’d really like to make it up to you, any way possible.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I do! You’ve done so much for Mondstadt, and I feel terrible that I never knew. Please, let the church do something for you.”

“I don’t want anything, Barbara. Really. ”

She continued to look forlorn and disappointed, but he’d rather have that than the alternative. 

“Okay then,” she capitulated. “Because you asked, we will keep the lyre safe.”

“Thank you.” Finally. That’s all he wanted: keep all breakable, precious things far, far away from him.

“Perhaps there is nothing we can give you,” she said, putting a hand to her heart and looking at him with such intense, honest admiration. “but I can promise this. Mondstadt will never forget you again.” She proclaimed it so fervently, as if it was a lifelong goal she would see till the very end. 

Venti’s eyes went wide, heart racing. He needed to get out of here right now. 

“Okay, Barbara. Thanks for all this. Keep up the good work.” He gave her two awkward thumbs up. “Uh yeah.”

Venti practically threw himself out of the cathedral, tripping over his own feet all the while. The nuns watched as he left—he saw Rosaria among them—but he simply couldn’t spend another ounce of thought on them while Barbara’s words rang through his mind on loop. 

Forever. They would remember him forever. 

It wasn’t like Barbara would spearhead the operation, either. She had only spoken the truth already known to everyone else living here except him—because prior to now, he hadn’t dared consider the implications of forever, how he would never reclaim his anonymity again. It would take generations, centuries, for them to forget him, and yet, the name Venti was fated to sneak into songs and campfire tales from now until forever.

There was, perhaps, not a single worse fate he would’ve wished for himself. If this was the cost of helping Nahida, then so be it, but it hurt far worse than he ever could have anticipated. 

However, at the core of it all, he knew that his freedom hadn’t been stripped in the slightest. So, one invasive thought crawled into his mind and grew to a massive size over the span of a couple minutes.

He needed to be anywhere but here. He needed to leave Mondstadt. And he was free , so what was stopping him?

Nothing at all. 

…

Quick correction to his original evaluation.

There were a couple things metaphorically stopping him—they were responsibility things though, not literal things, so his initial understanding of the situation still remained clear as day. 

He had two tasks on his bucket list for his ‘before I run away like a horrible God’ list.  

One. He needed to make sure Nahida would be okay, of course. That meant finding her a place to stay because although she enjoyed it here, he thought it fairly obvious she didn’t belong in Mondstadt. It wasn’t the kind of city she thrived in, just where she could bloom to begin with. He wanted to make sure she found somewhere that did fit her unconditionally before he attempted to fall off the grid.

Two. He wanted to make sure Kaeya knew he was safe in Mondstadt. Venti wasn’t sure the exact reasoning, but Kaeya seemed to be so afraid of him, afraid of the city in general, and that, Venti would not let be. Everyone should feel safe and welcomed here, especially one who has been a child of Mondstadt for so very long like Kaeya. They were friends at one point, although that classification might not apply anymore.

That wasn’t too bad. Two little tasks, he could do. 

Time to go attempt to locate Kaeya. This was bound to be challenging. 

___________________

Zhongli returned to the Favonius Headquarters with a clearer head, and with that extra clarity, he could see how his anger had affected his words and patterns of action. He wasn’t any less angry, but he now understood that he had been rather inappropriate.

He shouldn’t have dealt with Venti in that way; he knew it didn’t work. He hadn’t handled Nahida properly, either. It had been too long since he’d been called on to deal with an immortal that young, and he had blindsided her with a question she wasn’t prepared for.

He intended to find her immediately and search for further understanding, but there was no need.

She found him first.

As he reached the doorstep, she peeked out of the building.

“I was looking for a chance to talk to you,” she said. “And since you’re only staying for a couple days, I thought you might not mind talking now.”

“Ah. Of course, Nahida.” How immediate of her, and considering the situation, he approved. Now was a very good time to ask him questions, especially since he felt the need to rectify his previous behavior as much as possible. “Shall we take a stroll?”

She nodded, and the two of them walked around the building. After a bit of aimless wandering, with neither initiating discussion, he took it upon himself. 

“What do you want to know?” He asked. Zhongli didn’t know why she had sought him out, but he would do his best to live up to whatever expectation she held. He owed her as much. 

Her steps halted, and she looked up at him like a scared animal. “It might be rude to ask, but I wanted to know why you abandoned your people.”

How surprising. That was not a very accurate portrayal of what he had done, but he understood why she may see it that way. After all, he never bothered to fill in anyone outside Liyue to the complexities of his test and reasoning. He deserved the misinterpretation.

“I suppose this is in reference to my staged death.”

“I don’t get it,” she said. “Both of you—Venti and you, I mean—don’t rule your nations, but Venti has always been missing, so he didn’t really abandon anyone. He just stood in the background until people forgot the specifics of his personality and form, I guess. Or, well, I’m not really sure how he did it to be honest. But anyway, that’s not what happened to you. You pretended to die. You forcibly removed yourself from Liyue, but I don’t understand. You…love Liyue, don’t you? So why choose to step away?”

“It’s not like I left. I still live there, work there. I have a job.”

“A…job? I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, and a rather difficult boss, but it’s no matter. I greatly enjoy the time I spend working.”

“Don’t you care about the prosperity of your nation, though? Isn’t it your job to lead them? Isn’t that what an Archon is supposed to do? Isn’t that what we were made for?”

He stiffened. “Let me correct that assumption immediately. We were not ‘made’ for any reason. The originals worked for their seats, but not because they believed the responsibility of ruling a nation their purpose. I solely wished for the happiness of my people—and for peace. No responsibility was thrust upon me without my consent.”

“But I was made. Literally. Rukkhadevata made me to carry out her—” Nahida paused and glanced over to the right, where there was…nothing. “I know that, I just.” She kept looking where there was nothing and suddenly hung her head. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Sumeru. It’s wrong of me to abandon them.”

“They have done nothing to earn your loyalty. If anything, they’ve done quite the opposite. You do now owe them anything at all.”

She bit her lip. “But it’s more complicated than—”

He held a hand up, and she paused. “You began by asking why I abandoned my people, and you seem to believe you have done the same.

“You accompanied it with the assumption that I no longer loved them if I was willing to resign from this post of leadership.” She nodded. “To begin with, it was my belief that the people of Liyue had the ability to take care of themselves. I put my trust in mortal strength. What better sign is there for how much I love them? I believe the Liyue people are powerful beings who do not need me to guarantee their safety. I am proud of what Liyue has become, and I trust that I may leave Liyue to them, as I will eventually erode and die.”

“That’s—hm. But don’t you feel that you’ve, I don’t know, let them down?”

“Perhaps a little. There were many who were very sad to hear of my death,” like Venti, his mind traitorously whispered, “and I didn’t mean to inflict such grief. However, in regards to the battle the Liyue people fought by themselves and the leadership they exhibit, they are strong. Even without my guidance, they will chart their own path into the future with courage and bravery. I have not let them down, merely allowed them to witness their own indomitable strength. I did not abandon them.”

“But what about me? I did abandon my people. I wasn’t trying to prove anything.”

“You do not need any reason to justify escape. What you did was not abandonment: it was self preservation. You cannot put energy into a nation when you are depleted of it entirely.”

She let the tension collapse from her frame. “Then…what do I do?”

“You wait until you have the energy to consider what truly matters. You rest.”

That message was, in a way, for himself as well. He could rest here for a while, and it might be highly beneficial to do so.

Regardless, his plan had not changed. He would not reveal himself to Sumeru, but he would cause them unseen problems because they needed to believe that the world itself rejected the arrogance fueling such callous disrespect.

It was the righteous response. 

___________________

Nahida scurried into the Favonius building, and while walking the halls, spoke directly to the empty space next to her. “I should’ve told him,” she said. 

She walked faster, ultimately going in circles. That had been stupid. Why would she ever ask a question to someone without providing them with every variable? If she was going to withhold information, she shouldn’t have asked in the first place. And now Zhongli most certainly thought her ridiculously overburdened, when in reality, this had been a job only she could do in the first place. 

Why do you think so? The memory responded.

“He didn’t have all the information. If he knew the truth, he would agree that it’s my job to help them now. He gave me the answer I wanted, only because I didn’t present the situation correctly.” She stared at the translucent being floating just a couple feet away. 

I’m not sure it would’ve made a difference. What matters most to him is you, not Sumeru.

“But if he knew! If he knew about the corruption in Irminsul…he would’ve said something different.” She was sure of it. He was the oldest, as he said himself. That meant he definitely had a greater respect for the greater unseen powers running the world at large such as Irminsul. 

Maybe. Maybe not.

“I was going to tell him. I really was, but I didn’t, and now he thinks I deserve rest, when I don’t deserve anything of the sort.”

Of course you do.

“No, I don’t! It’s horrible of me to do nothing. They’re suffering from corruption, and I’m the only one who can fix it.” She stared at the ghost with knowing. They had discussed it once, so many years ago that she couldn’t recall a single word either of them had said. She only remembered the sacrifice asked of her and how unwilling she had been at the time to give it. They had agreed on waiting. They would stay together until a day when Nahida no longer needed this memory.

Nahida hadn’t expected that day to come so soon.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Nahida said. 

There’s time. I can stick around a bit longer.

“But I’ll have to sacrifice you eventually.” 

Was it wrong of her to think this would last forever? She had finally gotten her feet under her, and the only creature that ever cared for her in the span of five centuries would die by her hand. It didn’t feel right or fair or kind, and she wanted nothing more than to avoid this responsibility for the rest of her immortal life. 

We both know it is the only way.

“You could stay.”

You don’t need me anymore.

“You’re all I have.” 

The memory crossed her arms, form so incorporeal Nahida could see right through both arms.  

Well, that certainly isn’t true. You have Venti and Zhongli. Am I to assume they mean nothing to you, little sprout?

“Of course not. But it’s different. You let me escape. You saved me.” She said it like a prayer to her own, personal crusader. 

They’re saving you, too. You just can’t see how yet.

Nahida turned away from the fragment of a memory, a dead entity walking, with nothing more to say. It might’ve been true, but she would rather ignore it than acknowledge it. Besides, she wasn’t sure if she could bear to face the creature that had asked such a selfish thing of her.

She finally stopped, standing still, wondering what exactly it meant to rest and whether she truly deserved it. 

…

Nahida wanted to visit Sumeru. Yes, a bit of a strange new idea, and certainly not one she thought she’d be open to this quickly. Of course, she wouldn’t propose it to Venti or Zhongli immediately, but a plan was already forming in her mind.

It might’ve been callous of her, but she wanted to see in person what about Sumeru was so wonderful that Rukkhadevata was willing to sacrifice herself for it. Of course Nahida knew there was more to it than that, like the memory’s simple, unending kindness and that deep, motherly empathy, but she desperately hoped for a logical reasoning to Rukkhadevata’s decision so that she might have a chance to challenge it.

She didn’t know how to go about suggesting a visit to that place. 

Although, she thought a good first step might be putting both Venti and Zhongli in a better mood. Currently, they definitely seemed angry at each other, hence why she left the second they got back from the bar, although she wasn’t completely sure why. Personally, she felt there was some underlying subcontext that she was missing. 

So, she did the most logical thing and went to Lisa for advice on how to run a picnic. 

Picnics fixed friendships. Obviously.

She slept early that night, with a strategy pre-formed and approved by Lisa herself. Lisa thought it a lovely idea, and that was good enough as far as permission went.

…

Nahida woke up extremely early, and she met Lisa in the Favonius kitchen where they began baking for her picnic plan. It was her turn to take control—help her friends rather than the other way around.

They baked for several hours, specifically biscuits and cookies and various other sweets that the librarian knew how to make. Nahida had never baked anything before, and the whole time, she felt so horribly out of depth. Her calling wasn’t as a baker, that’s for sure. She knew all the recipes, but in practice, it wasn’t quite so simple.

It made her strangely giddy to know that this took more than memorization. Baking? She wasn’t good at it. Simply knowing that fact broadened her awareness to how she was trying something brand new, and she wondered how many hobbies she could pick up and be terrible at. There must be a lot of them, after all. 

It meant that someday, she might find something she was good at. She could cross baking off of her ever-expanding list, and although it would barely make a dent in all the things she had left to try, it was one thing she knew she couldn’t do. 

When Venti had asked before, she had said she wanted to experience everything, and it surprised her every time she realized how accurate that statement had been.

She wanted to learn how bad she was at baking.

Maybe she could learn to be better. And wasn’t that a new idea? If she was bad at something, she could practice it. 

What did she want to be good at?

She didn’t know. Yet.  

By the end of the impromptu baking session, she knew she must’ve seemed awfully excited for no good reason, so she pulled herself back together, thanked Lisa for her help, and gathered all of the sweets in a large basket. She had already bothered the sweet librarian enough with this request.

There were many types of cookies and mini sandwiches, all whipped together by Lisa because she was amazing. (Nahida had done nothing but burn cookies and frost awkward lines. But she had tried!)

The only thing left to do was track down her two friends. She was sure that if she looked sad enough, they would comply with a picnic. For once, she could weaponize the guilt they had been smothering her with. It was about time she found a use for it, honestly.

Kaeya had mentioned how to him, apologies were promises. If that was also true for her two contract-certified friends, they’d definitely go along with whatever she proposed. After all, they were the kind of people to uphold a contract even after 500 years. 

What a foolproof plan she had concocted. 

She located Zhongli first. He was sitting with the guild master, Jean, and they had been discussing something, likely important, when Nahida entered. 

Of course, upon her appearance, they both stopped talking immediately. She was curious, but her plan took priority. 

“Zhongli, would you be willing to join me for a picnic?” She held up the basket. “It’s very nice outside,” it was always nice in Mondstadt, “and I thought it might be fun.”

He took in the sight of her with her large basket. “Of course. Am I to assume Venti will be joining us?”

“Once I find him.”

Zhongli stood up. “Thank you for the conversation, Master Jean. I appreciate it.”

Nahida turned so it didn’t seem like she was listening in and then left to go ask various knights where Venti might be. Zhongli followed along all the while, but he didn’t input anything or suggest a single possible hiding place.

She almost wondered if he even wanted them to find Venti. 

Eventually, however, a knight did mention seeing Venti on the roof, so she went out into the noonday sunshine to check. Unsurprisingly, when she narrowed her eyes and squinted into the sun, she could in fact make out a splash of dark hair almost tucked completely behind the parapet. But he was there. 

“Venti!” She called, and he immediately shot up, emerging from his crouched position on the roof. Why was it always the roof, anyway? One day she’d ask him. “Would you join us for a picnic?”

He hopped down, caught in wind, and once he landed, he scurried into a position in which Nahida would be between him and Zhongli, his brooding friend.

“I’d love to join you,” he said, smile laced with nerves.

“Great!” Let’s go, then.”

She didn’t actually know where she was going, only that she was moving and they were following her. 

She took them out of Mondstadt, the entire walk deadly silent, and right as it was starting to get pretty awkward, she spotted a flat piece of grassy terrain. That would do nicely.

With the basket in one arm, she announced they’d sit there, and she spread out a blanket. After arranging a couple plates of sandwiches and cookies, she decided this was the best she could do for organizing a safe, homely space. 

Hopefully, they would actually talk out their problems now because she didn’t know what else she could do. She really wanted them to get along. And maybe she also wanted to know what it was like to enjoy a picnic with friends.

She stared at Venti longingly until he got the hint.

“So, Zhongli. What have you been doing now that you’re, you know, dead?” Venti opened with.

Zhongli sighed. “Working as a consultant at a funeral parlor,” he said monotone.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Oh, this was awkward. So, so awkward.

“And Venti. What have you been doing?” Zhongli returned the question.

“Uhm. Not much. Not much of anything, really.”

Nahida spoke up, “That’s not true.” Both of them looked to her. “He’s been helping me. He gave me a tour, and we’ve been reading books, and he’s teaching me how to use a glider.” Even if they were mad at each other, they should still stick to the facts.

Zhongli softened at her words. “That does sound like a lot. Do you enjoy Mondstadt, Nahida?”

“Yes, very much. Although I’ve been thinking about…traveling.” If she was going to suggest going to Sumeru at some point, she figured it best to introduce the idea early, plant the seeds now.

He lowered his gaze. “You’re always welcome in Liyue, if traveling interests you. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“I thought you had a job.” The last thing she wanted was to inconvenience him.

“I do, but it is inconsequential. My boss would not mind my absence for a day or two. She is rather amenable.”

“That’s awfully nice of her.”

“She is kind.”

Nahida grabbed a cookie from the spread. It had icing on it that looked like a cloud. “I would like to go to Liyue someday. I want to go to lots of places.” She could hear herself smiling as she said it.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t make it happen.”

“Well…” Rukkhadevata’s request hung like a grand storm over her head, threatening to break open at any moment. “Eventually.”

Venti cut in, “Can I visit you, too, Zhongli?”

Zhongli’s gaze turned strange, somewhere between apprehensive and embarrassed, before surprisingly enough, he acquiesced, “Yes. You can come, too.” 

Was Zhongli not mad anymore? She wondered what had happened.

Even Venti looked surprised by such an open welcome. “Oh. Thanks.” He sheepishly curled into a ball, holding his knees close. “I’ll…make sure to follow up on that. Since you’re welcoming me this time and everything.”

Wait. 

“This time?” She asked. 

“Ehehe yeah,” Venti said, “normally I just show up unannounced. And then I cause problems, and he kicks me out, the meanie.”

“What kind of problems?”

Zhongli clicked his tongue. “Bothering people. Changing the weather. Trying to terraform mountains while drunk .”

That was a story she wanted to hear. The only stories she ever got were through the Akasha before now, so mostly Sumeru specific. Here, though, was a whole archive of stories in the minds of two immortals, and they were right there for ransacking.

“Tell me more,” she asked, eyes glittering.

The two of them shared a look, and Venti promptly broke out into his track record of Liyue trips and trials. She listened intently to every single one. Zhongli chimed in with corrected names when Venti got them wrong or when he simply called them ‘shopkeeper 1’ and ‘shopkeeper 2.’ Zhongli somehow knew the exact name of every single character in these stories, no matter how few details Venti gave or how out of chronological order they came. 

The way they told stories reminded her an awful lot of Rukkhadevata. They spoke as if everything in the world had a mind for love, and as if they knew every rock and breeze like a friend. 

She wondered if the world had opened itself up to them because they were long-lived or because they were Archons. She hoped someday she could speak of the world like they did, full of color and bursting with sympathy for every single soul and shell.

It was beautiful to listen to, really, and they probably didn’t even know they were doing it. She didn’t dare interrupt with mindless praise, though. She wanted them to sink into their stories for as long as they wanted to, splitting the ocean for her as they went. She listened with every ounce of energy she could spare, before the relics of time long past were swallowed once more. It’s not like they could just tell stories whenever she wanted, after all. 

It got late eventually, dark enough that Zhongli decided it time to return, unfortunately. Things seemed smoother now, sort of sanded down, so she walked back with them, floating in contentment. When they got back to the Favonius headquarters, she was awfully tired.

“Well, that was fun. Thanks Venti, Zhongli. You’re good friends.” At that comment, they looked at each other weird, very obviously hearing the double meaning. Tiny steps.

Nahida knew she only got away with that kind of presumptuous poking because they pitied her. And that was okay. She continued inside, leaving the both of them behind. 

Zhongli bent down and spoke something quietly to Venti, and that was a wonderful indicator that she had succeeded. Nahida had actually gotten them to talk about their troubles, and when she exited, she bet they’d talk. She would claim personal causation for what followed.

Although curious, she didn’t dare snoop. She accomplished her own goal, and hopefully, they’d work it out.

She went to sleep and spent yet another night stewing over what it meant to “rest” and whether she was doing it right. 

___________________

“I have something I wished to ask you,” Zhongli said.

Ah. Venti knew this promised to be horrible.

“Oh?” 

Nahida had already snuck back inside the Headquarters, and Venti was unreasonably relieved that she wouldn’t be present for this conversation. 

“I had the opportunity to speak with the Master of the Knights,” Zhongli said, indicating gently he’d like them to move to a more secluded location. They headed toward a grassy area, and to be honest, the more empty the place Zhongli led him to, the more nervous he became for the theoretical outcome.

After all, was this it? 

Was this where Venti lost his friendship? Or where Zhongli decided Venti more trouble than not? 

“Okkaaayyy?” Venti asked, attempting to remain as innocent as possible. Please.

Jean wouldn’t out him about his slip-up in the tavern—or what he said to her. She just wouldn’t. Right? Although, he couldn’t conjure a single other reason as to why she would voluntarily talk to Zhongli. They were a strange pair, for sure. 

Zhongli cleared his throat. “It was brought to my attention that, perhaps, I misjudged your intentions.” 

Venti remained silent.

Jean. 

What have you done?

Because seriously. Morax wasn’t remorseful. He plowed on through life—stepping on many toes—not really caring who he inconvenienced where and when. Sure, he was a thoughtful man, and he had a small dose of sympathy for just about everyone. But he didn’t single out his mistakes as individual problems worth extra energy or reconstitution. Venti wouldn’t be surprised if Zhongli offered a simple request to put their feud on hiatus to save them the trouble of arguing in front of Nahida. But why bring Jean into it?

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it,” Venti started with, because on the off chance Jean somehow offended Zhongli accidentally, or outed his mistake, best address that first. 

He raised an eyebrow. “She certainly meant it.”

Great. Now he needed to ask upfront.

“What—what did she say?” And now he sounded like an idiot for assuming something of a conversation he didn’t even know. He didn’t handle conversations like this well when tightened in anxiety.

“She indicated that I, perhaps, had been rash in my judgement of you. She encouraged me to seek you out and pry into the intricacies of your side of the story. That is all.”

Time for damage control. “It’s fine. You were right about me. I kept it from you, and that wasn’t my call. It was…selfish. That’s it.” 

Zhongli’s aggression immediately melted off, and he stood there, lost. “It seems I have greatly misinterpreted something if you think I will believe ‘selfishness’ as a justifiable reason for any of your actions.”

“It was still my fault,” Venti jumped in quickly, “and it doesn’t matter why I did it.”

“It clearly does,” he said. “During the picnic, I noticed that you clearly are not working to anger me, and yet, surely you must’ve known the consequences of acting alone on this contract. You are not clueless, Barbatos, no matter what you may want people to believe.”

Zhongli wasn’t going to let this go, was he? 

“Look. I’m sorry for not telling you.”

“I’m not looking for an apology, but an explanation.”

But that normally worked! Zhongli could always be placated with apologies! Why hadn’t it worked this time?

“Why not just…be mad?” Venti asked. 

After it had been said, he immediately regretted it. Asking such a pointed question made him sound horribly pathetic, and that wasn’t the goal, either—he had no filter from brain to mouth apparently. And now Morax looked sad and pathetic, too. Venti was really screwing this up.

“Because it wasn’t right of me.” Zhongli stared at the ground like a scolded child. “Technically speaking, you only upheld what the contract demanded. We never wrote a requirement to tell one another. I was agitated because I believed you to be ignoring common courtesy and responsibility on purpose, but if there is more to it—a reason—then I’d like to know.”

“There isn’t a reason,” Venti said.

“The Grand Master indicated otherwise.”

“Jean is just worried. She wants people to get along.”

Zhongli ignored his pitiful attempts to strangle this conversation, “Why didn’t you tell me, Venti?”

“I was just worried about how you might react.”

“In what way?”

Oh geez, Zhongli’s eyes were very glowy. Scary. 

“You have a tendency to throw rocks at people you’re mad at, is all.” That’s it. Just a casual disrespect for maintaining ecological unity. That’s the only reason Venti had done it. Of course. (Except it wasn’t.)

“How is this relevant to you not informing me of the situation?”

Oh, come on! Couldn’t they just drop it? Venti clenched his hands and diverted his gaze to a random spot on the ground. 

“Well, I thought that might scare Nahida, you know?”

“You’re deflecting. I’m simply asking for a clear answer. Why is that such a difficult concept?”

“It’s not like you don’t hide things from me. Exhibit A, your funeral.”

Zhongli looked at him curiously, as if attempting to solve a particularly strange puzzle. “You’re doing it again, deflecting. What do you not want to tell me?”

That was kind of funny of him. Only Zhongli could ask that sort of question with a straight face and expect an earnest response. Blockhead. Most people would just keep lying if they were asked that point-blank range. Why the hell Zhongli expected anything more of Venti was truly baffling. 

The worst part was that it was working. Venti didn’t know where else to redirect. All his attempts so far had fallen horribly flat.

“I just didn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Why do I do anything?” Venti shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t need a reason.” (There was one, though.)

“No, this is important. You wouldn’t make a half-hearted choice in a matter this severe.”

“Maybe I did this time.”

“That’s not possible. You’ve been putting an awful lot into Nahida’s happiness.”

Well, that was a different matter entirely. “She needs help, and I’m the Archon of freedom.” He would never deny his single most important domain deserving of guardianship. 

“So you admit to it. Then, since you truly care, why not invite help? I am, after all, perhaps the only being in the world who can help you properly.”

“There are lots of people capable of helping.” 

“But they are unable to understand the situation.”

“That’s—that’s the problem! You understand too well! ”

Zhongli’s face went blank. “How is that a problem?”

“Because! You know the weight of what they did to her, what would be fair to do in return. You understand the weight of 500 years spent captive,” Venti said. “If I told you, before I had touched Sumeru myself, you would’ve marched right over there and done something irreversible.”

“So, you understand that you didn’t properly uphold the contract.” He was frowning, now.

Why was that the part Zhongli pointed out? Weren’t there more important parts than admission of failure concerning one dumb contract? 

“Yes! Of course I know that! And I figured you would let the damn contract take priority over all else!”

“How is this a bad thing? How is my ability to uphold a contract a reason to keep me uninvolved?” 

Venti threw his hands into the air. “I don’t want to be fair, I want to do what’s right for her.”

“Is there a difference?” He said it so monotone, so straightforwardly, that Venti doubted what he had heard for a moment. Zhongli wasn’t usually this stupidly obtuse.

“Of course there is!”

It seemed Zhongli was unfamiliar with the idea that she might, oh you know, actually not want retribution equal to the punishment. Because maybe she was kind and empathetic like Rukkhadevata was. Venti tried not to think about the original seven much, but Rukkhadevata had been a particularly soft soul, and if Nahida was anything like her, then the destruction of Sumeru would break her. Simple as that.

“I still don’t know how this is relevant to your deception,” Zhongli said. “We could’ve discussed this, including your personal worries about the mental strain on Nahida. Why didn’t you tell me, even while understanding this simple fact?”

All Venti’s avenues for escape and misdirection had elapsed.

“Because I can’t stop you!” Venti yelled, finally cracking all those walls around his own fears he had kept regulated and solid. “I can’t stop you.” 

His sort-of friend’s confusion overtook all other expressions, and Venti immediately wished to take it all back.

Venti didn’t know if this was salvageable. “If you went off to Sumeru,” he said, “I wouldn’t be able to stop you. And that scares me so, so much because I just want to help Nahida, and you’re so powerful, and you wouldn’t stop to ask her what she wanted first. You’d just…go break stuff.”

“You believed I would prioritize retribution over Nahida,” he stated calmly. “And that if I didn’t, you couldn’t do anything about it.”

“…Yes.” If that response didn’t land Venti ten feet under, he didn’t think anything else could. 

Zhongli stood back and immediately bowed his head. “I apologize.”

huh?

“Don’t do that,” Venti interjected. “This is clearly my fault. A contract is a contract. If I told you what had happened straightforwardly rather than you hearing the rumors second-hand, maybe you wouldn’t have done what I was afraid of.” He sighed. “I don’t know everything about you, even after all this time, and it wasn’t right to assume your course of action.” Although Venti was pretty sure he had guessed perfectly what Zhongli would’ve done.

“You were afraid?”

Why’d he care about that part? It wasn’t that relevant to the situation in Venti’s opinion. “Well, not anymore.” He hesitated. “Kind of.”

“…you’re still afraid?” Zhongli asked, harsh tone edging into his voice. “Of me?”

Ah, shoot. Had Venti made a mistake? Where? How?

“I mean, sort of? I still don’t know what you’re planning to do with Sumeru, and I’m currently hoping really, really hard that you’re willing to exercise restraint, I guess. I’m not afraid of you per se, but more of what you’ll do to me if I tried to stop you because there’s no way I could win that fight—but I’d try, regardless.”

Persistence. That was him in a word.

Was he kicking himself in the foot by telling Zhongli he’d definitely engage if the man tried to destroy Sumeru? Probably. Then again, maybe it was time to try a bit of honesty. Everything else hadn’t worked so far…

“I see. Thank you for telling me.”

It wasn’t like Venti had been given an option to decline to comment.

“Let us retire for the night,” Zhongli said, without giving Venti an opportunity to interject anything more.

Huh. Was that it, then? Venti was still standing, not buried in the ground, and thoroughly not punished. He was as not-punished as one could get. 

“Um. Sure. See you tomorrow?”

Zhongli for a second looked so very sad. “Yes,” he said in a whisper of a breath. He took three steps before stopping and casting his gaze back to Venti, as if nervous or perhaps shy. “I’ll stay longer in Mondstadt.”

“What?” 

Was he serious? What a thoroughly unexpected development. 

“Only if you want me to, of course. If you are comfortable with my presence, I’d be willing to remain here for a couple more days.”

“Oh.” Venti would never deny anyone that offer without cause. “Sure. Everyone is welcome here.”

“No, not like that.” His immovable energy crackled through the air, singing of weight and expectation. “I need assured confirmation,” he said.

“Of what?”

“That you’re accommodative with me, specifically, staying here. I’m not a casual traveler. Are you, Barbatos, accepting and desiring that I, Morax, stay longer in Mondstadt?”

Weird phrasing, but whatever. 

“Yes. I’m always trying to get you to come here more often, anyway.” And the more time Zhongli spent here, the more time before he went to Sumeru.

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

“I will hold off on traveling to Sumeru, as well,” Zhongli said, and then he scurried away like he couldn’t spare a single second more standing still. 

Weird. 

That was one of the freakiest conversations Venti had ever held with Zhongli before. He wanted to know why it had ended in that way, but it seemed a bad idea to push his luck. At least Zhongli hadn’t crushed him! And he would stay longer, too! What a spectacular, perfectly executed finish. 

Hopefully, some of this would make sense tomorrow. Although Venti was pretty used to being confused at this point. 

Kaeya and his strange behavior came to mind. Yet another problem to solve…

Venti could either go to sleep or continue looking for the wayward cavalry captain, which is what he had been doing prior to Nahida’s invitation. (The roof was an excellent place for people-watching.) 

One option seemed far superior to the other. And yet. 

Venti wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. 

___________________

Rosaria could tell—regardless of how hard those idiots tried to act hilariously unbothered.

Venti and Kaeya were definitely planning to leave Mondstadt. She could tell these things, what with the scurrying about and odd disconnected attitude they had taken to their lives over the last couple days. Truly, her prediction was inevitable considering what subtle behavior she had observed in both of them. 

Venti had been searching for Kaeya with a relentless attitude for several nights now. 

Kaeya had been repaying all his random debts accrued over the years—prime escapee behavior. 

However, they definitely weren’t working as a pair or planning to undertake an escape together. That much was fairly obvious. She would’ve thought their coincidental synchronicity hilarious if it didn’t make her self-appointed job harder.

Why were the two idiots always her problem? (Because no one else noticed until it was too late when it came to those two.) Well, at least one was easier to deal with than the other. Strangely enough, the easier brat was the God. 

Perhaps that was proof of how Venti was gentle, even as an entity capable of catastrophe.

Perhaps it was a testament to how difficult Kaeya was, especially when motivated by unseen insanity.

Maybe one problem could solve the other…

___________________

It had been a couple days. Three, to be exact, and Venti remained hopelessly baffled that Zhongli was still here. That was one more day than he originally had promised to stay.

Don’t get Venti wrong, he was absolutely thrilled that Zhongli had actually remained here and not run off earlier like he planned.

But also. 

It was so so so incredibly suspicious.

Was Venti going to do anything about it, though? Absolutely not! 

The three of them (Nahida included) had been doing normal, friend things the whole time, and he definitely didn’t want to disrupt whatever strange stars had aligned to allow this to happen. Zhongli went gliding with them yesterday. As in Zhongli, Archon of Geo, allowed his feet to leave the ground. 

For about five minutes. 

But still! 

They read books together! Zhongli tried teaching Nahida calligraphy! He never did that with Venti. Granted Venti didn’t have the patience for it anyway.

At this rate, though, Zhongli was going to steal Nahida away with his large repertoire of strange, intriguing skills. How unfair. 

Although it wasn’t right for him to pout about it, especially since he was still trying to get Kaeya to be in his general vicinity for more than two seconds. On the positive side, since Zhongli was making sure Nahida was accompanied by someone capable at all times, Venti could spend more energy on Kaeya-hunting. 

Venti had come close to trapping the cavalry captain yesterday by getting Diluc to rope off the top half of the Angel’s Share. He had waited patiently for Kaeya’s inevitable arrival, and after Diluc had shoved Kaeya to the second floor, Venti had popped out and pleaded for a simple word between them.

Kaeya had escaped by window. 

So, Kaeya was probably on even higher alert than normal. It was still crucial that Venti talk to him, though, since something was clearly amiss.

He really wanted Kaeya to feel safe here above all else.

Anyway.

His next plan involved trapping Kaeya in Klee’s solitary confinement room. 

That, at the very least, was a space meant to keep someone trapped, so probably a better location for his plans than the top half of a tavern. How he was supposed to get Kaeya to go in that specific room, however, remained a mystery.

Venti wasn’t good at the whole scheming thing. 

While he tried to think up ways to trap Kaeya, Nahida and Zhongli were likely having fun without him. He had excused himself this morning with some vague excuse of Archon duties. They hadn’t cared that his claim sounded like a complete lie, which was super nice of them, but gosh, he was bittersweet about missing out.

He went to the main floor of the building to scope it out, check for weaknesses, partly in hopes that remaining actively preoccupied would keep his Archon friends off his mind. Who cared if they were playing games? He had a Kaeya to catch.

Which was why he remained perfectly unaware of approaching people.

“I was looking for you," said a voice.

Venti swerved hard, spinning toward the front door from where he stood in the hallway. 

It was just Rosaria. Why’d she feel the need to scare him? That was unnecessarily rude. "What are you doing?" she asked.

“Nothing. How’d you know I was here?” He asked, feeling it a fair question considering she had snuck up on him very much on purpose. She knew how sneaky she was, and if she wanted to, she could’ve approached him differently.

“As if it’s hard. You spend all your time here, nowadays.” 

Fine. It was technically true he spent most of his time in the Knights’ Headquarters. In hindsight, he was being unnecessarily jumpy. He blamed Zhongli and his particular flavor of strangeness and his inability to knock it off.

“Do you need something?”

“I heard you’ve been trying to corner Kaeya,” Rosaria said, approaching him slowly, methodically. 

“Wha—how—where did you hear that? It hasn’t even been that long.” He was, personally, more worried about her information network over any attempt to actively intimidate him—although both were worrying in their own right.

She rolled her eyes. “Is it really that surprising that I know?”

“A bit!” He didn’t appreciate the insinuation that keeping his schedule known was that easy. He wasn’t that predictable. 

“Everyone is watching you very closely and delivering information about you to the sisters,” she said. Huh. He hadn’t thought about the consequences of that much undue attention. “People think your every move is fascinating, now. Trust me, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten first hand reports about your daily activities within the last week. But normally, I don’t care what you get up to.”

So, she was specifically worried about Kaeya. “It’s not like I want to hurt him.”

“Do you not?”

“No, of course not. He seems to think I’m going to—I don’t know—do something terrible, and I don’t know why.” Truly, it had been a one-of-a-kind infuriating experience to have someone run away from him at every turn, leaving him unable to do a single thing about it.

“Hm. Okay then.”

“I only want to talk to him.” 

He really hoped she’d understand that he didn’t intend to do anything horrible, despite whatever power he may have accidentally reclaimed.

“I’ll help you, then.”

“Really?” That was so nice of her! Rosaria wasn’t usually the type of person to go out of her way to assist anyone for any reason. Perhaps she knew why Kaeya was avoiding him intently? He wouldn’t press her for it, though. This was between him and Kaeya. Help from Rosaria was comforting enough to leave details undiscussed; she had a tendency to guarantee a high percentage of success on any task, mostly because efficiency was her specialty.

“Yes, but you only get one shot.”

“At what, exactly?”

“Getting Kaeya to stay in Mondstadt.” 

Oh.

“He wants to leave? Why?” Venti drooped, hoping Rosaria would supply an answer, anything. Was that seriously a possible conclusion? Kaeya leaving? This task just gained top priority. 

“Yes, and I don’t know why.” 

“What does this help look like?” He’d take it, regardless of her answer. He had been trying to catch Kaeya for longer than he would’ve liked, and now he cared a bit more than before about stopping him. 

“It’s easy. Just pick a place and time, and Kaeya will be there, and he will stay there.”

“Uhm. How—”

“Don’t ask. I wouldn’t tell you.” She said, her secrets kept unseen. 

That was fine, he supposed. “Okay then. I’ll go along with your shady plan,” he said. “I guess tomorrow, sunset, at the fountain on the second tier of the city? You know, the one near the Favonius Headquarters?”

“Done.”

“Really?” It couldn’t be that simple, right? 

“Don’t doubt me,” she snapped, immediately back to her usual, prickly self. 

“Yes ma’am. ”

___________________

Despite the early, mid-day time, Rosaria found Kaeya in Angel’s Share.

See, this behavior right here is what tipped her off to his plans. The beloved Favonius cavalry captain started aggressively day-drinking, and no one batted an eye. She didn’t know which party was more idiotic, Kaeya, or the people who didn’t notice and therefore were unable to consider the greater implications of his actions.

Kaeya was arguing with Diluc when she came over.

“Kaeya, seriously. It’s Venti ,” Diluc groaned. “How many times do we need to have this conversation?”

“Shhhhh” he hissed in a half-drunken stupor. “You don’t understand.”

“Yes, I do. You’re being stupid.”

“Hey. That’s an awfully rude thing to say.”

She sat down next to him, where he was slowly spinning liquid in a glass, glaring at it like it had personally offended him.

“Sorry to interrupt your little spat, but I’m calling in my extra favor from that job I ran with you,” she said. Rosaria had, on that job, also saved his ass when he got stuck out in the Mondstadt wilds with Nahida, so as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t allowed to decline for several reasons.

Diluc rolled his eyes and walked away, already forgotten.

Kaeya scrunched his face until understanding finally dawned on him. “Oh, yeah. The…what was it again? I’ll show up at any place at any time, or something, thing? I was half-inclined to think it a joke between friends.”

“It wasn’t.” She couldn’t tell jokes. They both knew this.

“Clearly. You wouldn’t have asked just now otherwise.” He took a delicate sip. “Fine, then. Where are you ordering me to show up?”

“The fountain, second tier of the city, near the Favonius Headquarters. Sunset tomorrow.” She grabbed him by the collar. “And you better fucking stay put the whole time. I’ll know if you ditch.”

Rosaria and Kaeya had an understanding. It went something like this. She never did anything for free. If he dared walk out on a promised term of compensation, she wouldn’t work with him again. Thing was, they desperately needed each other. This was fact to the both of them.

He didn’t have the guts to go back on it. 

“Got it,” he said. “Am I to expect an assassin, or something?” 

Cheeky asshole.

“Nothing of the sort. It’ll be completely safe.” Even if he might not think so. She got up from the stool. “And Kaeya? Get out of the bar. You have better things to do than drink the day away and squabble with Diluc.”

___________________

Nahida hung out with Zhongli in a nice parlor room where they were folding paper origami shapes. 

She wasn’t sure how they had landed on this particular activity, and it certainly didn’t seem a very “Morax” thing, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. 

Apparently, there were a bunch of ways to fold paper flowers. Why Zhongli knew all of these patterns never came up, just that he did, and that it was no problem at all to teach her. It was a neat idea, she thought, to make flowers from paper rather than grow them from dirt. It felt alien in a way. She was more used to creating life from soil than art in the image of life from paper. She thought that sounded like the wrong order to learn such things in. 

The texture and flexibility of the paper offered a new angle to imagine what conjuring raw plant life could sequence like, and she urged to try blooming flowers like folding paper, crafting the edges as if they’d hold whatever shape she pushed them into. Normal petals had more willpower than paper did.

As she began creasing a new piece of cream paper corner to corner, then flipped over and side to side, she noticed Zhongli’s wandering look and his own project, a little paper narwhal, abandoned in his still hands.

“Why a narwhal?” She asked. 

He startled, and then his composure immediately snapped back into place. He lifted his project slightly. “It reminds me of someone I know. I was considering making one for him.”

“Oh. That’s awfully nice. I bet he’ll appreciate it.”

“Yes.” Zhongli smiled. “He probably would.”

Perhaps that statement shouldn’t have resonated with such an unbidden crash of melancholy, but she couldn’t help it. Even Zhongli had friends in this world, even as an immortal. She wondered how many friends she had missed out on over five centuries, how many experiences.

A long time ago, when the silence in the Sanctuary became deafening, she would trick herself into thinking that she was better off inside. If she remained separated from all those people, she would never dare fall in love with them, and she would spare herself the heartbreak at their deaths.

Yet, Zhongli still had friends—Venti too. They must be scared of the unavoidable fact of death, yet they still chose friendship and connection. It hurt, perhaps because she always knew she had been wrong about preferring separation from a decomposing world and its creatures. 

Even Rukkhadevata wouldn’t last forever, and yet Nahida still preferred a life in which they met and loved each other like family, even if the end was in sight and rapidly encroaching upon what safe territory she had delicately carved out for herself. Nothing lasted forever, but that wasn’t a reason to cut it out of life. 

“Hey, Zhongli?”

“Yes?”

“You love Liyue, right?”

He looked taken aback. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering if you could explain why.”

Liyue was fated to someday fade away, too. She wondered what the difference was between loving a person and loving a place if they were both going to die. She wondered if he had a surprise, unexpected answer for her.

“Hm. I suppose the answer to that is multifaceted and varied. There isn’t a single answer I could give in any circumstance. I suppose it has to do with potential—that of the person and of the soul.”

That reminded her of the other answer she had acquired. “Venti talked about choice.”

“I do believe there are similarities between the two.”

Potential and choice. All that could be. All that couldn’t be. And everything in between. 

She deserved a choice, just like all the people of these nations.

What did she want to choose?

“There is a job I have left unattended regarding Sumeru,” she said without thinking about it. “I think I need to do something about it.”

“Do you want to? After all that has occurred? It would be unwise to attribute responsibility with guilt.”

 “No, it’s more than that.” She would try dancing around the details best she could. “I want to help them. I really, really do, but it takes sacrificing something very dear to me. And I don’t want to, but it feels wrong to do nothing, and I wish I wasn’t like this.” 

She wished she could save them without involving her own personal feelings in it at all. 

“No one told me how much kindness hurts,” she said. “Why can’t I just care about myself?”

“You can.”

“But I can’t.” She set her origami down before she could accidentally crush it. “I don’t think I’d be able to live with myself if I turned a blind eye to their suffering, but I want so badly to do just that, and there’s nothing I can do about feeling awful for being so selfish. ”

He leaned back and closed his eyes briefly. “Hm. That is difficult. Firstly, it is never a requirement to help someone. Your shame does not deserve to be carried like a punishing weight.”

“I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

“I cannot say I know either. However, remember that you are more than your desires and worst moments. Recognize yourself as an entity deserving of love and forgiveness.”

he knew she deserved love. After all, she let Rukkhadevata love her. 

Yet, when Nahida thought about it carefully, she realized she had assumed it impossible for any entity in Sumeru to love her. She was undeserving of them, and perhaps, therein lie the conflict. She deserved the love of Archons, but not of the common people who had turned a blind eye to her entire existence.

Why did it work like that? 

She felt so proud when in Venti’s presence, but all her pride washed away in the face of all the people she had failed. Even though they failed her first.

“I still want to help,” she said. “Not because I’m trying to earn their love or because I think I am undeserving but because it’s right. But the cost is so high.”

“There is little I can say without context,” he paused. “Without knowing the specifics, I would recommend considering how much this cost means to you in reference to their suffering. If you spend more than their suffering deserves, you will breed resentment in yourself. Perhaps it is in my nature as God of contracts, but I would recommend measuring their cost with your cost in a relative manner, seek a balance point.”

She could do that, probably.

There were two options. Keep her most favorite person—her guardian—the one who had saved her and done nothing but shower her with love. Or lose her and guarantee the survival and happiness of all Sumeru people, present and future, inflicted with Eleazar.

…Maybe the costs of these two things weren’t comparable, actually. Yeah, as much as she appreciated Zhongli’s advice, it wasn’t exactly applicable to this.

“What if I can’t do that? What if I don’t know how important each choice would be for both parties?”

“Then there is only one part of the equation you can understand,” He pointed right at her chest, “Yourself.”

“Isn’t that unfair, though? To decide based on how I feel and no one else?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. However, that is where I recommend you begin. Understand how you feel and why.”

In terms of how she felt…well. She had a lot of feelings.

She wanted to keep Rukkhadevata with her. She wanted to help the Sumeru people because only she could, and it was the right thing to do. She wanted to be a force for good. She wanted to be loved. She wanted the world to love her back. 

She wanted the Sumeru people to be happy. She wanted to be happy. Her being happy was a partial consequence to other people also being happy.

There was a third member of this equation, though. She wanted Rukkhadevata to be happy, too.

…Didn’t she? 

She hadn’t considered it from that perspective before. Shouldn’t she consider how Rukkhadevata felt? Rukkhadevata wanted to sacrifice herself, wanted to help her people, and Nahida had kept this from her because…

Because Nahida was scared of being alone. Because she didn’t know who else could be capable of loving her. Because there was a time when she believed that if the things she loved didn’t last forever, that loving would be pointless.

But it wasn’t like that anymore. 

She had shown up here on a whim, expecting a contract to be all that kept Venti and her together, and she had been sorely mistaken. She wasn’t alone anymore, and she never would be. 

She loved. And admitting it allowed it to thrive forever, right? She could welcome all the love she felt for the world with open arms and hold it close, no matter how fragile what she loved may be. Fragility and impermanence wasn’t a reason not to love. 

It would hurt so, so much to say goodbye. She knew. 

She wanted to confront Sumeru as an entity, face it head on. That sounded terrifying, simply put, but she thought it necessary. She didn’t want to be afraid of it anymore. She wanted to know what her sacrifice would be for if she followed through.

“I still don’t know what to do,” Nahida admitted solemnly, even if the answer had been there already and would remain until she took action.

“There is nothing wrong with that.” He picked up his origami and resumed folding the corners in.

She had a question for him. Perhaps she should’ve asked him a while ago, but she was new to having more than one friend. 

“Do you have a favorite flower?” It must’ve seemed ridiculously random, but she didn’t much care. 

He tilted his head before turning contemplative. “I suppose I’d have to select the glaze lily.”

She could do this for him, just as she would for Venti, because although someday she may end up alone once more, she wanted to love them openly. She wanted them to be family for however long she could have them. 

“I’d need to see one in person,” she said, “but I could grow one for you, someday. It might take some practice, though.”

He smiled. “I would appreciate that very much.”

She could feel her smile ache in her cheeks, so she looked away, hoping he wouldn’t catch on to how embarrassed she felt. She shouldn’t be so afraid to love just because what she loved was able to reciprocate—or leave her. Didn’t that make it matter so much more, anyway? To love a person meant they made choices, and those choices could hurt, but they could love her back equally. 

She wanted him to know how much she appreciated him for that. 

(Rukkhadevata was allowed to walk away, and Nahida was allowed to hurt for it.)

He added, “Perhaps it would be possible to find a specimen to serve as an example in the Mondstadt market.” 

“Really?”

“It is unlikely, as local specialties often remain in their respective regions, but since Mondstadt and Liyue are so very close, it happens occasionally where perishable goods travel between the two nations for trade.”

It was kind of silly to switch so abruptly from her feelings laid bare to flower shopping, but now, she desired to chase after the person sitting right in front of her—willing to love her—more than anything else. 

“Could we look?” she asked.

The book she had borrowed from the library days before on various flowers had been beautifully done and wildly inspiring, but nothing compared to the real thing. Perhaps she had run across the glaze lily in that book, but that wasn’t enough to replicate it. She needed to feel the pulse of life and the heart of the flower to obtain an understanding of how to recreate it. She very much wanted to learn about more flowers, and even if the chance was small, she’d love an excuse to go down to the market to find an exotic specialty.

She felt kind of bad wanting that since Venti had so resolutely avoided crowded areas, but if Zhongli was okay with it, surely he wouldn’t mind guiding her around. Despite what Venti had said about Zhongli rarely coming to Mondstadt, she believed they both had a good sense of the network of the city.

Although she didn’t want Venti to feel left out…

“Let’s invite Venti, too,” she suggested. Then, he would be free to reject or accept the offer. (She hoped he’d come with them, though.) Zhongli obliged, and they cleaned up their mess of paper squares folded into various miscellaneous shapes.

She wasn’t good at origami, and that was hobby number two, tested and failed. Hundreds more to go. 

…

Luckily, they found Venti super easily and within five minutes, partly because he was on his way to find them, too. It was destiny! 

She proposed they all go down the market together, and although Venti went tense for a moment, he said he’d come along with a little smile. 

Walking through the market was a strange experience to say the least.

There were a lot of people, and as expected, they seemed to think Venti the most interesting thing present. 

Venti hid behind Zhongli—who actually allowed himself to become an overqualified obstacle. 

Although, the theatrics proved to be largely pointless, since the second Venti indicated he wasn’t particularly comfortable, all the stares turned away. Huh. Based on how Venti had talked about the townspeople and all the extra attention, she had not expected them to be so courteous. They really wanted only to treat him kindly. 

Maybe Venti just couldn’t see that from where he was stuck in his own mind.

Zhongli let Venti continue being weird while they perused various stalls advertising foreign specialties and flowers. 

Unfortunately, every place they looked didn’t seem to stock the flower they were looking for.

“I’m afraid glaze lilies aren’t often transported here,” one seller said. “They’re a rather delicate sort of flower.” 

But that was okay because the shops had so many other things, too.

A kind shopkeeper arranged a mini bouquet of Mondstadt flower specialties and gave it to Nahida for free. Nahida accepted it graciously, the gift full of windwheel asters and Cecilias, and Venti immediately offered to braid the flowers into her hair.

So, the three of them ended up sitting on a little bench, in the center of Mondstadt’s shopping district, talking about unimportant things like favorite colors and least favorite foods, Venti braiding her hair and Zhongli…standing guard? Sort of. Nahida was listening all the while, enjoying the delicate breeze that rushed through every section of the city without fail.

Venti finished intertwining the last blooming flower in her white locks when a strange looking nun approached them, outfit clearly not in line with the standard church attire, skirt cut and frayed.

The nun gestured to Venti and Zhongli. “Are you two getting along now?” She asked. “I heard rumors that said the same, but I honestly assumed them made up.”

Did Venti know her? He must, Nahida supposed.

“What are you talking about, Rosaria? When have we ever not?” Venti asked, wrapping an arm around Zhongli’s shoulder, the very picture of innocence. Nahida didn’t know he was so good at acting. Or maybe he just had a different definition of ‘getting along.’

“I’m pretending you didn’t say that. People tell me everything, you know. We’ve gone over this.” She snapped her fingers in his face. “It’s impossible for you to lie to me.”

Nahida felt the need to intervene before they got into a heated debate. Venti and Zhongli were the kind of people, she had realized, that denied vehemently any prior problem once said problem had reached an acceptable conclusion.

“They’re friendly now!” She said, “I got them to talk it over by forcing them to join me for a picnic and cookies,” Nahida informed the woman, supposedly called Rosaria.

Rosaria looked between the three of them before settling focus back on Nahida. “Cute,” she said in a smooth drawl. “You and I are companions in spirit, it seems.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. I like the ‘sweet’ approach, by the way. The ‘blackmail’ approach works better for me, personally. Maybe we should swap tactic tips someday,” Rosaria said, spinning a short blade in circles with her wrist. 

Nahida had no idea what was going on. Tactics for what, exactly? 

Rosaria turned to Venti. “By the way, the pieces are set. He’ll be there.”

Venti instantly stiffened, his brow creased. “Thanks.”

The woman waved, and she left before Nahida had the chance to ask for further clarification. Who was “he”? Nahida considered asking Venti…although going by his expression, maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

What a strange woman. 

As soon as she was out of sight, Venti perked up and grabbed her and Zhongli’s hands. “Let’s go get food next! I’m starving.”

She’d let him distract her, but the interaction stuck in her mind without active thought. 

They went through yet another shopkeeper attempting to give them stuff for free, and then, she was forced to watch the hilarious attempts of Venti to convince them to accept his money. (He didn’t even have enough. And neither did Zhongli.) 

Why did he try so hard? Literally none of them had money to pay for food. How else was Venti planning to acquire food if not through sympathy? Or, maybe that was the problem?

Perhaps he often received sympathy as Venti, but not as Barbatos. 

Sympathy was sympathy, though. Why was he so quick to reject it just because they addressed the wrong side of him? Both parts were still him, after all.

He handed her a chicken-mushroom skewer, which he had hesitantly accepted at half price, and she eagerly bit into it. Eating was a new sensation for her, and the salty, juicy meat was surely worth it to her, no matter what hassle it took to get it.

If it was her, though, Nahida thought she’d accept free food from anyone any day.

Although, clearly the “free” part wasn’t actually what unnerved Venti. Considering how he was chronically broke, free food was probably gifted to him often. The issue ran deeper than that.

Venti wasn’t enjoying his skewer, not like she was.

And Zhongli looked like he didn’t know what to do with his, awkwardly holding it in one hand, inspecting it thoroughly. 

She started laughing, and they looked at her, but she waved them off with a little “nevermind” and refused to divulge what struck her as so funny. Zhongli dressed up in fancy clothes, polished to perfection, defeated by street food. Who would’ve guessed.

Had a single day brought her this much joy ever? She was feeling so incredibly sappy about it, but she couldn’t help it! Flowers and food and friendship. She would remember this forever, this picturesque moment where she existed with a crown of flowers adorning her hair and two people who were happy to love her in a city so full of open joy, she thought she might burst from it all. 

An unknown woman dressed in Sumerian garb approached. “You’re her, aren’t you?” She asked, and Nahida had no time to prepare for what came next. “Buer?”

The moment, rose-tinted and stained in pastel flavor, shattered into a thousand pieces like glass thrown on marble.

They had found her. 

They had—what—tracked her down? Why? How? Well, it was probably Venti, she guessed. Anyone from Sumeru who had heard what he did could probably connect the dots regarding the strange child who had shown up at around the right time and the missing dendro Archon. But still. How could Sumeru invade this one precious space in which she could finally breathe?

The woman was, quite obviously, from Sumeru. She wore a long green skirt, long green sleeves, and yellow tassels along her waist. A simple golden ornament sat in her brown hair, holding it back in a traditional braided bun. 

It was possible the woman had already been in Mondstadt before Nahida’s own arrival, but highly unlikely. She looked worn down, tired, like a traveler who had gone a great distance—like from Sumeru to Mondstadt.

Why, why, why, why, why . Nahida was nothing to them, as proven by centuries of neglect and ignorance. Why would anyone bother traveling all this way for her? What did this woman want? Nahida had nothing to give!

“I pray to you, our Archon,” her voice cracked in clear hysteria, “Rather than the Akademiya, surely you could cure it! You can save us from Eleazar!”

Oh. She did have that. Nahida had been found and caught in the eyes of someone she continued to fail every minute her selfishness won out. And her time for contemplation was finished and gone, the right to ignore it stripped from her by this flesh and blood woman standing before her.

The woman scratched at her arm, shoving back her sleeve aggressively to reveal scaling skin, arcing all the way up her arm. It looked sickly, and the woman’s eyes matched in pale pallor.

Nahida’s blood ran cold. She wasn’t their Archon anymore. She didn’t want to be called that. She didn’t belong to anyone. She didn’t want the responsibility. Why couldn’t the world just let her go?

Zhongli shifted his gaze slightly over to her. “We can leave if you wish.” 

She shook her head, no words to defend herself or her reasoning.

He leaned in closer. “Do you know of this…Eleazar? I believe I have heard of it before, but I can’t recall exactly what it was, as I have confined myself to Liyue for many years, for reasons which you are aware of.”

Venti had a glare in his eye that indicated he knew very well what it was. He didn’t look pleased, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Would…would they push her to do something about it if they knew she could? Surely once they learned the complicated truth, they’d want her to fix it.

It was her job to fix it but…

She couldn’t. She couldn’t. No. That wasn’t true. She just didn’t want to. If only she could pretend to know nothing of it at all. 

She gasped as the floating figure of Rukkhadevata emerged in front of her. 

You can help them.

“No, you’re wrong” she choked out.

Please. You know how to. Rukkhadevata held one of Nahida’s hands in an immaterial grasp. Nahida felt nothing.

“I can’t do it.”

The Sumeru woman’s face seemed to crack down the middle, eyes teary. “You…can’t? But you’re the Archon. Surely you know of some way to save us from this plague.”

“I…” She did. She knew a solution. It had been told to her so many years ago, but she had kept her singular friend by her side because there was nothing else she could hold onto then, yearning for a permanent link to reality when trapped in an unending cycle of sameness.

You have so much more now. You don’t need me anymore.

But she did! This was too sudden. It was too much. 

I know you, Nahida. You’ll be brilliant, with or without me.

Nahida didn’t want to be kind; she wanted to hoard and protect what little she had in a locked box of selfish desire.

Yet, what came next? Was she destined to prowl this world, every waking day aware of what cure she kept for herself, the afflicted destined to perish for her own reluctance to self-sacrifice? Except it wasn’t even her “self” she would be sacrificing! It was just…her best friend, the closest thing to family, a mother , she had.

Rukkhadevata didn’t want to remain on this plane, either.

Nahida couldn’t pull her best friend along with her forever.

As this woman stood in front of her, shivering and weak, it seemed so obvious: Nahida wanted to help her in any way—but the cost was steep, so horribly steep. Yet Nahida couldn’t abandon this woman because she knew what it was like to live in a tunnel with no end in sight. 

It was her most fervent desire to help, and all that stopped her was fear.

“I can…try.”

Venti grabbed onto her hand. “Are you okay? You know what, Zhongli had the right idea; we should leave. You have no remaining responsibility to them.” 

It was true that she hadn’t caused it, but she had kept the cure to herself because she was selfish. “I’ll try anyway.” She turned from this ghost, her own shadow, and to her physical friends. “I had been meaning to tell you for a while,” she said, twirling a piece of her hair out of the delicate braids. 

She held Venti’s hand. “I want to go to Sumeru. I’m ready”

Technically, Irminsul existed in her subconsciousness, therefore accessible from anywhere, and that’s where she had to go to resolve this once and for all, but she didn’t care. 

She needed to see this nation, these people that Rukkhadevata wanted so desperately for her to save. She wanted to meet them eye-to-eye—not to judge whether they deserved her forgiveness or anything—but just to understand. Before her best friend left forever, she wanted the opportunity to experience the nation she never truly knew, the one meant to protect her forever, the one that had failed. 

She wanted to meet this land on equal terms and find forgiveness.

The woman collapsed to the ground, bowing her head in prayer. “Thank you for your benevolence!” 

Oh. Is this why Venti felt uncomfortable being outed? Phrases like that? Nahida wasn’t benevolent or deserving of praise; she was just kind for kindness’ sake. 

Assuming her something greater overestimated what little composure and resolve she had scavenged together with a dream and a wish.

…

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Venti asked, rapidly steering Nahida toward somewhere less crowded and away from the Sumeru woman.

Nahida didn’t know. She couldn’t think. Not with her ghost watching.

Had she really agreed to help? What a stupid, crazy thing to claim she would try fixing. Try. As if it would take trying. It was do or do not, no trying involved.

“Nahida?” He asked again.

“What? Yes. I’m…fine.

“That was unacceptable,” Zhongli snapped harshly.

She jumped. “What? Why?”

“They shouldn’t be asking you for anything. It isn’t their right.” He clenched his fists, and Nahida could imagine he held the whole world in his palm with how the earth gently shook beneath her.

“No, no it was a fair thing to ask. I’m…I never told you, but there’s a problem, and only I can fix it—”

Zhongli grabbed her hand oh so gently. “Even then. They chose their path. You owe them nothing.”

She swallowed and tried to pull herself as tall as she could go. “I still want to go to Sumeru.” Both of them looked emotionally destroyed when she said it. “Please. I know it makes no sense to you, but still. I’m ready, and I want to go there.”

She wouldn’t mention Irminsul yet. She wasn’t ready to invite them to turn on her. 

Venti spoke up, “I’ll take you to Sumeru if that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “It really is.”

“Okay.”

Zhongli cut in, face in shadow. “You two may do so if you wish. However, I believe it is my turn to send the message. Clearly, the lesson has not sunk in deep enough, and I will rectify this immediately.

Venti caught his arm. “Not by hurting them,” he said, eyes pleading.

“Yes. I remember our discussion. I will not accomplish this by hurting them. I swear it.”

Nahida missed what else they said to each other in looks alone, but it didn’t matter as long as they would help. All she wanted was help. She could handle herself once there. She was, perhaps, most grateful that neither asked for further clarification on what exactly she had set herself up to fix.

Venti let go of Zhongli, and the Geo Archon left them, on a crusade that she didn’t understand and didn’t dare ask about. She still felt too disconnected to parse out what subcontext hid itself in his words.

Venti smiled—or at least he tried to. “I guess the two of us are going to Sumeru, then.”

“Thank you,” she said. And she meant it.

___________________

Venti had one last thing to do before he left Mondstadt with Nahida. 

And really, he would take whatever he could get to distract himself from that. He didn’t mind taking her there—quite the opposite. However, the suddenness of it had limited his timeframe for getting the rest of his affairs in order. After all, he was planning that once he left, he wouldn’t come back for a while. If Rosaria’s plan didn’t work tonight, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

He was putting an awful lot of faith in Rosaria here, but she was a nun, so maybe it was deserved? Faith was kind of her thing, or at least it was supposed to be. 

He waited at the fountain, right at sunset, pacing around it in circles. 

He hadn’t explained to anyone where he had gone; this was his responsibility alone.

Yet, he was starting to wish he had someone else to consult. For example, maybe he shouldn’t be in clear view. What if Kaeya decided to abandon this discussion because he saw Venti? Rosaria may be amazing, but she wasn’t a miracle worker, and even she couldn’t confirm that Kaeya would stay even if she said he would. 

His thoughts continued swirling, tripping over each other, and no new, better ideas came to him, so he continued his mindless pacing. 

Finally—it was actually only a handful of minutes—a familiar shock of dark blue hair came into view.

Kaeya spotted Venti, and although his eye went wide, he came over and joined Venti near the bubbling fountain. 

“Is it time, then?” Kaeya spoke as if a man on death row. 

Venti sat down on a bench, swinging his legs. “I feel like I’m missing something. A lot of somethings.” Perhaps that wasn’t the best place to start, but he couldn’t let a good mystery fall away. Venti gestured Kaeya sit down next to him.

Kaeya remained standing. “Oh, come on, don’t play games with me. Just say it.”

“Huh?” Venti wondered if it was his fault. How was he supposed to seem harmless as possible? Clearly, his drinking buddy was still scared, but for what reason, he couldn’t really guess. Well, besides the whole Archon thing—but it’s not like he looked intimidating. 

Kaeya never struck him as the kind of guy to ostracize him or be afraid of him because he was an Archon. Kaeya was strong and determined and every good thing a knight could be. So, what was going on?

“I know what you’re planning,” Kaeya snapped.

“I genuinely do not know what you’re talking about.”

“Just—kick me out of Mondstadt, already!”

What. 

Sorry.

What?

Sure, Rosaria had said Kaeya planned to leave, but not that Kaeya thought Venti the perpetrator of said development. What had he done to deserve such expectations? He literally never did anything administrative regarding Mondstadt.  

“Uhm. No?” Venti tilted his head. “Why would I do that?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Say what?” That was, evidently, the wrong thing to say, as Kaeya immediately pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in abject suspicion. 

Venti wasn’t trying to play him! Really!

“I’m—I’m a Khaenri’ah spy” he said, painfully dejected. ”Now that I’ve admitted it, can you just get it over with?” Kaeya was playing coy, but Venti didn’t understand what the point of it was.

“I would never kick you out of Mondstadt. You belong here.” 

(Kaeya fit in better than Venti did nowadays in an ironic twist of fate.)

“But I…I was sent here to spy.”

“So? You’re a child of Mondstadt. This is your home. It doesn’t matter where you came from, only where you make a home for yourself. Why would I ever kick you out?”

“I wasn’t born here.”

“So what? Neither was I.” It was a cheeky, technical response considering Venti had quite literally made Mondstadt from the ground up, but it was true. 

“I’m not loyal to this city.”

“Well, that’s a lie if ever I’ve heard one. Of course you are.” Venti wasn’t new to dancing around Kaeya’s lies, but the self-proclaimed “spy” was making it difficult to figure out why he thought leaving Mondstadt was a necessary course of action. 

“What is this really about?” Venti asked.  

Kaeya froze. “That’s...but you aren’t…don’t you care about Mondstadt? I’m a liability.”

Venti scoffed at that. “Yeah, sure, cavalry captain. You’re no more a liability than Klee. Do you want me to kick Klee out of Mondstadt? Or—or Diluc? He causes quite a lot of property damage, too, you know.

“That’s not the same.”

“Why?” He pondered it for a moment. “Oh, is it because they have pyro visions? I know pyro is more unstable than cryo, but you shouldn’t give them a pass just because of that. Pyro vision holders are able to train themselves in restraint. It’s a lack of effort on their part, really.” The kind of people who got pyro visions were the type to not practice gentle control. Venti refused to think it a weakness of the element. Vision holders could control pyro better if they tried.

People with anemo visions knew how to practice precise control. Just saying.

Venti continued guessing, “Is it because you’re a knight? Is that why? I don’t think you should be held up to a higher standard than anyone else just because of that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Does that mean I got it wrong again?” He furrowed his brow. “I’m just trying to understand. Help me out here. I’m working with very little,” he said dejectedly. “Can I have a hint, perhaps?” He raised a hand as if a child asking permission.

“I’m…from Khaenri’ah.”

“Yes, you mentioned that.”

“And therefore? Come on. Stop messing with me.”

“I’m not messing with you!” Venti said exasperated. “Why does that matter?” Maybe forever ago he wouldn’t have gotten a choice in the matter, but if his decisions belonged to him, he would never decide on the fate of a person based on origin alone. Why did that matter so much to Kaeya?

“You…seriously? You’re an Archon,” Kaeya said. “You’re not supposed to help me.”

“Well, I mean, you’re a child of Mondstadt, now. That means I’m sworn to protect you. Always.”

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not? You’re just Kaeya. Who cared where you came from? This is your home now, and I will forever defend your ability to choose your own home, Archon of freedom, and all that.” 

It’s not like the title decided how he acted; it was more the other way around, but maybe saying it this way would be more convincing? 

“Freedom means nothing when dealing with a threat.”

In Venti’s opinion, this was just getting silly now. “You’re not a threat.”

“But I might be,” Kaeya countered.

“You’re not a threat!” 

“How do you know that? I could be waiting for the right time to strike.”

“Isn’t it obvious? You have a life, and friends, and a job here.”

“But I don’t belong here. Don’t be naive.” 

They were going in circles at this point. Belonging. What the hell determined if someone belonged somewhere? From Venti’s perspective, Kaeya fit as well as anyone else in Mondstadt, partly because he embraced the core understanding of freedom with open arms. He always chose his life, every aspect of it, and he forgave, and he loved, and he hated, and why would Mondstadt ever deny a man like that shelter? 

Venti always thought Mondstadt was made for people like Kaeya. 

“Of course you belong here. This is your home because you chose it, and that’s the most important part. You’ve never been an outsider, just Kaeya of Mondstadt.” 

Kaeya paused his relentless attempts to…justify removing himself? And he just stood there and watched. He had his eye on Venti, staring curiously, and then with no warning he brought a hand to his face in sudden surprise.  

“You’re so careless,” he said. 

“Hey! Maybe you’re just too careful. Ever consider that?” How had this become an opportunity to insult Venti? So what if he was careless? That was his brand.

“Fine. So Diluc was right,” Kaeya said. “Dammit.”

“About what?”

“Don’t say another word, goddamn irresponsible Archon. You’re gonna get yourself hurt someday, trusting anyone who walks through your doors,” he chided. “Shit.”

Venti hovered between action and stillness. “…Are we good? You’ll stay, then?” 

He wasn’t sure what he had done to convince Kaeya, but he’d take any success that he could get his hands on, like a little thieving gremlin. 

“Yes. Sure. Whatever. I misunderstood something, apparently.” He looked tired, bags under his eyes, figure slumped forward. “And now I need a drink.”

“Oh. Okay, great!” Venti only wished he could join him, but he didn’t dare. “I hope you stick around in Mondstadt. It’d make a lot of people sad if you left. Including me.”

Kaeya flinched. “Yeah, I know that now.” 

Venti clapped his hands together. “Well, that was easy! Glad to know we worked this out.”

“Easy,” Kaeya huffed. “I’ll just…go. I mean, I’ll stay in Mondstadt, but leave from…here.” He sighed deeply. “See you around, Venti.”

That was one of the most confusing interactions Venti had ever had with a mortal before. He still didn’t understand what had happened. None of that made any sense. He almost wished there had been an audience so he could consult someone else on the insanity that had just unfolded. 

Venti laughed it off, though, replaying the whole conversation up through Kaeya’s goodbye in his head.

“See you around,” he had said.

Unlikely, Venti thought to himself.

After all, that was one task down, one to go.

Off to Sumeru next. He wouldn’t be returning for an exceptionally long time.

…

In the morning, they packed their things.

Venti didn’t have much he wanted to bring, really, just his lyre and maybe an apple or two. The wind would always take him where he needed to go, so he found supplies inconsequential—which wasn’t a very smart mentality to have about it, but he couldn’t fix how he naturally thought.

However, Nahida did have a lot, and she seemed determined to bring every single thing gifted to her. The Knights understood, though he didn’t know how, that this was a long-term goodbye, and they had given her so much. (He hadn’t given her anything, not properly. What a horrible friend he was.) 

Lisa gave her a lot of books. Jean gave her more plush, toy birds. Eula showed up for approximately two seconds, dropped off her old calligraphy set, and then ran away. Kaeya gave her bookbinding tools. Venti didn’t know where he got them, but Kaeya had the uncanny ability to gain access to essentially anything, so it wasn’t that strange. 

When Kaeya dropped by, he also gave Venti a bottle of dandelion wine, for “no reason.” Which was definitely a lie. 

Venti didn’t push for answers. They didn’t say a single extra word to one another, and that was that.

…

Venti stood at Mondstadt’s grand gate, firmly determined to keep away for an awfully long time. This was his last opportunity to appreciate in complete totality this lovely nation of freedom and song. He loved it here. It was only too sad Venti as he was didn’t fit there anymore. He had become a storybook hero, full of good intention and kind acts, someone he wasn’t. 

He turned away right as someone spoke his name, “Venti.”

And there was an old friend of his, one whom he’d sorely miss. 

“Rosaria, hello!” She had been popping up at all kinds of strange locations recently. She must’ve been exceptionally busy, but busy doing what exactly, he didn't know. “Here to see me off, perhaps?”

Rosaria immediately pulled him to the side, away from the group, where their words would carry to each other alone. 

“I know what you’re planning,” she said sternly, “and I’m here to stop it.” 

How intimidating. She might want to tone down that ice-cold aura of hers. 

“Me? Planning something? I’d never.” 

“You’re going to Sumeru with Nahida, and that’s fine, but you’re not going to come back. I know. ”

He let out a heady laugh. Caught by Rosaria—not what he expected. Although she had mentioned multiple times about having a very good understanding of his daily activities. It wasn’t that much of a stretch that she’d be able to guess his plans. She was observant like that. 

He asked anyway, “Why…would you think that?”

“I’m a sister of the church. I know all the stories about you.”

“I was planning on returning.”

“Not soon.”

“I’ll come back.” He tried to pull away, but she didn’t let him.

“Maybe in several hundred years,” she snapped. “No, I want you to return within the month. And if you don’t, I will gladly release the Archon photos I have of you.”

“The what now? What does that even mean?” 

Was it supposed to be a metaphor? But if so, a metaphor for what? 

“I took photos of you in your Archon form when you revealed yourself to the church.” 

She did what?? 

Rosaria, without any fanfare, pulled out a glossy image of, yep, him with wings spread wide, an incandescent glow surrounding his figure as he hovered in the center of the cathedral. That certainly looked just like him—like Venti the bard—which was not good at all. It looked more like him than the statues by a long shot.

She leaned in, “I have more than this. And both of us know they would become new holy artifacts if I gave them to the sisters.”

Okay then. Not a metaphor. He should’ve known considering how literal she tended to be. But back on topic. If she really had photos of him, then it wouldn’t just be the name ‘Venti’ that would become unusable, but this form, too. He couldn’t have that. The name was one thing, but this body…no. 

“Rosaria. Please don’t do that.” He watched her smirk, just slightly. “No, really, Rosaria, I’d seriously appreciate you not doing that.”

“Then return to Mondstadt in the end.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts.’”

He kept his lips pressed together, unsure of where to go next and horribly off-balance.

She, on the other hand, seemed entirely pleased with herself. She folded her arms and stared him down with the weight of her indomitable will. 

“You’re not very good at endings,” she said. “Despite what you think, however, the epilogue will treat you kindly.”

Rosaria, although clever, didn’t have the right to speak to him of endings. He had seen far more of those than she ever would. 

If there was anything he had learned in his long life, it was that kindness was never a certainty, especially at the conclusion to a long journey, and that fact burned him more often than not because he went through life as a hopeless optimist. 

“I’m not sure I believe that,” he said. There was no epilogue waiting for him, just a type of forever sadness if he overstayed his welcome in this story that wasn’t his.

“Fine. Don’t believe it,” she said languidly. “Instead, believe me when I say I will gladly give my photos to the church if you don’t return to Mondstadt after your job is done. For now, I’m holding onto them religiously.” She pocketed the picture out of sight. “But who knows when I’ll get tired of playing keep away from Barbara. You know how determined she can be.”

He knew that fact well.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said.

Well then. 

What now?

___________________

Il Dottore, 

The Fatui have been working hard to negate the financial consequences and other forms of fallout regarding the upheaval in Sumeru’s main city, hence the long wait regarding your instructions moving forward. 

You are hereby ordered to halt all personal experimentation until further notice. Although the situation in Sumeru remains precarious, your original objective is henceforth your top priority. We have it on good intel that in the coming days, Buer is likely to return to Sumeru while in possession of the dendro gnosis.

You are to obtain it at any cost.

— This message has been sanctioned and certified by her majesty, The Tsaritsa —

Notes:

Well then. I don't know if I'm disappointed with this or not...oh well. It was fun to write :)

Heads up, I’m busy for real now because c o l l e g e. This was a great thing to spend my break on—writing 50k words of fanfic was remarkably entertaining—but I’m technically a student, and I’m about to get tossed back into essay hell.

But I’m having so much fun with this, so mark my words, it will be finished!

Thanks for stopping by for my strange brand of silliness. <3

Chapter 4: The B-Side

Notes:

It’s gonna be 5 chapters now because the Alhaitham section got too long. The rest is partially written, but it might take a bit. (Sorry this isn’t an ending like it was supposed to be; this part just spiraled a lil out of control. I misjudged a content thing way back when I made the original chapter estimate.)

If you don’t care what Alhaitham has been up to, wait/skip this chapter because it’s (mostly) just Alhaitham Being Annoyed. So. That might disappoint some people…whoops 🙃

Oh! And just in case it’s not clear, this part chronologically begins before Ch 1.

Work was a systematic trade of time for money. 

It was a fairly simple concept, even to those too slow-minded to follow the most basic of instructions. 

Alhaitham did work and got paid for it. Any divergence from this standard pattern was irritating on a scale of one to borderline torturous considering this was not a difficult concept to understand for himself, everyone else notwithstanding. His job was not particularly hard, either, and the simplicity of it suited him. 

As the scribe, one of the particular minuscule tasks he took care of was approving research projects. He was merely the last checkpoint for catching problems, and on the whole, his participation had very little effect in any grand manner. There was such a constant heft of projects coming through the Akademiya that he barely paid attention to them anymore. If there was a problem, their respective departments would’ve caught it before it landed on his desk, that’s for certain.

So, he never looked that closely at the projects. Perhaps it meant he was lazy, but he preferred to call it efficient. Why do extra work to thoroughly check something already filtered to such an aggressive degree? The departments were all highly careful about approving projects in the first place in the interest of collective reputation, anyway.

Alhaitham merely ran one final background check of the name of the student, made sure their department was accurate, and organized the project files based on subject and expected length of said project. Simple. 

He booted up the Akasha device and began cycling through student names. 

The work was monotonous for sure, but there wasn’t an easier task he could’ve been assigned, and he didn’t much mind running final checks on menial items like this. It was comfortable, which he appreciated an inordinate amount. At least he wasn’t running around under the hot sun with construction equipment. Now that just sounded silly. 

It was about half an hour to leaving time, and he intended to finish before the day was up since he was not going to stay here longer than necessary nor would he do this work tomorrow. He was on student 19 out of far too many, and to extend this task to another day would mean a slowed beginning on tomorrow’s work. So, he continued on, hyper-aware as his task progressed.

The Akasha system gave him a list of information on the next student on the pile, Chrysthe, properly approved as a student of Darshan Vahumana. Criminal record, none. The paperwork signified that her project had been approved by the subsequent sage with a signature. All checked out. He put her file in the stack of approved. (It truly was, in the barest of terms, the most useless final check imaginable.) 

He selected the next file, student Frim and pulled up his record in the Akasha. Glowing lines of text popped into view and he scanned the information. Frim was, as everyone else, a properly approved student. 

He was of Darshan Amu—the word itself blurred suddenly, text glitching, and splitting green lines scrambled into an incomprehensible series of rectangles. Alhaitham watched the visual projection scatter against itself, and it eventually flicked back to the appropriate text. 

That was an incredibly weird glitch. Was it just his device? That couldn’t be it…he had just checked it the other week for functionality. It was fairly important that his technology work as it should, so he was always extremely protective of his device. 

Strange. 

He watched each letter very carefully as the display held, and they remained normal. Perhaps he was too prone to suspicion when exposed to any dubious changes in patterns, but it seemed obvious that something unexpected had occurred. 

Well, it wasn’t doing it anymore, he supposed.

Back to work, then, suspicious glitching aside; he’d make a mental note to follow up on it later.

Frim was of Darshan Amurta, properly enrolled. No criminal record—and of course, the second he decided to dive back into work, the visuals glitched again, green words fracturing, and the entire projection fazed out of existence with little fanfare. 

It was there, and then it wasn’t.

One moment Alhaitham was staring at information through his Akasha terminal, and the next it was all gone, as if it had been turned off with the click of a switch.

Was…it going to come back?

…No?

That stack of unchecked student projects seemed more intimidating by the second.

He tapped his terminal, but nothing. Reciting the ignition phrase also, unfortunately, did nothing. He could only see the interior of his office, Akasha system and its visual interface failing to respond to any of his prompts or physical interference. 

His device slipped off easily enough with a tug, and when he scanned it for flaws, it seemed perfectly functional. It should’ve worked. He stared at nothing for longer than he’d like to admit before the fact of the matter came crashing into unfortunate clarity. 

The Akasha system was broken. 

What. The. Fuck.

It better come back online within the hour, or else he would have to work overtime, and there was nothing more sinister. 

He was going to find the ignoramus who broke it and break them for it. (He wouldn’t actually do that. He didn’t care that much.) But there was work to be done, and this nonsensical issue was going to set him back far longer than he would’ve liked…and problems like this were rarely a simple fix. 

Hah. Fine. He’d go find someone important, mainly to gauge how long this issue would last. At least the problem had nothing to do with him. As far as he was concerned, he had been comfortably sequencing through his work, completely independent of whatever foolish nonsense had caused the crash. 

(Had the Akasha ever gone down like this, though? On a day when information wasn’t supposed to be added?) This reeked of something sinister, but he paid it no mind. Sometimes, technology just failed.

If the crash had wiped any information, or if it had failed during an important matter, though, he could see this turning into a larger issue. He would attempt to stay out of it altogether and only intervene if necessary. All things considered, the Akasha wasn’t under his individual jurisdiction, really. 

Alhaitham stood up reluctantly, shuffled his papers into a neat stack, and went to find someone who knew what was going on.

As he stalked through the halls of the Akademiya, he overheard several students rushing around, seemingly with the same issue he had run into. Unfortunately, they clearly didn’t have answers for him. Might as well go find the ruler of this sandcastle. 

Alhaitham was led, after some pointers from other people, to the Grand Sage’s large circular office. Azar was, perhaps suspiciously, right where he normally was. Sure, normal was generally good, but this clearly wasn’t a normal situation.

A guard attempted to stop him at the door, “The Grand Sage has requested none bother him at this time.”

Alhaitham moved past the guard anyway—glaring worked well enough—opened the doors with no resistance, and when the full room came into view, he noticed four of the sages inside, whispering. They didn’t look happy. They all were huddled around one spot of the desk, and torn papers lay scattered on the floor. 

“Excuse me,” He stated, drawing their eyes to him. “I’m presuming the issue regarding the Akasha will be resolved shortly.” 

Technically, Alhaitham didn’t have the position to be making such sweeping presumptions, but he also had little patience for the squabbling of idiots so far above him, they spent all their days lost in the clouds.

Azar scowled, although that was nothing new for the grizzly, old man. “Alhaitham, this is remarkably unprofessional, though I understand the sentiment. We are handling the issue the best we can.” He broke eye contact. “It would be best for you to return to your work and leave this issue in our hands.”

As if he could do that with the Akasha down. What work, exactly, could he resume? The sentiment was laughable. 

“But it’ll be fixed soon,” Alhaitham said, deadpan. If anything, he wanted a time table on this nonsense. 

“Likely so.”

“…Fine then.”

Perhaps, Alhaitham expected, just a little, to be asked to assist—not to say he was upset or disappointed to be completely disregarded like that. Archons know he wasn’t overly enthused to fix an ancient, technological marvel like the Akasha system. He would rather not be called on to work on it, but he would’ve liked to be updated in real time on how the situation developed. 

The encounter left a bad taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the flighty way Azar had ignored Alhaitham, as if something greater was going on, something he didn’t care to share with others. The rest of the sages had seemed extremely uncomfortable, too, as if completely out of their depth, which indicated a greater issue than Alhaitham had initially predicted. The fact that they hadn’t called on him to help was, perhaps, the most suspicious part. 

The Akasha system was down, and four of the sages were sweating like a bunch of overworked guards, but Azar had insinuated no degree of concern greater than that appropriated to a routine check to be justifiable. 

Something wasn’t adding up, and Alhaitham sort of wished he hadn’t noticed the strangeness to begin with.

He had a hunch this wouldn’t be a one-and-done problem, but Azar had agreed with Alhaitham’s suggestion of “soon,” so that, if anything, was confirmation enough that all would be well with time. 

Alhaitham wasn’t going to get this job done tonight, though, so he gave up and went home. Wasted effort was the most frustrating kind of thing, and he wasn’t going to expect a functional Akasha system on the words of Azar, even if Alhaitham trusted that Azar knew what he spoke of. Most of the time.

…

Azar had lied.

The signs had all been there.

Alhaitham was pretty sure he had suspected that to be the case even before the stark fact of the matter had come crashing down on his head. (The Akasha remained broken.) He wished desperately that he could go back in time to when they had originally discussed it so he could needle Azar on his wording at a time when they were all significantly less stressed. 

Soon, he had agreed.

The temptation to plaster a dictionary definition of the word “soon” on Azar’s door made itself known quite frequently these days. 

Alhaitham wished he could say he was surprised. Yet here he was, many days later, and the Akasha was still broken, and all Alhaitham could think was, I sure hope Azar is prepared to face the consequences of this. 

Because Alhaitham wasn’t getting out of this untouched, so neither should the Grand Sage. Alhaitham handled archives—hard, physical archives—and suddenly, his stock was in desperate need to quite literally every scholar wandering around the Akademiya.

To be fair, the ones who were getting screwed over the worst were the students, who got assigned the menial task of ferrying files all over the place. Annoying for them, but the current unofficial compromise was far more inconvenient for Alhaitham who was tasked with locating and providing said archival files for anyone who asked. 

He had stopped trying to push forward the proper system since it didn’t really matter anymore. Every time he tried returning to script, he kept getting overruled with arguments of “my research is important!” And “my deadline is so soon, who knows when the Akasha will get fixed?” 

There was no good defense to the outpouring of archive access requests considering the only other resource currently available was the library, and even that had its limits. 

A student rushed into his office without asking, as they all did these days, and Alhaitham genuinely didn’t know the guy’s name. 

He had stopped keeping track of names on day six of this madness.

“Please knock,” he said, even while knowing, on the whole, it would do very little. The students were too frazzled to bother with Alhaitham’s precious little feelings regarding minuscule inconveniences, and there were too many students to inform them each individually. And they wouldn’t remember. 

“Oh, of course. Apologies,” the student said—like a liar. “I’m looking for archival data on the behavior of Sumpter Beasts in captivity regarding the winter months.”

Ah. That was one of the topics that had been researched too recently for there to be a book in library circulation. Great.  

Alhaitham hoped his fraying patience radiated off of him like heat from the goddamn sun. 

“Let me find it for you.” He wasn’t letting grubby students all over his preciously organized files, but it’s not like that sentiment mattered much to literally anyone besides him at this point considering the mess that was the Akademiya at present. He wondered how many of these files were going to go suspiciously missing within the next week or two. 

He’d stopped keeping an accurate track of who borrowed what information on day seven—mostly because people had been trading the archival files among themselves like sweets in class, and there was no hope to recover what was lost to the waves of social bartering. Alhaitham couldn’t work miracles.

After a quick search through the archive, he located the requested file on Sumpter beasts, and brought it to the student. He had already gone through this song and dance five times today, and it was barely noon .

This is not how it was to be done. As Alhaitham handed over the file, an unbidden thought spiked into his mind— ridiculous . This whole nonsensical breakdown of system irked him greatly, but it’s not like he could do anything about it—which irked him even more. 

That’s not a proper mentality to take towards this, though. He should figure out some way to combat this lunacy encroaching into his precious workspace. 

Even though doing so wasn’t his job. 

That’s what he should do.

What he was actually going to do was hang on by the last thread of sanity that kept his consciousness pieced together and hope desperately that someone else fixed the problem before he had to change how he did his job. 

This mentality, unfortunately, didn’t last long because the rug was, once again, pulled out from under him without any warning. 

One of the sages’ little lackeys entered not even five minutes after the last student had left, and he shifted as he neared Alhaitham.

“Scribe.”

“…Hello, you.” What else was he supposed to say? Whoever this person was, he probably didn’t have a position worth keeping track of anyway. Alhaitham’s job was not supposed to depend on name recall.

“I was instructed to inform you of a new development.”

“Regarding the Akasha?” Alhaitham prepared a piece of paper and a pen. Thank Archons some progress had been made.

“Not quite…”

Nevermind. The pen hovered over the paper. “What other kind of situation are we in the middle of that requires in time updates via courier?” He was certain the guy didn’t appreciate being downgraded to mere courier, but he didn’t really care.

The man scowled. “It’s a national issue.”

Alhaitham began writing at the top, national issue of unknown importance, because no one could be bothered to clarify anything these days, apparently. 

“Mondstadt is forcibly cutting off trade with us,” the lackey-turned-courier said in a rushed fashion. 

Alhaitham slammed his pen on the paper. “Us.” He stared. Why couldn’t anyone in this damned building say anything in the interest of being helpful? “Us as in the Akademiya or us as in Sumeru?” Because it mattered, damn it. 

“Sumeru.”

He huffed a horribly long sigh before scribbling right at the top of his page, Mondstadt?  

“Ok then.” 

Alhaitham failed to understand how this was his problem, although it would be incredibly undiplomatic to say so. He remained outwardly pensive. It’s not like he was in the department for cultural exchange. It wasn’t his business what was going on in that particular court.

“The Sages wanted you to know.”

“Right.”

“They wanted you to…uh…advise them on a new system for tracking boats in the ports.”

What.

What did that even...what? He added to the page, ports???

“…why?”

“Oh, well,” the man fidgeted uncomfortably, “they’re worried that people might try smuggling Mondstadt goods across the border.”

Such a strange thing to be worried about.

Alhaitham was forthcoming in his opinion on the sages, and even now, he believed them to be men who cared very little for the rulings of lesser factions—Mondstadt being among the very bottom of those who did not deserve their respect.

“And the sages are going to abide by this ruling,” Alhaitham stated coldly. He left unsaid the obvious—that this trading problem had been caused by those very people the sages did not care to glance at on their journey towards inevitable greatness. It was strange that they’d entertain that kind of order.

The messenger chuckled, awkward and stilted. “It’s likely because Mondstadt is saying they’re doing it because their Archon ordered it.” He cleared his throat. “Supposedly.”

They what? Well, that certainly didn’t make sense. Wasn't Barbatos missing? Alhaitham could barely bring himself to care.

“And…do the sages believe this supposed reasoning?” Because really, that was ridiculous. It hardly sounded like the decision-making of the same overly-ambitious men who only ever looked up.

“They do. And they wanted to request advising from you, as the scribe and archival master, on how they should control the docks while the Akasha remains…nonfunctional.” The man handed over a document that Alhaitham caught sight of several signatures on.

Even at a glance, he could tell the document read like an order. There was no point in taking notes, it seemed. He wished he had been given the document to begin with so he could’ve avoided this entire time waste of a conversation. 

Alhaitham held the piece of paper in stiff fingers, face undoubtedly coiled into complete and utter resignation.

This wasn’t his job, this wasn’t his job, this wasn’t his job, this wasn’t his job!

And that clearly didn’t matter to those people that considered themselves more.

“Very well,” he said, “you may inform them that I will have a proposal for them by tomorrow.”

The messenger clearly lit up from the confirmation, and he thanked Alhaitham profusely before leaving, even after Alhaitham had scorned the man so obviously. How important was this, exactly?

Despite all frustration-born urges, the order-document would remain in one piece while Alhaitham attempted to work through whatever new task the sages had deigned belonged to him.

…

As it turned out, he needn’t be so worried after all. Everything was fine.

If  by “fine,” he meant everything was actively deteriorating around him by the second.

But at least he had some kind of control over things. He was acting as proper “counsel” now for some other departments which…wasn’t ideal because the counseled in question could always choose to not listen to him, but he liked to think of himself as smart enough to come up with un-ignorable counsel. 

The Matra had run some serious damage control regarding the maintenance of what physical knowledge the Akademiya still had. Apparently, there had been a scuffle with people stealing books. Alhaitham honestly hadn’t known about it before the Matra came to him because he had no opportunity to go listen up on the most recent rumors. He was so damned busy, and he was more worried about the archival files going missing, anyway. Whatever. Point was, he had suggested methods on retrieving what had gone missing, mainly through fear tactics, and luckily enough, the Matra cared to listen to him. 

While that was going on, he also had to juggle his own tasks. 

Firstly, the docks. The sages were correct; that was an issue. It didn’t matter if Mondstadt’s Archon had returned. The point was that Mondstadt was prepared to act as if Barbatos had , so that meant no forgiveness. This was a no holds barred antagonistic attack, and Alhaitham would not let himself be convinced out of the facts, no matter how many people wanted to believe the contrary.

If, somehow, Mondstadt goods made their way straight into Sumeru ports—or the other way around—Alhaitham had no doubt that the Favonius Knights would react explosively. It’s not like he knew a lot about them, but anyone willing to act supposedly by the will of their Archon probably didn’t intend to be friendly or gentle in upholding “divine orders.”

Alhaitham would’ve preferred to do some reconnaissance on the true nature of this attack because that’s what he was good at, but his jobs kept piling and piling, and this was turning into one expensive, convoluted mess.

He kept trying to escape from his office, but every time he made plans, they got squashed under the weight of other responsibilities that also weren’t supposed to be his .

A headache had formed a day ago at the top of his neck, and it refused to relent. 

His only out was to accomplish every task given to him—or retire from the position of scribe. But he couldn’t walk away. He would not, despite all logical sense, leave the center of this knot because as it turned out, he wanted this to get resolved as seamlessly as possible. He’d rather not sit this one out while people less competent than him scrambled to fix it on misplaced arrogance and a lethal lack of self-awareness.

So. The ports. 

To be fair, it made sense the sages would ask him to fix it. Sumeru occasionally employed many different documents for various proceedings, but since that wasn’t the main way to get things done when the Akasha had been functioning, all of those old documents were held in the depths of the Archive. Sumeru City at the very least hadn’t employed solely physical documents in centuries.

He began the task by looking through the massive archival database at his fingertips, but at some point between sorting through this document and the next, after his focus had faded so aggressively that the words read as scribbles, Alhaitham just decided to freehand some new documents. He wasn’t in the mood to do better.

Within a day, he had a collection of contracts to give to the ports that would require all incoming and outgoing ships register their destination, goods, and their identity with a system for approval via signature. Not perfect, but good enough. They were to be turned in to the port managers who would then go straight to the sages should something be amiss.

After what felt like a whole day of sleepwalking through his problems, Alhaitham found himself in the Grand Sage’s office, where four of the sages were bickering. Again. This felt like a repeat of the last time he’d been here. Is this all they did these days? Is this why he got slammed with all the ridiculous jobs?

His sleep-addled brain almost said something he would’ve regretted horribly.  

Instead, he said, “I have the documents for the ports that you requested I compile.” Nevermind the fact that they weren’t actually compiled from past data. He was a good contract writer; it’s not like someone would notice.

Azar snapped from his squabble with one of the sages and shot a look of such disgust, Alhaitham wanted to slam the man’s head on the desk. Sleep deprivation was not a kind friend.

“No, no. We will be instituting no such thing,” Azar said with a vicious snarl.

Seriously? Alhaitham swore one of his eyes was twitching. But of course, just ignore all of his hard work that shouldn’t have even been assigned to him. It wasn’t a problem. Would he be considered vindictive if he never let this go? 

Azar could drown, and I think if it happened right now, I’d smile. 

Well. He should at least try to defend the documents. 

“With all due respect, I believe it is a good idea to implement a system to make sure Mondstadt goods are not unduly welcomed into Sumeru.”

Azar frowned even more, as if he’d swallowed a lemon. “No, absolutely not. One of these idiots,” he gestured to the three sages behind him, “sent this instruction without my approval, and I am informing you right now, Alhaitham,” he practically spit the name, “that instituting a system to abide by Mondstadt’s demands will not happen so long as I have a say.”

Ah, so that’s how it would be.

The other sages’ opinions didn’t matter. Alhaitham’s opinion didn’t matter. 

Azar’s world. Azar’s rules.

Fine.

“Very well,” he said, holding the papers behind his back. “I will return to my post.”

“You do that,” Azar said. And then the Grand Sage immediately went back to ordering the other sages bring him this and that information, and would someone get a damn guard in here to carry a message and—

Alhaitham tried his very best not to crunch the papers in his death-grip.

…

An idea occurred to him after another several hours of mindless nonsense.

If people were going to force him into taking action outside the scope of his job, he might as well initiate. If he never informed Azar of what he was doing, he could never be told no, and worst case scenario, he could claim that he didn’t want to bother someone of high importance with little things—flatter him with bullshit and all that.

He would start with keeping Mondstadt out of Sumeru and Sumeru out of Mondstadt. Clearly, there was some kind of problem there, and he didn’t have the luxury to go information hunting…unless he completely abandoned his post. 

Oh, how tempting that sounded. How disgustingly nice it would be. But no. Keeping Sumeru together needed to start on the inside, and he was already sequestered in its heart. 

He might not have many friends, but he had authority. 

Okay then. Forget having the documents reroute to the sages. They would, instead, reroute to him. And that would be that. 

Azar was sequestered in his office. He wouldn’t even know.

Alhaitham went down to the ports himself and met with the managers.

“You’re to implement these terms immediately,” he told them, “and if any problems arise, you are to report to myself, the Scribe of the Akademiya. No one else.” Because the sages are busy, he argued. Because I’m well qualified to handle these issues, he promised.

And in one move, he had put himself on the board.

…

It was all work from then on out.

Work was just a trade of time for money—at least it was supposed to be—unless, of course, you were Alhaitham, who was welcoming more work upon himself that might as well be classified as very generous charity. In that case, work was a battle for control over an entire nation from the shadows. He wanted the Akademiya still standing by the end, after all. He was always in his office or running around the city or meeting with various groups to minimize damages nowadays. Forget going home at the end of the day; there was no end of the day. The day ended when he fell asleep, and it started when he woke up.

Already, he had received two alerts from the ports that Mondstadt goods were entering the nation, and he had gone all the way down there himself to order the merchants leave immediately. He may have also threatened their health and safety. No matter. It worked, after all.

With all his secretive machinations, his cover story had become harder to keep up. 

He was headed towards Azar’s office this morning, mostly to pretend like he was doing what he was supposed to be spending his time on. While he went behind the Grand Sage’s back on matters that clearly needed attention, a clear display of what he was supposedly doing served as a good smokescreen. Besides, moments like these where all he had to do was walk from one point to the next had become depressingly relaxing.

“I heard you’ve been busy.” 

Alhaitham whirled around toward the voice, caught unaware.

“Cyno.” That wasn’t such a bad person to run into unexpectedly. It was about time someone complained about Alhaitham to someone else, but he hoped that wasn’t what this was about. “I didn’t expect you here.” 

He was earnest about it, too. Cyno, he had heard, was just about as busy as himself, something about managing the actions of the Akademiya and the citizens at once, and since both groups were eternally angry with each other about something even prior to this mess, it seemed feelings had reached heights of dangerous proportions. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to bother, but then I heard something suspicious…and I suspected you’d have an answer.” He came closer. “Since you know things.”

“True.” For all that is good in the world, Cyno needed to stop his little attempts at intimidation. They didn’t work, and Alhaitham didn’t have the energy to pretend like the Mahamatra scared him.

“I’ll assist in any way I can,” Alhaitham admitted, sincerity dripping like rotten sugar from his lips. He was so damn tired.

“Well, ok then. Now, this isn’t really backed up by any official source, but it’s been a trend in some circles and—”

“Just ask the question. I have places to be.”

Cyno took a deep breath. “Is it true that Azar wronged Buer?”

Alhaitham just stared. As they stood, just the two of them in the hallway, it occurred to him how bizarre his life had become since the Akasha broke. He had never before thought of the Akasha as a weak link in Sumeru’s societal ecosystem since it had been there for centuries and was supposed to last for centuries more, but clearly it was. Perhaps he should’ve learned what exactly powered it and where the weaknesses lay. Then, maybe he could’ve prevented all of this from happening. That particular thought had also become common these days, and he always had to intentionally readjust his mentality every time. The Akasha was an unknown variable, and wondering about where it went wrong was a waste of time. 

The Mahamatra was still waiting for an answer. 

“I haven’t heard anything about Buer since this nonsense began.” He eventually said. “I don’t think she has anything to do with it.” In the occasion that Azar had wronged their hermit Archon, well, that sounded like a pretty horrid nightmare, current situation considered. Although, Alhaitham hadn’t heard a single thing about Buer, and he failed to see how she connected to their current predicament. She hadn’t stood up for them before; nothing had changed, and she wouldn’t come to their aid now. He doubted Azar even had the capacity to wrong an Archon in the first place. He didn’t have the resolve to initiate such a thing.

Cyno sighed. “I assumed that was the case. You should know, though, that some people think…well. It’s not important if it’s just based on rumors.”

“Hm.”

“That was all. I have a job to do too, after all. I trust you, Alhaitham. Let me know if you hear anything.”

“I’ll—” he halted mid-sentence as a group of people came through the hallway. Although focusing on rumors alone, this was not a conversation to have in the presence of others.

They were strange, dangerous looking people, too, clearly armed with weapons, and they certainly weren’t from the Corps. They walked towards Azar’s office, completely unheeded. Alhaitham tried to ignore the unknown aspect about them, but something so out of place couldn’t be disregarded so simply.

Those were clearly mercenaries—and the Akademiya didn’t allow just anyone through their doors. Azar, or one of the other sages perhaps, must’ve let them in, but why? 

As the mercenaries skirted around the edge of the hallway, Alhaitham whispered, “Keep your eyes open, Cyno.” 

Azar’s declaration that they wouldn’t entertain Mondstadt’s demands plus his obsession with hiding away in his office practically screamed to be questioned.

“I’m suspicious that there’s too much we don’t know,” he added.

Random rumors of Buer just aggravated the issue. 

(Alhaitham would report to Azar later.)

…

Nothing of significant note regarding the mercenaries or strange rumors had happened after that, although Alhaitham kept a wary mind and firm constitution pulled taut at all times. He also backed off a bit from the administrative side of Sumeru that he wasn’t supposed to involve himself with. He didn’t want to push it, lest Azar hear. Besides, some things, such as the ports, had smoothed out. 

Although, that meant that Alhaitham ended up stuck inside. Again. Helping students find random archival files. Again.  

Forget death by overworking, he was going to get dealt in by frustration. There was nothing worse than sitting inside, managing paperwork, while the nation fell apart. He genuinely wasn’t sure what Azar had been up to because anytime Alhaitham passed his office, the Grand Sage was talking to mercenaries, or just sitting there, distraught, or whispering with the other sages—about nothing, probably.

Every day that passed, the situation as a whole degraded slightly, no matter what he did. Mondstadt was still pissed for some reason, and no one knew why. The Akasha was still down. Azar was still doing nothing. 

Alhaitham began writing a new note for himself while in his office, just a list of the currently missing archival files so that he could preoccupy his mind with something. As he wrote the next entry, he heard a strange, sharp whistling noise. It seemed to be coming from outside, and he didn’t think it resembled any bird he knew of.

Right as he disregarded it as a trick of the wind, a loud noise cascaded through the building, like something shattering. Alhaitham’s pen shifted at the surprise, casting an ugly line right across the white paper. (He would have to redo it now in the interest of legibility.)

Of all the ridiculous interruptions…this was not the time for idiot students to be participating in idiot activities. Explosives hadn’t been allowed on campus even before the Akasha incident. Who had thought setting off whatever it was—fireworks maybe—was a good idea? 

Someone needed a stern talking to and a permanent ban from the library. Alhaitham was tired and not at all willing to solve this problem, though. So, he ignored it. 

At first.

It happened again.

Two subsequent blasts shook the building, and maybe it wasn’t so simple as a student with a rogue firework—

Another strike, and the window behind him cracked straight down the middle, ugly and irregular. His eyes went wide, and he instantly rolled away, ducking into a crouch as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces. 

What the hell was going on? 

Compartmentalize.  

The building was shaking, badly, and he could hear people shouting from further inside. Either someone was playing a cruel, expensive prank or…

They were, what? Being attacked? Was that even a reasonable consideration?

Well, it might be possible, and so he stood up without a second thought, keeping his decorum straight, even if a strange thing to cling to in the face of danger. He would rather meet an enemy by willful choice, and that sentiment controlled his demeanor. He had his vision and a conjurable sword. That was always enough, so he went to meet the danger. 

Outside his office, people were frantically running towards an exit, the guards hurrying anyone and everyone to evacuate the building as quickly as possible, and as Alhaitham stood there, chaos crashing around him, he waited for a moment more.

The building shook again, and he fell into a defensive stance. After a couple seconds, it stopped, and he decided the best plan would be to join the mass attempting to evacuate. 

He was never caught unaware. Never. He had plans for his plans. He always knew what to do in a crisis. 

Yet today he—he was tired. So, so very tired. He stood watch at the doors as people left, his dendro vision clipped to his side. He was never powerless, after all. Yet he remained stoically distanced from it all, as if he had no investment in this building or these people. That was, of course, as far from the truth as possible in normal circumstances, but he hardly thought screaming or running around would help anything, and he didn’t have extra energy to expend on nonsense. 

If they really were being attacked, then they had been caught unaware, and all they could do was mitigate damages until they secured an advantageous position. 

He summoned his sword, holding position at the doors, where both domains, inside and out, were available to his ministrations. 

And that’s when he saw the figure. 

Wings. Just—wings. Need anything else be considered? Was there really any other possibility? Any other defining features worth a grain of salt? The figure had wide, feathery, white wings, and Alhaitham knew. He knew all he needed to know, and he immediately began aiding in the evacuation effort with a bit more fervor, ignoring it . He was, after all, a bit more awake now that their attacker was known and very obviously pissed off. 

When one is faced with a being of massive destructive power, a being who should never under any circumstances be challenged, the only option is to turn away and leave. If said being was going to continue wrecking the building, everyone needed to get the hell away from it.

Alhaitham would not challenge a God today. Not today or any day. 

Outside the Akademiya was unfiltered confusion and panic. So, Alhaitham refused to contribute to any of that. He started ordering people to regroup outside the city, to move away from the Akademiya which was, to his knowledge, about to fall apart. Oh, sure it was standing now, but anything on the other side of a God’s wrath had its destiny written, signed, and sent for delivery.

When he bothered to sneak a more critical glance, the structural integrity was fucked to put it simply—he didn’t even need Kaveh’s stupid lessons to know that much—and it was definitely going to fall apart. Everyone needed to be in the clear, and right as he thought it, several members of the Corps stepped forward in conjoined order and set an unofficial perimeter around the base of the building. 

Right. I’m not the only one pushing for sanity. That’s a good thing to know.

 He wasn’t alone. There were other people in this city who wanted to support group safety. How long had he been fighting alone, assuming it was him against the world? For a while now, he thought. A break would be nice. Too bad one didn’t seem to be in his future.

Too bad the rogue God had flown off to the top of the Akademiya, and all Alhaitham could hear were the sounds of mass panic and cracking wood and marble. It seemed almost as if the God was giving them a chance to get out which…he’d take it. He jumped into the fray, pulling people away from the building and then threatening them to stay put. One student was carrying a bunch of books and was staring longingly at the building.

“No,” Alhaitham ordered. “Stay put.”

“But—but the books!” He stuttered.

“No book is worth going back in there. Stay. Put.”

The glare always finished the job. Had the kid attempted to enter again, the Corps clearly would’ve stopped him, but they didn’t need to deal with idiot students along with panicked civilians.

Alhaitham continued the evacuation effort, and at one point, a guard had urged him to leave the city, too, but he refused. As long as people lingered here—and there was still quite a crowd—he didn’t feel comfortable turning tail. 

As he fell back into a rigid stance, the source of their torment came down from the top of the building, surrounded by a makeshift aura of books. Everything was crumbling behind him, and Alhaitham felt regrettably annoyed at all the work that was to come with rebuilding—that is, if they survived this. It was a strange thing to consider, to flit across his mind, since he had remained woefully unemotional since this began. Damn sleep deprivation. What the hell was he doing right now?

It was sort of funny. His mind had barely considered the possible conclusion of his death. There was no point trying to fight such a being, and he merely hoped the God could be reasoned with.

If Alhaitham was getting this right—and he must be—this was Barbatos, absent Archon of Mondstadt, supposedly kind, gentle, and weak . 

It seemed the history books got it wrong, what a source of shame for the Akademiya. Alhaitham didn’t smile, though he would’ve if he were alone. Of anything, their information had been lacking. He bet Azar would’ve been more invested in keeping peace had he known about the truth that stood in front of them ensconced in true power. They should’ve known. 

How unfortunate. 

Azar, rather than doing something helpful, was conversing rapidly with the guards and other sages, having not helped the civilians at all, and Alhaitham kept himself away from that particular idiot. He doubted his presence would matter, anyway.

The God touched down in the center of the courtyard, and everyone moved just as far as they felt was comfortable, he supposed. A silly notion, really. This was the Archon of anemo; distance was no issue for one such as him. Yet, the people of Sumeru stood in a circle around him as if they were untouchable, and they gawked. People of knowledge, indeed. Curiosity didn’t come with built in self-preservation skills, apparently. 

Against all logical expectation, Barbatos half-smiled cutely—like he was taking a casual stroll or something—and he twirled the winds to gently stack all the books floating around him in the center of the courtyard.

Well ok then. 

The Archon destroyed the building but saved the books. Right. Because that makes sense. At least…he liked reading? No, that just seemed ridiculous. Not to say that Barbatos wasn’t allowed to like books, but it was a strange thing to have such a strong opinion on while actively raining destruction. There was something else going on here. 

Barbatos spoke and everyone went deadly silent as if ordered by the heavens themselves, “If you want the Akademiya back, build it again from the ground up. You still have your books and each other, after all.”

He…didn’t intend to destroy them? That didn’t sound right. Was this some advanced form of fear tactic? Because that’s what it felt like. Alhaitham could work with that, though. Fear wasn’t destruction, merely a mild form of pre-chaos, and it was manageable.

Yet, no one was saying anything. Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? This God had come, demonstrated his power, and he was openly advertising that they may reach a peaceful conclusion. Azar was merely fuming on the side, people of Sumeru equally, uselessly, standing by. Had something happened? Did he miss some kind of pre-confrontation? Did no one care to engage in proper discussion when the opportunity was presented? Because casual negligence wasn’t the style of the sages. At least, he had thought it not. 

Why weren’t they taking the offered olive branch? Why weren’t they saying a damn thing?

That’s it. 

He had dealt with weeks of ignorant behavior and arrogant, snide comments, and now that the source of part of their ire had shown up, no one wanted to engage? Bullshit. 

Alhaitham had already decided. He had decided ages ago. Just like before—if he was going to get assigned a bunch of jobs that weren’t supposed to be his, he might as well initiate. 

He pushed himself past everyone in his way, past the blockade of people and into the empty space where Barbatos stood alone. The wind could reach him from anywhere, and it didn’t matter.

Meeting the God eye to eye, he couldn’t help but notice how…soft he looked. His eyes were blue-green, and that shouldn’t have mattered, but they made him look so…so human . 

Alhaitham cleared his throat. “Do you not seek our destruction?” It was as good as any other place to start. Ask the important questions, get important answers. Ignore the God who just seemed a boy because such notions were useless in the heat of negotiation and discussion.

“No.” The God seemed almost apologetic, but that was ridiculous. “Just the Akademiya.”

Alhaitham couldn’t help but feel vindictive. The last thing he needed was one more person failing a basic clarity check. “Why just that?” 

Everyone wanted an answer. Alhaitham was just the cold-blooded man who asked.

Barbatos answered, “Your Archon was forcibly imprisoned by the sages there. She has remained stuck for 500 years prior to a couple days ago.” The Akasha system, then, Alhaitham instantly reconstructed. Buer leaves, Akasha goes down. Got it. “She escaped and asked me for help and proper punishment to those that wronged her. If my friend is hurt again, I will not hesitate. The books are safe only because Buer wanted them to be.” Barbatos took a book and handed it to Alhaitham. “Pick a better Grand Sage. Azar will be dealt with, and he will not return to the position.” 

Alhaitham was not a religious man. He didn’t care about the squabbles of higher beings. And yet. For the first time in perhaps forever, he regretted his own neglect. He should’ve cared. He should’ve discovered this corruption, and the fact that he hadn’t was the kind of mistake he’d repent over for a very long time. 

He should’ve listened to Cyno when the Mahamatra had first approached him—just rumors, he had figured. It hadn’t been a rumor. Azar really was that much of a bastard. 

Alhaitham took the book, deal finalized. He would not dare speak anything but a confirmation at that horrid truth laid bare. He didn’t even know what to think. “I’ll see it done,” he said, because what else was there? Some time later, he could unravel what exactly had been said. For now, he wanted to get this foreign God far, far away because Barbatos seemed unfortunately justified in…everything. 

He merely hoped that he had been lied to in some way. 

“Good. It’s all yours, then. The rest of the sages I leave in the jurisdiction of Sumeru. Decide well.” 

The book in his hands said The Folio of Foliage I . How silly.

The giant, several stacks of books immediately fell into a haphazard heap, and Barbatos had the dignity to look sheepish. At least the books were intact. He’d take any position that put him ahead of nothing. 

“Mondstadt will resume trade and communication with Sumeru on the condition that the dendro Archon, Buer, remains forever free and never again trapped by the people here. She is no longer your Archon unless she decides it herself.” 

Fine. That could be worked around. It was good news, in a certain light. He didn’t dare object, so he said nothing at all. 

Barbatos nodded and unceremoniously kidnapped the Grand Sage, flying away towards who knows where. No one tried to stop him.

Apparently, Sumeru was down a Grand Sage and an Archon, and apparently they deserved it. 

Alhaitham picked his way home in a daze. Someone that wasn’t him could pick up the pile of books. He had done enough. 

…

It occurred to him afterward that he had essentially stolen one of the books, as he was still holding Folio of Foliage I a good hour later. He was part of the problem now, so he better start joining the solution.

Eventually. 

The facts weren’t that bad when he considered them, just tricky to maneuver around in the current climate of mass disaster. 

Step one, they needed a Grand Sage. Step two, they needed an Akademiya. 

Maybe his compartmentalization had worked too well. 

Regardless, he had an idea on how to solve both of those problems. it might’ve been better if he didn’t even know how to start, but that was always the easiest part for him. It was only too regretful that the solutions seemed so horribly simple. It hadn’t even been an hour since Azar had been carried off, though ,and here was Alhaitham, planning how he would fix it. 

Maybe he should stop, just for a moment. 

Stop thinking, stop planning, just stop.

Before he could decide on a proper method of…doing literally anything other than staring into space, though, Kaveh hobbled into the main living area, clearly still half-asleep. Alhaitham was almost glad for the company, in need of something that wasn’t his own mind to focus on. 

“Haitham?” He asked, voice edged with a yawn. “Don’t you have work to do? I thought you were supposed to be at the Akademiya.”

“In theory.” His gaze stuck to a point on the wall straight across from him.

His roommate started making a pot of coffee. “You skipping? I didn’t know you had the spine for that kind of thing. Good for you.”

Somehow, he felt more indignant at that suggestion that he should’ve. “I’m not skipping.” He finally put the book down after realizing he had been gripping it like an emotional support item for far too long now. “More importantly, what are you doing? It’s almost midday.”

“Uh, what does it look like? Making coffee, obviously.” 

There was no end to the scorn, even in his own home.

“It’s rather late for that,” Alhaitham said, letting the condescension seep into every word, attempting to match his irritable roommate. Maybe Alhaitham wanted to squabble, just to seek some ounce of normalcy, but it wasn’t doing much other than give him a worse headache.

“I need beauty sleep. We’ve been over this.”

“It’s later than normal for you.” Genuinely, why was he doing this? There was no point pushing Kaveh. The idiot could wake up as late as he wanted since he didn’t have a real job or anything. And yet. 

Kaveh rolled his eyes. “Because I felt like it. Your jealousy of my freedom to sleep late is just too sad.”

It was about to get worse, Alhaitham mused. “I’ll be working the next couple of days very late. Or weeks, actually.” Maybe even months, but he wouldn’t admit it. “You ought to know.” 

The coffee was finally ready, and with his fresh mug, a burst of enthusiasm in Kaveh’s mood. “The Akasha is still broken? Seriously? What kind of incompetency is spearheading this operation, exactly?”

“Not me.”

“Well yeah, if it was you, the problem would get solved.”

And there was the solution, right in front of him. He could always leave it up to Kaveh to present him with the hard, cold facts. If it were Alhaitham…indeed. 

Kaveh finally caught on to his accidental compliment, though, and backpedaled, “Granted, if someone like you ran the Akademiya, it’d make everything boring because you’re too uptight to let anyone have fun.”

“We’d be safe.”

“Yep. Safely boring. When has good revolution ever involved safety? That’s not what research or art is about!”

That’s what Sumeru needed, though. Safety. He only wished it had gone differently. Then again, he had promised Barbatos personally. He had agreed to see a better Grand Sage into office. He sighed and stole some of Kaveh’s coffee; he’d need it for what would come next, every trial and tribulation on the horizon because there was a fight to win and only one person he knew of willing and capable enough to step forward. 

“You never did say, though,” Kaveh mused. “Why aren’t you at work, exactly? Have you really abandoned your position over this Akasha nonsense? For the record, I made a bet that you’d last at least another month.”

“No. That’s not why.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” 

“Then why are you here instead of there?”

“Didn’t you hear it?” Alhaitham asked. He didn’t recall Kaveh being hard of hearing, and with the entire building literally coming down? It had been loud enough to hear from this distance. As he had walked back, plenty of people had been watching from a distance. He had assumed his roommate had been dancing around the subject for some stupid nonsensical reason, but did he really not know? 

“Hear what?” Kaveh asked innocently.

“The…noise?” 

“I need my beauty sleep. I have ear plugs and lots of noise deafening padding. This city is too loud for someone like me. I have delicate sensitivities.”

Shouldn't Kaveh have felt the shaking, though? Delicate sensitivities. As if.

“You actually don’t know.”

Now Kaveh was clearly annoyed, eyebrows pinched. “Know what?” The longer the silence stretched, the more frustrated he got. “Alhaitham? What don’t I know?”

He took a calm sip of coffee. “My workplace is out of commission at the moment.”

“Out of commission? The Akademiya?” He raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with the Akademiya?”

How was he to do this delicately? “It’s not exactly intact.”

Kaveh slammed his hand on the counter. “It’s not WHAT?” He grabbed Alhaitham’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“We’re going. Now.”

The coffee was still warm. “…what?”

…

Alhaitham begrudgingly dragged himself back to the site of demolition with one extra person in tow. 

Kaveh had literally started crying immediately upon arrival. And he was loud about it, too, like a child throwing a tantrum. Why Alhaitham brought along this…dysfunctional man was due solely to lingering fatigue. If he had thought about it, he would’ve found a way around this current predicament.

“NO! The—the architecture! The artistry! How barbaric!” And he was whining again.

This continued for quite a while. A while.

Now he was lamenting all of the pieces that were slowly getting cleaned up as if giving each splinter a spiritual funeral. The Corps were giving him weird looks as he performed soliloquies over the marble carvings and shattered stained glass. 

Enough was enough, though, and Alhaitham eventually dragged Kaveh away from the people doing their jobs.

“Who did this?” Kaveh asked. “Because I will fight them. And I will win. I have the power of Art on my side.”

Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. Alhaitham could put up with childish tantrums and ridiculous emotional breakdowns, but not this. Kaveh was far too enthusiastic when on coffee.

“No, you will definitely not be doing that.”

“As if you could stop me.”

He had a point. Alhaitham, even if the superior warrior, wouldn’t dare face a Kaveh fueled by spite, but there was more to this situation than clear on the outside. 

“You’re not doing that because it was Barbatos, and I’m assuming you’re not in the mood to die today.” He whispered it, keeping their conversation from nearby people. Declaring the intention to fight a God, whether for a joke or not, was a bad idea right now. The atmosphere was intense, like after a long thunderstorm, and that wasn’t going to change, not while a horrifying reminder of their mistakes stood right in the middle of the city. 

“Did I hear you right? Because I don’t think I did.”

“You did.”

“Because you’re telling me another nation’s Archon attacked us? Without provocation?” Kaveh squealed.

Alhaitham grabbed Kaveh’s arm harder. “Well, according to him, it wasn’t all that one-sided. Don’t talk so loud.”

“Fine, whatever, but what am I supposed to do now?” He gestured with his arms wide open. “The school is literally gone! I was using it, you know.”

“You—Kaveh.” He tried desperately to keep his emotions calm. “The school is gone for all of us . I’m sure we’ll improvise.”

He scoffed. “As if. Who is going to run it now? The sages? Azar? I doubt it.”

“Azar definitely won’t, but that’s a different matter altogether.” He didn’t feel like getting into it. “I’m sure someone will step up.”

“I’m not sure of that.”

“Yes, you mentioned that already.” 

“Well, it’s true! Supposing the sages continue ruling Sumeru, someone else is going to have to take over the Akademiya to fix this mess. Ruling Sumeru and fixing the Akademiya are each jobs that’ll take a significant amount of work each. So?” Kaveh asked, “who’s the schmuck that’s going to fix it, you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who do you think is going to get forced to fix it?”

“…I hadn’t thought about it.” Only he had. And he was positive Kaveh was leading him to the same conclusion—because he was an asshole. 

“I have some suggestions for that person, is all,” he said as if bragging. 

“Right.”

“Might as well rebuild it properly if it’s going to be done anyway.”

“I know,” Alhaitham said coldly, and he knew they were speaking of more than just buildings. 

They stood back, watching the Corps shuffle the glass shards into piles less likely to become hazards. Alhaitham didn’t have many opinions on aesthetic attraction, but those windows had been rather old and impressive, and the shards surely ignited a kind of unignorable melancholy. It was a large task to replace anything like that because a simple replacement would never be enough. Literally and metaphorically. 

Azar had failed them all—badly. If Sumeru was going to rebuild itself, it would need someone who cared to make it better than it ever was, and with no Akasha system and no Archon, it seemed a nigh impossible task. 

Soon, someone would go after Buer. Someone would try to steal from the Akademiya. Someone would try to grab Sumeru by the roots while they remained exposed. 

A different someone needed to stop any of that from happening. 

Kaveh had that punchable smirk plastered on his face. “So? What are you going to do about it?”

“What?”

“I know you, even if I wished I didn’t some days. You’re less hopeless than everyone else, so you must know there are only two options for someone like yourself, broodingly charming man that you might be. Run away, or…the second option. Which one will it be?”

Alhaitham gritted his teeth. “Second,” he hissed. He could always depend on Kaveh to rush through obvious conclusions, as if no one needed time to process. 

“Ha! Really? That’s great. You do that; have fun, and call me when you’re done.”

“Right.”

A piece of wood fell from high up, splitting as it hit the ground, and Kaveh’s face curled up in apprehension. “Maybe I undervalued safety before,” he said. “Just maybe. Potentially. Although I’m rarely wrong.”

“Hm.”

“Well, if I was you, I’d just quit your current job, like, immediately. If the Akasha is permanently down, then your archival services have suddenly become a lot more important. But if you’re not going to leave, well. Better get on that second option, I guess.” He yawned, and Alhaitham kind of wanted to smack him.

“Thanks for that input.”

If the Akasha was going to stay down, Kaveh was right; Alhaitham absolutely would not remain as scribe. Imagine fetching documents and transitioning them into accessible, physical spaces for however long it took to reach a new normal. No. 

He could be the Grand Sage.

It might be more work than he had before—even when Sumeru had been crumbling from lack of leadership—but…

He could do it. Just him. He didn’t trust a single other person to not fuck it up. 

That was the worst part and the only reason anything was going to get done in the near future: Alhaitham believed himself to be the only true candidate if things were to get better.

Facts are facts. Best get to work, then.

“I’m going to take an extended vacation, I think,” Kaveh admitted languidly. “Maybe I’ll go traveling.”

“Shut up.”

“I hear Fontaine is beautiful this time of year.”

“Kaveh.”

“Or! How about Natlan? Their weather can be oppressive, and the heat does nothing but horror to my skin, but anything would be better than being here right now considering—”

“Kaveh, shut up.”

…

Everything might as well be on fire. 

It was completely self-inflicted, but still.

There was, literally speaking, no fire in sight. But he almost expected a firestorm to conclude this unfathomably horrible operation. And it had genuinely been just two weeks since the destruction. This wasn’t going to get much better for Alhaitham anytime soon.

How had this happened. No, really. How. 

He had originally taken a cushy position in the upper echelon with the role of scribe, figuring it guaranteed his relative comfort and prosperity for decades to come. He did not think he had expected the intrusion of leadership responsibilities for the purpose of safeguarding his home against a vengeful deity and the consequences of the last leader angering said deity. 

And yet. It was mostly his own fault for standing in. Forgive him if his trust in essentially everyone else in the entire Akademiya had hit record lows. No one was going to touch the administrative side of this except Alhaitham if he could help it—no matter how busy that made him. 

He could only trust himself, and with that being the case, he could do nothing more than lament the extra tasks he had grabbed onto with both hands very much on purpose. Thank the Archons no one else had done so first—even if this was not at all optimal for his own long term patience.

After Barbatos left, he had waited a couple days, partly to let the dust settle, partly because the sages and Matra were fighting, trying to work out if they should vote or just select someone and whether the sages should be involved at all—and that’s when Alhaitham came forward and offered to take the job off their shoulders. Sure, it was a couple days of absolute mania prior, but he thought it better to jump at it after some time had passed.

The people of Sumeru took it without much question, and he had been formally inducted into the position only one week after he made a bid on the role.

No one stopped him, not a single person—at least, not openly. Some complained in the background, but no one dared accuse him straightforwardly of what he believed was a semi-tyrannical grab of power. 

Cyno had merely responded with, “of course you were going to be the next Grand Sage. You’re the one who made the promise to an almighty God. Personally, I was just waiting for you to accept your fate.”

Alhaitham had chased him out for that.

So, with Cyno supporting his grab of power, and Alhaitham’s experience with his previous position as scribe, the current conclusion seemed expected, even before Alhaitham had stepped forward.  In a certain light, it was as if the Sumeru people would’ve pushed him into it whether he took the first step or not, and that was clearly intimidating, but it didn’t matter. His mind was made up. 

The other sages complained at first, but since their leader had been carried off to who knows where and their own position had been actively attacked by Barbatos himself, Alhaitham found it easy to twist positive opinion towards someone who wasn’t a sage—towards another experienced player not quite so involved with the last guy.

(The sages ended up burdened with many community service hours and stripped of their positions, but Alhaitham had nothing to do with it. He refused to take part in their punishment because he cared far more about moving forward. Let the Matra deal with them, he figured.)

He still wondered where Azar had ended up, though. Was the man dead? Was he repenting? Was he in Mondstadt, perhaps? Or was he nowhere at all? The powers of the Archons were in the sphere of the unknowable. 

For three days Alhaitham had waited for Barbatos to return—to see if he would, really—and after nothing, he made the executive decision to expect no further interaction. He took up the Grand Sage’s office, then. He could have done so earlier, but he figured there’d be less resistance when it seemed clear Azar was gone for good. 

So, now Sumeru had no Archon, a leader with no leadership experience, a partially destroyed capital, and their most technologically innovative system was gone. Perfect.

They did have books, and they had people. They had one of the best and busiest ports in Teyvat, and they had specialities worth gold. He could work with it.

Any officials reported straight to him now, and so did anyone who wanted to see Sumeru return to glory. That idea was motivation enough for most, even if they hated Alhaitham’s guts. He had seen scowls and murderous gazes, but what were they supposed to do? Challenge him? It wouldn’t happen. He was the man who had stood up to Barbatos when the Archon had come to attack them; no one would dare do a goddamn thing. 

So, Alhaitham got to work for real, this time, with proper authority at his back. 

The requirements on the ports were relaxed, and within the week, Alhaitham had received physical proof that Mondstadt was open to trade with Sumeru once again. He organized a system reporting on the interaction between the nations just in case.

The students were moved to open-air classrooms at various places in and outside the city, which mostly everyone hated, but there wasn’t much room to do anything else. He gave the job of running normal classes to someone else and decided to turn his room into a home office. No one stopped him.

The Matra maintained public safety, and Alhaitham trusted them to do so appropriately because he didn’t have the time or energy to attempt micromanaging that particular sect of autonomy. 

Everything was…not great, but getting better, with a couple exceptions. 

…

What was Alhaitham supposed to do about this, exactly? He wasn’t in Darshan Amurta and had done very little research into this particular topic. 

Eleazar was never a subject of his studies, and he generally avoided it as a matter of principle and technical specialty. 

Zakariya, a doctor at Bimarstan, had requested an audience with Alhaitham a while ago, and it had finally arrived.

Alhaitham regretted how long it had taken to finally make it to Bimarstan, but better late than never, and he was busy enough to justify the delay. Not anyone could casually schedule a meeting with him anymore. (It was an unfortunate consequence of his new position.)

It was supposed to be an easy meeting. Alhaitham had figured it would be a simple check from Bimarstan that they would continue receiving money from the Akademiya for their healthcare system, and Alhaitham would agree, blah blah blah it’d be over and done within an hour. 

For some reason, that’s not what happened. So, now he sat in Bimarstan with a man performing a speech about all that was—and had been—going wrong for so very long. 

“—and it’s getting worse. I worry that since Sumeru is in turmoil, this will be neglected as an important aspect of the people’s comfort. I have coworkers in other hospitals that have all been seeing an uprise in Eleazar, and I truly believe curing this plague should be the utmost priority for the Akademiya while our resources remain limited. And I know that it’s not a clear, helpful use of Mora or people since medical research is finicky at best, but Azar never cared to dedicate enough resources to it considering the scope and danger, and now that you’re here—um, sir? Are you listening?”

Alhaitham returned to focus and rubbed at his eyes once. “Yes. I am. Please continue.” Be patient. Don’t snap.

“Oh, right. I just…I think curing Eleazar should be at the top of our priorities even while undergoing a reconstruction effort.”

“I understand.” 

So, now it wasn’t just the Matras attempting to micromanage Alhaitham’s priorities but also random civilians with just a slice of power in their respective random businesses. Even if it was as bad as Zakariya was explaining, Alhaitham didn’t think he could justify throwing what little resources they had at a random, mystery illness. Before, he probably would’ve thought it justifiable, but now? Not so much. 

There was a random Fatui diplomat involved in the research, and Alhaitham could only hope that the man wouldn’t pull back on personal investment. 

“Will you increase our funding, then?”

“I will look into it.” Alhaitham moved to escape from this conversation, but the doctor held up a hand and leaned forward.

“Wait! There’s one other…thing.”

Alhaitham narrowed his eyes. “Well? I’m very busy, you know.”

“Yes, yes. There’s this rumor going around—and it’s not like I believe it or anything—but I worry it will impede our progress.”

“And?” Here’s to hoping it wasn’t serious, but considering the man’s own fractured composure, maybe Alhaitham’s expectations were too positive. He missed the days when random rumors didn’t spell imminent doom.

“There’s new discussion going around about Buer, is all.” The man retreated into himself, as if he knew that saying such a thing was akin to treachery in a certain light.

Alhaitham’s patience immediately cracked and spilled into a big, fucking puddle. No one in Sumeru should be breathing her name, nevertheless discussing her, and if the doctor had been lying, Alhaitham would take drastic matters.

“What about her?”

“Some think that if they find her, she may be able to cure Eleazar.”

Alhaitham knew he must look disgustingly peeved. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, of course I know, but—”

“And even if it wasn’t, have they forgotten the anemo Archon coming down to enact vengeance?” Even sarcasm didn’t properly display the true idiocy of such a notion, and he was getting annoyed at a man who, logically speaking, had nothing to do with it, but he couldn’t stop. “Because if I recall correctly, it wasn’t that long ago,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“It wasn’t.” Zakariya was as frazzled as always. “I just figured you may be able to fix it, since it may have a negative impact on our research,” he said in a rushed fashion, tripping over his words.

“I’ll look into it.”

The last thing he needed were idiots to corral. If only everyone in Sumeru could stop being stupid for a mere week, maybe he’d get something done. Maybe buildings would stay standing. 

He got out of there as swiftly as possible as it was.

Yet, not even five minutes had passed when he noticed the extra shadow at his heels. 

Coming off of one disastrous conversation and headed straight into the next, it seemed. No one bothered him this much when he was the scribe. Granted, he didn’t have the kind of power he did now back then, but that fact made him rather jealous of what calmness he used to enjoy on a regular basis. In fact, everything about how he lived his life had been simpler before; the title he now held came stamped with a certain amount of risk. 

He had been stalked before, but only now did he have a certain apprehension to engaging with unknown variables. Being Grand Sage attracted assassins, he imagined. 

He stopped walking, sliding next to a nearby bench, and sure enough, the stalker showed herself. She was wrapped in dark cloth, and with the two wicked swords at her side, she could be nothing other than a mercenary.

Alhaitham had a momentary thought about whether he should prepare for an attack, but she merely came to stand in front of him, smiling. They weren’t going to fight then. Sure. Why not. 

“Whatever you hope to accomplish, I do hope you’re prepared to deal with the consequences,” he said languidly, just in case.

The woman immediately started laughing and threw her hands up, smiling slyly. “I wanted to talk with the new Grand Sage! What’s wrong with that?”

She was clearly an older woman, and her brown hair was pulled into a braid, simple and effective. Her hands were covered in scars, and he doubted those weapons at her sides were for show. A dangerous woman had been following him around as he ran errands. Perhaps he should’ve accepted that offer for a bodyguard, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure which was more of a hassle—bodyguard or mercenary.

“Well, we have now talked,” he said. “I don’t have time to entertain you.” His fingers shifted down, brushing against his vision, and her eyes tracked the motion.

“Oooo scary . But please, you’re practically a child. It’s hilarious, how you think that’ll work on me.” She put her hands on her hips, a dangerous glint in her look. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He still had the upper hand. She didn’t have a vision, and he was fairly certain that should any of the Corps be nearby, they’d pick their Grand Sage over a mercenary woman.

“Of course not. I came to you, after all. Apologies for the methodology; there wasn’t an easier way to go about this. Thanks for being receptive and not trying to fight me on sight.” 

As if he’d be so infantile as to attempt guessing her intentions. 

She reached into a pocket and withdrew a piece of paper—a very folded piece of paper. She took her time unfolding it, as if should she tear it, the world would end. When it was returned to a normal, smoothed out sheet of paper, she looked up at him. 

“And that is?” He prompted.

“A contract.”

“Ah. Then I don’t care.” 

“You will,” she said, smirking. “Let me read part of it to you.” She cleared her throat in mock presentation. He was so done with listening to people perform soliloquies at him. “My mercenary band—I’ve omitted the exact name—is hereby contracted to track down and return a criminal to the sages of the Akademiya. I’m skipping a bit more—appearance is of a female child standing at 4’6” with long white hair and green eyes. Return her alive.” She glanced up.

Well, wasn’t that a cute little mystery. “I haven’t heard of this girl, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Oh no, of course not. I wouldn’t expect you to have heard of any of this. Azar contracted my mercenary band to go to Mondstadt to find her, after all. This wouldn’t have gotten around Sumeru. Yet.”

There was a rather horrifying name slithering in those words. “…Azar?” What had he done? Even while who knows where, Azar remained a thorn in his side.

She waved it like a little flag. “Yes, Grand Sage Azar. He made the contract.”

And everything came crashing down. Alhaitham cared very little for Azar’s activities, and although curious, he would, without fault, make this woman aware that he was not of the same material as that man.

“You’ve decided to come to me about this, and I can only assume you expect I will pay you should you succeed in this task, but I have no interest in holding up the contracts of my predecessor.”

“Calm down.” She refolded the contract and slipped it safely into her pocket again. “I didn’t expect that at all. I am merely hoping to help, as a citizen of Sumeru.”

“Going after one of Azar’s targets is not helpful.” Alhaitham didn’t trust any of that man’s unfinished business.

“Well, aren’t you riled up? Calm down. It’s not that complicated. There is a girl Azar wanted. She is in Mondstadt. He was willing to pay anything to get her, but didn’t succeed, so supposedly, she’s still in Mondstadt. If you don’t act on this, I presume you’ll have what’s called ‘a problem’ on your hands. Eventually.”

“How so?”

“I’m not the only one who knows about her.” 

And why should that matter? Who cares about some random girl, even if Azar was intent on catching her for whatever reason? Then again, that man never did anything without reason, even if he could be a horrid, vindictive individual, and hiring a highly capable mercenary crew to go all the way out to Mondstadt for some random girl was strange even by his standards and—it clicked. Fuck . 

There was a small girl with green eyes and Azar was willing to do anything to track her down because she—she took down the Akasha, somehow. Took it…with her? She must’ve, because she’s Buer, the Archon who ran away to Mondstadt —and then Barbatos comes to rain hell on them, and now…now what?

“Thank you for this information,” he said, keeping all torrential thoughts locked down. 

“Anytime. I’ve since called my boys off the job, but stay wary. My crew wasn’t the only one he asked to complete his fetch quest.”

It was worse than just that, too, because Azar had, apparently, released a picture perfect description of the exact person who Sumeru had been threatened to never bother ever again. 

Female. Child. 4’6”. Long white hair. Green eyes. That simple description made up her capture warrant, signed Azar from now til…forever. How many people knew so far? How many knew and were willing to track her down for fun—or because of that ridiculous rumor about her and Eleazar?

And there was so little hope to salvage such a thing, no way to delete that description from people’s minds like information from a database, and Alhaitham simply didn’t know what to do next. 

…

Too many people; too many problems.

He took the next several days slowly. He could feel time choking him sometimes, as if everything would collapse like a house of cards with the slightest push. It seemed these days that everything was primed to fall, as if designed for that singular, worthless purpose. 

He wanted something built to stand. Anything at all.

He had been managing groups like Bimarstan seeking funds, and random mercenaries sneaking up on him, and port systems, and the Corps, who remained extremely helpful and devoted even in the face of such disaster. 

Then there was the Akademiya as a university, which, despite the fact that he had left organization of classes with someone else, new issues continued arising, forcibly shoving it back into Alhaitham’s sphere of influence. 

Technically, the Akademiya as a body of students and teachers was functioning, but it had been doing so out of restaurants, taverns, and most damnably, the theatre. Alhaitham, personally, had never had an issue with the performing arts, but some professors were so unimaginably bitter about the new locale for their classes that they had literally refused to hold session. 

Although it hadn’t been the best decision in hindsight, Alhaitham had promised to replace them if they didn’t teach their damn classes—wherever such a task happened to take them. 

Some complied. Some left. 

The Akademiya’s overall stability probably favored the outcome that cut off split ends, but he felt the cracks every time he made such a large, sweeping order resulting in minute disasters.

Alhaitham couldn’t help but think that every one of those things he changed was, just like everything that came before, made to fall. The new normal hadn’t been constructed for progress, merely maintenance, and how long could that kind of mentality realistically hold up Sumeru as its bones further crumbled unceremoniously under the pressure of time? 

So much had gotten done at his command, but it was as if progress remained stagnant no matter what.  

Perhaps, he needed the help of a visionary—although it stung to admit it to himself because that’s not something he could claim to be.

Hence why Alhaitham was drinking a cup of coffee at his home in the early morning, reading over the new updates and action items he had received from the Matra the day prior. Normally, he’d be running around by now, but there was a job to be done here at home because of one simple fact.

Kaveh was also here. 

A visionary.

Alhaitham had decided now was as good a time as any to ask, especially since he didn’t know when things would reach an unfixable state. He always appreciated an excuse to stay home for just a little while longer, anyway. 

“Kaveh,” he began.

“Hm?” His roommate looked up from his own reading, disinterested in general.

“Would you have time for a new architecture project?” He said casually, sipping his coffee, hoping he wasn’t letting out how conflicted he felt about asking in the first place. It didn’t seem fair to ask his friend/acquaintance/roommate/idiot to take on a specific project. He certainly wouldn’t want Kaveh to accept or deny it simply because Alhaitham had asked. “I’d commission you for it, of course,” he added.

“You? Commission me? I’m rather busy considering all that’s happened. What’s the project?” Kaveh had instantly turned skeptical, his face all contorted and scrunched. He might’ve been unsure simply because of who was offering, and to be fair, Alhaitham didn’t know a thing about architecture. The reaction was justified.

“Rebuilding the Akademiya.”

Kaveh coughed on his drink. “You can’t—you can’t just ask that!” He hissed, putting his mug on the table.

Alhaitham continued skimming his documents, Kaveh casually flailing in the background. “Why not?” He asked.

“That’s too—too casual! I mean, this is the Akademiya we’re talking about, right? The big, fancy, governing-institution Akademiya?”

Alhaitham looked up from his papers. “What other Akademiya would I be talking about?” 

“Don’t get snide on me. Let me just…I need to regain my composure.” Kaveh brushed back his hair and started pacing around the room.

Well, that wasn’t a productive use of either of their time. “I still need an answer,” he said abruptly.

“Oh for Archon’s sake—give me a day!”Kaveh tripped on an invisible obstacle. “You were supposed to ask me way later than this,” he muttered. “What did you expect? Huh? You’d offer me a wonderful, prestigious, incredible job and I’d just, what? Accept immediately? I’m a busy man, you know. I have many clients who would give anything to hire me because I’m that good. You wait for me .”

Alhaitham sighed, bringing his hand to his temple. “So you’re interested then.”

“It’d be a crime not to be! You have no sense at all of what these things mean, you—you book-obsessed moron.” 

He looked awfully pleased with himself. 

“That’s not a very clever insult, which indicates you’re still thinking about my request. I’ll assume that means you’ll take the job.”

Kaveh went red. “No— no , Alhaitham! This isn’t fair! You can’t just— wait, I didn’t mean it like that —yes, of course I’ll take the damn job, but that’s not the point! I don’t have a plan yet!” 

“That’s fine. I’ll be back later. We can discuss the details then.” 

When he had a free moment in the afternoon, Alhaitham could iron out the kinks of this particular partnership. At least he wouldn’t need to look over Kaveh’s shoulder the whole time. Kaveh didn’t require supervision, no matter how infantile he acted.

A paragraph in the document he was reading caught his eye—apparently some students were intending to start their own club, dedicated to uncovering the corruption in the Akademiya, which…whatever. Alhaitham didn’t usually care, but that probably wasn’t a thing he should let slide right now, not while he had an interest in moving forward rather than staring backward. He downed the rest of his coffee. 

Time for work.

“This isn’t proper procedure, though!” Kaveh continued. “You don’t get to hire me, the best architect in Sumeru—nay, Teyvat —without providing a contract, and the complete request, and style indication, and a plot of land, and materials, and—”

Alhaitham left while Kaveh was mid…whatever he was going on about. Even if it took dealing with one of the most insufferable men to walk Teyvat, the new Akademiya building would be on par with the old one, if not better, which was frankly necessary to maintain what little dignity the Akademiya currently clung to. 

Alhaitham wasn’t sure it was worth it. 

(Kaveh decided not to go on that vacation he had suggested, and Alhaitham refused to claim responsibility for it.)

…

When Alhaitham returned, Kaveh immediately declared that they’d be running “architecture reconnaissance.” 

So, he began tailing Kaveh while the architect wandered all over Sumeru City on his little errands. 

He hated to admit that he was bested by stress, but with people intending to chase after Buer and a literal physical description of her out in the wild, he had decided to take a step back. He wasn’t any use to anyone if he was simply waiting for problems to show up; surely it was better for him to engage in any way that he could with the projects that mattered now. He thought reconstruction of the Akademiya counted. (Or maybe he was just tricking himself. Who knows.)

There had been a blanket statement made to the Sumeru people not to go find Buer no matter what but…well. There were too many people in Sumeru, and they were a people known for curiosity. 

Alhaitham wasn’t naive; if someone wanted to find Buer, there wasn’t a damn thing he could realistically do about it. 

So, he took to following Kaveh around instead, under the pretense of working towards a new and better Akademiya. Was it cowardly? Maybe. Did he care? 

…No.

Besides, at least this took very little effort. He merely stood there for most of it.

Kaveh had been squabbling with a merchant in the Bazaar about what the prices for large quantities of wood went for these days, and Alhaitham didn’t actually understand what the purpose of this was. Supposedly, they were performing research, but he wasn’t sure why random merchants qualified as reliable informants about such things. 

Afshin, self-proclaimed traveling merchant, had been debating wood prices with Kaveh for a good ten minutes now, and that was long enough for Alhaitham to begin doubting that either of them knew what they were talking about. No matter what a genius Kaveh may be, he remained a bit terrible at reading people.

“Maple wood cannot be that expensive,” Kaveh was saying.  “It’s daylight robbery.”

Afshin shook his head. “Not really. It’s a very fine wood for building, and the transportation cost from Inazuma is horribly steep.”

“Oh, come on! As if the people in Inazuma even use that much of it.”

Alhaitham cut in, “why are we considering wood in Inazuma? It seems a contradictory thing to do considering how many trees surround us at this very moment.”

Kaveh glared at him. “Trees are not created equal.”

“But your friend is slightly correct,” Afshin said. “Adhigama is a very common wood for buildings in Sumeru. It’s easy to transport and has a lovely color, after all. It would be a fine pick depending on the project.”

“Yes, yes I know all about that. I merely figured I could look into other alternatives considering the grandeur of the project in question.” Kaveh looked very pointedly at Alhaitham.

They had yet to inform anyone that Alhaitham had gotten Kaveh to agree to rebuilding the Akademiya, so they were also withholding the details about what quantity of materials they needed and why. It wasn’t as if anyone would object to having the Light of Shahrewar himself on the task, but regardless, it seemed smarter to keep it silent for now. Kaveh had insisted that scouting out the market was necessary, even if they couldn’t go into the true details of why they needed what they did, but Alhaitham still didn’t know what they were supposed to be accomplishing here. He genuinely hoped Kaveh was getting something out of all this. 

“Be careful buying anything in bulk right now, though,” Afshin mentioned, gesturing they get closer. “My friend doesn’t believe me, but I swear it on the dendro Archon herself, Mora has been turning to stone overnight.”

Alhaitham could feel his mind go blank. Their casual, worthless little trip had turned weird. “…what?”

“I’m serious! No one believes me, but—wait a sec,” he dug below his stall and pulled out a stone that was the same size and carved exactly like a piece of Mora. “Look at it! Look! I didn’t have a stone like this before in my bag, and now I do, and I’m down a piece of Mora, so the only conclusion is that it literally turned to stone.”

Alhaitham unceremoniously snatched it from the man, turning the small rock to view it from every angle. The triquetra was, frankly, flawless on both sides, lines curved into neat arcs and just the right distance from each other. He didn’t know of any stone carvers who could get such a small piece so perfect who would also bother giving it away for free, and the fact that it looked like Mora didn’t help his nerves in the slightest. Mora wasn’t any common trinket; it was money . It felt vaguely illegal, and he wanted to consult some kind of rulebook on artistic representation. 

Then again, what artist would bother with something like this and then do nothing but deposit it into a clueless merchant’s bag? Afshin was either lying, or there was one other possibility, too.

Mora actually had begun spontaneously turning to stone. Although ridiculous, it almost made more sense in a strange twisted way—at least that provided an explanation for how it had made its way into Afshin’s bag without him noticing. What a ridiculous joke . One man claiming it had been spontaneous meant nothing, yet…it left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wouldn’t underestimate the value of good intuition.

“I’m keeping this,” he announced with no room for haggling.

Afshin seemed a bit dejected at that, but he didn’t say anything. Perks of being Grand Sage.

Alhaitham began leaving the Bazaar, still staring at the little stone coin—Kaveh tripping to catch up behind him.

“Hey! We were talking wood! You ruined my very important information gathering session.”

“This is more important,” Alhaitham countered with complete sincerity. Wood could wait. He pocketed the stone and headed straight for the docks.

“You agreed to let me decide where we went today, though.” 

“The project doesn’t matter if…if I’m right about this. It might be important.”

Kaveh was hot on his heels, yelling as he worked to keep up. “It’s one stone coin!”

“It’s a perfect replica.”

“So what?” Kaveh was jostling people as he failed to move through the crowd quite so efficiently as his partner. “Some people are stone carvers. Some of them make Mora, I guess. That’s not odd.”

“Maybe not on its own, but Kaveh, why would anyone carve a stone piece of Mora only to hide it in a merchant’s stash?”

“It could be an attempt at a counterfeit.”

Alhaitham literally paused to raise an eyebrow at Kaveh. “It’s stone. Mora is gold. They’re different weights, too. It’s literally a worse counterfeit—and harder to make—than others I’ve seen before.”

“Then it’s a prank,” he snapped. “Can’t we get back to what’s actually important?”

Alhaitham’s patience, yet again, was running thin. He needed to figure out a good way to manage it because as it were, he never got a single moment to breathe. It was going to be too much one of these days.

“I don’t think it’s a prank.”

“That’s not even a good defense. I bet it’s a prank, and you’re freaking out over nothing, and by the end we will have wasted our entire day chasing down a prankster with a stupid sense of humor.” 

Alhaitham stopped as he reached the docks, scanning the crowd, and locking his sight onto the man he knew would be here.

“You can either come with me and stay quiet, or stay here. I’m doing this.”

Without checking what Kaveh had decided to do with his ultimatum, Alhaitham walked purposefully up to Shahbandar, a tax officier stationed here. The two of them didn’t really converse all that much—there were better middle-men to order around for that—but Alhaitham didn’t have the time to play a game of information delivery with a bunch of idiots. 

Alhaitham stood right in front of the man and asked with no introduction whatsoever, “Have any of these shown up in your recent tax collections?” He held up the stone coin.

Shahbandar had been in the middle of talking to some woman, and when suddenly addressed, he looked around, as if the question had been intended for someone else. When he realized that it really was directed at him, he fumbled a bit, clearly confused.

“I’ll ask again,” Alhaitham said. “This. Have you seen anything like it. Yes or no.” The coin looked stale in the light.

Kaveh kept asking what all this insanity was about, and he was purposefully ignored. 

“Uhm—uh, yes?” Shahbandar replied, taking a closer look, squinting his eyes. “It’s…a stone Mora?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen one like it,” he said. “Although, Grand Sage, sir, what is this about, exactly?”

“Give me data and proof. How many? From who? On what date?”

Alhaitham was clearly overwhelming the poor man, but he didn’t much care. This had immediately turned into an issue of potential national reach. And he had a feeling he knew what was causing it, too, even though he’d rather eat nails than admit it to himself or anyone else. 

“We didn’t exactly keep all of them, there were so many—”

“What did you just say?” Alhaitham swore he was about to crack the poor stone in his grip. “You came across many of these, yet this information never made its way to me. I should’ve known the day that this began.”

Shahbandar tensed and went on the defensive. “With all due respect, it’s just a ridiculous prank.”

“That’s what I said!” Yelled an indignant voice in the background.

“Give me data. Now.”

Shahbandar frowned, clearly irritated at the demand. He complied, though. “We began noticing them in port taxes about three days ago. The merchants claim that they didn’t plant the stone coins, yet the amount paid is always missing exactly how much the stone coin would’ve covered, so it’s clearly an attempt to skimp on taxes.”

Every word that came out of his mouth made it worse, yet the worst part is that he seemed ignorant of it.

Shahbandar continued, “They have been retrieved from Sumeru boats, but not from any coming from other nations—I theorize the man behind this must be based in Sumeru—and we’ve retrieved, oh I don’t know, maybe two hundred of them?”

Alhaitham’s blood ran cold. Two hundred? In three days? And that was just what the tax collectors had run across at the docks. 

“You will retrieve the exact number and dates for every event related to these,” he held it up, slightly cracked, “and send it straight to my desk by the end of the day.”

“You want…a report on stone coins?”

Alhaitham didn’t deign to respond.

Why couldn’t they see what was right in front of them? It’s as if they conceived the world as centered on Sumeru, and everything outside was merely made of smoke and mirrors. They should’ve expected, if Barbatos had been telling the truth, that there were others who Azar had inadvertently angered, too. 

Morax was supposedly dead, yet here was his namesake, Mora itself, seemingly turning to stone by no rhyme or reason in the hands of Sumerian people alone. 

Was there any way to know how to stop it? How long it would last? How much money would be turned useless by the end?

As he found himself faced with yet another impossible problem, he could merely be thankful that someone else wasn’t in this position. Thank Archons it was him, and that thought stung, badly. He hated what it had come to and what he had accepted under the terms of best-case-scenario in the wake of total catastrophe. He still didn’t know if he had chosen correctly, and he never would. 

In the face of this new disaster, he could either attempt to run damage control or seek the source, and both of those sounded like terrible ideas. 

He still had no clue who the culprit could be. Morax was supposedly dead, but this had his mark all over it. It could be whoever had ascended to Archonhood after him. Maybe the adepti were capable of this kind of thing? He just didn’t know. But Morax had always been allied with Barbatos, hence the suspicious nature of them. 

Alhaitham immediately sent out notices to every department of the Akademiya and administrative offices. Everyone would know by the end of the day that the Mora might be turning to stone, and Alhaitham put an order in place that no one should attempt to trade with the stone coins. He should’ve allowed reimbursement of them, but he simply didn’t know how much he would be committing should he say such a thing. 

So he picked the path of cowardice instead. 

It felt like swallowing tar. As the stone coins continued rolling in, he wondered which was worse, the money drain from the random people or the fear.

…

It became clear within the subsequent outbreak of stone coin mania that this wasn’t actually a tactic meant to bleed them dry. 

It was designed for panic, and it worked because there was no way to stop it.

One day, only a hundred coins would get reported. The next day, a thousand. It wasn't a significant amount, really, but who was to say what the future might bring? From his position on top, it seemed clear to Alhaitham that this wasn’t going to destroy anyone economically, since only one or two coins would change for any single person over the span of several days. 

It wasn’t catastrophic, merely horrifying. 

The citizens of Sumeru had adopted the habit of checking all of their money every morning for fear of seeing a dull chunk in the shining gold. Alhaitham followed this pattern too, and even he had felt a surge of adrenaline upon realizing that one of his Mora had changed one morning, and it was a stupid thing to scare him, but control on that level made him feel small and unsteady, like his future lay in someone else’s hands. 

(They could all change one day, after all.)

Some people had begun spending all the Mora they had. Others were hoarding it. No matter what, there was a certain anxiety every time money changed hands. 

The problem wasn’t isolated to Sumeru City, either. Port Ormos was having a hell of a time dealing with it, and shamefully, Alhaitham was glad he didn’t have the time to visit and try sorting it out. Powerlessness had never felt so good. 

Even worse in a moral sense, this particular trend was benefitting his priorities greatly. 

Public opinion had slingshot from an abundance of overeager curiosity in the goings on of the Akademiya and Buer into wary superstition of both. In a way, this little ploy had freed Alhaitham from keeping the people in line since they were too scared to try chasing their long-lost Archon anymore. 

Divine punishment, people said. From a dead Archon, they insisted. Morax’s associates were carrying out his wishes from the grave.

Of course, in the middle of all this, while Alhaitham still hadn’t proposed a single good plan to stop it—when he had reached a sort of thankful equilibrium with the situation—the source found him.

…

An envelope, gilded with amber edging, had shown up at his door. It was…divine, had to be.

Something about it had caught his eye, something incorporeal, like a beacon of sunlight cutting through a canopy, and when he opened it, all the letter said was a location and time. However, alongside the letter, a stone piece of Mora had been stashed inside, too.

It shouldn’t have been odd, but it was . No one got rid of the rocks, as an expectation supplied by hope had emerged at the very beginning, suggesting that they might still revert back to Mora, and therefore, people should hold onto as many as they could. 

Yet, his mysterious sender had sent one to him. It was a clear enough sign. 

Alhaitham had a certain feeling about it, too, like it forewarned a meeting he should, under no circumstance, miss. And, really, what did he have to lose? Sumeru was struck with so many problems he had no way to combat, and he had no qualms about spending time to see whether a divine stranger might say something he cared to hear.

He couldn’t do anything about it by himself. He might as well take a chance on the unknown.

Kaveh had claimed it sounded like an assassination attempt. Alhaitham agreed. Yet, here he was anyway, to meet a mysterious stranger.

An evening dinner at the establishment Lambad’s Tavern wasn’t what Alhaitham had imagined when he had received the envelope, but it made sense that eccentric foreigners might find charm in places he overlooked these days. 

Alhaitham, with just a quick glance at the crowd, pinpointed the sender of the letter with very little effort. He hoped to begin this quickly to minimize his opportunity to turn back. He had a feeling this needed to be done and that it wouldn’t be pleasant. 

A well dressed stranger in brown and amber Liyuean garb sat at a table near the back, where less people gathered, and Alhaitham joined him. There was no doubt at all that this gentleman, pristine to an uncanny degree, was his customer for the evening. He matched his envelope.

“My name is Alhaitham,” he began. “I am the current Grand Sage of Sumeru, and I believe you wanted to meet with me.” 

The title felt wrong when given to someone like this stranger. If the most recent issue had made anything clear, it was that he barely deserved it. Turns out he was just as useless as anyone else, and under the gaze of this man, all was stripped bare.

“I am Zhongli. It’s good that you could make it.” He took a sip from his cup.

Alhaitham settled down and prepared for a long discussion. “You’re not from Sumeru, it seems.”

“I am not. I hail from Liyue.”

“You’re awfully far from home.” Alhaitham didn’t dare suggest something untoward, but he didn’t care to act gentle around a man who was so clearly inhuman. Zhongli might as well have been glowing. He couldn’t have been Morax, but he must, at the very least, be a member of the deceased Archon’s allies. 

“I’m sightseeing.”

“There’s not much to see, I’m afraid. Our most distinguished place of interest is being rebuilt.” Secrecy meant nothing to someone like this. Alhaitham might as well suggest progress over weakness. The stilted nature of this conversation was starting to grate on him, though. 

“I did hear of its destruction,” Zhongli mused.

“We are recovering.” No weakness. No hesitation. 

“I don’t doubt it.” He let the conversation pause, as if he had nothing more to say. 

Alhaitham didn’t care to wait for this man to dictate the terms of this meeting on neutral ground. Clearly, with divinity radiating off of him like that, he had been at least partially responsible for the stone coin fiasco. Alhaitham wasn’t sure if he should thank or yell at Zhongli, but no matter what, there was one detail he needed to know. 

“How long will our coins continue turning to stone?”

The man had the gall to look surprised, as if Alhaitham couldn’t solve a simple mystery when the perpetrator had presented himself with a proper meeting and everything. “Hm. A difficult question.”

Alhaitham tensed, but said nothing.

“I suppose it will die down in, perhaps, a couple weeks,” Zhongli continued. “After that? It may return, like a seasonal infection, condemning just a couple coins from your people for many years to come. Do not worry; it shouldn’t have any serious impact on Sumeru’s economic prosperity.”

What a terrifying man—and he surely knew it. He had practically admitted to calculating and intending to carry out a plan to stoke fear in the Sumeru people for years to come with zero remorse. A villain, he seemed.

“What purpose does this plan serve? Surely you gain nothing from whittling away at Sumeru’s Mora in such negligible amounts.”

Zhongli chuckled, as if they were discussing a silly joke. “It is merely a harmless distraction. The Sumeru people have become far too preoccupied with a friend of mine, and I wished to halt this behavior immediately. I believe it has worked.”

So, this man definitely knew Buer, and he was doing it for her—he must be. It hurt Alhaitham’s pride a bit to note that this man had been far more successful in what Alhaitham had literally considered impossible just a couple weeks ago. Sumeru was no longer chasing after Buer—but only because it was internally collapsing even worse than before. Something irked him about Zhongli’s answer, too, as if he was insinuating that his actions hadn’t been the catalyst for intense fear across the nation. Did Zhongli simply not care?

“I believe your definition of harmless may be misused.”

“I assure you it is not. I am capable of much, much worse.”

Shit. Don’t antagonize him. You knew that would be a bad idea. Focus

“But you don't intend to engage in hostile behavior with Sumeru?” Alhaitham remained tense, desperately hoping for the better answer to that particular quandary. 

“I made a promise to someone very dear that I would not hurt your people. I intend to uphold it.”

Alhaitham bristled. Was that really the only reason? That didn’t sound as secure as he’d hoped. Had they really escaped this man’s wrath because of some casual promise? He didn’t like that one bit. 

“Is that so.”

“Absolutely. You all remain physically well, as I intended.” His stare burned with the glow of a shooting star. “But I doubt any tactic less harsh would’ve conveyed the message properly.”

Oh, they were finally going to discuss what mattered. Don’t slip. “The message being?” His heart sped up, and he kept calm on the outside through sheer, indomitable will alone.

“Do not go after Buer,” the man said, words simple and pressured. “Barbatos is not the only one who is dedicated to guaranteeing her eternal freedom.”

The air grew heavy, weighing down Alhaitham’s bones and lungs, anchoring him into this small slice of physical reality. In a flush of surprise, he realized he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and he felt nothing but an all-encompassing, oppressive weight in every nerve. The lights seemed to dim around him, and even dust settled on him like little lead weights. The second the world eased up from its suffocating embrace, the facts were all that remained. 

Ah.

Zhongli's eyes glowed bright amber.

Alhaitham had miscalculated. 

This wasn’t a Morax imposter or a Morax associate. It was Morax, and apparently, he wasn’t dead. 

Azar, I hope you know just how badly you fucked up because this has officially crossed the line from absurd into implausible. And I hate it. 

He hadn’t prepared for a meeting with Morax himself, and Alhaitham didn’t think there was a single thing he could ask or demand anymore. Sumeru had no Archon. Zhongli could flatten them in under a day if he desired to do so. If a promise to an unnamed friend was all that kept Sumeru standing, Alhaitham would simply have to accept that and move on. 

“I do hope my little trick is enough to get the message delivered,” Zhongli said, delicately placing a single piece of stone Mora on the table. “Not just to you, but to all of Sumeru.”

Alhaitham’s fists clenched under the table. 

What a time to be Grand Sage. 

He was at the mercy of someone greater, had been since before and after Azar, and only now did he understand what that truly entailed. 

He lowered his head, and replied coldly.

“Consider the message received.”

Chapter 5: Wishing You All The World: Part 1

Notes:

This chapter got too long………again.

The work is completely written though, and I’ll just post the rest tomorrow when I get a chance.

(55k was too much to post at once, even for me 🙃)

Rosaria invaded the Knights of Favonius’ weekly meeting, the very important meeting which involved all the key members currently present in the city, the one which should not be that easy to infiltrate. 

Kaeya wasn’t sure whether he should be surprised or irritated at her sudden interest in barging into his life in the most inconvenient ways at the most random times. He had shit to do and important issues to think about, and what a grandiose distraction she was on even the best occasions. Even her signature ruthless apathy was distracting. 

And even worse, he could tell this would not be one of those times where she cared less than more. Considering that bitter frown, she definitely wasn’t apathetic about whatever issue she had decided deserved the highest level of Mondstadt’s attention.

When she had entered, Jean had halted her speech mid-word and welcomed her in with a questioning tone, as if Rosaria’s words meant more than her own. Rosaria had been scathing in her irritation with them, denouncing them as unaware of anything in their goddam city—Kaeya spaced out in the meanwhile—and once she had their attention for real, she started elaborating on what she was actually here for.

“There is an issue of national importance regarding our Archon,” she said.

Kaeya resigned himself to disregarding her as completely as possible after that. The little Archon pair had left days ago, and he had been remarkably successful in purging them from his mind since then. What he did not need was for them to reinvade his focus. Again.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Did you really crash our meeting for this? Seriously?” They had bigger things to deal with.

“Is that how you see it? Clearly, you’re even less astute than I thought. Sorry I overestimated you. Shall I be more demeaning in the future?”

“Let’s all calm down,” Jean said. “Please, Rosaria, if you think there is a problem, we will listen.”

Kaeya was this close to pulling a weapon. “Come on!” He exclaimed. “This woman interrupted our meeting. Can’t we get back on task?” 

“No.” Rosaria slammed her hand on the table. “I’m not letting this stand any longer while you all sit comfortably in your little Knights building.”

She was so out of line, it was comical; and there wasn’t even an issue to begin with! 

“He left for Sumeru,” Kaeya said. “You were there. Most of us were there. There is nothing more to say.”

Rosaria, of course, couldn’t let it lie. “But he’ll be back, and you better have your shit figured out before then,” she said, in that casual tone she wore like a second skin when frustrated. Her words didn’t sound intimidating, just true, and Kaeya wished that didn’t irritate him so much. He felt a little pathetic about it and pulled himself taller, just a bit.

“I think you’re over-exaggerating this,” he said, stealing the opportunity to engage with this nonsense.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Kaeya. You avoided Venti until I forced a confrontation forward. Eula is the same; I haven’t seen her in the same room as Venti once since the revelation,” everyone kept quiet, and Eula pressed her lips together at the accusation, but Rosaria wasn’t done yet, “and Lisa looks at him like a research project. The only one around here who makes him feel welcome and normal is Jean, and she’s the busiest! Are you all that pathetic? Really?”

Jean smiled sheepishly, but didn’t refute Rosaria’s claim.

Oh, wow. Was Jean disappointed in them, too? If it was just Rosaria, he could manage ignoring it, but Jean wore disappointment in silence, and he had only ever seen her to be so quiet on standout occasions of significant magnitude and dire consequences. So…that must mean what Rosaria said was at least partially true. Damn it. 

He didn’t need to know that. 

Kaeya would’ve happily gone on his way without knowing, and it would’ve been fine, but of course, Rosaria had to meddle. That wasn’t something she normally did! This shouldn’t be happening. 

“You need to get your shit together,” she said again, glaring very pointedly at him specifically, and he felt the urge to refute her in some way, even if that spelled imminent doom for himself; Rosaria didn’t walk into losing battles, after all, but he just didn’t care. 

“Get off my back, Rosaria. I made a peace offering, gave him wine before he left and everything.”

That was, evidently, the completely wrong thing to say.

Rosaria’s frown turned ten times darker, sharper and uneven, and she pointed a finger at him, like she was scolding a child. “Don’t you dare say one more damn word,” she demanded coldly. She pried her eyes off of him, as if his very image had become something grotesquely curious. 

Kaeya had never before been happier to be in a room full of potential witnesses…

A voice from the back piped up in the ensuing tension, “I don’t think I’m related to this problem.” 

Albedo stood off to the side with his hand raised. He had been present, obviously, as a key member of the Knights, but even his naturally blank face had turned subtly uncomfortable in the wake of this particular fight. Had he known Rosaria was going to crash it, he probably wouldn’t have come, regardless of whether it got him in trouble or not.

Honestly, Kaeya had completely forgotten the alchemist was even here.

Rosaria, too, given how she sighed deeply. “Yes, I know you didn’t do anything, Albedo. You and Jean are the only ones who are innocent regarding this particular…issue. ”

“Just making sure.” He backed down, and Kaeya would’ve laughed if the she-demon hadn’t immediately pinned her eyes on him again.

“What do you want with me, Rosaria?” He asked, exasperated. He didn’t want to be an anger-magnet today. He wasn’t in the mood, frankly.

“You really want to know?” She asked. “Be perceptive. Be sympathetic, if you can manage it.”

Ouch. A heartless woman, she was.

“That’s all I wanted,” she said. “Good luck because if you lot fail, I guarantee our Archon will go mysteriously missing—again—and then you’ll attract the entire nation’s ire rather than just mine. And let’s be honest. In the grand scheme of things, my opinion doesn’t matter. But I don’t think anyone wants an angry Barbara on their tail, so consider that when you’re debating whether to see sense or not.”

If Kaeya had been drinking something, he would’ve spit it out. Angry Rosaria was a common sight—threatening Rosaria too—but self-deprecating Rosaria? That wasn’t a normal attitude for her. Even when she deescalated her value, she did so with the understanding that she mattered in her own special way. It’s one of the reasons he liked her so much. No one went around telling her she was useless without losing a tooth or two.

Fine, then. He’d never admit it to her, but…fine. 

He’d make the damn bard feel welcome and happy and whatever the fuck else Rosaria wanted. He still didn’t believe that order deserved what was essentially an invasive intervention involving the entire main administrative powers of the Favonius Knights, but he supposed it was their God she was discussing. But it was also Venti for fucks sake. 

The bard was hearty—he slept outside, by himself, all the time.

Although, maybe he shouldn’t?

And that was an uncomfortable thought. Of all people, Venti never struck him as the kind that needed help, but then again, if he never asked, how were they to tell?

Ughhh he could tell this would weigh on him for a while, now. Damn Rosaria for telling him anything. Other people’s demons weren’t his to peruse or scare away. 

But merely one person had lent him a hand, once, a long time ago, and it had been more than enough, more than he deserved, and he understood the value of a single friend and—just—damn it. 

He’d do something about it.

When Venti came back. 

And after Rosaria went away…

___________________

The further they got from Mondstadt, the calmer Venti felt. He almost expected Rosaria to be chasing him or something, even though she was quite literally never that motivated to do anything on that scale, but he couldn’t help it. 

Nahida noticed. (He needed more practice in the art of subtlety.)  

“Did you forget something?” she asked as they left Mondstadt lands for good. It’s not like Mondstadt encompassed a very large span of ground, but there was still a sense of melancholy in leaving it behind. 

“Nope! I’ve got everything I need.” He patted his bag and casually glanced back again, catching the wind in his eyes.

“Oh.” Her face softened. “Do you miss them?” She asked, hands clasped behind her back. 

He flinched, catching her gaze like a rogue dandelion seed. “Yeah. I do.” He was more afraid, though, of what would happen if he invaded their space again. It would be such an inconsiderate thing to do, and he almost wished the wind itself might block him from that sacred place of his own creation. 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

 “Don’t be! It’s been forever since I’ve gone traveling, and even longer since I’ve been to Sumeru. It’ll be fun, I’m sure.” Anything would be better than staying in Mondstadt, even if it made him kind of unavoidably sad. He wished he could turn off sadness once in a while. 

It wasn’t Rosaria’s fault—forcing him to return or face the penalty of her design—but he wished he could say it was. No, it was his fault. 

He shouldn’t have made them care about him while disguised. That was his mistake and no one else’s.

What a cruel thing to do. 

If anything, he shouldn’t have made them love him at all, whether as Venti or Barbatos. Perhaps this mistake tracked far back into when he originally founded the nation to begin with. 

Because even if he took up a new form, how could he talk to any of his friends ever again? How could he honor the boy who had made it all possible? While his two selves remained fused, there'd be no way to avoid that which he didn't want from them. Better to stay away forever, he supposed. But forever would actually mean forever if that’s what he chose. Rosaria would make sure of it, since she certainly wasn’t the kind to break a promise. 

Earlier, Nahida had asked about what his friend had needed by the gate—why they both looked so severe after their little discussion. She had originally assumed he and Rosaria were just saying goodbye. She seemed to have decided that was wrong, though, because she had become worried about him, and he didn’t have the heart to explain it. 

Ugh. No more thinking. He was on an adventure! That should take precedence, always. 

He could speed up this process a lot, if he wanted. He could get them there in, what? A week? Definitely less, actually. A lot less. He wasn’t particularly good at estimating these things, though. Zhongli must be, oh, halfway there, at least. Zhongli cared more about efficiency, especially after that little scuffle in Mondstadt, and dragons were…fast. So were sprites, but that’s beside the point because Venti’s true form was like, a hundred times smaller, and there was no point even trying to compare the two and—oh whatever. Not like it mattered. 

“We’ll stop in Liyue,” Venti announced, “And from that point on, it’s nothing but open road and two besties on a life-changing field trip!” 

Nahida had asked to take it slow, travel like morals and merely arrive at Sumeru City—which was apparently her intended destination—whenever that happened, even if Venti could get them there incredibly quickly if he cared to. So that’s what they would do. They’d make it there eventually. He got the feeling she wasn’t quite ready to be there again so soon, and if she needed time, this was as fine a a way as any to find some. This trip would be for the journey not the destination, and he hoped Nahida would be ready when they arrived. If she wasn’t, it would be very difficult to reverse-travel. 

Theoretically, they could keep walking back and forth between two random cities, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t help because Nahida would rather face problems than walk in circles around them. That was one thing she was far better at compared to him.

He had been one meddlesome nun away from escaping for no other reason than fear, and yet here was Nahida, ready to head back to the belly of the beast because she thought herself charged with the protection of people who had never once protected her. 

What did that make him? 

He grabbed her hand and held it tight to match his untamable, fervent declaration to himself that he would see this til the end and help her find a home. 

She would get all the time in the world to find her way back, and he’d make sure she ended up happy and free.

…

For once, Venti arrived at Liyue, and no one came to meet him on the cusp of the city proper. It was strange.

They had run into Xiao briefly by Wangshu on the way, but they hadn’t stayed for more than one night. Venti…didn’t really feel like it was right to go bother his favorite demon slayer when they both had jobs to do. Besides, Venti dealt badly with distractions. Like, really badly. So, they had merely exchanged pleasantries and moved on.

It had been a funny night, though. Xiao had made a big fuss about how Zhongli had contacted him just a couple days ago and said he’d be out of Liyue for a while. Xiao then translated that into the sentiment that Venti really, really, really needed to exercise something close to restraint. He seemed unreasonably worried what might come from Venti’s visit since Zhongli wasn’t around. Xiao doubted his ability to be subtle, and that was annoying, but what was more annoying was Zhongli’s complete lack of foresight when he got all broody. 

You big blockhead. You forgot to mention to Xiao that we’d be coming by. Idiot.

Xiao had nothing to say on Nahida. He just watched with a discerning eye and kept his mouth shut. Oh, how polite he was, but Venti knew he’d be fielding silent inquiries later because Zhongli wouldn’t know to bother, and it’d be cruel to keep Xiao out of this loop forever, especially if—no, when—Nahida became a forever friend with a lifetime pass to Liyue and all its specialties normally off limits to mortals.

At the time, Venti promised that he’d be careful and all that and moved on with Nahida after, excitement still at its peak for their little adventure, regardless of Xiao’s attempts to stoke severity.

However, with Liyue now properly sprawled out before him, well, it was slightly more wrong than he’d assumed, like a song with one sour note.

It was missing that singular most important thing, and Venti felt a bit like he was stepping into a ghost town, or perhaps just a town unaware of its own missing core. It functioned, but with a mechanical heart, and its real heart was nowhere near. 

 It was…cold. 

“A shame Zhongli couldn’t show us around for your first time here, but!” He began walking forward, eyes jittering over each askew building as if they’d start disappearing. “I’ve been to Liyue plenty of times, and he would’ve wanted to talk for ages about each little historical detail. It’s a good thing I’m doing it, really.”

But it wasn’t. He kept staring at the buildings like they’d—he didn’t know anymore—run away or something. Like they’d fade and crumble and become dust within a blink. But they wouldn’t because time passed in seconds, and he was here, alive, and not even alone. He looked down to his short, constant friend. Nahida didn’t even know how important it was that she stood beside him. Because she was like him, and she remained static—blink—so the world did, too. Sometimes the world changed too quickly for the senses, but this wasn't one of those times, he told himself.

“Zhongli would’ve bored you to sleep if he was here to show you around,” Venti said emphatically, pleading his mind wander elsewhere.

“Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“I hope I get to come back someday, then. When I have more time.”

Venti was taken aback. Of course she’d get to come back! Why wouldn’t she?

“Yeah. Let’s plan on it,” he said. “If nothing else, I’ll go find and drag you here in a couple years if you don’t come on your own. I promise it.”

She nodded once. “Good plan.”

Nahida was probably unsure where she’d end up in the near future above all else, and Venti’s promise was meant to help her feel welcome of course, but it was more than that. It was a proclamation of safety. He would, at the very least, remember her and continue thinking about her so that never again would she potentially be captured and kept for centuries. If she was, he’d find her because she could know for certain that he’d be coming. 

If she didn’t come to Liyue eventually, Venti would find her and get her here. No matter what. A promise he’d hold to forever. 

“I’ll visit you, too,” she said.

“Of course you will! I’m fun to visit, after all.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I’d like to see everyone in Mondstadt again after I’ve resolved the issue with Sumeru, of course. I wanted to help Miss Lisa expand her library, and I get the feeling I’ll find plenty of books here. And I need to repay Captain Kaeya, too, somehow.”

Venti froze. What was he supposed to say to that? The truth? That he might not be going back? That she might not be able to find him in Mondstadt? Best to say nothing at all. He had a habit of self-incrimination, and he wasn’t in the mood to dig this hole any deeper. Just…later. Yeah. 

Later…

This wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the second of his fatal flaws.

Once upon a time he had forewent asking Nahida what she wanted for her retribution. He had known, had recognized—that was his second problem: everything was always for later. He’d handle that later, do something about it later. Tell someone later. Figure it out later.

“Nahida,” he began, “I’m not sure you’ll be able to find me in Mondstadt,” he admitted with a deathly calm irregularity to his certain brand of hyperactivity.

“Why not?”

“It’s just. Well. It’s a bit hard to put into words.” He put on his best smile. “I don’t think I’ll be hanging out there as much.”

“What does that mean?” She asked, the picture of perfect curiosity.

“I just…I don’t really belong there anymore.”

She glanced at him with the blankest expression, and he wondered if she’d heard him right. He didn’t know whether to repeat himself or clarify, and both options were clearly horrible, and—

“They never needed an Archon,” he attempted to explain. “I’m not really a good fit for that place, you know?” 

Please, understand.

She furrowed her brow and turned pensive. After a moment of hesitation she met his eyes. “I get it.” She paused. “Well, I think I do. Maybe I don’t. There’s a lot I don’t know, after all. But I think I understand.” 

Nahida turned to face Liyue sprawled out in front of them, a lavish spread of red roofs atop a buzzing cacophony of people and activity. “Later, I’ll help.”

He started slightly. “You’ll what?” 

He didn’t expect that response at all.

“Help you.” Her green eyes practically glowed with the strength of an indomitable will, and he had forgotten she had it in her—his mistake, really. “Not because I owe it to you or anything but because I want to. I’m your friend. After all this, I’ll help.”

Venti would’ve expected such a proclamation in any other context to be a lighthearted joke, but it clearly wasn’t. He didn’t want Nahida to be indebted to him in any way, but…he kind of wanted help. Wandering would weigh on him after long enough, and since she’d probably be against solitude, too, they’d fit each other if they wanted to stick together for a time. 

And wasn’t that pathetic, and selfish, and ridiculous? Venti wanted a friend to just, what? Hold his hand? Well, it wouldn’t be right to deny her that heralded status of friendship simply because he didn’t want to admit that he wanted the benefits of it, too.

“You’re a good friend, you know,” he said. 

“It’s not about me. You just deserve it.”

“Oh,” he said, refusing to agree or disagree with that statement. He just let it stay spoken, sitting in the stagnant air. It might deserve to be challenged, but he would leave it alone for now and go against it when it actually mattered, not when they were on the doorstep of Liyue, and definitely not when they made it to the heart of her terror and responsibility.

What would work best in this situation is distraction, he figured. It was the sharpest tool in his arsenal, so he walked briskly into Liyue, hoping this conversation could be left at the gate. 

“Anyway!” He announced. “While we’re here, we should check out Wangmin. It’s nice restaurant.”

He saw Nahida’s face twitch; she totally knew what he was doing, but she let it go anyway.

So, Venti immediately directed them toward Wangmin, pointing out various things on the way that made Liyue special. The architecture was a stand-out interest—at least it was to Zhongli—so Venti had heard enough to talk about it for hours. Not that he would do that. Because seriously, who wanted to hear about any historical thing like architecture for that much time? Maybe if it was delivered through song…then maybe. Too bad he didn’t know many historical Liyuean songs, but even if he did know some, there was no guarantee he could perform them since he wasn’t great at the operatic stuff and definitely didn’t have any of the standard instruments required. 

“And this is Wangmin,” he announced as they rounded the block.

“It’s a lot homier than I was expecting.”

“That’s a good way to put it. Come on, they’ve got weird stuff.” Venti wondered for a moment if it’d be fun to not warn her, but he decided that would be a little mean. “Let’s not try any of the experimental dishes today. Maybe next time.”

“What do you mean experimental?”

“You’ll see.”

As soon as the menu was within view, sure enough, her eyes went wide, full of unabated curiosity. 

“I’ve never heard of these combinations. How fascinating.”

“I’ll say it once more. Next time. ”

She looked at him pitifully. “You’re keeping me from new experiences.”

“Yes, I am,” he immediately said.

She leaned forward, to get a better look at the menu, he thought, until she whispered to him, “Do you promise?”

“Promise what?”

“That we’ll come back,” she said. “And I can try something weird next time.” Her eyes sparkled, and he wouldn’t have said no to begin with, but now he definitely wouldn’t.

“I swear it on the wind itself. It’ll happen.”

“Okay. I’ll have the Dragon Beard Noodles then.”

She could be manipulative when she wanted to be, but Venti didn’t really mind—because then Venti realized that he absolutely didn’t have enough to pay for that. But Nahida just smiled slyly and pulled out a Mora pouch from her huge stock of things that Jean had helped her pack. 

He hadn’t considered the monetary part until that moment, but without that certain benefits package he had recently acquired with the Mondstadt citizens, he didn’t have enough to cover lunch.

Except apparently, Nahida had far more money than him. Since when did she have this money? Who knows.

“Jean told me to hold onto it,” she said as she paid the man at the counter for two servings.

Apparently, Jean was also a manipulative woman. 

“Oh, did she now?” His face turned stingy; of course Jean trusted Nahida over him. What a cruel Guildmaster. 

Now that he thought about it, though, he didn’t have traveling expenses or any way to acquire any Mora besides his trusty lyre because it was never a requirement before, and technically speaking, neither of them really needed to eat. Oh well. For now, he’d internally thank Jean and plan to face this journey as it revealed itself. He highly doubted it’d go smoothly, whether they had Mora or not. 

He was essentially attempting to smuggle Sumeru’s Archon back into their main city without getting caught after explicitly decimating their most prestigious institution. Yeah, it was going to be a long adventure regardless of what supplies they did or didn’t have. He still appreciated Jean’s foresight, even if she had set the situation up specifically to annoy him. 

As they dug in—and really, it was so totally worth it because Wangmin was awesome, and he normally didn’t bother eating unless he really needed to, but they were in desperate need of a pick-me-up—a lovely woman with blue hair and two horns curling back from the crown of her head casually approached their table. 

“Pardon me. Mind if I join you?” She asked. 

“Of course not!” Venti said, and Nahida looked at him weird, which was fair; normally, accepting a strangers request to join them out of the blue would be odd, but this wasn't exactly a stranger.

He recognized an adepti when he saw one, and sure, he had a hobby of bothering Morax, but not his subordinates; that would just be rude. Besides, he was fairly sure he’d met this adepti before. Her name was…Ganyu? That sounded about right.

“You look like the visitors I was instructed to assist,” she—probably named Ganyu—said.

“Really?”

That would be one hell of a weird coincidence if Zhongli hadn’t intervened. Venti really wished the old dragon would inform him about these decisions, even if Venti was an insanely improvisational person even on the best of days. He liked to know about plans that involved him. Also, Zhongli had the time to acquire a babysitter for them, but not tell Xiao they’d be coming by? His priorities needed some serious attention. 

“My superior told me that there would be a Mondstadt bard with teal-tipped braids and a short, white-haired Sumeru girl passing through. You two match the profile.” Ganyu blinked and suddenly she was waving her hands looking guilty. “O-oh! But if you’re not,” she backpedaled, “uh, them, that’s fine too. Goodness, I’m sorry, are you not the right people? I’m very sorry if that’s the case, I had no intention of interrupting your meal if you’re not who I’m looking for.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Venti said. “We’re them. Probably.”

Ganyu breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Archons. Onto business, then.” She folded her hands on the table. “I was told to help you two find a way to Sumeru City.”

Venti was half inclined to complain about why in Teyvat they’d need help to do such a thing, but then again, he hadn’t gone traveling in a while, and his tendency to get sidetracked was a persistent trait. He would never thank Zhongli for assigning a little helper to his case, though. In fact, he wouldn’t mention it all. That was sure to piss him off more than if Venti complained. 

“That’s very kind,” Nahida exclaimed. “Thank you, miss.”

Ganyu softened ever so slightly. “Of course. There are two options. You could take the roads near the Chasm or catch a boat to Ormos and travel on foot from there. Do you have a preference?”

Venti figured this decision could default to Nahida, and he looked to her for a decision.

“A boat would be cool,” she remarked. “I walked to Mondstadt the first time when it was just me, and even with the occasional kind merchant caravan, it took a really long time.”

Ganyu scrunched her face. “You…walked? Alone?”

Venti clapped his hands. “Boat it is! Any recommendations?”

To be completely honest, Venti really hated boats. The sea rocked them til their cargo slipped into sickness, and boats relied on the wind, which he knew was fickle at best, and he was always tempted to mess with it just for the delightful joy of chaos and play, and just—he wasn’t a boat person. He’d have to get over it, though, and he’d rather face that fact than Ganyu’s curiosity about Nahida’s original cross-country trip.

Luckily, Ganyu wasn’t one for digging up what was clearly meant to be buried, and she got back on topic. “Well, if you’re sure about a boat ride,” she shuffled through a packet of papers, “Beidou currently has The Alcor docked, and she intends to leave tomorrow for Port Ormos. There are other ships headed that location, of course, but I recommend this one. You have good timing, really.”

“Beidou?” Venti asked.

“She’s an acquaintance of Ningguang—very trustworthy, and she captains one of the fastest ships that docks at Liyue. She’d be your best bet if you’re intending to get to Sumeru City quickly, although she can only take you to Port Ormos. For, ahem, obvious reasons.” 

Ganyu started blushing, but Venti wasn’t sure why. All of that was very useful information! As it turned out, a specially appointed travel assistant was actually helpful. He would never let word of this reach Zhongli, though. Ever. No matter what. 

“I guess we’ll be catching Captain Beidou’s ship.”

…

“Two passengers, eh?” The Captain asked with a smile. “And you say Ganyu recommended me? Well, hop on, then!” 

Beidou turned out to be an outspoken, jolly woman with an electro vision and enough grit to keep her large ship up and running smoothly, even with the horde of sailors and complicated rope knots involved in the process. Venti trusted that they’d make it to their destination, but with the amount of times grand battles on the water were mentioned in Beidou’s most frequent monologues, he was starting to wonder if sailing was a far more dangerous occupation than he had originally assumed. 

Then again, maybe she just lived an interesting life. Her stories would make some good ballads if he got the change to write any of them down. In some ways, she evoked a sense of superhuman wonder.

“It’ll take about three days to get there, give or take one or two depending on the weather,” she had said. 

Her estimation was oddly optimistic, especially considering ‘three, give or take two’ could literally mean one, and Venti highly doubted that that was possible for a mortal ship on normal water. 

Although, making such declarations just seemed to be Beidou’s style in all things. She gave herself room to make mistakes—and, at the same time, room to be absolutely extraordinary, especially if those tales of hers were anything to go off of. However, even Beidou couldn’t distract him from the fact of distance. 

As The Alcor sailed, they got further and further from Mondstadt and its people. Even Dragonspine had become nothing but a hill on the horizon, and Venti was about this close to breaking down into a mish mash of emotional bits. Because…the further he got, the harder it’d be to go back. He would have to choose, very much on purpose, to return and to take every single step on route the whole way—if he so decided. 

Not great.

Nahida caught him staring forlornly into the distance, as she tugged on his cape, and when he looked down, she had a look of abject guilt decorating her face. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. 

Her frown deepened.

“It really is fine,” he insisted.

“If you say it, then I’m certain it’s true.”

He paused. What a horrible weaponized version of sarcasm; he didn’t even have a good comeback.

“I understand myself better than anyone, you know,” he said instead of something quippy because he was pathetic, apparently.

“Sure.” She stared out at the sea while standing beside him, and the sea spray hit their faces in the oncoming evening. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. It might’ve been insensitive, but he was getting rather excited, and he hoped he might address it before those feelings reached her through exposure osmosis. What if she wasn’t prepared for it? Then he’d need to reevaluate or plan a different route or…do something. There was still time to get some maps out and plot some good circular paths to Sumeru City.

“I am, but—and I feel horrible for suggesting it—maybe you should…change your hairstyle.” 

Whether that was a deflection technique or a genuine worry of hers was irrelevant, and he immediately held his braids against his cheeks, as if they’d fall off beneath the pressure of her calculating glare. 

“What? Why would I need to do that?” 

He then realized rather belatedly that a certain physical description had probably filtered through the Sumerian people extensively by now, and that said description matched a certain someone in their traveling crew of two. His grip softened against what was just hair—nothing that should be important. Should being the key word.

“… Oh…I can…wear a hat?”

“You’re already wearing a hat.”

“A…different hat?”

“I’m not sure that’s the point.”

“Well—” But Venti liked this hat! It was a perfectly fine hat! There was nothing wrong with it or with his hair. In fact, the idea he’d have to dress up like some costumed actor was ridiculous to begin with, nevermind his perfectly decent appearance that would definitely under no circumstances attract any trouble at all. 

Okay, that sounded ridiculous even to him.

“No one noticed me from my statues!” He argued.

She cringed but immediately pushed her face back into a neutral state. “Yeah but a statue isn’t…uhm.”

“Hey!”

“We can do something about it after we land, I guess. Only if you’re okay with it.” She was smiling, but there existed that subtle edge she hadn’t had before, and it was clear she was finally starting to bloom in her own special way.

Venti scoffed, internally glad that she had the energy to joke around with him because one thing was for certain; this would be an emotional, intense journey, and there still wasn’t an end in sight, Sumeru still absent from the horizon. 

Regardless, he wished her happiness hadn’t been gained at his expense. His hair and hat were fine, and she was just being unnecessarily careful because she was nervous. 

There was nothing to worry about.

…

It had taken something like a couple of days for The Alcor to find its way into Port Ormos, and that’s all he knew because time-keeping wasn’t his specialty at all, and it was only natural to lose track of days when adrift on the wretched liquid path called the ocean. 

The journey had probably been achieved in an impressive time frame, but who knew, really. The sailors didn’t seem to treat this as any special feat, and Nahida had spent the entire time flitting around deck, so he hadn’t had the chance to ask, and it would be totally embarrassing to ask now. He was the elder on this trip—he shouldn’t need to ask how many days had passed, so he decided to make do because it didn’t matter anyway. 

During the journey, he had taken to sitting on the dragon figurehead decorating the front of The Alcor. He got snide looks and annoyed remarks for doing so, and there was no way the sailors would answer his questions honestly now, especially because Beidou had ordered her people get back to work and given him a silly little smirk and said something along the lines of “I’ll make a sailor out of you yet!”

Venti had been something like a parasite to them all for…however long this journey had lasted. It was probable that they didn’t like him much.

Evidently, Beidou knew he kind of hated sailing; he didn’t keep his distaste for it silent. But that little detail was why she let him run around with what was essentially free rein, and he abused it horribly the entire time. He was always out of reach or sleeping somewhere hidden or staring up at the sky, trying to remember why it was he agreed to ride this monstrous wooden vessel. 

Right, Nahida. She wanted to ride a boat. And then he would make a face and let his determination seep back into him slowly—intentionally. Rinse, repeat. 

When they finally docked, he felt as if Windblume had come early. He was honestly so glad they had happened upon a fast captain’s ship.

Venti hopped off the figurehead for the final time, and he joined Nahida where she was talking with Beidou as they walked down the gangplank. They had been trading stories, and Nahida’s ability to charm had clearly remained active and functional.

“…Anymore, but it shouldn’t matter now that they’ve stabilized that issue,” Beidou was saying.

“That’s good. We don’t want to attract any trouble, after all.”

That last part of what Nahida said was true no matter the topic. 

“She’s right,” he said, joining them properly. “What’s going on?”

“Sumeru had tight restrictions on foreign boats a little while ago,” Beidou said, “but they’ve relaxed recently.”

“Good to know,” he said, faking a smile. 

As if he hadn’t known about that already—because it was totally his fault. 

He had asked Jean to cut connection with Sumeru, and it made sense that the consequence would be an open hostility toward foreign travelers. That had definitely been inconvenient for most, and Venti tried his best to shove that information into a tiny corner of his mind. At least it had gone back to normal, kind of! And clearly the dock was still working as it should.

Beidou approached a dockworker who had come over and was staring acutely at The Alcor, and Venti trailed behind. 

They exchanged greetings, and Beidou started rattling off her cargo and everything about her original destination and path. It seemed routine, but they had a smooth repertoire that was definitely indicative of comfort with the system. The dockworker noted every single thing that Beidou mentioned lightning fast, and Beidou presented a letter by the Tianquan herself even before the dockworker asked for some form of identification.

He was incredibly relieved that Sumeru seemed to be up and functioning, but he wouldn’t forget that they probably hadn’t been for a while, and he…didn’t know how he should feel about it because here was Nahida, right beside him, safe and secure and happy. He wished that guaranteeing that hadn’t cost such a high, unforgivable price. 

The worker came over to assess Venti and Nahida as foreign visitors after Beidou directed her over, but she immediately froze upon performing a preliminary assessment of them, gaze lingering far longer on Nahida, specifically. 

She huffed something eerily close to “damn you Beidou,” under her breath, but Venti couldn’t be sure. They knew each other, he supposed, but surely that utterance had nothing to do with him.

“Is this…some kind of joke?” She asked as she pointed the butt of her pen between the both of them, Venti and Nahida, her gaze narrowed. 

“Huh?” 

“Please tell me this is a bad joke,” she urged.

“What’s that supposed to mean? It is some kind of Sumerian dock code?” He chuckled.

“Please,” the dockworker asked again, face aghast. 

Maybe he shouldn’t mess with the worker that seemed to be attempting to do some kind of actual job, but he didn’t know what he had done wrong! There’s no reason either of them should be an issue to her work; as far as he was concerned, he and Nahida were two normal travelers on a normal journey, and her reaction to simple strangers seemed confusingly excessive. 

“Uhhh look, we’re just passing through!” He bounced his eyes around the port. What was a good excuse…oh! 

“Tourists,” he said, and her face instantly soured, but he had already committed. “Yeah, that’s it exactly, we’re tourists heading to Sumeru City. Yep.”

Nahida piped up, “There are many great tourist spots here according to data gathered in the last couple years from other travelers. Sumeru City, especially, is a must-see for most.”

Nahida flashed doll eyes, and Venti gave a thumbs up. That had to be convincing, right? 

“You’re… tourists,” the dockworker said. 

“Yes.”

“…Are you sure about that?” She gestured to her paper, “You want me to put 'tourist' on this form?”

“Yes?”

“Uh huh.” She scribbled on her clipboard. “This is officially worse than the last time I had to deal with Beidou, congratulations.” 

She considered them once more, let her entire form relax, and then she leaned in, very close. “I am unaware of how well you know Sumeru laws. So do note, it is illegal to engage in property destruction,” she said. “You will get charged for it.”

Venti paled. “O-oh. Really?”

“Yes, really.” She paused, clearly caught in the midst of some unfathomable conflict as she kept shifting her weight and clenching and unclenching her grip on the pen. “You’re off the hook for…any previous instances of such things—any at all, I promise—but Sumeru is trying to recover economically, and losing the Akademiya is sure to have repercussions that remain invisible for now. We need all the money we can get from wayward travelers who have a penchant for wanton destruction.” She said it very quickly and flippantly, but her tone was sinister and pleading and conflicted all at once. 

The woman stopped her scribbling. With a small tremor racking her hands, she brought them to her sides and tilted her body ever so slightly downward. Her short brown hair shifted forward, falling from behind her ears. In a certain context, it might’ve seemed like a bow. She raised her head to look at him, and her eyes softened.

“Please…give us a chance. Just one,” she whispered harshly.

Within a second, she was back to normal, rigid and professional in attitude, and nothing more than an average worker performing her duty to her nation, whatever that duty may be. 

It had come so suddenly, from a random person, and Venti felt ashamed at how he clearly lost his composure when she said it. That’s…he guessed he wasn’t exactly subtle, and he had refused to find a new hat earlier—that quest got top priority now, unfortunately—but he thought he’d be safe from all of that as long as he was away from Mondstadt. 

He had been wrong. It seemed his own Archonhood was stalking him and refused to let up the chase. He could outrun anything that relied on the delicate embrace of wind, except himself, apparently. How horrifyingly ironic. 

“We’re just well meaning tourists,” he insisted, even as the words fell off his tongue like mud. She had asked for a chance, and he was too cowardly to face even that most harmless question head on. 

“Of course.” She pulled herself back, and she waved them on. “Welcome to Sumeru, travelers. I hope it’s worth your while, even now.”

Nahida shoved her body slightly behind Venti.

“I’m sure it will be,” he said. He threw a quick wave to Beidou, and he moved purposefully away from the dock, into a section of the city that snaked upward on tree roots and inclined pathways, away from too many prying eyes. They climbed and halted mid-path, underneath the shade of trees and wood constructs. People passed them without a care, but the wind told a different story. They had entered the eye of the storm, and Venti knew that fact intimately. 

Nahida squeezed his hand. “I guess we made it.”

“We sure did,” he said. And he would keep her safe. “I know I said I would get you here, but I do fully intend to stick with you until the end.” No matter where that end may be. “So don’t worry!”

Her lips curved into a fretful smile.

He breathed in deeply and let it out as a quick puff of air, and she copied him. 

Okay. They’d be okay. 

The bustle of Port Ormos was familiar in that way he found Liyue, and the people were just people whether they wore the clothes of forests and deserts or of hills and valleys. He and Nahida would need to acquire some disguises apparently—perhaps just him—but they had time, and he wanted to take it all in, just for a moment more, especially with Nahida essentially cowering behind him, still.

He shifted so she could stand beside him, and although she looked apprehensive, he remained confident.

Venti faced forward. 

“Let’s meet Sumeru!” 

___________________

A boat. A real boat! A boat that was moving, and Nahida was on it, and it had a real captain and everything—it was fantastic!

And then they were off the boat, and everything crumbled near instantly.

She tried to smile when Venti welcomed her into her own nation—truly tried so very hard—but there was a blockade in her mind called ‘resentment’ and Venti didn’t know the full extent of it, and these people didn’t know, and Rukkhadevata hovered at the corner of her eye, and she was trying, trying, trying not to cry. 

The journey had just begun. She could cry after she had done the unthinkable and completed her impossibly cruel quest. Until then, Port Ormos stood as a requiem of the neglectful, those who got all they wanted and more thanks to unseen forces which they took horrific advantage of, and she was so close to hating it. 

But she didn’t.

She let her thoughts fall dark, instead. 

There was one more leg of this journey to go, and she couldn’t bother to think anymore. When they were on the boat it had been okay, but now they weren’t anymore, and it wasn’t. 

She could feel the earth— hear it, heralding life and death every waking second.

The people were real instead of shadows that danced on the walls of her room at night.

Rukkhadevata was smiling as if she had found paradise. 

And Nahida watched as her ghostly friend drifted off in a random direction, phasing through walls she couldn’t follow through, and once she was gone, she didn’t come back.

Nahida breathed, and she shut off her feelings til they were blank, letting Venti lead her forward, onward to the somewhere she had asked him to take her. Eventually, she’d be able to think correctly, but not now. (She would never be able to repay him in any meaningful display of equality for this thing that he was doing for her.)

Thank the stars he was good. 

…

She did, in the end, get Venti to shove his hair into a high ponytail and find another hat. 

He managed to “acquire” through what was certainly dubious methodology a scholar’s hat, which upon closer inspection, looked eerily similar to his original hat, but Nahida wouldn’t argue over it because it was a hat that blended him better into the Sumerian population. And she kind of felt bad for insisting he find a new one in the first place, despite the clear necessity of changing elements of his overall appearance. If he had merely found a different outfit, it probably would’ve been enough, but she had suggested the hat thing back when she didn’t want to push him into changing anything too extreme, but thought changing something would be a good precaution, but the hat probably mattered the least when organizing disguises…

So she said nothing about it and nodded supportively. 

But also, really? A floppy green hat of a beret quality that was flat on top with yellow detailing around the sides. He couldn’t be more subtle if he tried. It was funny, though, and wouldn’t cause problems. She hoped the scholars wouldn’t ever change the style of their hats, if only to preserve a silly reminder of her friend.

He acquired robes for both of them with what money Nahida had left over from what Jean gave them as a traveling fund, and that clearly had the biggest effect on their attempts to disguise themselves. Venti actually looked like he belonged here draped in green fabric and large billowy sleeves, like he would swirl right into that sea of green and its people would part for his every step. 

That might’ve been a skill of his, assimilation. 

Even when he stood out—as he did with that Mondstadtian lyre hanging at his hip—he did so as a pardoned outlier of any nation. 

Nahida had seen it in Liyue, the way he had seamlessly fit himself into the streets as if he belonged wherever he so pleased. It was a skill, or maybe just how he was. Either way, whether he was aware of it or not, he had the uncanny ability to exist in tandem with the current population, no matter the place. 

She couldn’t say the same for herself. 

Nahida donned the robes, and…she looked like the same person in different clothing.

The short blue-green dress was cute, sure, and the golden detailing was nothing short of an artistic labor of love, but she didn’t think it really changed anything at all. She shrugged on the white, bell-sleeved topper, and…still nothing. She was a horrible imitation of a Sumerian citizen, and surely, they’d all know the second she entered their midst. A traitor in the hive.

Venti had tried to get her sandals, but she had refused, even though they would’ve helped her blend in. The ‘blending in’ thing was a lost cause anyway, and if she was going to do this, she’d do it right—no cutting herself off from the emotions swirling through the grass and roots like resonating song every second. No, she’d get a proper feel of Sumeru, foliage-fueled emotional bombardment notwithstanding. 

Sumeru, the land itself, had thoughts and feelings just like the people did, and it dreamed. Loudly. Everything was loud here, but it might’ve just been her.

She didn’t want to listen, but…maybe she would eventually.

For now, though, she remained aware of it, and she refused to turn away because she had been selfish long enough. She existed in the middle of chaos, of complete strangers. 

Hello, Sumeru, she greeted.

Nahida tried her very best to feel angry. I’m going to sacrifice my most important person for you all. She directed the thought at the unknowing people, if only to try scrounging up some kind of justified hatred towards them. 

It didn’t work.

They continued going about their day without considering her. She could hear them squabbling, laughing, playing, living, all without her involvement, and they would continue after she left. 

They wouldn’t look at her, even when she had made it out of her little divine birdcage. Just notice me.

It was a strange thing to want, to be noticed. In fact, didn’t Venti want the exact opposite? All he wanted was to exist in tandem, to be one voice in a sea of many, but Nahida wanted to matter . Maybe…those things were more similar than she thought, though, because Venti mattered in his own special way, even as a speck of dust in a grand desert of sand. So, perhaps it’s not that she wanted to be special or noticed but rather she just wanted to be more than what they thought she was—to prove something to them and to herself, but what good would that do? 

Very little, she imagined. 

Venti led them in some direction, and she followed willingly; the strength to do otherwise had abandoned her in this moment of dire need as her thoughts percolated dangerously on the precipice of those answers she could never realize.

Rukkhadevata was nowhere in sight. Nahida wondered for longer than a moment if…she’d come back. 

While she hung in a state somewhere between consciousness and deep thought, following Venti, he found them a caravan of about ten wagons offering to ferry travelers—but only should they have something to offer. 

When the man said it, Nahida fell uncomfortably stiff. She could use her fake dendro vision to do…something, but in Sumeru, dendro really wasn’t that impressive of a power. The people here knew how plants worked, not like in Liyue or Mondstadt. It was a nation fashioned from her element and her predecessor, so unfortunately, she was surrounded by people who knew her specialties intimately, maybe more so than herself. She had no outside knowledge to offer, either, since everything she knew came from browsing the Akasha while in containment. And that knowledge was quite literally available to everyone—before she had taken it down with her own two hands, that is. 

She had taken and taken and taken and had nothing to give as recompense. She didn’t have a single thing to offer worth anything—but Venti? 

He had song, and she was ashamed to have forgotten until he offered it. 

The man leading the caravan, Blund, gestured to Venti’s hat. “But you’re a scholar? And a musician?”

Venti strummed a short pattern on his lyre. “Well, why can’t I be both?”

Venti played Blund a song, and the caravan master subsequently offered them free passage to Sumeru City at no extra charge.

“I think we need more appreciation of happiness, these days,” he said after the song had completed. A small crowd had formed at that point as well, and as Venti bowed, they gave a round of applause.

Because Venti’s music was liquid happiness, and it did more than tell a story and make random noise. He was more than anemo, more than an archon, and it was times like these when Nahida started seriously questioning why Venti was so afraid to go back to his home. Sure, they might look at him a little wrong, and the reverence was out of place and disjointed with his perception of reality. But he was so much more than Barbatos, and clearly his Mondstadt family, the ones that mattered, knew it.

She was neither an archon nor more than one, really. (What was she doing here? A glimpse of white in her sight only she could see—but it wasn’t who she thought it was. Because her ghost had left and remained gone.)

Nahida was very glad to have an excuse to listen to him play for a while. Back in Mondstadt, she had wanted to ask for more music, but they were dealing with their own issues, and the time never seemed right. One long road trip lay before them, though, and she looked forward to music because she loved it, likely for the same reason as Blund and his group. 

They got a move on quickly, Venti and Nahida casually deposited at the back of a covered wagon with no fanfare, where they sat jostled by the bumpy roads, surrounded by various spices and fabrics and other members of the merchant caravan. Venti began his first song of the day, one of many more taking distance into account, and the strangers who had allowed them come along cheered excessively at its conclusion. 

But even with the road stretching far, they were almost there. 

Sumeru City. 

…

Nahida and Venti had taken to sitting in silence for a minute or two once a song ended to let the feelings properly simmer under the skin.

Of course, that prompted everyone on their wagon to start talking louder and attempt to rope Venti and Nahida into their conversations. Which wasn’t at all good because said conversations rapidly spun into discussing what was obviously the most interesting thing to happen to Sumeru in a very long time. All conversation led there eventually because the wound remained raw and the consequences scarring. 

Nahida knew what had happened. She knew Venti had destroyed the Akademiya, knew he had sent out a particularly scathing warning. It was impossible not to know after spending several days on a ship with Beidou who collected rumors like flies in a web. Nahida knew what had happened, understood why it had been done, and was glad for it—selfishly.

However, that didn’t mean she was prepared to sit beside people discussing it like the historical event that it was because then she was forced to listen to the consequences of her actions in meticulous detail, and that’s when she started questioning everything she had done to escape her impossible problem. 

“The Akademiya is still having trouble, I hear,” one man said. “Did you travelers know?” He asked them, and Nahida nodded minutely.

She just wanted to be free. Was that such a bad thing?

“I heard the new Grand Sage is doing good work, but I also hear he’s an emotionless bastard who doesn’t give a damn about us little people. It makes you wonder if this is really the better outcome,” another added.

Azar was worse. Nahida was sure of it.

“He was dealt a losing hand, though. If the Akademiya hadn’t been destroyed…well who knows.”

Venti did the best he could and more. He had gotten rid of her prison forever.

“And Barbatos? Does anyone know what happened to him?”

He’s right beside her.

“I figured he went back to Mondstadt.”

But he didn’t because he wanted to help properly—and because he’s scared.

“Maybe, but I’ve been wondering about this myself. Would Mondstadt really condone the actions of its Archon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re all about freedom, yeah, but I think callous destruction is pretty far from their respected, standard methodology or religious beliefs.”

“You idiot, they can’t reject their own God!”

“But what if they did?”

They never, ever would—Nahida knew it like she knew rain, and sunshine, and night, though she kept these thoughts to herself.

Before the other man could counter or agree with that statement, Venti tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from the two men sitting deeper into the carriage talking back and forth with one another on things which she understood too well. 

She looked out at the road as it trailed behind them. Grooves reached far out, drawn by the many caravan wagons as they rolled through the dirt. Nahida and Venti were at the back of the line, in the last of those wagons, behind the rest, and their placement made it easy to forget there was a destination at all. Nahida stared at where they had been, unaware of the path that lay ahead. She had assumed that this far out from the center of the little procession, they’d be mostly free of that kind of discussion.

But even back here, they remained at the mercy of rumors. 

“I don’t like hearing about me from other people,” Venti said to her. “It’s weird, and I recommend you don’t listen or take it to heart. They don’t really understand.” 

That’s what he claimed, but she could feel the hurt like a melancholic haze surrounding him. He didn’t believe himself, and she didn’t know how to fix it. Words stuck around for however long the mind decided to hold them, and these seemed hurtful enough to grow roots and thrive in deep, dark, shadow thoughts. 

“You know,” he said, “Literally no one talked about…my other version prior to any of this. Take it from me—just go missing.” He brightened, just a little. “It works wonders for getting rid of rumors about yourself cause you’re not around to make new ones that’ll really stick.”

“What reasonable advice,” Nahida agreed. What a lovely, little distracting idea, too. 

“Right? I’m glad you’re capable of seeing sense. It took me centuries to get through to Zhongli, and Ei says such things don’t bother her, but they totally do; she just doesn’t have any hobbies to turn to if she ever decided to ‘go missing’ from Inazuma.”

Nahida tilted her head, disbelieving of that, even if Venti outright said otherwise. She couldn’t imagine anyone living that long and that freely without picking up some kind of fun skill or hobby. She had been out of her prison bubble for a significantly small amount of time, and she had already tried baking, calligraphy, gardening—if forcing plants into existence with her dendro element counted—and exactly how many years had Ei lived? A lot was the answer. 

“No, really!” Venti insisted. “She’s a workaholic. And, well,” he caught himself mid sentence, unable to find the right phrasing, Nahida supposed. ”She’s trying to figure some stuff out. Give her another couple years, and then you’ll find an opportunity to meet her, I bet.”

“I would like that,” she said. “Really. There are so many interesting people out there, and I bet…Ei…has a lot of stories to tell.” 

Stories that aren’t rumors. 

“She might get motherly on you, though.”

“Um.” Nahida processed that sentence again, yet it remained nonsensical and paradoxical.

“Or not. Her mood changes with the weather if you get what I mean,” he said. “To be honest, I have no idea how she’ll react to you. We’ll see eventually, I guess.”

‘Eventually’ meant a future. ‘Eventually’ meant a real life. She was looking forward to it, no matter what strange insinuations Venti made regarding this new destined meeting. 

It seemed that these days their conversations often migrated towards the future.

For no particular reason.

That likely wasn’t true—but if the reason was what Nahida suspected, she refused to acknowledge it because there was no need for him to try so hard to make her feel better. Although it worked every time.

She did feel better. Even if Ei ultimately didn’t want anything to do with her, Nahida was sure that she’d meet her someday, and that meant more than it reasonably should.

Venti started plucking out another song after some prodding from the men sitting nearby in their wagon. He obliged without complaint, and a new tale wove itself together as he sang, and thoughts of immeasurable futures faded into the background. 

She dozed off, then, comfortably in company, leaning on Venti as he sang of days long gone by. The past had its own charm, she considered, as sleep took over.  

…

She awoke to yelling.

Who was yelling? She wasn’t sure. When her eyes cracked open and she looked up from where she was laying across his lap, Venti seemed unnecessarily peeved. Not angry, just peeved, so it likely wasn't an emergency.

“Sorry they woke you up,” he said. 

“It’s okay.” She sat up, and the world spun for a moment as she blinked and cleared her hazy vision. 

She thought she might’ve been dreaming. She didn’t remember for certain. 

Her thoughts cut off with another forceful yell from the front of the caravan trail. 

“What’s going on?”

“Not sure,” Venti said. “Wanna check it out?” He fastened his lyre back on his hip, and clearly he knew her answer before she said a thing.

“Let’s go look.”

She hopped off the back of the wagon, and Venti followed as they snaked through the other wagons and people stalling on the road. They didn’t seem worried in the slightest about all the yelling, so it was likely routine or at least expected, but that didn’t temper Nahida’s nerves all that well.

As the front came into view, so did Blund and a younger man he was yelling at.

“I will not drive this caravan through that patch of land if what you’ve said is correct. It’s not worth it,” Blund said with a sigh. “It’s not worth anyone’s life.”

The man turned his head away. “I know that, Blund, but come on! We’re on a deadline. We don’t have time to take another route.”

Blund was marking a map, but he put it down to glare at the man. 

“You’re not listening to me, so let me put it simply,” Blund said. “I know what you did, waiting so long to come back and tell me, thinking we’d go through if we were already committed to this path. However, I don’t care how close we are. I will not, under any circumstance, drive my merchant caravan through a Withering zone. It’s a stupid thing to do, and I don’t have a death wish. For me or any of my people.”

The conversation ended there, as the man huffed and walked off towards a wagon, and Blund continued sketching at his map, clearly frustrated, making angry marks.

Nahida walked forward, questions and curiosity on the tip of her tongue. Even as Blund grumbled softly, seeming in favor of keeping to himself, she went up to him anyway.

“The Withering?” She asked. Nahida already knew the basics of it, and asking would result in them looking at her like she was an idiot, but she needed more details from their perspective. She wanted to know what it was like in person, even if the cost posited her as a particularly clueless soul. 

Blund was taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “You’re not from Sumeru, I imagine?”

“I’m…” She didn’t want to lie, not to a man that showed Venti and her kindness and understanding as he had, but the truth would invite questions she didn’t want to answer. “It’s complicated,” she settled on.

He went along with it, though, and didn’t ask for clarification. “The Withering is a disaster,” he said. “It’s an infection, I believe, that spreads through Sumerian wildlife. It kills.” He wrapped up the map and started heading back to the front wagon.

“And that’s ahead of us?” She asked, following behind.

“Crish, our scout, has just informed me that a Withering zone is directly on the path ahead, and there’s not enough time to report it to the forest rangers so they can deal with it quickly. I plan to take a different route to Sumeru City, and although it’ll take longer, we’ll be safe.”

He started going down the line of caravans, informing each driver of the new instructions. 

Nahida refused to relent or let him go along with it without more clarification, though. 

“How much longer?”

“Significantly.”

“What would the forest rangers do about it?”

“They defeat the mutated monsters the Withering attracts and empowers. They destroy the tumor, and the Withering disappears.”

“Can no one else take care of it?”  She asked.

Surely if it was just a matter of monsters and flat destructive power, anyone with a vision or a sword should be able to handle it, but Blund was so very on edge. Nahida knew the truth of what the Withering was, what was said of it in the Akasha—what Rukkhadevata said of it—but she had yet to face it for real and make a judgment of her own, so she was woefully unprepared to understand.

“No one in this caravan can,” he responded. “We’re prepared for bandits and treasure hunters, not Withering.” He waved over another one of his men and began instructing him to inform the rest of the caravan he hadn't gotten to yet of the change of plan.

This was a consequence of fantastic proportions, something ancient and so wrong, it blistered life itself. Rukkhadevata had spoken of things like it long ago. The consequences of hubris and forbidden wisdom, she had said: Eleazar and…the Withering. This, too, was part of Nahida’s burden, part of her role here should she be brave and accept it completely. It’s what she came here to fix. 

Was it so wrong for her to want to see it? Just to know if it really warranted the greatest sacrifice?

Right as she found herself straddling her two options, neither making itself known as the better choice, there came Rukkhadevata, floating into field, returning at the moment when Nahida was surely the most exposed. Nahida wished she hadn’t jumped when the translucent figure first poked out from inside a wagon, body seemingly cut off at the waist by the fabric covering.

Rukkhadevata came back. Although on second thought, her arrival was timed too perfectly; she must’ve been nearby, waiting.

Nahida didn’t know what the ghost had been doing prior to this, but her appearance must be part of her request; it was only logical. She came back because she wanted something—and it was horrible of Nahida to think so, but it was only obvious. A great request was waiting to be made.

My negligence, Rukkhadevata said. Witness it. You’ll understand better, please.

Nahida didn’t yell at her for leaving the second they landed in Sumeru nor did she ask for clarification. She just closed her eyes and hoped that the world may be kind to her, regardless of what she found in the places she never wanted to look.

I led you away from the Withering when guiding you out of Sumeru to begin with. So, please, I only ask that you see it now.

 And those were the words Nahida had feared. It was an entirely justified request, one which she couldn’t refuse under any circumstances because her most important person had asked, and it was only fair that she try. 

When other people didn’t understand her or Venti, she mentally scorned them for their laziness and close mindedness, and that meant she had to make an effort when the opportunity to understand others presented itself to her.

Venti stepped forward beside her. “What if we handle it?” He asked. 

He always knew what to say and when, and Nahida found herself strangely glad she could take a passive stance on this particular issue. The last thing she wanted to do was speak aloud that which she would agree to do, against all logic, for her kind ghost. 

Blund halted immediately, staring strangely, as if Venti had grown a second head. “I thought you were a bard,” he remarked. He looked at the hat, “Or perhaps a scholar?”

“A bard-scholar with a vision.” Venti flashed the anemo vision at his hip, and Blund raised an eyebrow. 

“How curious.” He suddenly looked at Venti differently, with something Nahida thought might be respect, like if a rock cracked open to reveal a diamond center. “However, a vision isn’t everything. People with visions have died in Withering zones before, and you’re not from around here. I’m not sending anyone to their deaths today, whether they be members of my crew or otherwise.”

Venti turned to Nahida. “What do you think?” he asked. “We could just take the longer path. Or…”

He had kind eyes. 

That was something she had noticed when she met him for the second time in Angel’s Share on an innocuous night, the one in which she finally was granted her freedom. She had demanded he help her because it was all she could think to do, and freedom for her had manifested in the unlimited potential of bravery. It had been so very difficult, but she had done it. 

Rukkhadevata was kind, too.

Nahida could be brave again. 

“Let’s do it,” she said. “Mister Blund? We can handle it. We’ll remove the Withering, and if you wait for merely an hour, I guarantee we will have returned by then with the road functional once more.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea—” He started saying, but Nahida didn’t care to hear his arguments. She just needed him to believe in them for a short time.

“Give us one hour,” she pleaded. Perhaps, her eyes glowed, too. But she didn’t know for certain.

Blund licked his lips and averted his gaze. “I can’t order you to do anything. But I also can’t order one of my men go with you. It’s not worth the risk to send anyone; you understand that, right?”

She chuckled slightly, remembering all those times she existed as the one outside the many. “Better than you’d think,” she said. 

When she was stuck in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, there were those who knew about her plight, those who held traitorous thoughts on the situation. Some wanted to let her out. Some thought the idea of trapping their Archon hideous, but none of it did her much good in the end.

Keeping the health and happiness of the many in the positive always trumped the one; perhaps she’d make a better Archon than she thought considering how prevalent that perspective was in the leaders she had met and how well she knew it. The point was that of course he couldn’t send more people with them. (He made a good leader.)

But she was free, wasn't she? So. 

The Withering. 

“If you wait,” she said, “I guarantee the path will be opened, and then we can all get to Sumeru City faster. Believe in us. Have faith.”

“Believe in—” His eyes widened to full moons in an instant and his face contorted in further confusion. “I see," he said. "Or, perhaps I don’t, and that’s the point.” 

The people of the caravan continued planning how they would turn around. The wind carried at least ten different contrary voices, and they would figure out how to manage the switch in direction and commit to it soon without intervention, and time was running out to quicken this along. 

Blund raised a single finger, however, halting all her desperate attempts to change his mind mid-chaos. 

“I’ll believe in two…travelers,” he said. “For one hour only.”

“That’s all I ask.” She didn’t wait or give him a chance to take it back. 

She promptly ran over to the scout, who was eavesdropping, and stole his map, which had the zone marked clearly on it. He didn’t stop her, merely reddened when she took it from him. A large black circle signified their destination, just a little bit down the road. It seems the scout really did hold back until the last minute. That was a good thing; they could finish in an hour, easy.

She and Venti instantly left, cutting off all potential opportunities to stop them, and before Blund could say another word, they were traveling down the path alone together. This time, she had someone beside her during a journey through Sumeru wilds, despite it all. 

“Thanks for coming along,” she said after the caravan had disappeared behind trees and boulders along the winding path. This was not the kind of quest with built-in time for chit-chat and random contemplation of futures and the deep beautiful potential of a thousand possibilities. However, there was always time for a proper thank you.

Venti didn’t even respond, just smiled, and it was more reassuring than it should’ve been.

He needed to work on accepting compliments—he clearly didn’t understand how great he was. He’d get there eventually.

As they walked at a pace slightly faster than leisurely, she continued thinking over Blund’s reaction. He had definitely accepted the ‘believe in us’ argument way faster than she expected, and that plus the dockworker’s reaction, too, suggested that they might be really horrible at the whole ‘remaining incognito’ thing. There was no way to know without asking Blund upfront, but she had a sense that he had an inkling of the truth. Maybe he had recognized Venti, or maybe he recognized her, or maybe he just knew there was something intrinsically divine about them. Whatever the case, he had clearly known more than they wanted.

And that raised a very interesting question about Venti and his disappearance for what was definitely a ridiculously long time.

“Hey Venti?” She started. “You’re doing…um…a not-great job at remaining incognito. How did you make it this long without anyone noticing?” 

It sounded far more rude out loud than she had planned, but she considered it a fair question. She was missing something, and she needed to know so that she could help him in return after this was all over. This was a key information gathering session—that’s all. 

“It was easy,” he said, and his eyes spoke of experience beyond what she could identify. “They didn’t expect Barbatos.”

“Oh.”

“That’s all I needed. They didn’t think I was anything but Venti, so I guess no one questioned it.” He folded his arms together, and his gaze wandered away into the distance. “I said easy, but it was easier than easy, actually—it was effortless.”

“…I’m sorry.” But an apology wasn’t enough, and she shouldn’t avoid her own worst mistakes. At least she had asked, but thinking logically about it, that was barely the bare minimum. “I exposed you. In front of them. And then they knew to expect it.”

“Nah,” he countered immediately. “ I chose that path. There were other options, but…I like to think I chose the best one.”

“According to what parameters?”

He hummed briefly. “Mine,” he eventually said. “I’m not going to specify. That’s all you need to know.”

“I’d like to know, though.” She wanted to know what benefit that cost had earned him because there was no calculation she had run in which what he had given and received had been fair. Nothing signified that what he picked had been the ‘best choice’ in any way, either.

“It doesn’t matter,” he argued. “It never did matter and never will. It was the right decision, I promise.”

“If you say so.” 

If she could justify pushing it, she would. Too bad she respected him too much to try. He had gotten her all the way here without asking a single question, so the least she could do was go along with what he claimed, and she could believe. 

As she fell into silence in the wake of some unfortunate truths regarding her actions—which could realistically only be called unforgivable—that’s when the red haze appeared in front of them, stuck in a small radius around a giant red plant growing in the middle of the road.

That…she knew, didn’t she? It must be the Withering. The name fit, she thought as a sardonic wave of horror washed over her, cold and unwelcome, just like that horrible existence. 

They sped up, and the closer they got, the more the air stunk of decay, the kind of pungency that wasn’t normal or meant to exist in the world. Forbidden, said the roots as that illness crept through them, consuming all. Everything nearby came under a wicked gloss while the Withering persisted, and it washed over her like a wave of pure, conquering wrongness. 

“No wonder they wanted to take a different route,” she said under her breath.

“Yeah, but we can take care of it.” His blasé attitude, though weirdly dissonant with the situation at hand, reassured her in that way he was a master of.

“Absolutely we can.” There were only a couple of fungi enemies, some of which were hydro. There were also medium sized puddles on the ground, and therefore a clear benefit to utilizing her dendro element; and Venti was strong enough to play both a defensive and offensive role. 

“You group the enemies,” she said. “I’ll chain them in dendro and create bloom cores. They’ll explode, and then you can land the final hit on the tumor.” She wasn’t strong enough to do it, but she could help anyway. It had been, well, literally never since she had used dendro to hurt, but she would feel no remorse in permanently scrubbing the world of this infection.

And then she realized that she had essentially ordered Venti to do something, and that was so rude of her, and she needed to rectify that immediately.

“But you don’t have to,” she said hurriedly. “Um. If you have another plan, we can do that too! I’m good with anything. As long as that,” she pointed to the wicked red corrosion, “is destroyed in the end, of course.”

“What’s wrong with your plan? I thought it was a great, simple plan.”

He snapped his fingers, and before she could consider that strange praise, the fungi enemies were colliding into each other, and the monsters’ attention locked on the two of them while Venti continued swirling anemo. 

It seemed they were starting. Okay, then.

She took a deep breath, held her hands out in front of her, the enemies within her view, and she caught them in a flash of dendro energy. Marked.

Bulbous cores sprouted from the water on the ground, and she held her breath. The enemies struggled, Venti held them static, the Withering pounded on her skin and lungs in scraping, clawing desperate destruction, but she held firm.

They exploded, and the enemies fell, disintegrated into dust.

She nodded to Venti, and he took the hint instantly. 

A bow materialized right as he held an arm out in shooting form, and Nahida had barely processed that Venti even had a bow before anemo coalesced at the tip, and the arrow flew straight into the heart of the tumor.

“I guess that’s it,” Venti said, but…

The tumor remained, his arrow harmless to its sickening decay, destroyed in an instant by red, aching miasma, and the zone thrummed its dissonant melody.

“What? ” Venti was acutely flabbergasted, although so was she. “Why didn’t that work?” He shrieked.

Nahida didn’t know, but ignorance had never been a good justification for inaction or retreat.

If only Rukkhadevata hadn’t run off again. Her ghost had seemingly decided Sumeru more important than her incarnation for the second time, and Nahida was getting sick of this temporary abandonment charade.

Then again…Rukkhadevata had abandoned her. That meant she thought Nahida had everything this process required, else she never would’ve sent her straight into the thick of it without her. All the tools needed to vanquish this evil must already be with her.

Believing in the ghost that had stayed with her for centuries was the easiest thing to do, no matter how apathetic her behavior had turned recently. Nahida would trust in her judgment. 

So, what did Nahida have? It must be something she had before arriving at this spot, so…there was only one thing she could think of, one thing she had no matter what.

“Venti!” She called, “prepare another arrow, and I’ll tell you when to release it.”

He readied another arrow instantly without hesitation.

Okay. Breathe.

She conjured dendro between her hands, an orb of pressured green energy. It sang a much prettier melody. If it sang loud enough, it could drown out even a tumor of decay. Squish it tighter. The orb spun more, dendro increasing in density. Faster . It kept spinning—sweat collected on her brow—and she pushed it harder. Small leaves sprouted from the center point of pressured energy, but she tightened it more, pulling that center around her hand, and the plant figure conjured from pure energy orbited her entirety like a planet around a star.

It glowed with life, and she had never tried this before, but it felt like the right answer deep down. It’s what Sumeru wanted her to do, and surely that had merit. 

“Uhm, Nahida? It’s actually extremely hard to hold an arrow taut, and I would really like to release it! Like, really soon!”

Oh! Right. Focus. She floated her dendro core to resonate with the tip of Venti’s arrow as its new sun, and cutting it off from her didn’t feel very good, kind of like severing a piece she hadn’t known existed—but it was done quickly and almost painlessly.

“Shoot!” 

He let the arrow fly, and it hit the tumor straight on target. A perfect shot.

She held her breath as her homemade energy core spiraled straight toward the arrow’s collision point. The core’s anchor collapsed, and the broiling green sphere fell straight into the bough, and that awful corrupt soul center exploded in a shower of red sparks. 

She exhaled as the haze instantly cleared like fog on a hot day, and the natural air rushed into the new emptiness as a light breeze that resonated with life and existence. Sunshine flowed in like a river to a drought, and she could breathe again. She barely had a moment to appreciate the newfound clarity of simple existence before Venti patted her on the back.

“Nice job," he said.

“You too.”

He let his bow fade away into golden shimmer. “Let’s go inform the caravan, then.”

She would consider how this information affected Rukkhadevata’s final request later. Because something so horrid like the Withering clearly should be vanquished forever, no matter the cost. The point had been made crystal clear. Even she had to agree that Rukkhadevata’s task for her had been just. For now, however, eyes on the finish line. 

The walk back wasn’t a long trip—the scout really had reported it way later than he should’ve—and they had time to return as slowly as they pleased, which suited her as there were many thoughts to parse through. The Withering was something mortals had found a way to deal with, and that should mean it wasn't really a problem...but that would be such a grandiose lie. She had seen it, felt it, and it would be cruel of her to let it be now that she knew for real. Of course Rukkhadevata wanted her to experience it; surely after that, no one could admit that it would be fine to let it be. No one. 

One thought in particular, unrelated to the Withering, also niggled relentlessly at the back of her mind, begging to be spoken aloud. She obliged it, if only to distract from horrid truths and because Venti was her friend, and she trusted he’d refuse to speak on it if it were important in some complicated, uncomfortable way. 

“I didn’t know you had a bow,” she mentioned as they walked back down the road. “I’ve never seen you use it.”

“Ah.” Venti scratched his cheek, oddly distracted. “I don’t use it often. It’s a bit too powerful for my liking, but it’s important to me for lots of reasons and more useful than I can explain. I only use it against enemies, though.” He sped up an almost indiscernible amount. “To kill them,” he added.

Kind eyes shouldn’t look so sharp. Then again, she understood the sentiment. 

And it really shouldn’t be surprising that Venti, even in all his pacifist glory, sometimes needed a proper weapon. The idea remained startling in its own right.

“I see.”

He managed a lopsided smile before giving up altogether. “You won’t see it often.”

She believed it easily.

“I want to see you safe,” he said, “and definitely not in places where I’d want, or need, to use my bow.”

And if that made her feel guilty for dragging him out there straight into danger, well, she did a pretty good job of hiding it because he immediately turned chirpy on the way back and didn’t exhibit any symptoms of the weight of awareness.

When they finally made it back to where the caravan remained at a standstill, the hour not yet elapsed, Blund showed no outward sign that he was surprised at their return. He tipped his hat when they informed him of their success, didn’t ask a single question, and the caravan was once more headed onward, toward Venti and Nahida’s final destination.

…

A couple days passed faster than Nahida would’ve liked, time slipping away, almost all spent. 

Song and laughter did wonders for time dilation—as did a general sense of wariness and therefore an ensuing quiet aura that began with her as an epicenter.

No one knew the full story of how two foreign travelers, a bard and a young girl, had cleared a Withering zone on their own, and they certainly didn’t explain. So, the rumors spread through the caravan like wildfire, and Nahida enjoyed a couple days of blissful silence and a lot of space as people moved out of her way no matter if they were sitting in the wagon with her, or stalling nearby, or setting up camp for the night. 

Venti played loud enough for most to hear, so everyone could sit wherever most comfortable, which generally involved being as far as possible from the two supposed mystery powerhouses.  

When they made it to Sumeru City, the two of them hopped off quickly, waved goodbye, and headed in on their own without any hinderance.

The city was spectacular for sure. After days of dirt and grass and trees, the buildings and domed roofs were a welcome view. Even as the sight of her imprisonment, it was plenty unfamiliar to her.

A giant thick tree snaked up toward the sky, rooted in the very center of the city, and even from back here on the outskirts of the city, Nahida saw remnants of the Akademiya scattered through the branches. Glass shards caught the sunlight as it spiked through the leaves overhead, casting an image of what looked like a field of stars. 

It was prettier than the inside of her prison, that’s for certain. 

Venti cheered as they stepped over the threshold. “Sumeru City at last! It was long, but we’re here, finally.”

“Yeah. We’re here.” She was glad he had agreed to take a while to make it. She had been in no serious hurry, and her thoughts were more organized than they had been before, even with the addition of new, complicated topics. They had made it in good time, and just maybe she was ready to decide. She had experienced Sumeru for real, and there was value in having done so. Now, the intensity was about to go up, and irreversible decisions would be made.

The Akademiya would get one last shot at being better than unforgivable.

Come on, Nahida thought. Prove to me why you deserve it. Show me why I should follow through with what must be done. Or I don’t know what I’ll do.

Rukkhadevata was still nowhere to be seen, and it seemed that this time, she wasn’t hiding nearby and would not come to her aid. 

…

Her greatest fear had come true. 

The people of Sumeru City, the ignorant accomplices to her 500 year plight, were just people. 

It wasn’t like it was a brand new idea; she had begun to notice it after docking in Sumeru to begin with, and after all this time traveling, now in the exploration phase of the capital, it had become unignorable. 

In the Bazaar, Nahida watched as the red-haired girl continued to dance across the stage, a traditional dance if Nahida had heard correctly from nearby bystanders, and it was beautiful, graceful, and people were clapping, and Nahida was wondering if it was fair to herself to regret. 

It might’ve been her imagination, but it seemed like people kept looking at Nahida, even with the dancer pulling focus, and every time they did, she got a shiver up her spine, an extra reminder for that which she had subjected them to. Did it matter if she was hurt first? It shouldn’t. That’s what it meant to be kind. 

Nahida wasn’t kind. However, she never would’ve returned to the site of her imprisonment if the building responsible remained standing or that man in charge, so she would take what she could get and hope the people didn’t hate her forever for what she had incurred upon them even though they had started it. 

If she fulfilled the object of her quest, they’d get the best deal in the end, anyway! No Eleazar, no Withering, and all they had to pay for it would be a building, the Akasha, and one Archon they weren’t even using. 

Except that the very notion of finding fairness in this particular labyrinth was hilarious and for nothing but silent jokes. 

There was no such thing as fairness. She knew that now. 

As the dance concluded with a big finish and the main dancer dipped into a low bow, Nahida clapped loudly, doing a rather decent job of pretending that she was just like everyone else and here for the performance. Venti wasn’t even pretending—he was clearly actually having fun, clapping along and stuff—and she almost wished they could switch feelings on it; she couldn’t casually appreciate such things right now.

Truth is she was here to witness normal people and to convince herself of their existence because she desperately wanted to exclude the possibility of that. She wasn’t going to get her way, though, and unfortunately, she was too aware of it—too committed to the undeniable truth. 

People continued clapping long after the girl finished, however some were clearly shouting some not-nice things. What was that about?

“Something’s happening,” Venti said, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she shifted to attention.

He was right; people dressed in scholar outfits, one of them clearly of a higher level going by his robes, pushed their way onto the stage, stomping loud enough to overpower the din of cheering, and the people quieted down.

“You were intended to vacate the area fifteen minutes ago,” the head guy complained. 

The dancer stood stock still on the stage. “Oh, I apologize. I thought we agreed the performers would get more time today.”

“You decided that on your own. We agreed that you would leave when we arrived, and we arrived ten minutes ago.”

She tilted her head. “But you weren’t supposed to arrive early,” she said softly.

A large group of students hovered nearby, watching the drama spill on stage, but no one moved to intervene on the behalf of either. 

The scholar continued to berate the girl, and it looked like she might back down as her every attempt to make peace or reach an understanding got squashed, until a commotion drew the arguing parties’ attention toward the back of the Bazaar. 

A single figure parted the sea of people as he came forward, flanked by two guards.

He wore the garb of someone important, a clean pressed and beautifully embroidered green robe. White hair framed a stern face, and Nahida could feel the vision at his shoulder sing. A dendro vision user. She hadn’t gotten an opportunity to meet one in Mondstadt, and this couldn’t be the first dendro vision user she’d passed, but this was the first one that had exuded an aura of pure, unforgettable ambition. A good man, he seemed.

“What’s this about?” He asked, and the entire Bazaar fell into silence, like the entire area had been dunked straight into the ocean where sound died into muffled nothingness.

The dancer shifted in place. “The Akademiya scholars say I went over the time allotted for my performance. My sincerest apologies.”

The man remained stoic, as if this little hostile discussion mattered so little. It gave Nahida the same feelings of reassurance that Venti did when he walked straight into a Withering zone without preempt. What a difficult thing to be—for a human. 

The scholar on stage started complaining. “It’s unacceptable that this behavior is allowed. This wretch should be banned from this stage if she can’t cooperate.”

The important man raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you should use the word ‘cooperate’ in a sentence if you don’t know what it means.”

In one instant, the vibe of the conflict shifted, and the tension bubbled off in one nice clean layer. The dancer hid a smile, and though the scholar looked ready to start yelling at her again, all attention remained locked on the white-haired man.

“Nilou,” he said to her, “I will personally offer a statement of apology on behalf of the Akademiya for this trouble. And you,” he glared harshly at the scholar, “will show respect to our cultural performers. They have benevolently welcomed us into their space during a time of distress, and the last thing I will tolerate is disrespect towards them for what is, in every sense, an unnecessary extension of kindness on their part.”

The girl blushed, and the scholar went red too, but probably for a very different reason.

“I’d be happy to accept it graciously, Alhaitham,” the girl said in a delicate, earnest tone.

So that’s his name.

“Alhaitham!” The man growled. “This is ridiculous—surely you, a scholar yourself, understand that.”

Alhaitham held a hand up. “You are a member of the Akademiya. You will refer to me by my title.”

Title?

The scholar grit his teeth. “Grand Sage.” Oh. “If you would reconsider our priorities and their importance over casual displays of fanciful movement, then you’d realize that we cannot afford to be lax about our most important role, the teaching of wisdom. This girl,” he pointed at Nilou, “has kept us from this divine task.”

That wasn’t a good use of that word. As if anyone here deserved to speak of the divine.

“Perhaps,” Alhaitham began, “but consider this. In the time we have been arguing, you could’ve been teaching your class .” The crowd of students that had gathered and moved forward shifted uncomfortably in one mass, and some of them moved to the back, out of sight. “Clearly, it is not my priorities in need of questioning.”

While they remained at a standstill, Alhaitham looked toward the students. “Well? Are you planning to attend your class?”

They immediately rushed onto the stage, and Alhaitham offered a hand to help Nilou off. She took it, jumped down, and they shared a few quiet, indiscernible words. She was smiling, so they were probably about good things.

Nahida couldn’t help but smile too. 

He was so, so much better than Azar—so much! Thank goodness they had found someone good to be in charge. She trusted he would make something of this place because she had never seen anyone stand up for the one over the many, but here he was, and here was the dancer, and…it was stupid, sure, but she wanted him to know how—how proud she was! Even if her opinions mattered not at all to these people. 

If only Nahida had met a man like that before. If he had been one of those who knew the secret of her imprisonment, she wondered how long it would’ve taken for the secret to break open like a dropped egg. 

Upon her command, a pulse of energy, a light spiritual tap of dendro energy, scattered through the area, and she could pinpoint the exact moment it reached his vision. The glass orb lit up, shimmering like all those glass fragments filling the giant tree in the center of the city, and Nahida was so, so glad!

Until Alhaitham jumped like he’d been burned.

He immediately scanned the entire crowd with a discerning eye. 

Oops. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea. Well, it wasn’t like he’d be able to tell she did it. That was a widespread pulse. There was no way he could pinpoint it. Just a trick of the world, it was.

Venti leaned down. “Um, what did you just do?”

“It’ll be fine,” she whispered back.

Clearly, she had underestimated the competence of this man, though, as Alhaitham’s eyes landed right on her and didn’t budge from her figure. He’s definitely looking at me. 

He shouldn’t be able to find the origin of that energy spike from a single instance of it, though! Most people, even if they noticed a casual chaotic occurrence like that, would dismiss it as a peculiar cluster of nearby elemental energy. Not only had Alhaitham noticed it, but he had also sought out and located the origin in less than five seconds.

Should she be glad he was more competent than she’d originally thought? Or should she be slightly worried that she had been noticed—and now he was walking toward her very briskly. 

Venti had taken to feigning nonchalance as Alhaitham strutted over, but it didn’t seem to be working. Besides, Alhaitham could clearly see that they were together. Venti really needed a new appearance like…duller eyes. Or hair. Then again, the unique teal coloring probably wasn’t his by choice. She shared coloring with her element, and she didn’t recall ever choosing it.

“You,” the Grand Sage said, jabbing a finger in her direction. 

She felt awfully like she was being called out for something bad. He swiveled his head quickly around the area, and he kept shifting from keeping an eye locked on her to ritualistically scanning the people nearby. 

“Come with me,” he ordered.

“Why? I am a mere tourist.”

“No you’re not, and we don’t have time for this.” 

Venti asked, “what does that mean?” He was obviously tense, and she was desperately working to dissolve her own fear in courage.

Alhaitham was surprised by the sudden intervention but recovered remarkably quickly. “She’s not supposed to be here. She’s in danger out in the open, and I’d like to move her to a safe location as soon as possible.”

“How is she in danger, exactly?” he asked, clearly disbelieving.

It wasn’t that Venti’s caution was unappreciated or out of line, but she didn’t think Alhaitham was dangerous. Though she didn’t dare voice that opinion while he remained a new factor. 

“Her appearance is widely circulated in certain circles—” he was talking to them but keeping an eye on the shadows, “—and I know what happens if she’s hurt on Sumeru soil, Barbatos.”

Before Venti could snap back with anything from a lighthearted insult to an array of fake colorful threats, she pushed herself back to the front. 

“You’re the new Grand Sage, right?” She asked.

“That I am.” 

“Okay, then. Lead the way.” 

Venti was amusingly flabbergasted at the ease of which she accepted the man who was essentially a stranger, but she wanted connections with the current leader of the nation. She had a question to ask him, and the closest thing to a speaker for Sumeru, at the moment, was Alhaitham. 

If anyone hurt her again and Venti was unable to help, she was sure Zhongli would find them. Supposedly he was still in the city, after all.

So, she followed when Alhaitham purposefully led them out of the Bazaar the second after she agreed, dismissing the guards with a wave. 

He took off his outermost cloak once they got out into the sun and tossed it over her and minutely adjusted it on her head for a couple seconds. It was all a bit much. And wouldn’t he rather disguise Venti? Nahida didn’t think she was top priority in need of hiding considering the circumstances. Even if her appearance was known, she was fairly certain the Sumerian people had stronger opinions on the Archon that wrecked their relative peace, not the one that might as well have been dead for however long she remained in arm’s reach.

She wasn’t the one who destroyed their most prestigious building. She had just been relatively invisible.

Clearly Alhaitham had a different opinion on the matter. 

“What about Venti?” She asked, eventually fairly fed up with the one-sided charade.

“He’s not the problem.”

Venti stood awkwardly on the side. “So we’re just following this guy?” He asked. “Did I get that right? And this is fine?”

“It’s fine,” Nahida chimed in. “Where are we going, though?”

“My home.”

Oh? That was nice of him. It could be some nefarious scheme, but she doubted it. She was good at reading people, after all.

She also really really wanted someone’s approval before taking any irreversible action like fixing their little forbidden knowledge problem, even if it would be for the good of the Sumerian people.  Alhaitham was the acting leader, so he’d have to do. She needed to keep in contact with him.

Her internal clock was ticking down, and the longer she put off her job and went around traveling the countryside, chasing merchant caravans, watching street performances, and following random people, the harder it’d get to follow through. 

Or maybe it’d be easier. A small part of her thought that if she knew these people, understood this place like she did her own soul, it might be easier to sacrifice for them. But nothing could erase 500 years of pain, and so that hope was destined to be crushed. 

What else was she supposed to do, though? Because she wasn’t going to face Irminsul. Not yet. Rukkhadevata was still nowhere to be seen, and it wouldn’t be right to take such action without the main actor present, even though she was hiding for some reason. And Nahida couldn’t help but think that if Eleazar and the Withering turned out to be not as bad as they had been described, maybe she could get away with everything and win it all.

If the Withering had been labeled wrongly as a disaster, if she was wrong about what she had felt when she stood face to face with it, then she could keep her position as a traveler, keep her friendships, keep being unimportant, keep the gnosis, and keep Rukkhadevata. 

But that’s not how it was going to go, was it? 

Accidents were expensive, and so was responsibility. The job needed to be done. The Withering really was that bad.

She couldn’t be free until her most important task was complete—permanently.

Or no, that was wrong. 

She was free for real, and that was the problem because freedom meant being able to take on the pressure of those she loved, and she would do so no matter the cost. That had been an aspect of herself forever, but she hadn’t known. How could she? She hadn’t been able to act on that desire, but now she could, and she was willing to sacrifice for them—for Rukkhadevata—even though she tried her best to convince everyone including herself otherwise. 

Rukkhadevata had too much love to give, Nahida believed. Too much love for too many people. How did she balance it? Because loving while freedom coursed through her veins caused Nahida such terrible sadness, and she loved so very few. 

I love you, and it’s terrifying, Nahida thought. I’m free, and that’s almost scarier.

Please, she wished, come back.

…

It was time to be an Archon. 

She hadn’t had to do so before, but right here right now it was important because what she decided to do mattered. And if she got her way, she’d steer this conversation in a necessary, messy direction. When she got the chance, she would work with Sumeru for once. 

A house wasn’t a great place for a life-changing conversation, but what was? Alhaitham’s home was surprisingly normal for an acting Grand Sage, too—but then again, it suited him just fine. 

“My roommate isn’t here now, and so we can speak plainly,” Alhaitham said, shedding the bulky layers that identified him as someone of importance. Nahida watched as he morphed into a normal citizen, but his vision pulsed just as strongly as before, even if no one but her felt it.

Nahida followed suit and pulled off the robe he had thrown over her. She attempted to fold it, but the task was daunting considering the difference in frame between her and Alhaitham, and he took it from her when it became clear she wasn’t capable of handling it.

“How did you figure it out so quickly, anyway?” Venti asked while they managed that little charade. “I was disguised and everything.” He seemed strangely upset that his disguise hadn’t been as effective as he’d believed.

“We met, once.” 

“But that doesn’t—”

“You destroyed my workplace,” Alhaitham said in a monotone drawl. “As Barbatos. I stepped forward, we had a short conversation. You handed me a book and then flew off.” 

“O-oh!” 

They stared blankly at each other. “That and I’m very good with faces,” he mentioned casually.

“Is that so?” Venti asked, the mock question falling heavy. 

“Yes. Any other questions?” he asked them.

Only about a hundred, but she could prioritize. No more opportunities for silly procrastination. Venti and Alhaitham also seemed slightly…emotionally charged, so this was as good a time as any to take over and start managing what probably mattered most. She had things to do. 

“You mentioned danger?” She began.

“You’re lucky no one noticed you,” he said, guiding them to the couch nearby. “Except thanks to that little display, someone has definitely noticed now,” he hissed with frustration. “You’re actually lucky that no one’s acted on it. Yet.” 

In one swift motion he went to the front door, jammed a key into the keyhole, and locked it. The action only served to accentuate his point, and whether he did it to scare her or because he thought it necessary was inconsequential.

“You’re now compromised,” he continued. “Whatever you’re here for, you should get it done and leave.” 

She hadn’t expected her first interaction in Sumeru City as Buer to be with someone who clearly recognized her demanding she go away, but it was certainly better than the alternative.

The thing was, leaving was a lot harder than she’d like to admit. Sure, she could root out the Withering now if she so pleased, but…not yet. Please. Since she hadn’t told Venti why exactly they were here and Rukkhadevata was somewhere else…her choices were limited.

“What does that mean, exactly? Compromised?”

“Azar leaked your appearance when he hired mercenaries to track you down.” Alhaitham was making tea now while Nahida and Venti sat on his sofa. She kind of wanted to help but didn’t know how to do that, and really, she just wanted something to do so she could avoid considering the consequences of what he was saying, but that was cowardly. “The entire nation knows what you look like; Morax’s intervention put a stop to most speculation about you,” she’d have to ask what he had done later, “but if you’re sighted in the city, I guarantee they will come after you for whatever reason their tiny minds conjure regarding the possibilities of an Archon’s power.”

But Alhaitham wouldn’t do that—he wouldn’t use her, and she knew it because if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have protected her, wouldn’t have told her to leave. And that’s part of what made him special. 

“I shouldn’t be in Sumeru for long,” she said.

Alhaitham seemed to roll her answer around in his mind as he poured water into three teacups. He passed them around, and that’s when his face lost that token blankness, and he held his own teacup tight. 

“You might not be my Archon anymore, but I do feel a certain responsibility toward you—and not only because you have two other Archons backing you and willing to act in extreme measure.” 

One of those Archons in question went to sip the tea as he strategically refused to look at the Grand Sage. However, Venti’s attempts at appearing indifferent failed as his tongue met hot water and he yelped. She ignored it so he wouldn’t feel as embarrassed about it.

“I didn’t think that was why,” she said. This was not a man who acted out of fear of consequences; rather consequences feared him…

“I was right at the heart of the Akademiya,” Alhaitham began, “and I never searched for you nor did I seriously question why our Archon never showed herself. I will do what you want because I believe I should. However, as the situation stands, you should leave as soon as possible before someone uncouth finds you.” He spoke solidly, full of straightforward edge. “Because let me make this clear: Sumeru is not safe for you, even if it seems that way. ”

“I…okay.”

“Good.” He set his cup down and interlaced his fingers. “Now then, what do you want with us?” He watched her fiercely, ready to catch her every word.

Venti leaned forward, too.

It had been stupid and strange of her to suddenly decide to go to Sumeru without giving specific reasoning for why, and frankly, she didn’t want to explain it now or ever. When they had started on their journey, Venti let them take it slow because she wanted them to, and it hadn’t occurred to her until now that he really didn’t know what was going on at all. What a good friend. She was glad it had been Venti because surely, anyone else would’ve required sufficient reasoning before taking a very slow route from one nation to another for no particular reason.

He never asked. She never explained. The time had been good for her.

“There’s a problem,” she began. “And only I can fix it.” That’s what she had told Venti back in Mondstadt, and she didn’t intend to clarify until absolutely necessary, even if that meant employing some underhanded tactics called ‘keeping the information to herself.’ They wouldn’t push her anyway because they felt bad, probably. Weaponized pity wasn’t her style but…oh well.  

Alhaitham merely repeated slowly, “a problem.”

“If I asked, would you take me somewhere? Help me fix it?”

“Yes,” he said, not wasting a single second. He really was a better Grand Sage in every possible way. 

She turned to her friend. “Venti?” He stopped staring into the depths of his teacup. “I need to talk to Alhaitham alone. This is Sumeru’s problem, and I don’t want to forcefully involve you in it. You’ve done more than enough.”

She didn’t dare tell Venti that his old friend, Rukkhadevata, was actually a ghost floating around unseen, pleading for death. That would be cruel. It would be best to save him from the worst parts of her responsibility.

“But I’d be happy to help," he said, "In any way that I can.”

“I do know that, but please. I don’t want to drag you into this.” She met his eyes, genuinely conveying every ounce of pity she could muster.

“If you’re sure,” he said hesitantly. “I can go find someone to pester I suppose…”

Relief subsided the guilt she felt at cutting him away from the oncoming conversation.

Venti didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to hurt him like that, not after he had sacrificed all his secrets to his people for her. Nahida’s debt had burgeoned the more time passed, and the longer she contemplated the true cost of her freedom and every happy moment she spent in Mondstadt, it became obvious that none of it had come for free, even if that’s what she believed when in the midst of it.

Nahida would pay Venti back in any way possible, but the problem was that she had so little to either of her names. So, she invited herself to be creative, find what she had to offer that might offset her debt, even if by an insignificant amount.

Ignorance was the only thing she could think to gift him.

“Then let’s—” she began, but halted as the doorknob jittered. 

All movement and sound went stiff. Teacups stilled in the air; her hands halted mid-gesture. 

There was someone on the other side attempting to twist it. Someone wanted to get in.

Alhaitham raised a finger to his lips, but no one needed to remind her to be quiet. Was this what he meant by danger? Had they been followed? She hadn’t noticed any onlookers when in the Bazaar, but she was primed to overlook subtle details like that right now—Sumeru City was very large—and she couldn’t know for certain whether she had missed something crucial.

She had no weapon. Venti had one, though, but he wouldn’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary. Alhaitham had a vision, and his hand hovered where he might summon his weapon, and of course he had one too, but how was he as a fighter? She didn’t know.

A voice came from behind the door. “Damn it, of course it’s locked—Haitham? Any chance you’re here? I forgot something, and I can’t find my damn keys and now it’s—hello?”

She looked to Alhaitham, who had rapidly devolved from alert to exasperatingly defeated. Perhaps not someone dangerous, then, but she kept her wits about her anyway. He kept quiet, and so did she.

Eventually, the person behind the door walked away with a grumble given the sound of receding footsteps, and she exhaled all at once, turning to him for answers.

“False alarm,” he said, a hand to his face. “That was just my roommate. He knows I shouldn’t be at home, so if we wait a couple minutes, he’ll be gone by then, and we can leave unnoticed.”

The next ten minutes in which they silently sipped tea passed very, very slowly.

___________________

As he had mentioned, Venti had a certain someone to pester—nicely, of course. Although that specification was unnecessary because he was always nice.

He left without fuss because handling this actually was important, and he didn't want to worry either of them by abruptly running out the door. Best to play it carefully and without instigating panic.

Besides, Sumeru was still standing. The people were still alive. No physical disruption could be seen. The land underneath and around the city remained together, no chasms or earthquakes or tsunamis. The wrath of a God that manifested in chaos and physical punishment hadn’t come to pass.

By all evidence, Venti was fairly sure Zhongli had done what he had promised, which was not hurt them in some undefined way, as whatever punishment he had decided to prescribe revealed no physical cracks.

That didn’t mean it would be easy to face his friend. 

What if…Zhongli was mad about it? Or regretted promising to exercise restraint? Just because he followed through didn’t mean he was pleased. Upholding promises meant more to him than most, and doing so was never a reflection of his personal opinion on the matter.

Point was, Zhongli was certainly still in the city, and Venti had it in his mind to track down his friend. Now that Zhongli knew what was going on, he wouldn’t abandon the issue until he saw Nahida safe and sound. He and Venti were similar in some ways, hence why they remained friends even under the test of time. 

So, Zhongli was here somewhere, waiting for conflict to find him, as he did. 

The question remained where, specifically. 

Venti was probably overthinking this. There was one tried and true method of finding people and it was to let them find him instead! He was better at being loud than looking.

Also, Alhaitham had made it pretty explicit that as far as secret identities went, Nahida was the problem, not him. Well, actually he hadn’t mentioned Venti at all regarding the potentiality or necessity of better disguises. Since the idea of hiding had never been directed at him specifically, Venti would assume such caution unnecessary, and he’d take his chances; his disguise was good enough.

He was merely a performer passing through Sumeru, waiting for one person in the city to find him. For anyone else, such an expectation would be ridiculous, but he was Venti—best bard of Mondstadt and the only creature who could sing of tales centuries past.

With a lyre at his hip and a proper repertoire of ballads, how could he be overlooked?

His first song began as he stood in a nondescript strip of the city where the sea was visible over a section that edged over a tall drop. The tree containing the remnants of his retribution were in view, and he kept it that way, as a reminder. He was a visitor here, not one of them. And he just wanted his friend to find him quickly. It wasn’t his choice that the best locations for attracting attention happened to be near the divine tree.

It was a good place, and it took little to no time at all for a crowd to gather, but missing the one big fish he actually wanted. 

Just show up already.

His luck wasn’t great today.

Several songs later, and still, Zhongli was nowhere to be seen—but he was definitely in the city. There could be no question about it, so Venti kept going, kept playing, kept doing all those things he was so good at, and yet bitterness crept through the strings the longer he went on.

It felt just like playing in Mondstadt—but if the people he was intimately familiar with had been replaced with puppets. 

This is what it would be like if he left and didn’t go back, he realized—and he suddenly wasn’t in the mood anymore to sing the current song about star-crossed lovers that he was midway through. Who cared if the two characters found each other in the end if none of Venti’s family would ever hear it again?

And now he was just being ridiculous. Let it go. Play the stupid song. 

He did.

The audience remained a bunch of dolls dressed up in pretty costumes, and they acted in perfect accordance with the script.

When the song ended, they tossed coins, and as Venti gathered up the stage props, another landed near his feet, and at first he thought it was a rock, but it had the markings of a piece of Mora. A weird tip for certain, but it’s not like he was doing it for money.

No one in Mondstadt would do that, throw stone money at him. It was kind of rude when he thought about it.

The man who had tossed it walked forward, crouching down to where Venti was retrieving his coins, and one very obvious thought hit Venti full swing. This man didn’t fit in. Like knows like, after all.

“Beautiful song,” the man offered as complimentary.

He wore a black mask—and Venti had very little interest in engaging with him because he explicitly didn’t want to attract trouble today, and this man had that label plastered over every detail of his figure.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he replied. Granted, it might not be a favorite anymore since bad feelings had accidentally carved themselves into the tune, but he’d have to wait and see.

“You’re not from around here though, are you?”

Venti held himself very still, willing his feelings hide for a bit longer so he wouldn’t give away anything. “Why do you suppose that?”

“I am observant.”

“Is that so.”

Right as he started searching for possible escape routes, a head of dark hair pushed forward through the crowd. Turns out he still recognizes my music. That’s good.

“Ah! Zhongli!” He yelled. “My friend is here,” he said to the crowd and the strange man by association, “so I’m afraid I must depart from here at this time. You’ve been a great audience!” He scurried off, refusing to give anyone an opportunity to follow him, keeping a special eye on the masked man until he stopped in front of Zhongli, who had also found a suitable disguise, now draped in the colors and styles of current Sumeru fashion.

Under the scrutiny of his friend, Venti tried desperately to look angry and failed just as badly.

“Good to know you’re still capable of using those ears,” Venti joked.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Take me somewhere we can talk.” Strange people aside, he didn’t want to risk anything, and he wasn’t in the mood to hang around these people anymore. There was a certain bitter residue to them, entirely self-imposed. “You’ve been out alone here for a while—show me someplace secret.”

…

Zhongli led them up into the giant tree, a site of catastrophe turned walking trail. It was quite possibly the most eye-catching area of the entire city, and Venti wondered whether Zhongli's ears actually were more broken than he'd supposed.

“Won’t people stop us?” Venti asked as they climbed.

“No. Many refuse to look at this tree, and they will not halt our ascension. I believe they consider it unholy, or perhaps cursed.”

Great. He was cursing places now, apparently. As an Archon with a literal cathedral, he felt that there was some hilarity to uncover here when he no longer felt so dejected by it. 

The continued up until the twisting branches, path eventually taking them high enough so that people weren’t visible, and it seemed as if they were being embraced by wood on all sides. When the branches opened up, Venti and Zhongli arrived at a spot with a good overlook of the city, green tops like a bunch of little toy buildings. It was pretty, but then again, there were still remains from what Venti had done when here last. 

It was a good secret place, though. 

“So what have you been up to?” Venti asked. There wasn’t a correct answer, but there were bad answers, and Venti was mentally crossing his fingers, hoping for the best.

“Where’s Nahida?” Zhongli asked instead.

And that didn’t even answer the question!

“She’s here, speaking with the new Grand Sage right now. Not sure what about.”

“Oh? I do hope she isn’t attempting to take over responsibility for this nation. It truly brought this harm upon itself.”

Shame flooded his system, but that’s not why he felt the need to correct Zhongli. Nahida wasn’t that self-sacrificing. Sure, she had that sympathetic streak, but he doubted they came all the way out here—really taking their time on the journey—only for her to take responsibility for Sumeru. 

“I don’t think that’s it. She says there’s a problem she needs to take care of.” 

All they could do was wait till she decided to confide in them. It was hard, to stay away, but Venti would rather be patient than mistrusted. 

“Anyway! Tell me about what you’ve been doing,” Venti ordered. This time with a proper answer, please. 

“Employing advanced, economically motivated fear tactics,” said Zhongli without missing a beat. 

And that…wasn’t a horrible answer, he guessed? Weird for sure, but better than, ‘oh, I split the city down the middle with a giant chasm, and now they need to build a bridge because no one can get from their homes to the hospital without falling a hundred meters into cavernous depths.’ There was no need to be worried about ‘fear tactics.’ Probably. What he had offered was a perfectly fine answer, considering what it could’ve been.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“Observe.” Zhongli retrieved an item from his pocket and tossed it.

Venti snatched it from the air, the thing being a small, round-ish rock. Well, that’s not very exciting. 

“Have you always gone around carrying rocks in your pockets?” 

Venti definitely would’ve made fun of his friend for that if it had been a common occurrence. Zhongli might’ve been the geo Archon, but there was geo literally everywhere! The man certainly didn’t need to carry it around with him.

“No. I do not carry around regular rocks.” He gestured to the item still clutched in Venti’s grip.

Venti took a closer look, and oh! Wasn’t that clever? A little fake Mora! It was kind of adorable, really, and looked like that one he’d gotten when performing earlier.

“So what? You put some of these counterfeits into circulation? I’ve gotta admit, that seems a bit mundane for your tastes.” It wasn’t even a good counterfeit…

“That’s not what I did.”

“No?” Venti flipped the coin and let it fall in his outstretched palm. Coins weren’t very threatening or dangerous, and this was so firmly out of Zhongli’s normal arsenal of action that he found himself strangely out of depth in his attempts to guess what had been done. 

No one was hurt. No Sumerian life had been put at direct risk, and that’s all Venti cared about, really.

“Fine, I have no more guesses,” he acquiesced. “What did you do?”

“This.” 

Zhongli retrieved a normal piece of Mora from his pocket, shining brilliant gold, hid it in his hands—this was starting to look like a kiddy magic trick, very out of character—and a shock of geo energy went shuddering through it. When he peeled his hands away, he revealed a dull, stone Mora in place of the true genuine item.

Forget turning stone to gold, he turned gold to stone, and…well. Venti probably had a good sense of what he had meant by ‘advanced fear tactics.’ Fearful indeed.

The two types would be virtually, visually identical except for that telltale golden color. Their weights were probably different too, but that wasn’t the point. Money turned useless on a whim—it was a good threat. The stone in his palm felt heavier in the ensuing calm. It might’ve been bad of him to be relieved with this news, but it really was a great use of Morax’s power. This, people would remember.  

“You’re far scarier than anyone thinks.”

“I’m fairly sure that, when people believed I remained alive, I was widely feared.”

“Yes, but I don’t think popular opinion or the common stories ever did you justice.” Venti fidgeted, holding a stone that had turned useless under the hand of a man he was increasingly happy to have as a kind-of friend. It was a horrible thing Zhongli had done, but good in a twisted way. He had performed perfectly according to Venti’s priorities. And if anyone was to blame, it was Venti. “And thanks, by the way, for doing what I asked. You didn’t have to.”

Zhongli’s form tightened minutely. “Perhaps not, but you were right. This kind of retaliation is best; they stopped focusing on Nahida when I cast seeds of doubt into their economy. It was effective, and I only thought of it because you opened my eyes to what was most important.”

If Venti’s cheeks heated, no one had to know but him, and he looked away before his friend got the chance to notice. “Stop being sappy, you old man. But yes, I am amazing, and you should say it more often.”

Zhongli chuckled, and when he waved a hand toward Venti, the stone turned back to Mora in a ripple of fractured light.

“There. It is fixed,” he said.

“It’s good to know you can put them back to normal. Do you intend to change them back, though?”

“No. As I told the Grand Sage, a selection of Sumerian coins will occasionally turn to stone come a change of season for several years, intended to give Nahida time should she need it, and realistically speaking, the fear will only stick if they remain unusable. Forever.”

“I guess that’s true.” Venti turned the newly fixed Mora over in his hand. Gold shined far brighter than stone. “I wish they had an opportunity to get rid of them, though. What do you think will happen to all the stone coins in the end?”

“It’s difficult to say for certain,” he said. “It is likely they will not reenter monetary circulation. Stone is fragile, and any nation outside Sumeru is sure to reject them. I suspect the residents will realize this in the near future, and they may henceforth be destroyed whenever possible.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it? They’re merely useless trinkets when stone.”

“I guess that’s true but…” what a waste. “I just wish there was a way to use them without decreasing the value of the…insinuated threat.” 

Was being ridiculously optimistic the same as being stupid? Hopefully not…

“I’m afraid you’re too kind-hearted for these strategies.”

What was Zhongli on about now? That was factually untrue (regardless of whether or not he was stupid.) Venti’s the one that started this mad disaster, and maybe Zhongli was trying to be kind, but his use of the term was incredibly misplaced no matter what.

“I destroyed their building. Did you forget?”

“And you remain remorseful because of it. I damaged their spirits, something far more precious than an old construct of wood and concrete, yet I can’t say I regret it.”

If Venti bothered to listen closely, to slow down and observe the way the wind twisted in sinews and jagged edges through the creases of this city, the underlying stresses made themselves known. It’s not that he hadn’t noticed, merely that he didn’t care to acknowledge it, thinking it a natural offshoot of recent events. However, the city buzzed like an agitated hive—unnaturally, he knew—and only with new context did Venti realize what exactly Zhongli claimed to have done. The people were afraid, and that was…something. 

“I’ll say it again,” Venti began, “the stories really don’t do you justice.”

“And yet you agree this is better than the alternative?”

“Obviously.” 

That was never in question, and it was silly of him to ask. Yet, the confirmation softened his friend’s features, and Venti wondered why.

“I am glad you approve.”

“I mean, it’s not great, but it’s the best thing you could’ve done because…she’s…” he intended to wait til he found the right words, but they remained lost. “They’re never going to let her go, are they?”

“…I would assume not.”

“Then you did good.” He held the coin so tight, it imprinted a triquetra in his palm with a sharp ache. “Really, really good.”

Chapter 6: Wishing You All The World: Part 2

Notes:

I posted the first half yesterday; I hope that isn’t too confusing!

This is the end. :)

“We need to change your appearance—specifically, your hair,” Alhaitham said with a harsh expression.

Venti had gone, and Nahida was left with a man who she trusted, but she felt out of her depth. And confused. 

“Is there something wrong with my hair?”

“No. It’s simply the only thing we can change about you that is a defining feature." He leaned in close. "Unless you are capable of changing the shade of your eyes.”

…Probably not. She hadn’t tried, but based on her friends, she doubted it was possible. Hair it was, then. She could potentially make herself look different in other ways, but she just didn’t want to, so she didn’t offer that information. Was this part of why Venti didn’t want to change his appearance? The discomfort with…the idea that she could become something completely different within a moment? Uncanny, is what it was. She suspected there was more to it than general discomfort for him, but still. It made more sense now.

Alhaitham spent no extra time pulling her hair back into a tight bun when she didn’t stop him. “No one would believe you’re a scholar, but I have other hats we could use.”

Aw. She kind of wanted matching hats with Venti, but as always, someone with a bit more sense than her had to come and ruin it. 

She ended up selecting a dark brown beret which she meticulously tucked all her hair into. A couple strands escaped, but it should be good enough. Sandals were placed in front of her after that, and she didn’t have the energy to try denying them this time. 

Once she was dictated ready by Alhaitham, he looked at her, waiting, and she knew she had no more time to sacrifice to fun.

“I assume you have somewhere you treat Eleazar patients?” She asked.

Even when deathly still, he still spoke professionally. “We have a hospital.”

“Take me there.”

…

The doctor on site was flustered and ridiculously happy when Alhaitham showed up, and he completely disregarded the strange girl trailing behind him, which was good. She could only hope that trend stuck.

“Yes, yes Zakariya, I am still looking into the funding—no, I haven’t made progress on it—can we speak in private?”

After a barrage of back and forth questions—while Alhaitham pushed very strongly for somewhere quiet they might talk—Zakariya finally led them into the back, past beds with patients and nurses scurrying about. At the door, he finally acknowledged Nahida’s existence.

“And her?”

“She’s my assistant,” Alhaitham said. His statement remained unchallenged despite the fact that Nahida appeared far too young for such things. Either this man didn’t care, or he held respect for his Grand Sage and trusted him, even if he wanted to bring a random girl with him. Nahida hoped it was the latter.

The doctor started letting out a fantastic display of compliments and monetary-related requests once they were sitting in his office. If Nahida had been here for any other reason, she would’ve fallen asleep or attempted to escape. The guy wasn’t paying much attention to her anyway.

Eventually Alhaitham put a stop to it and gestured she begin, and the room fell to quiet. She hadn’t been following the conversation up til that point, so she figured she might as well ask what she came here for and ignore whatever she might’ve missed. 

“Ahem. Hello, doctor. I am Nahida. I came here to…learn about Eleazar.” It wasn’t the truth but close enough, and it’d have to do. 

The doctor looked to Alhaitham for confirmation, and he nodded.

“You want me to tell you about it?” He asked.

“Yes, please. Everything you know.”

“Any specifics? Is this a matter of research? Do you know someone suffering from it?” His tone suddenly turned sympathetic, and a wave of frustration crashed over her. She didn’t want sympathy, not even for fictitious relations.

“No, no none of that. I just want to learn more.”

He hesitated. “Well, it’s a terminal illness.”

She nodded.

“It’s incurable,” he added.

No it’s not. There was a cure, but she was the only person in the world who could administer it, and that fact burned stronger now than ever.

“Tell me more.”

And so he did. He began going into its complicated history of when it initially began, how it came back after so very long. When he got to symptoms, his eyes flickered to Alhaitham, but facing no complaints, he began explaining the illness in detail— gruesome detail. 

But Nahida only caught the important part: the skin turns scaly, necroses, and then you die. 

There was more obviously, but that’s what she clung to because it was crucial to remember what mattered. 

In the end, hosts of Eleazar suffer horribly, fall into a coma, and they die. 

“Show me,” she said.

The patients, lying in two rows of beds, were mostly asleep—some permanently, he suggested—and the few that weren’t, were stoically silent, as if the pain didn’t exist unless spoken aloud. The doctor went on to discuss how some of them may be moved elsewhere soon, but for now, they remained here for the benefit of free healthcare and a comfortable place to stay close to home where something might be done for them to ease their pain.

Nahida picked a patient based on her own self-defined rules. The woman at the very end of the row nearest her clearly remained strong with clear mental faculties, and she scribbled in a small black journal. With the smallest sample size possible—one, to be precise—Nahida would flip a coin on this single Sumerian citizen.

Alhaitham could speak for the nation.

This woman could speak for the people. 

Because that’s what Nahida decided.

They imprisoned her, for 500 years, and so this was fair. She need only pick one because they who had left her to suffer for centuries thought sacrificing one justifiable, and so only one needed to say the word to change the future. To influence her choice.

Nahida walked purposefully to the end of the row, drawing gazes as she did so. “Ma’am?” She began, attracting attention from the room at large, but judging it as inconsequential. Zakariya looked like he wanted to stop her, but Alhaitham had her back on that front. He could be very intimidating when he wanted to.

The woman slowly turned her head. “Yes?” She was tired, clearly, and dark scales poked out of her sleeves near her hands. 

It was bad of Nahida to suggest anything like this, to even put the idea into the woman’s head, but she asked anyway. She needed a straight answer. Just one. She needed her airborne coin to land on one side so the decision would be made once and for all. No take-backs allowed. 

“What would you give for a cure?” She asked.

If the woman thought the question came out of nowhere, she didn’t reveal it. Her face was firm and held the expression of someone strong, someone who knew her death approached and spent every day existing so fully, someone who understood deeply her own mortality. Her hands remained holding the pen and journal, frame upright, yet there was no hint that she had heard the question at all until she spoke.

“Anything,” she said. “Anything at all.”

The coin landed on heads.

Nahida closed her eyes. 

One person. Congratulations Sumeru, and Rukkhadevata. 

In the darkness behind her eyelids, the world faded, and there was no running away. I’m only sorry it took me so long to be ready.

…

There was little else allowing Nahida to ignore it anymore, and she urged herself not to become cowardly, not here, not now. 

“Alhaitham?” She asked as they left Bimarstan together. He had kindly kept out of her business, but it was about to become his business as well, so she felt the responsibility of at least informing and asking him whether she could carry out the favor she would do for them. Even favors could be rejected for reasons beyond her knowledge, and it was only right to ask. 

“You are Sumeru’s leader," she said, "So I consider you the speaker for this nation. Are you…okay with that?”

He halted on his next step but reasserted himself perfectly well, even with the question hanging over him. “I am.” 

The tension clouding her mind cleared. “I was asked to make a trade. By someone important. And I need to know if Sumeru agrees that it would be for the better.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

“The trade is as follows,” she began. “The world will sacrifice Rukkhadevata. And in exchange,” her words sharpened, “Sumeru will get—”

The crunch of boots approaching interrupted her, and she frantically stopped speaking. Others shouldn’t know about this. She shouldn’t have been discussing it in the open in the first place. She just wanted to get it off her chest—to be brave. Unfortunately, the man that appeared before them didn’t seem like he intended to leave anytime soon. He stopped right in front of them, and Nahida held her tongue. Trouble, he seemed.

He was like a carved statue, uncanny in perfect posture. He had a black mask adorning his face, and it certainly wasn’t of Sumeru design.

“After all the trouble I went through tracking you down,” he said, “I find you poking around the hospital. Our meeting today might as well be destined.” 

Alhaitham took charge, “Who are you?” It seemed the Grand Sage had officially lost all patience for etiquette; then again, Nahida had too, several hours ago.

He bowed slightly, but not deep enough to signify any kind of real respect. “Il Dottore, at your service.”

Alhaitham seemed neither surprised nor agitated by that answer. “The Fatui diplomat, the one investigating Eleazar? An alumnus of the Akademiya?” He shifted his eyes toward Nahida.

“Indeed,” the stranger replied.

Oh. That was kind of Alhaitham. In one fell swoop, she was up to date on this man’s identity, and most importantly, knew that he was not one who she should engage with if possible. Too bad there no longer was a choice involved.

“And? If you need something from me, schedule an appointment.” Alhaitham stated frankly.

He laughed. “I’m not here for you, Grand Sage.” His mask shifted towards her. “It was quite easy to track you down once I knew you had arrived here. Spies in the city do quick work. I’m afraid your little friend…slipped up.”

Not good.

The Fatui weren’t good news; she knew that much, and although she had known they must be in the city, she didn’t expect one to come find her. To be honest, Nahida wasn’t terribly comfortable with emissaries from another nation being here at all, but Sumeru was weak. Attempting to get Snezhnaya out wasn’t a reasonable or smart use of resources, even if she did have that kind of power. And she didn’t. 

Also, if what he had said was true, he was technically a former temporary resident of Sumeru, so it’d be terribly rude to kick him out or refuse to talk to him in any circumstance. 

At least since he knew who she was, there was no point beating around the bush.

“I have no cure for you,” she said. 

If it was supposedly destiny to find her at a hospital, she would refuse it to the best of her ability.

“You misunderstand,” he said. “I don’t seek a cure for Eleazar. I have no interest in it anymore.” His attitude exuded nonchalance, and she believed his words correct.

“What do you want, then?” He very clearly wanted something, to approach her like this, full of arrogant disdain, and she needed to start somewhere. 

“A deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“One where I give you something you want, and then you give me something I want.”

“There is nothing I want from you, and I don’t have much to give.” A bit too honest there perhaps, but she wanted him gone. And really, she might be an Archon, but she had no power over this nation, these people, and she couldn’t think of what value she might be to one such as him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of either of those things. I am a man well-traveled, and you…well. You have plenty.”

She really would’ve appreciated backup here from Rukkhadevata—or Venti. Perhaps one more than the other…but she wouldn’t admit it.

“What could I possibly have that you want?” Nahida asked. Better to know her enemy and his proclivities to best move forward. And as far as she was concerned, she was ridiculously lacking in anything valuable in a deal.

He snapped his fingers, dragging her attention upward, to the mask covering his eyes. “I want your gnosis,” he offered.

Now, more than ever before, she needed to present herself as perfectly stable. It was important, here. Because he knew that which he shouldn’t. She had been caught off-footed, in a most unfortunate way.

“What an arrogant demand.”

“Why, not at all,” he said, his tone like liquid gold. “You don’t know how difficult you’ve made my job. I am the kind of man to put my goals above all else, and yet in the end, I serve the Tsaritsa. I did not get to see my experiment in Sumeru to completion because of you, and now you take that which I was instructed to acquire in the first place. You know not of what you’ve put me through. Give me the gnosis.”

“No.” Quick. Decisive. Everything that she wasn’t, she needed to pretend to be. 

He put a hand to his chin. “You know,” he said, “I have cured Eleazar before.”

Unbalanced, yet again. He was a bad opponent for her. 

“You have?”

“Yes.”

But…that was impossible. She had access to a certain depth about it that made her perfectly aware of what a hideous thing he claimed, accidentally or not, because there was no way to do that without missing something she’d accurately call humanity.

“How?” She asked. 

“A trade involves something of equal value to both parties.” He held out a hand.

“I’m not making a deal with you for that because it’s impossible. What have you actually done?” 

The idea grew in horrific, grotesque mutation the more she thought about it. She had read all the logs, all the trials and attempts to cure it stored in the Akasha far back when that was the only way for her to learn. Rukkhadevata had told her even more. This man…he must be lying or he must’ve done something truly unforgivable. 

“The bodies of innocents and the spilling of blood is not the worst possible sacrifice for a cure. Surely, you understand this.”

“I don’t want it if that’s the cost.” She didn’t want it—or need it—at all, but there was more to be discovered in his words and secrets. Remain neutral.

“You’re supposedly God of wisdom, yet you remain so impressionable and sensitive to…emotional trivialities,” he grumbled. “Very well. What else do you want, then?”

“There is nothing of equal value to a gnosis that you could give me.”

“Of course there is. There always is.”

“You misunderstand,” she countered. “Perhaps there is, but I don’t want anything from you.”

A man like this deserved none of her sympathy, and the longer the conversation continued, the more it seemed as if Rukkhadevata’s past anger had seeped into her own bones over time. She didn’t like this man for reasons which didn’t belong to her, but she wasn’t complaining because he was beyond repentance if he told the truth.

He spoke of such vile things. 

“How uncouth. You’re making me decide an offer, then?” He threw up his hands, and for a brief moment, she believed he would summon a weapon. “It is difficult for me to know what you want. Nevertheless, I have a proposition. For the dendro gnosis, I will remove the rest of the Akademiya. I will invest in tearing down Sumeru in all its hubris by the roots. Would that satisfy you?”

“No," she said loudly, “don’t do that.” 

How terrifying, that a man like this could offer something so unruly at his own behest. She didn’t want to be here anymore. She didn’t want to do this. 

“Do you not want the destruction of Sumeru?” Il Dottore folded his hands together. “It seems my knowledge is out of date.”

“I want Sumeru to rebuild itself safely.”

“Then, how about this instead.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ll offer the opposite; I will make sure the Akademiya and Sumeru never again rebuild unless you give me the gnosis. Is that more to your liking?”

She strangled the gasp in her throat before she let her emotions run wild. She had messed up.

Really, really badly. 

Never tell the opponent your true feelings—that was the first lesson to diplomatic deals, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t her fault she had no experience being a leader! She shouldn’t have any control over the happiness of Sumeru in the first place! She had already renounced any claim on it she had, yet here she was. She had caused them more problems when free than when trapped. Maybe…it would be better if she was imprisoned again if it was impossible for them to escape her influence. She just made so many mistakes.

Except no, she wasn’t thinking straight. If she were still imprisoned, it would be worse because then the Akasha would still be functioning, and it shouldn’t be. Also, Eleazar and the Withering would be permanent issues, as she would be unwilling to fix them. This was still better—and why did that feel so bad?

“Since you refuse to accept,” Il Dottore said, “I suppose I will need to take initiative. Disappointing.”

Everything started before she noticed anything was happening at all. Alhaitham shoved her backward so hard she almost slipped, and a white and green sword was in his hand, conjured in an instant, angled defensively.

Il Dottore grabbed his own wrist and straightened a glove, hand lolling to the side, and what was his element, exactly? Weapon? She couldn’t see a vision on him, but that kind of courage didn’t come without confidence, and confidence partnered well with visions. His dramatic flair concluded with a circular flourish of his arms, and a large metal object manifested in front of him.

Catalyst.

It was round, angled upward, hanging on chains suspended midair. Holes peppered the main circular body—and oh, it was an incense burner. It reminded her an awful lot of Sumeru in style, but he was going to use it to attack them, presumptively, so not friendly. 

He waved a hand, and it swung once, twice, thrice—a flurry of snow emanated from the porous device, collected around them, and within seconds, the entire ground was obscured by a thick layer of wintery fog. The incense burner continued saturating the air with snow that swirled in the wind and pooled in corners and dark places. When Nahida shifted awkwardly, hoping to back away from it, she kicked snow back up into the air, and she could see just a little less. 

His element was cryo, it would seem—not a good matchup for her and Alhaitham. 

“Do you have a weapon?” Her momentary partner asked, and she shook her head no.

She didn’t think she’d need one. Even Venti had a weapon, though, and getting one would be on the top of her priority list if they got out of this. She had been so dangerously naive.

“You won’t even fight me?” Il Dottore drawled, shifting each finger individually. Rivers of foggy snow shifted upward and coalesced into a ring of frozen feathers, rotating on his command. “Or is it that you can’t?”

She held her hands out in front of her. She could try casting dendro, but without a catalyst of some kind, her power would be finicky and random to an extent. But there weren’t any other options.

“Stay on the defensive,” Alhaitham said, “and I’ll take vanguard.” 

Her foot slid backwards, and she crouched low. The fog swirled, and at a quick glance downward, her feet were nowhere to be seen, overtaken by cloudy white. There appeared to be faces in the snow, distorted baubles of smoky nothingness, and their mouths were wide, as if screaming horrible nothings. The sound the airy snow made as it flowed was full of voices, and they were so so sad, and—okay, refocus. The conjured snow isn’t normal snow. Stay away from it whenever possible, except she was short, and as it built up, it climbed to her waist, and she could realistically do nothing about it.

As she stood still in the river of cold, Alhaitham rushed forward with a barrage of heavy slices, dendro cascading from each hit, but Il Dottore’s icy feathers finally revealed a purpose, and they met each sword slice like they were mindful, ready to defend to the bitter end.

A portion of the stark white feathers coalesced into a flock of crows, morphing and mutating into globs of ice, and they dove under foggy cover. Before she could think, they began arching up at surprise locations to spread ice wherever they touched. The area, buildings, crops, and fences had become his domain before the battle had properly begun.

It was a nest they stood entrenched in, a nest for a blizzard and its crows.

Alhaitham cast a wide net of dendro attacks, and they pinged off one another like a collection of little mirrors, but they fizzled in the face of the total cold, and most were blocked by feathers hard as rock and colder than life can stand. 

Bad matchup, indeed.

Alhaitham continued his assault, inching closer with a smooth slice and large step forward, but Il Dottore’s incense burner swung once more, and with a wave of his hand, the newborn flurry condensed into a whole sheet of newborn icy feathers overlapping like a shield. Alhaitham’s sword hit it but barely made a visible cut. 

He needed help, but what could she do? She had no weapon, stood too short, and was unfamiliar with the element she controlled in complete totality. 

A rogue feather—one Alhaitham had failed to knock off course—went straight into the roof of the hospital, and when she looked back at where it struck, a whole group of nurses and doctors had gathered, witnessing the assault right in front of them. Her and Alhaitham never got very far after leaving the hospital, and now the repercussions had shown themselves. They couldn’t let Il Dottore hurt them, and he was very clearly willing to do so.

Another feather bounced off of Alhaitham’s sword wrong, and it was coming towards her, and she could dodge, but there were people behind her now, and nevermind, she couldn’t dodge. It came forward faster and faster, too fast for thoughts. She put both hands up, coalesced dendro energy in them, and grabbed it an inch before it pierced her eye. She dropped it a moment later, red flecking the ice. 

She breathed, not even sure what had happened as she stood in the middle of a battlefield, lost.

When she looked at her hands, it seemed not even her last minute application of dendro could save them completely. Cuts littered her palms, a pattern of feathery imprints, and they bled. 

You’re an Archon. Pick yourself up and act. She could do something to help, something more than try catching the occasional ice feather. She knew it. Even without a weapon, she would be something more than useless. 

She dropped low onto her hands and knees, crouching inside the snowy fog crowding the ground. Alhaitham would probably think she was doing it just to stay out of sight, but if she got this right, there was serious potential that she could help him. And it was worth it, even as the fog whispered things she didn’t want to hear.

Help! I’m so, so sorry! Please! Help me!

They weren’t real. Don’t listen to the snowy faces because they’re meant to be a trick, and tricks are callous and must be disregarded in the face of danger. That’s what she knew to be true. And yet. She could almost see a swirl of Rukkhadevata’s white hair, of her white dress, of the pieces of the entity that she called her family. But they weren’t her because she wasn’t here! 

Nahida pressed her palms against the stone beneath her, white fog all around, and with just a little push—because plants existed everywhere if one only dares to look—life came to call. There were hundreds of roots under this city, vines and grasses and trees aching to grow and become. With a pleading request, they snaked toward her, coming from underneath. 

Plants didn’t listen right.

It was something she had learned back when trying to make a flower for Venti. (Which she hadn’t given up doing! She’d see it done.) Point was, plants liked to mutate and change according to the laws of chaos that she couldn’t decipher. She would say go left, and they’d grow in every direction because that’s what abiding by a demand looked like for them. Sure, they’d end up left, but they’d also end up right, down, up, and everywhere else along with it.

It was tricky, demanding plants do anything. They would exist without her help, so they didn’t feel indebted to her at all. She did nothing for them in the long run, and so if they complied, it would be from the goodness of their instincts, and perhaps fortunately—perhaps unfortunately—they loved her a bit too much. 

She hadn’t known. It felt like a thousand overlapping voices saying nothing in particular at all. Like crashing waves and the heartbeats of a million unconscious entities as they slept. Rukkhadevata hadn’t told her this part. Why not? And Nahida had never tried reaching out like this. 

Il Dottore was sending more icy feathers every which way, his stash growing the more snow emanated from his catalyst, Alhaitham sharply parrying each before they could skewer him or those nearby, Zakariya and his people hovered, and a foggy, snowy mess at their feet swelled to their thighs as Il Dottore’s incense burner swung in a rhythmic style of fatalism. 

And then there was Nahida, embraced by the icy air, tucked below the top of the white ocean, calling on help from underneath them all—help that felt overwhelming sympathy for her distress.

A small plant sprouted through the concrete as she lent it power, one delicate little thing, and then came more. 

Crack, and another green plant sprouted through, crack, and another. An army at her beck and call. And they swarmed upward. 

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

It was too late for second thoughts, though, as a cluster of plants shattered through where her hands and knees touched the ground. They grew up, thick leafy green vines, above the film of fog, like sunlight piercing clouds. 

As they grew, the frosty faces evaporated completely, and the domain set by Il Dottore fractured. 

Nahida clasped her hands together. This is my land. My people. You do not command this place.

She spread her arms, and upon the movement, the plants cascaded out. Not in any specific direction, just out. They warmed the area, sucked in the moisture surrounding them, and the fog faded into a newly grown garden of vines and leafy plants criss-crossing wherever they so pleased. 

Il Dottore took a step backward, and Alhaitham lunged forward in an attack, but this time, his dendro casting bounced off of the plants around him, and it cut into his opponents cloak, his boots—and he took a chip out of the black of Il Dottore’s mask, right near his nose. 

Alhaitham moved purposefully forward once again, but this couldn’t go on. 

It wasn’t a matter of who was stronger anymore; Il Dottore wanted the gnosis for his organization, and she would be incredibly surprised if none of them were witnessing and cataloging this event as it played out. Hurting him more wouldn’t help. In fact, it would be worse in the long run, and he’d certainly be less willing to negotiate. 

No conflict existed that could be solved with force alone.

“Alhaitham, wait!” She called. 

He obeyed.

And Il Dottore watched on, thoughtful. They paused, and everything settled like sediment in a lake.

They had given themselves time by proving prowess in a physical confrontation. Il Dottore now knew he couldn’t mindlessly begin attacking people because she and Alhaitham could, at least when it came to one overwhelming enemy, limit him. Il Dottore would face resistance, and that mattered when it came to this. He wanted a deal, not a one-sided massacre, and she’d bet her forever safety on it.

He wanted something from her, and she still had it. High ground existed if she bothered to claim it, and for that end, what they needed wasn’t further fighting but discussion and planning. 

Everything would be fine. Venti was here in the city, Zhongli, too. Alhaitham would also lend a hand, she bet.

She had friends—family, in a way—and they would help. She wasn’t alone anymore. 

“I will consider your offer,” she announced. She had bought herself time, and if anything, that was a resource she was intimately familiar with. 

Il Dottore smiled crookedly, letting his catalyst fade away as his arms dropped to his sides, and the remnants of the flurry and icy feathers evaporated under the sun once he stopped freezing them in perpetuity. 

“I’ll find you in three days, then,” he announced, “and we shall trade.”

Even if her ghost had wandered elsewhere, return date unknown, she had people on her side. That was one thing she could believe in for real.

They’d find a way through. 

…

It was lucky that they were right next to the hospital at the end of it.

Nahida had her hands wrapped—and her eyes teared even while she tried so very hard to keep that from happening. Alhaitham had also been hurt, though she hadn’t noticed until the doctor, Zakariya, forced him to sit down for a check-up. He was far more stoic than her, and she wondered when the last time he got treated by a hospital was. His sword had ended up chipped and dented in the conflict, and that seemed to anger him more than any injury he had sustained.

Once they were both cleared, they sat on twin beds, her knees pulled up, even if that meant tracking dirt on the sheets. She didn’t really care right now.

“Can we go home?” She asked. While her mind was stuck in static, fatigued, she hadn’t properly processed the words until she spoke them. But she didn’t clarify or qualify the question. 

“…We can do that.”

He stood up and led her back through the streets toward his home. It’s not like it was her home too, and she would never try claiming it as such, but it was nice to pretend to have one for a night, even if purely theoretical.

It was nice of him to play along, and she found a certain bounce in her step the closer they got, even with them both bandaged and bruised like they were. Although, she did wonder about how the fallout might crystallize in the wake of this particular disaster. 

The last time she’d gotten hurt, Venti had flown to Sumeru and destroyed the Akademiya. 

She’d work to avoid a repeat of that. She could always try lying about who had done it. She could say she did it to herself, but then again, with Alhaitham a bit beaten up too, that excuse wouldn’t hold. How about instead it was a misunderstanding, and the man who did it had seen the error of his ways and had fled the nation?

Evening came upon the city as they walked back, and she gave up brainstorming solutions for now.

“Will your fellow Archons meet us there?” Alhaitham asked.

“Don’t know, but if I had to guess, probably not.”

“And why is that.”

“They didn’t expect trouble to find us—I mean me—so quickly, and since the commotion of that confrontation didn’t attract them, they must not know it happened in the first place.” If they knew, they would’ve been there faster than she could ask for help. “I bet they’re off having fun somewhere.” At least she hoped they were having fun, wherever they were. 

“Also they have bad concepts of time,” she added as an afterthought. 

“Do they now,” he said, disdain clear.

“It’s okay, though. They’ll find us tomorrow, I bet.”

“If you say so.” It was a bit more scathing than she expected from him.

He wasn’t pleased, and that was fair; she had sort of been deposited onto him for the time being, as if he were a mini God daycare, and she had also been hurt on his watch…which invited problems. But it would be best if he didn’t hold a grudge against her or them for situational consequences. Too bad the best scenario, in which everyone remained perfectly at peace with one another, was the least likely.

No one would be happy about this.

When they got to the front door, a strange blond man was standing outside, leaning against it, and while entrenched in anxieties about how to placate her companions when they showed up, she almost didn’t see him altogether. 

However, he clearly noticed their arrival, and began with a boisterous, “Hey!”

Alhaitham put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down. “That’s my roommate, Kaveh. Just stay quiet, and I’ll handle him.”

As they got closer to the stranger, she became more sure by the step that neither of them had the energy to handle this humanoid ball of resilient intensity. Too bad they were both subject to interruptions, each in their own way. She was sure that even should they switch roles, Archon and Grand Sage, neither would get the relaxing free time they both desperately needed.

“Alhaitham! Finally. I got locked out because you distracted me this morning about the theatre scheduling, and honestly, it wasn’t related to me in any way, and it was out of the kindness of my heart that I listened to you monologue, and now you inconvenience me by—what the hell happened to you?”

His soliloquy cut short when he saw his roommate’s figure properly, bandaged and dirty like he had gotten involved in something he shouldn’t have. Because that’s what had happened.

Alhaitham merely unlocked the door and shoved them all inside unceremoniously. “We got into a fight. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s clearly not fine! Whoever you fought with cut up your face, and it’s literally your only redeeming feature.” 

She hadn’t noticed, but sure enough, there was a cut across his cheek, a thin red line. How did she miss that? Maybe sleep would be for the best. Calling on all those plants had exhausted energy stores she didn’t know she had. In fact, had she ever possessed such a source before? It’s like suddenly she had all the power of a millennia-old existence, a tree with an infinite number of rings, and that kind of thing didn’t pop up from nowhere. The idea unsettled her, slightly. 

“Who fights the Grand Sage anyway?” Kaveh asked, sounding uninterested.

“Well—”

“Did you finally get attacked by an assassin?” His face broke out into a wide grin. “Great, I win the bet. It happened a whole month earlier than you said, hah!”

“No that’s not—”

“You better pay up in Mora, none of that stone shit. Or you can reward me with paid time off since I’m technically working for you ,” he said, disgusted. “As awful as it is to admit such a thing, I’ll do it for free money, you rich, rich man.”

Alhaitham remained rigid. “You didn’t win the bet. It wasn’t an assassin.”

“What? Why else would someone attack you?”

“He wasn’t after me.”

They both turned to her at once, and embarrassingly, she didn’t know what to say, and she stood there restlessly, casually twisting a lock of her hair that had escaped from her hat.

“Who even are you?” Kaveh asked, as if it was the first time he noticed her there.

Alhaitham promptly grabbed and threw a pillow at him in one motion, and it hit him right in the chest. “Don’t be rude.” The pillow flopped to the ground, and Kaveh staggered backwards as if an item far sturdier had hit him.

“I think I have a right to know who you bring into our house,” he said, remark aimed directly at her.

“I, uh,” she interjected, “I’m Nahida.”

“That’s great,” Kaveh drawled, “good to know you have a name. I have one too. Why are you in our house?”

Alhaitham physically put himself between them, like a human barricade. That added up to two times he had done that today.

“Honestly, Kaveh, why does it matter?” He asked apathetically. “You aren’t this rude to the people who’ve come over prior to this. There’s no need to disparage my visitor because you constantly need to feel superior.”

It seemed Alhaitham’s patience had finally hit empty; she could relate.

However, Kaveh’s face curled in blossoming anger. “I’m over here trying to make sure you didn’t bring someone dangerous here—someone who, might I add, you insinuated was targeted by someone else who’s obviously dangerous given your state. You can’t just show up bandaged, dragging a grimy stranger onto our hardwood floors, and expect me to say nothing.”

“Kaveh, drop it.”

He didn’t care to abide by that instruction. 

“You’re the Grand Sage now! And as it turns out, and I know this must be a new idea for you,” he remarked with little attempt to hide acidic exasperation, “your life is worth more than what you personally ascribe to it. And I’d like to keep you capable of doing your job.”

“It had nothing to do with her.” 

Nahida was a little guilty that he felt the need to lie for her, but it was appreciated. 

“It’s one thing to take bets on assassin attacks, but a whole other thing to bring a suspicious stranger into our home,” Kaveh said.

She stiffened. He was right; it was shameful that the unknown roommate had stepped up to the plate when she had missed that fact entirely, but he really was right, and…she should probably leave. It wasn't okay to invade someone's home considering the kind of leverage she accidentally had over him.

“You do not dictate who may or may not step foot onto these premises.” Alhaitham pointed at her. “Nahida, you are staying here for the night because I’m not comfortable with you being anywhere else.”

“Really? You’re that committed to her? Who is she, then?” 

“No one.” Alhaitham replied, eyes burning with fierce anger.

“This is the first real issue we’ve had since you became Grand Sage,” Kaveh remarked with waving hands, “the first blatant attack to your person. So, I have a right to know who she is and what she incurred.”

“There is no ‘we,’ this isn’t your problem, and it wasn’t her fault.” 

(The ‘her’ in question thought he understated her involvement a bit too much. How difficult would it be to slip out unnoticed?)

“I’m just trying to help! What is your problem?”

“My problem is that you don’t know where the line is drawn between my life and yours,” Alhaitham remarked coldly.

“We live together!” Kaveh exclaimed. “The line is nonexistent because consider this; let’s say you’re assassinated in your sleep. Do you think they’d let me off the hook? Because I wasn’t involved in whatever nonsense got you killed?”

“You can always move out.”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“I don’t know what you expect will satisfy you.” Alhaitham crossed his arms and winced. He was still hurt, after all. And now Nahida felt bad, but it seemed his roommate had missed it, and Kaveh promptly gave up in a grand display of flailing limbs—a strange charade of all the things he didn’t say. 

Kaveh picked up the pillow on the ground and held it in a death grip, taking it with him as he strutted away, muttering one last comment. “Fine, then. Get yourself murdered. See if I care.”

A door slammed, and Nahida shifted uncomfortably, her fingers stiff under the wrappings.

It really wasn’t her place, but she had also just driven apart the one man she had shared a partial secret with and said man’s friend! Wasn’t that rather despicable? And that meant she could no longer flee because shouldn’t she try and repair it in whatever way possible?

“That seemed a bit mean,” she said when she failed to locate a solution. Evidently, she didn’t have a lot of practice with interpersonal relationships and how to keep them tied together. 

“He never would’ve given up had I been nice. Besides I care more about keeping this,” he gestured to her entirety, “on the down-low. His feelings are inconsequential.”

“Not to him,” she said gently.

Alhaitham didn’t have an answer to that.

Instead, he acquired sheets and blankets from a closet and began splaying them on the couch, for her, she guessed. He was far more sinister than Venti in really subtle ways, like how he shook out that sheet with very forceful motions—but he was nice like Venti, too. And in the quiet of night, she could almost pretend none of these problems existed, and they were all locked outside, kept away with the almighty power of wood only because Alhaitham had allowed her access to his most precious space.

However, even in the comfort of inside, the tension remained palpable. It wasn’t her place to advise him in his relationships, but she did want them to find equilibrium since it was entirely her fault they got mad in the first place. It would be terrible if they kept feuding because she had put Alhaitham in a bad position. Then again, there was a reason she stuck with him after they met: that question from earlier was still unspoken. She didn’t want to deal with it now, but nothing good would come of waiting because she had already decided, regardless of any surprise fights.

She needed to ask him. Urgently. They were alone, and it would be best to commit now before her courageous blue sky attitude filled with clouds. Then she’d have to dig it back out again, and she didn’t have time for that anymore. 

“The thing I wanted to ask you about before,” she began simply, and his movements as he lay out blankets became slower and more purposeful. “Will you listen?”

“Do you also intend to dictate how I am to act with regards to keeping this nation standing?” He asked sharply. It was an unnecessarily confrontational question, but it had clearly been encouraged by the nonsense preceding it. In a way, that too, was her fault.

“Of course not.” She barely deserved standing on this ground, in his home or Sumeru as a whole. “I want to work with you. On equal grounds.”

“You’d be surprised how few people want that. You might be the first, in fact.” His mind wandered far away—she could see it in the eyes—but he refocused when he noticed her staring too intently.

“I can fix the Withering. And Eleazar. Permanently.” 

He let go of the pillow he had been moving to the couch, and his eyes widened minutely, so subtly that Nahida might’ve missed it had she not been looking for a reaction of some kind. 

“But Rukkhadevata would be lost,” she added before he had the chance to interject. “That’s the trade.”

“The previous Archon?” He asked. “Common knowledge dictates she is dead.”

“She’s…I didn’t mean lost as in physically. Or as in dead. I mean lost as in her memory.” Never had she tried to explain it. What had existed as pure empirical fact for centuries wasn’t like that for him, and she wasn’t sure how to remediate it with anything but straightforward, horrific truth. “Everyone would forget her.” Nahida refused to look at him, just so that she wouldn’t be tempted to hold back. “It would be like she never existed.”

He stared stone faced, and she wasn’t sure he understood the exact weight of what the proposition entailed. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t repeat it. He was smart and could think it through himself.

“I am okay with making that trade,” she said. “I have made my peace with it.” And it was the greatest half lie she had ever told. ”But I wanted to ask someone who is a part of Sumeru as well whether this is acceptable since it involves you all more than me.” 

The decision never should’ve landed in her sphere of influence to begin with. It especially should not have been hers alone to shoulder—because how cruel was that to the people who were truly hurting—even if thinking so was blasphemous to the entity she loved most. There was a certain levity that had lifted her up now that she had finally shared the truth with someone else, even if he might not want it. They were in it together for better or for worse.

She held out a hand. “Do you, Grand Sage of Sumeru, accept the price?”

She didn’t know what thoughts or memories flashed behind his eyes in that minute they stood in the quiet of the living room together, moonlight shining a steady beam between them, their faces illuminated in a soft glow. She didn’t know whether he was fighting his own ideals or if he instantly made the decision and held off because he was scared. She didn’t know if he believed there existed reason to be scared at all.

She did, however, know his answer before the words left his lips.

When he took her hand, he recited the expected—destined, even—result.

“I do hereby accept it on behalf of Sumeru.” 

But then he said, “thank you,” and that, she didn’t expect at all. 

…

It was only common courtesy to extend the trade—which posited her as judge of Sumeru alone—to someone else, even if it had originally been given to her by an entity beyond influence or understanding, and his answer hadn’t been surprising or contradictory to her own anyway.

Yet, why’d he phrase it as if she had done him a great service by asking him? It was only right to include someone else in decisions which would reflect upon the future of Sumeru, a nation that she barely belonged in as is. 

Questions lingered and jumped in and out of her thoughts through the day after the attack.

She hadn’t had a chance to talk to Alhaitham about the night prior because forceful avoidance techniques worked surprisingly well when both parties were exercising them at the same time. Which was good because she didn’t have a plan nor did she know how to talk to him about normal things now that he shared her greatest burden. She lived the day just hoping he wouldn’t bring it up in front of her or Kaveh—and he seemed aware enough to know not to, but regardless, her gut churned when she thought about what she had done. At least for Alhaitham, the guilt, if he even felt guilty, would only last until she wiped the last dregs of Rukkhadevata from the world. For her, she figured it may last a lifetime in emotions she would never be able to pinpoint and understand. As terrifying as that was for her alone, someone else would know, just for a bit, and it made a difference. 

When she doubted her ability to follow through, she could tell herself that she would do it to relieve the other person who knew of the weight of the upcoming future and all the terrible actions yet to be taken. 

When Venti and Zhongli found their way back to Alhaitham’s house in the late evening, she was still thinking about it. They were a welcome distraction—but also slightly foreboding because she knew she’d have to talk about Ill Dottore’s threat. She hadn’t meant to rope foreign archons into Sumerian issues, but she had no choice and no one else to turn to at this juncture. Two days to go til his threat synthesized into tragedy and no way out.  

She could try handling it by her lonesome…but she didn’t trust herself with that responsibility. Maybe someday, but not today. And Sumeru’s safety was more important than upholding her fictitious, fractured confidence. 

“We’re back!” Venti’s voice shouted from the front door as he threw it open with a bang. 

It was plotting time, unfortunately, and she smiled with everything except her eyes. 

Alhaitham rushed to close the door behind the two of them and asked urgently, “If either of you were recognized in the city, you need to say so immediately.”

“Why do you have so little faith in me?” Venti responded, crossing his arms. They had met twice, but Venti treated it as a personal attack anyway, and she couldn’t help but idolize the ease at which he exerted himself in complete totality across everything. She wished she could do that.

“I suspect the man,” Zhongli said, “if worried, has reason to feel that way, and I find myself curious as to why.” His gaze was calculating, but they tended to soften each other. “I assumed you, of anyone, would have the easiest time with undercover operations.”

“ I got found out…uh…quickly. But what about you? Does he have sufficient reasoning to worry about your disguising abilities?” 

“I was also found out in little time, but only by Alhaitham, and it happened as I intended. Did you not have a satisfactory alter-ego prepared?” And with that, he threw the game back to Venti who received it easily, with no resistance.

“I said we were tourists,” he said, arms wide, as if it were a masterful move of his.

“Really?” Zhongli raised an eyebrow. “I claimed that occupation as well, sightseeing as my intention, specifically.”

Alhaitham’s eye twitched, and he made no attempt to disguise his growing disappointment in narrowed eyes. 

“No one would believe that,” he cut in, teeth clenched. “No tourist would decide to visit Sumeru City right now. Next time someone asks, state you’re here for some other reason—quite literally anything else will do.” 

That sufficiently halted the momentum of their silly back and forth, and Alhaitham did it with no regret, which made it even better. Even Zhongli was befuddled, and Venti was openly plotting the downfall of Alhaitham’s sanity, mumbling various ways to torment him.

She chuckled at that; they were all so silly and happy, and if Nahida could have one wish and had received it right that second, she would’ve asked to keep this, whatever it was, forever. Who knew she could have so much wonderful fun here? It would’ve been nice to let them go on, but she desperately didn’t want a repeat of the fight with Il Dottore with all of Sumeru City as the preordained stage. That would end badly, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to recover moments like this in the wake of that kind of catastrophe.

As soon as Venti’s eyes landed on her and he looked closely, he turned from charged and cheerful to horrified. “What happened to your hands?” He moved to hold one gently, and she let him. 

“I…might’ve gotten into a fight. But it’s okay! We got him back for it.” 

Il Dottore hadn’t gotten badly hurt at the end there, and there had been too much chaos for her to pinpoint what happened exactly, but she thought Alhaitham got one or two good hits in.

“I leave you alone for one day,” Venti said, tense, “and you get into a bad fight. What’s up with that?” He clearly meant it as a joke, but it was said with too much pressure and desperation for her to take it that way. 

“Who did it?” Zhongli asked.

“A Fatui agent calling himself Il Dottore,” she said too fast to double think it. “He wants the dendro gnosis.”

___________________

“—ing himself Il Dottore.”

Venti’s entire world did a couple somersaults, fell over, and then rolled to awkwardly halt on its side, completely askew. The Fatui were after her too, and he should’ve guessed, but that meant this just got very complicated.

“He wants the dendro gnosis,” she clarified, and his gaze snapped to Zhongli in an instant. 

That’s not good. That’s very, very, very not good.

Venti had barely talked his friend off of complete obliteration not too long ago! This was really pushing what he could manage. It was as if some cosmic entity wanted Sumeru to just fall apart completely, and Venti was starting to wonder if he had picked a futile thing to challenge again and again.

Nahida summoned it forth before Venti could think to stop her, before he could put a barrier in the way of the problem tumbling faster downhill, gaining speed. He didn’t even know it was something he’d need to halt.

What a lovely piece of pure power, it was. The chess piece radiated cosmic divinity, like a grindstone spitting sparks, and Venti wanted to laugh at the absurdity.

“I forgot you had it,” he said, voice wobbly. “That’s…difficult.”

It would’ve been nice to know earlier, but he understood why some secrets were best kept to oneself. Besides, he never asked. He had kept his curiosities hidden very much on purpose, but this right here is why he probably should’ve inquired into the nature of her departure. It wasn’t great that she didn’t tell him, but he understood. He didn’t tell her about his bow until its use was required, and it would be hypocritical to be mad about this one tiny thing.

“I know,” she said. “He says he’ll destroy Sumeru if I don’t give it to him.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said instantly, facing Zhongli.

The dragon in the room was deathly still and menacing, like he could bury the world with nothing but his thoughts.

As the first responder for Zhongli-related problems, Venti could hear the alarms start going off in his head. Any movement, any at all, and Venti would be ready to jump on it. In an area this enclosed, he wasn’t at his strongest, but he could at the very least use anemo to keep all exits closed, and Zhongli wouldn’t hurt anyone in this room just to escape and go after one Fatui agent. 

Venti had his arms tensed, ready to pull out the bow if necessary because Celestia knows there’s no other source of power he had that might counter Zhongli in any meaningful way. Any movement at all, and Venti would summon it. He decided just then.

“I don’t want to give it up,” she said. 

“You won’t have to,” Venti countered.

“I only realized just now—it’s rather silly how long it took me to notice—but it’s given me power, having it again. And I need that power.”

“Okay. You can keep it.” 

Of course she wanted the power boost. Using a gnosis was…exhilarating, like exercising authority over the entire world as if it flowed through your blood, as if every hill and tree existed beneath the skin as pure, fizzy energy. He agreed with her reasoning anyway; she had been kept captive too long, and if power made her feel comfortable, then he should do whatever he could to keep it that way. She didn’t even have a proper weapon yet, and she had never once fought in a war. For her, there had been no trial by fire, and she was delicately squishy. Frankly, he wanted her to keep it, too.

“It’s the only thing I have left of her,” Nahida added, and his smile cracked. 

There was no way Nahida had ever met Rukkhadevata, and all empathy for her predecessor seemed misconstrued and illogical, but the way she said it was filled with love, and who cared where that love came from? It was important to her, and she wanted to keep it.

Okay, then. 

She didn’t want to be weak anymore. She wanted to remember Rukkhadevata. Both were very reasonable reasons. He could work with it. 

“But—” she said, and her eyes were steely, “even if I give it to him and he leaves Sumeru alone for now…who protects Sumeru after that?” She held herself taut. “If I keep it…how could I not?”

Even when faced with an impossible problem, her mind still defaulted to the well being of others. These people didn’t deserve her, and he wished his agitation hadn’t manifested as it did in harsh disdain for those who committed no sin except ignorance. 

Did she plan to stick around and keep saving them again and again? Forever? 

“That’s not your job,” he said. “You don’t owe them anything, I could—”

“Please don’t,” she said quietly. “If they’re not my responsibility, then they’re definitely not yours. I couldn’t do that to you. Either of you.”

He backed down reluctantly, keeping one eye pointedly pinned on Zhongli. The man remained still.

“I’m afraid,” Alhaitham interjected, puzzled, “that I’m not quite following.”

Luckily, Zhongli picked up the slack, as Venti couldn’t quite manage right now. For a whole bunch of nonsense reasons. Was this…his fault? It definitely was, right?

“A gnosis is the heart of an Archon,” he said. “They are very powerful, and to give an item like that away to stave off a threat of nationwide destruction would put Nahida in a very precarious position. If she were to relinquish it, she would be sacrificing power, rendered unable to act in the future as she might like to. It would put her at risk, akin to giving up her only weapon. It is also like…a claim of surrender in a certain light, and she doesn’t wish to suggest that in place of Sumeru.”

What he didn’t say is that Nahida found herself at a new crossroads.

It was one thing to hover near the border and only appear if Sumeru needed assistance and she was in the mood to help them; it was another to commit to saving them forever. And that’s what it would come to if she kept the gnosis. If she had power, she’d use it for those who were weak, maybe because she knew what it was like to need help and not get it, maybe because she was too empathetic not to. And if people were clearly intent on endangering them, how could she walk away? 

(Is that why they came here? So she could see if she was needed? To encourage her to get stuck here again?)

Whatever the case, now that she knew she had power, if she kept it, she would use it for them, no matter how greatly they didn’t deserve it, and if she gave it up, she would be relinquishing a most important thing for people who had forsaken her, and even then, she’d be saving them.

Stuck, is what the situation appeared as. She keeps it? She’ll protect them with it. She gives it up? She does to protect them.

But considering the past, if she gave up the gnosis…then Sumeru would have no reason not to kill her.

…Right?

“What do you suggest?” Alhaitham asked, putting a much-needed stopper in spiraling thoughts.

“I am unsure,” Zhongli responded.

So was Venti, but only because he had caused this catastrophic meltdown. He had weakened Sumeru to begin with. Had he not destroyed the Akademiya, the Fatui wouldn’t have marked the nation as weak, and they wouldn’t be able to so casually threaten complete destruction, and…and Nahida wouldn’t have thought she needed to intervene in their forever safety because they’d be able to handle it, and he wouldn’t have trapped her right back where she started.

Was that all he was? A warden? He had granted her freedom only to strip it away the second she saw sunlight. Talk about cruelty—what the hell had he done?

Ah. And he forgot about Zhongli. Calm down, breathe. Even the air had cursed him because he was a hopeless spirit who couldn’t grant one girl’s wish. What kind of “God of Freedom” messes up like that? This isn’t what the spirit of freedom was about at all.

It was his fault. He ruined it so badly. It wasn’t even casual ruination, but instead a complicated kind where her feelings kept her tied down here no matter what because he had weakened this place she had been chained to. She was still chained here.

If she was going to save them forever, she’d need the gnosis. 

He needed to make sure she kept it, but he had nothing to offer, nothing of value that wouldn’t cripple her further, and he had done more than enough damage. Was everything he touched slated to crack and weaken and shatter til collapsing into complete ruin? 

If even Nahida couldn’t escape his influence, then he needed to just—leave. 

Get out. 

Be far away. 

Exist outside of her perception.  

Now.

He turned his back and left them to their plotting because he wasn’t even hearing them anymore, and it really would be better if he got away from them. He heard someone asking for him, but he didn’t care who, and when he got out of the inside and found himself embraced by the wind, breathing came a bit easier. 

His lungs expanded and deflated in a self-regulated pattern of awareness. Sunshine hit him in the eye when he looked up, and it reminded him of what physical reality entailed. Stay put together, and nothing could creep up on you. 

But regained clarity did nothing but illuminate the hidden aspects of his fuck-up that he hadn’t seen yet. 

His first problem, the same one he had known since the beginning—he was never careful enough!

Forget everything he had done like protecting her and caring for her and fulfilling her request. All that was fine and lovely—but then he took her back.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it.

How could he do that? He must really be stupid because no one but a complete idiot would’ve brought her back here, even if she asked, sounding so assured as she had. Now, Sumeru was going to keep taking and taking from her until she ran dry like an oasis in a desert because they didn’t care what she wanted, and she offered so much of herself even when it wasn’t asked of her.

He shouldn’t have done it; he shouldn’t have brought her here. Never, ever careful enough.

Venti spoke to Zhongli about how she was a kind soul, but he made the same mistake he had convinced his friend away from. Venti had worried and fretted about Zhongli’s wrath, but his own could level a mountain, and destroy, and it could kill . 

He ruined her nation, and then he brought her back only for her to believe it was her role to accept responsibility, to think it was her job to clean up after what he did. 

Idiot. 

The door opened again behind him, and the one person he didn’t want to see stalked out to follow.

Venti hadn't had enough time, but it didn’t matter because Zhongli had arrived, and chances were the man was looking for a fight. Not from Venti specifically, but Venti could be a stand-in to keep the raging tidal wave back from shore. That was always his job, keeping disaster at bay, and he was good at it, maybe just as good as he was at causing catastrophe to begin with and running away from it. Because he was a coward. But not today.

His bow materialized in his hand as the wind coalesced around his hands, and he had an arrow nocked on the string before either could say a word.

Zhongli stopped in his tracks, gaze far away.

“Are you going to wage war on her?” Venti asked. “On the Tsaritsa? I won’t let you.” His eyes clouded, and the wind began spiraling around him on accident. Letting his emotions get so out of control was bad manners and bad for confrontation, but he couldn't help it. “I won’t live through another war between Gods, nor will I stand by while your people and hers get dragged into it.”

Zhongli folded his hands behind his back and put his feet together, a non-fighting pose. It didn’t mean anything for one such as him, and Zhongli would want to fight because that’s how he solved his problems. It worked better than Venti’s methodology on most days, and Zhongli had no reason not to take initiative however he liked. 

Venti meant nothing among the grandeur of the world and its monsters.

“I’d like an opportunity to revise this misunderstanding,” his oldest friend-turned-opponent said, “if you’d allow it.”

It’s not like Venti’s response mattered. “Don’t do this. Don’t go after the Fatui agent and put us all at risk.” Or I’ll do all I can to stop you. 

“I never intended to. I will not wage war on the Tsaritsa nor her people.”

Venti didn’t believe him. “Says you. How am I supposed to trust that?”

Zhongli’s anger was one of the hard rules of the world, just as predictable as a storm when clouds gathered on the horizon or night when the sun dipped below the sky. He didn’t know what had stopped Zhongli from waging war on Sumeru to begin with considering how pathetic Venti had been about it, and he’d probably never know. Nevertheless, right here, right now, he’d protect what mattered.

“I understand,” Zhongli said slowly, “why doing so would be a bad idea. I am not so heartless as to miss what is standing in front of me.” His eyes jittered up and down, as if finding flaws in every piece of the one opposite him.

There was still an arrow nocked on Venti’s bow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I will not do anything without consulting with you and Nahida. This is not my battle, although I’d like to stay and help. If I cannot, if my presence truly is that distracting, I can leave if you wish it.”

This had to be some kind of weird mental hallucination. 

“Why would you do that?” Venti asked.

“Conflict comes and goes. Immortals do not, and I care more about your comfort than that of any single person in this nation.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Zhongli was a man of his people. Everything he did was for them, and he cared so much about keeping them safe. The Archon War had proven that, and what did Venti matter?

“I see you do not understand,” Zhongli remarked. He looked sad. Why did he look so sad?  “However, the truth stands. I will not interfere until we all agree. It is us three Archons—plus that Grand Sage, I suppose—who determine the fate of this conflict, and if we hope to solve this, I intend to work together with you.”

The argument shouldn’t have held water, nevermind snaked past Venti’s best defenses, yet he just wanted to hope so badly it was true that his emotional buffer shattered. He couldn’t afford another massive mistake, but he wanted to trust his friend.

“Do you promise?” Venti pulled the arrow back. 

Promises were for children—and occasionally, millennia old Gods who had nothing but their word to keep them from falling to chaos.

“I swear it. On Guizhong.”

Venti faltered. And he shouldn’t have because all things considered, a simple promise rarely meant anything, but it was Zhongli, and that was supposed to matter, and it did. 

The bow vanished as his focus slipped, and the comfortable weight of it was gone before he could consider the consequences of it, and then he was sniffling, expressing weakness as easily as joy in front of someone he probably shouldn’t do so with.

“I messed up,” Venti admitted. “She’s stuck here because I weakened her nation.” He choked on air as it failed him every couple seconds. “I shouldn’t have done it!”

“What should you have done, then?”

“I don’t know! Something better!”

“You destroyed the sight of her terror, a place that surely tormented her. It was action taken out of kindness, at least that is what I surmised.”

“But—but now she has to stay here and—”

Zhongli cut him off, “she needs to do nothing of the sort. And neither do you.”

Wasn’t it only right to fix what he had broken, though? “I should do something.”

Zhongli crossed his arms and turned pensive. “Why?”

“Because she deserves freedom, just like anyone else,” Venti said, so sure of what he protected.

“That may be true, but shouldn’t you say the same for yourself?”

Venti’s thoughts came to a rocky, awkward stop. It wasn’t like he was depriving himself of anything, just acting as he should. It’s not like choosing to put himself at risk was the same as giving up freedom. The whole point was that he had the freedom to act for her sake—and so he should.

“She needs help.” 

“Why do you think the issue is centered on her?” Zhongli asked.

“Well, it’s not about me.”

“On the contrary,” he interjected, “I would argue it’s all about you.”

Sure, Zhongli hadn’t brought out a weapon, but now the man had fallen so far off the clear, logical path that Venti worried for his mental security. Hopefully Venti could still trust him even if he had a wildly inaccurate notion of who came first in this conflict.

“Why would it be?” Venti asked, fervently denying the plainly ridiculous. “I’m helping her.”

“And it’s been the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

Was this some kind of weird criticism? Or cruel psychological game? 

“I was there,” Venti said. “You were there. This isn’t the hardest.” He chuckled in a depraved form of self-preservation as his mind replayed images that never should be remembered again—there was no running from the unforgivable. He had done something far harder. 

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, “but you chose this. No one coerced you into destroying the Akademiya, you did it on your own. So, I would posit that this may weigh on you differently.”

If Zhongli would just stop analyzing him for one second. Venti would be fine! Even if the conclusion was that, starting now, he wandered all over Teyvat forever, it would be okay. Sad, but okay. He could handle it. 

“It’s not about me!” 

It was the only thing he could believe because he was always selfish, and accepting what Zhongli said would mean he could fall back into comfortable martyrdom, and he wouldn’t do that. 

“We can discuss this later,” Zhongli said, gently. “For now, accept that I wish to help the group, and you are a member of said group.”

“That’s just—that’s not how it works!”

Zhongli patently ignored him. “Let’s go back inside. They need us, to assist in finding a peaceful option for Sumeru and Nahida.”

“But that’s—”

“I fail to see the issue.” He interrupted, a hand up as if silencing a child. “We can agree to disagree for now, however, there is discussion to be had, and the longer we stand out here, the longer they wait. Will you return peacefully, or need I drag you back by force?”

Venti was plenty sure that the suggestion was genuine; Zhongli would certainly have no qualms in scruffing him like a cat and forcefully inserting him back into the house. He’d rather go peacefully, all things considered, but…

“I’ll ruin it,” He said. He already had.

 Venti ran the fabric of his shirt between his fingers. Sumeru cloth was thicker than Mondstadt, and he had never felt more an outsider than now, with new understanding of the ways he had forsaken them. And Nahida. Consequences chased him just as easily as anyone. 

“I do not think so. I believe you are wise, and I would appreciate your presence.”

“What if…” he glanced away, “I do make it worse, though?”

“Then we will find a way around,” he said without hesitance. “I do not believe you have made any unrecoverable mistakes. Rather, I believe you have had very many, very bad, options.”

“That doesn’t forgive anything.”

“On the contrary, that’s exactly what it does,” Zhongli said. “Now, shall we return?”

He gestured to the door, and Venti could hear Nahida and Alhaitham talking behind it, where they were making plans and brainstorming options together, probably. Running away wouldn’t solve anything, and since Zhongli really was going to remain on the defensive, an uncomfortable truth came to light: there was no good excuse to avoid this. In the worst case scenario, he should stay with Zhongli anyway to make sure this wasn’t another ‘advanced manipulation tactic.’

“Okay,” he said. 

“I will stay,” Zhongli reminded him.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I wish to help you above all else, and I truly do mean it,” he added, speaking fervently. 

“Yes, yes, I get it!” Venti waved him off, pretending it made sense. “Let’s just get back inside.”

…

They were all staring at him when he crossed the threshold from cobblestone to wood. Venti hated beings stared at so much—why couldn’t they ignore him? He wasn’t that interesting! 

His hair had been tousled by some over-energized wind, and his eyes were a bit teary for reasons beyond his control, but it’s not like he was some window display. 

“So what’s the plan?” He asked, intent on killing the silence.

Nahida answered, the wonderful darling that she was, “the three of us will go to meet with Il Dottore in two days. I’m leaving the gnosis with Alhaitham, and he’ll stay here.”

“Is that…a good idea?” Venti personally wouldn’t leave a super-powered item in mortal hands, not after the mess that had caused this to begin with. No mortal, even one she liked, could be given that kind of thing without certain repercussions.

“Yes, it is,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

Alhaitham cleared his throat as the four of them halted all action and watched for what he might do. “I will not lose it.”

“Fine,” Venti said. “What are we going to do about the Fatui guy, then? Threaten him?” He was running a bit low on good ideas. 

Did they have anything worth a gnosis to pay in its place? He didn’t think so, especially because the Tsaritsa was behind this, and she had her reasons. She just wasn’t the best at going about achieving her goals in a way that considered the well-being of literally anyone else. 

She wouldn’t accept anything but the gnosis,

Venti still thought that him and Zhongli claiming guardianship over Sumeru would be the best option to stave off the danger since the gnosis was destined to fall into the Tsaritsa’s hands anyway, but he didn’t think that would go over smoothly with Nahida if he pushed it. They could also offer to go talk to the Tsaritsa themselves and come to some understanding, but he didn’t want to do that, and even if he did, he doubted she’d postpone or change her plans for one girl she didn’t know. 

‘Cold-hearted’ meant she loved selectively.

Maybe he should give up the plan aspect. Play it by ear. Look intimidating. Bring all the scary things. Like Zhongli. He was a very effective scary thing.

Venti was about to suggest it when a door further into the house creaked open and a blond man walked through, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of them all huddled together. He looked back and forth like some sparrow on a branch, completely bewildered like one might be in sight of a predator.

“Alhaitham” the man said, rolling his eyes, “who are these…strange people in our living room? I didn’t expect your friends to multiply.” He spit the word like a curse, and Venti felt there was something he had missed in the antagonism, but he didn’t bother to question it deeply. 

Alhaitham, despite the pointed barb, went down the row in a manic display of efficiency, gesturing to each as he did, “Venti, Zhongli, and you’ve already met Nahida.” He turned to them, “and this is my roommate, Kaveh.” 

Alhaitham didn’t refute that they were his friends, though, which made Venti glad. He wouldn’t commit to believing fully in this man just yet, but he could admit that Nahida had found someone who was, at the very least, tolerant of the mania that accompanied an Archon. That was a remarkably important aspect in determining a good leader. It made for a sturdy individual ready for any kind of problem.

“That is profoundly unhelpful, you bastard,” the roommate said.

“Uh huh. What did you want, Kaveh?” 

“You weren’t around, but your request for a replacement for your sword while it was being fixed came through. They sent this.” 

Kaveh delivered a one-handed, silver sword in a green scabbard, a simple thing, but judging by Alhaitham’s face when he swung it once, he was pleased with it. It went to his inventory, and then his eyes suddenly lit up. 

“That reminds me…I’ll be right back,” he said. “Kaveh, do not pick a fight with them under threat of serious consequences.”

“Oh really now. Are you going to punish me if I pester your surprise little friends? You gonna kick me out for that, too?”

“No.” Alhaitham’s frown relaxed, “but they might, and I’m not saving you from them.” 

Well, Venti had no desire to do that—unless Kaveh was secretly a horrible person—but he couldn’t speak for his friends. 

“Who the hell did you invite into our house?!” Kaveh exclaimed as his roommate rushed away. “Alhaitham! I refuse to allow you to invite in potential criminals or assassins. I thought we had covered this. All of that is very distracting, and I have shit to do like work on your damn building!”

Kaveh turned to them, clearly exasperated, and this felt awfully like a repeat of every time Jean pulled him aside. Was he a Sumeru Jean? But more feisty? No wonder he was friends with the current Grand Sage. 

“Hah. Please don’t tell me you’re assassins,” Kaveh said. Venti stared back blankly, as did the other Archons. “You’re not.” More silence. “You must not be because my idiot roommate would not let in assassins.” More staring, and they kept quiet, too. “Please either deny or confirm that you are not, in fact, assassins.”

“Well, who knows—” Venti started saying, but Zhongli patted him on the back, harder than strictly necessary, and he almost went sprawling onto the floor. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve shot that arrow.

“Uncalled for!” Venti whined. 

“You are bothering this fine gentleman,” he chided. “No, we are not assassins. We’re touri—uhm.”

Venti jumped in front of him with a sudden burst of energy. “We’re performers! A band of traveling performers who came to Sumeru because, uh, fun!”

“I think,” Zhongli said, stare heavy, “that your new excuse might actually be worse than tourism.”

Kaveh remained just as confused as when this all began, which was not Venti’s fault, in his humble opinion. 

“So, you’re not assassins, but you claim to be performers and might also be tourists? Pretending not to be tourists?” He considered that explanation, deep in thought. Venti didn’t think it was worth much consideration at all; why not just believe it?

“’Alhaitham’s friends’ is an apt description,” Kaveh surmised. “You’re just as weird and perhaps more indecipherable. Don’t break anything or steal. But you can bother Alhaitham as much as you please, the asshole deserves it. Now stop talking to me; I have work to do.”

“We weren’t really talking to y—and there he goes,” Venti mused as Kaveh slipped back into a different room. 

At least one person in this stupid world didn’t know who he was. It was nice to remain a stranger, even if only to Alhaitham’s eccentric roommate. Although, that did beg the question, how come Alhaitham’s roommate didn’t know what was going on? 

Alhaitham returned, holding a small, paper-wrapped, circular parcel. “I’m back—where’d Kaveh go?” His expression darkened. “Did you get rid of him?” He asked Venti.

“Psh. We didn’t ‘get rid’ of him or anything of the sort. He just walked away,” he said in response.

“…Very well. Do note that if he goes missing in the near future, I will file for reimbursement.” 

“I don’t have that kind of money.” 

Alhaitham twitched, the only sign Venti could catch that he had a sense of humor, but he covered it up immediately. “No matter. This is what I went to get.” He pulled off the paper and presented a green orb, golden leaf design embossed on it. “For you,” he said, handing it to Nahida.

She took it gently, and stared intensely at it, and it glowed upon her touch. Her eyes widened, as a shock of dendro energy rippled across its surface.

“A catalyst?”

“For if you need one.”

 As she let it go, it disappeared in a shower of sparks, and it was deigned hers. She smiled after, as if she had been given a lovely present—because she was. That’s one more thing Venti had forgotten she might need. He was happy other people were filling the gaps, but also…he wondered whether it really was a necessary precaution.

He didn’t want her to have a weapon. However, if that’s what it had come to, so be it. He wouldn’t fight it. After all, she had lived through an attack he hadn’t been around for, and who knew where he or she would be in the future. All his decisions backfired, nowadays, anyway.

“Is that the plan?” Venti asked. “Bring weapons?”

Nahida sheepishly cringed. “For now, it is.”

“And what will we say?”

“That I’m willing to compromise,” she said, “but not if they threaten us. I will not let Sumeru succumb to threats.”

He crossed his arms and put on a brave face, standing straighter. “Alright, then. That’s what we’ll do.” 

Venti would abide by her wishes, no matter where it took him. 

And then after this, he would go who knows where.

___________________

The ideas and planning were dizzying, Nahida thought.

They continued talking late into the night, throwing ideas back and forth, but the overarching theme seemed to be ‘play it by ear.’ Her friends were familiar with the Fatui, and they said that it was highly unlikely they’d give up, and their resources were unimaginably bottomless and multifaceted. Dangerous, they were. So, there was no catch-all way to prepare, and Il Dottore would likely not take anything but the gnosis for consideration.

But it’s all I’ll have left of her, she thought as the gnosis thrummed in her hand.

Without her memory, this single object would be it because it had been her’s once, and now it was Nahida’s, even when her mind inevitably coagulated together the past record of ownership after she interfered with Irminsul. It had been Rukkhadevata’s, and couldn’t she simply keep one family heirloom? 

As far as keeping them away for a while, Zhongli suggested setting up a time frame whereby the Tsaritsa may come and request it from Nahida again after some time has passed. She thought that seemed a good idea—or at least better than simply going along with it. 

At least she had a weapon now, and she could feel it lodged in her heart, somewhere in a space locked to all but her. It was foreign matter, but she commanded it, so not as bad as it sounded. She could fight them off until they understood. As long as they didn’t dare attack the innocent. That’s what Venti and Zhongli would be there for.

They were planning to enter precarious waters, and nothing but determination could make the path show itself. It was an impossible issue she was facing. No trade was good enough, no way to make them leave without starting a true conflict, and she wanted to keep it so badly.

The only reason she had been able to pull off what she had done before with Il Dottore was because of the gnosis; she was sure of it now. The power required came from nowhere in particular, and if she could do that before, she would have escaped a thousand times over. To give it up would strip her of that, and she was okay with being weak, but if required, how was she to help anyone?

It’s not like she planned to stick around and keep saving them over and over again, but this had been caused by her haughty desire to own what they had been using for centuries—both to get it away from them and for the control it granted her—but should she accept eternal attachment to this place because of it?

She couldn’t save them from one disaster only to leave them to fend off another.

Even if that second disaster never actually came to call. So, there was no need to fix the Withering without addressing this first and committing fully.

No good option. Not a single one. But there was Alhaitham, present here to help his nation—and she was here, too. She would like to claim him as a friend if he’d accept. The idea that she might not see him again for a long time after all this was over was not a happy one, as was the idea he’d be alone to face the enemies that would flock to the newly weakened Sumeru.

She…couldn’t leave him to face it alone, could she? 

No. Of course not. 

Well, that simplified it. 

In the midst of their continued bickering, going between options for what they might offer and how they might keep Sumeru from folding in half the second this ended, she saw one plain answer.

“I won’t let Il Dottore have the gnosis while he’s threatening us,” she said, “and so I won’t leave Sumeru. How about that? No more weakness, and it will make it much harder for him to threaten violence now and in the future.”

They had gone quiet, and she took it as a hint to elaborate. “He’ll have to offer something else for it, and we can decide from there. I wouldn’t mind giving it up if that’s the only option, but I won’t relent while he thinks threats will work. We’ll negotiate for time and proper diplomatic behavior. If Il Dottore refuses to abide by these requests, we will go on the offensive. I'm willing to stay.”

Ah. Perhaps this decision was easier than she had thought.

People were different. Some were good, some were bad, some were kind, some were cruel. And some were all at once. 

All she ever wanted was a home—and what was a home if not a place you’d protect til the end? And a place that protected you in return?

Because in this moment, that was just Alhaitham.

It’s not like she was going to suddenly claim Alhaitham as her home now because that would be silly. 

However, it was proof that in this city, she could find goodness and safety. Opportunity existed, she need only search, right?

“You can’t mean that,” Alhaitham said, rigid and uptight.

“I’ll stay in Sumeru. I’m okay with that.”

Venti looked like he wanted to say something on the contrary, but he didn’t, merely nodded and said how if that’s what she wanted, he’d stand behind it. In the end, their team meeting broke up with many uncomfortable faces, and it was strange to be, for once, the only participant content. 

This wasn’t a mistake. She could always change her mind. She had found her freedom—because Venti had given her the most precious gift of all—and that meant doing risky, stupid things for the possibility that she may stumble upon happiness or a real home. 

Why not give it a chance?

It was an easy decision because of one simple fact, and now that she understood it, the choice shined crystal clear.

She was free.

…

Nahida pulled Zhongli aside when they all went their separate ways.

None of them seemed assured of what may follow, so it was easy enough to poke him gently and gesture that she wanted to talk. He obliged without any fuss.

When Zhongli and Venti had left the house earlier, Alhaitham had briefly filled her in on what Zhongli had been doing in Sumeru at her request. Sure, it was slightly horrifying, but to be honest, it spawned more questions than worry.

At first, she felt nervous to ask him, but upon further reflection, there was no reason to fear him, and she could ask all the questions she wanted whenever she wanted. After all, he could refuse whenever he liked. 

It was up to them to respond, and if he didn’t want to, she could respect that. 

“Alhaitham told me what you did here,” she said. 

He turned his whole body to face her. It was nice to talk to someone as if they were equals. She didn’t have much experience with that, and she was thankful for the little things.

“I see,” he said.

“Was it necessary? I’m not mad, or anything, and if it was, I wouldn’t want to change it. I just want to confirm that, truly, it was necessary.”

Zhongli turned pensive, but he didn’t deflect or refuse to answer. “I assume you refer to my choice to every so often turn a sporadic selection of Mora from this nation useless?”

“That's correct.”

She would listen closely. An Archon of his age had much to say, most of it valuable, she imagined.

“People understand money a bit better than destruction at times.” He held her entire attention with ruthless, focused energy. “Our friend Barbatos might not know that, but I do.”

“I understand.” Her demeanor remained rigid, hiding a whole set of complicated feelings. “A good lesson, then, one which I probably needed. I’ll keep it in mind, and remember.”

His eyes flashed amber. “Good.”

…

She tracked down Alhaitham next and found him wandering the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee, ignoring how late it was becoming. She didn’t blame him for it. Nonsense had become his new normal, and she respected his resilience considering. Even if he was Grand Sage, he probably hadn’t expected this level of chaos associated with the job. Had she known, she would’ve warned him not to get involved with her unless certain about it. Although, she had a feeling he would’ve associated with her anyway, even had she delivered an appropriate disclaimer.

Which is how she knew this would go the way she wanted. Holding the gnosis tight, she thrust it toward him before he fully acknowledged she was standing there. 

His eyes widened as she deposited on his hand.

“This is…” He started.

“Keep it, for now. Because we’re in it together. The two of us, for Sumeru.” She hoped the message got across, that he was not allowed to reject it.

“I thought we planned that I would take it later.” His palm flattened, gnosis balanced on it, extended back toward her. But he didn’t give it back fully, and she didn’t accept it. “ You cannot trust me to this extent.”

She tilted her head. “What are you talking about? Of course I do.”

“You cannot mean that,” he said.

As she ruminated on his response, no clear way to get him to keep it surfaced. “I really do want you to hold onto it, you know, and not just because you happen to be here.”

“Why?”

“If a difficult decision needs to be made, you should make it. In the end, I want you to decide whether or not to give it up. I stole it from the Akademiya, and it shouldn’t be mine to begin with.” She pulled back from him, making space between her and that sacred object.

“But you suggested it yourself,” he said. “It’s the last thing of Rukkhadevata, and as her incarnation, it should rightfully belong to you.”

“Rukkhadevata gave if to the Sumerian people, though, not me.” She smiled ruefully, a fake expression badly matched considering her earnest opinion on the subject. “I didn’t say this with the others present, but I really don’t want this to be my decision alone.” She leaned in closer, “You’re the final defense, okay?”

He went rigid, but finally closed his fingers around the gnosis when she folded her hands behind her back and smiled at him. Weaponizing her charm was probably cruel in more ways than one, but it didn’t matter at this juncture; it was too important that Alhaitham accept it.

“Very well.” he said. Pensive, he returned his attention to the gnosis, pursing his lips. “You do understand that you are walking into a self-imposed trap by taking any action, though, yes? If you save them, it will be very difficult to forget you. It may nigh impossible to leave again.”

“That’s okay.” 

She was about to take on the burden of everything Rukkhadevata had ever done anyway. Nahida’s name would possess the other in complete totality. She was destined to never be forgotten, no matter what she did about Il Dottore. He mattered little in the grand scheme of Rukkhadevata, Irminsul, and Nahida’s blossomed resolve. 

So it was okay, and if it wasn’t, who says she was stuck with whatever the world imposed upon her? Not anymore. Not ever again.

A sudden thought occurred to her, and it felt important to speak it aloud. How colossal the weight of it was. 

“She loves you guys so, so much, you have no idea,” she said so gently, her words barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry?” Alhaitham asked.

She flushed and attempted to rectify her mistake, prepared to evade and run if beneficial. “It’s nothing,” she said. “Nevermind.”

…

Venti was sitting on a tree, observing the moon as it snuck across the sky, when she approached. 

This was the hardest one to tackle.

Zhongli and Alhaitham saw the world in shades of ‘despicable’ and ‘tolerable,’ and they were plenty ready for when tragedy struck. But not Venti. 

“I know you probably think I’m making a bad decision,” she said immediately, skipping over any reasonable introduction. She scrambled awkwardly onto the tree, all knees and elbows. With a leaf caught in her hair, she shifted to sit next to him. “But isn’t that the whole point? I’m free now, so I can always change my mind.” 

The moon looked big tonight, a lantern for the soul. The world had opened up in desperate, glorious, beautiful endlessness.

“To be honest,” she said, “I think you’re making a bad decision, too, not going back to Mondstadt.”

Nahida was generally against being mean, but this was mean for purpose! It was mean for Venti, and that made it, just maybe, forgivable. If all went well, he’d forgive her in the end. She was sure of it. 

“I don’t think…” he began before stopping, and he clamped his mouth shut. “It’s…” Then his fingers tapped against the tree bark in a staccato, chaotic pattern, refusing to sit still. She put her hand on his, a desperate attempt to connect to him who didn’t want to welcome empathy. He had things to say, and she would wait.

Waiting wasn’t hard when his words were destined, just lodged in the heart. 

“It’s not that I don’t know,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I know I can go back, silly.” He ruffled her hair gently. “Mondstadt isn’t going to grow legs and run away.”

She smiled. “No, I would assume not.” 

He plucked a leaf from a branch and sent it flying into the city, a small green thing surrounded by the ever strange man-made constructs. It ducked and spun around the roof of a house before disappearing down the path, heading to elsewhere, out of sight.

“I want Mondstadt to forget me,” he said.

“But what if they don’t want that?”

“Well…they should,” he said, frowning, but so sure of himself.

Nahida’s thoughts swerved to Irminsul and the power at its core—a subject she would keep wholly unspoken. Even on the off-chance that Venti already knew what it could do, what that power was capable of in the right hands, she’d make sure it didn’t come up. She couldn’t handle forgetting a second family member in quick succession, no matter how desperate he was. 

“Despite all that, they do,” Nahida redirected.

She had seen it herself. Jean, Lisa, Kaeya…and all the people who would rather look away than make him uncomfortable. What else is a home other than a place that protects you and that you protect? That, for him, was Mondstadt without question. She wondered why it was so hard for him to see it. 

“You should go back,” she said again.

“I’d be walking to a thousand misunderstandings,” he said, resting his head on his hands. “And I know I’ve been a bit ridiculous about it, but that’s just too many to fix. They don’t know me.”

“But someday they might.” A nation like his definitely believed in knowing their Archon if given the chance. Mondstadt was full of people that were the very opposite of Sumeru’s. Although…maybe that was wrong, and both nations were of the same kind, and she hadn’t given her people a chance yet, either.

“What if that doesn’t work?” Venti asked. It sounded like he didn’t want an answer, but she had one anyway.

“You can always choose differently later, no matter what. You’re free, too,” she said, so assured that no matter what came in the future, that fact would stay. She wasn’t sure why Venti had gotten so locked on the potential for that simple truth to permeate everything and everyone but himself. 

“Maybe,” he said, and that word was everything. Because she was acting on a very big ‘maybe’ today, and it had been the hardest first step ever. Good for him, she thought. 

He may yet make it home. 

And so may I. 

___________________

___________________

___________________

The three of them, Archons of foreign nations, Gods of places so very far away, each anchored in lands made of the same earth-stuff, were scheduled to meet a certain madman on what Nahida would kindly call the final hour.

No place had been planned for the destined meeting, but she knew it in her squishy insides that there was only one place to hold this discussion (although ‘altercation’ might be a better word should it devolve further than she wanted.) Nahida would bet her future on Il Dottore knowing the location, too.

The Sanctuary of Surasthana was a lot less scary when mostly rubble. 

Her first home.

Light flowed in through a roof that was more debris than functional surface, and the prison was rendered no longer a prison. How simple a thing like light was, and how it warmed her even from here. Birds had snuck in, too, and their song reached her from hidden nooks and crannies. The floor sloped downward from where there used to be a bridge leading to the center.

There was no cage. None at all. Whether it had been Venti’s doing or someone else’s was inconsequential because it was gone, and it made her glad.

A man entered behind them, stepping on land that wasn’t his, and in any other context, if this were before, she would’ve been happy to have a chance at escape, a chance to find someone who might let her free. But he came to steal from her—and others—and it was unacceptable.

“Good day,” he said, words seeped in poison.

“And to you,” she replied, just as quaint as ever. 

“I have very little interest in pleasantries. So then, let’s discuss our deal.”

The deal. The deal she would not let pass under any circumstance. The gnosis wasn’t even in her possession currently, keeping it from him even should things deteriorate into an unrecoverable state.

He seemed so certain that she would relent, too. As if it would be that easy. The fact he thought she’d crumble like a leaf underfoot was insulting. She may have spent her life imprisoned, may have had to walk to Mondstadt on foot, may have attempted to force Venti into helping her, may have ignored her biggest duty until she was forced to face it, but never did she collapse under pressure. 

None of what she achieved came from cowardice. Being small and inexperienced didn’t translate as lacking determination. If Il Dottore had known that, she wondered whether he still would’ve opened with the belligerent demand he had proposed when they first met. 

He should’ve done his homework. Because he had forced her into committing to doing more rather than less—to staying rather than leaving—and they’d never get leverage on her again.

“It’s not that simple,” she said, and her two friends came to stand beside her, guardians as much as support in all those indescribable ways.

“You brought others, so what,” Il Dottore remarked casually. “So did I.” Two fatui agents stepped forward from the shadows, and Nahida wasn’t even surprised.

Il Dottore shook his head. “Bringing foreign Archons into your political dispute though?” He said. “How obstinate. As if this has anything to do with them.”

This was her fight, not theirs, and she knew. Il Dottore could not shame her that easily. She stretched out her hands, signaling they keep quiet and unobtrusive because it wasn’t a matter of power.

Even if they beat Il Dottore, what would that prove? 

That she needed someone else to protect her, that’s what. 

She was okay with making it clear he couldn’t hurt her—even through forceful methods employed by Venti and Zhongli—but that’s not where they’d start because she could attempt solving a proper dispute. If they jumped to physical altercation, where would Sumeru stand? 

“They aren’t here to talk, merely as reassurance,” she said. “This is between us, only.”

“And? Where is it? The gnosis?”

“I will not simply give it to you,” she said, summoning her catalyst beside her. She wasn’t particularly good at using it yet, but it was a statement, one Il Dottore received based on how he stood straighter—but he kept his own weapon stored.

“It is nonsensical to postpone the inevitable,” he drawled. “You must’ve forgotten my promise should you fail to give me what I want.” 

“I will not abide by demands rooted in threat. You will never get anything from me through that method.”

Il Dottore snapped his fingers, and the two men flanking him moved, one with a summoned rifle, the other wielding a sword.

Venti had his bow aimed and shot before she could blink, and the first enemy’s rifle went flying across the room, anemo kicking it far further than it would normally go, and it crashed into rubble, lodged between blocks of concrete. Good aim.

The second agent was ensconced in stone when she glanced over, and Zhongli was off to the side looking harmless, arms crossed, no weapon in sight.

The point wasn’t to win, just to prove they could. And personally, she thought their methods rather telling.

“Is that so,” Il Dottore said, unconcerned. “Then, I request the same as I did before; tell me what you want for it.”

The moment of truth, the question she didn’t dare entertain with the lives of her people hanging under his sword suspended by a hair, the question she was determined to tear down before anything else. 

“Call off your threat first,” she said. “Promise that the lives of the Sumerian people will not be a part of this game.”

“Game?” He scoffed. “It is nothing of the sort.”

She shook her head, refusing to fall to this meaningless provocation, either. “Make me an offer,” she said, extending a hand. “One rooted in true fair trade. One without any threat involved. I will consider it, as will Sumeru, and then you might receive what you want.”

That stopped him from further cunning remarks, and he hummed gently. “So we are at an impasse once more?” His catalyst materialized beside him, metal incense burner lifted to the side, ready to begin smoldering ice. “I am not so egotistical as to believe I can match three Gods. However, you do understand, I have no qualms in dealing damage.” 

White fog materialized as his weapon swung midair, like that day by the hospital, and it pooled in the rounded bowl of what remained of Surasthana where they stood in a cluster, very susceptible to his methods.

“And it's not as if you can kill me,” he added. “Or there will be conflict between you and her majesty. Angering her is not wise.”

It seemed they would be fighting, unfortunately. She had hoped to avoid this, but…no choice. Very well. Her own catalyst buzzed with resonant power, and the tree supporting the remnants of the Sanctuary reacted slowly, but still came to her call for aid, limbs cracking through the floor and walls, slithering like wooden snakes to support the building should any fighting endanger what structural integrity remained.

With no gnosis, she was noticing the slothful nature of that power she had tapped like an exploding star just a few days ago. Her confidence wavered, but life responded still, and she had a catalyst to ease the burden of it. She was doing fine.

Zhongli likewise reinforced the floor, the rubble melting like molten glass until it solidified, coming to rest as a single layer of floor and vertical beams. 

Venti took the hint as they did work, and a gust of anemo pushed back the snowy flurry that had begun to rise to their knees, and it flushed around Il Dottore, who solidified it into a selection of icy feathers. 

Sharp. 

She felt the need to warn her friends about it, but it was a fairly obvious conclusion to make. Weapons made of ice were sharp. Obviously. She was still willing to catch them again if necessary. Pain was only momentary, and her hands barely hurt anymore. 

Il Dottore shot them forward, and even with an Archon of anemo and an Archon of geo, a trickster had a certain kind of upper hand. Frozen feathers ducked and weaved, and the plants weren’t responding quick enough to stop one from cutting into her side, the kind of injury she had intended to avoid as completely as possible. She was definitely bleeding, but it wasn't the kind of thing that could stop her.

She glared at the both of her friends, and in that glare, she was saying don’t you dare attack him. If you hurt him, negotiations are over and done with.

Sumeru needed to handle these things with anything other than force. There would always be leftovers from battles that included Archons. There would be no mistaking it if she won here today because of Venti or Zhongli, and that outcome was suboptimal.

The feathers swerved above her in a massive circle, like a cluster tunnel of fish, and she still gestured her friends stay back. The feathers spread out, shooting downward propelled by gravity and force, and Venti dodged the ones heading for him, Zhongli simply stood there and blocked them, and Nahida charged her catalyst with a pulse of dendro. The ice that made it to her melted upon impact with a wave of power, and finally, Il Dottore paused for a moment, considering her. 

“You don’t have the gnosis right now,” he said.

Just maybe this was still salvageable.

“No, I don’t.” She admitted. “Because I refuse to engage against someone who levies the entirety of Sumeru as collateral.”

Nahida let her catalyst fall back, floating behind her, and she stepped forward over the ground now iced over by Il Dottore’s cryo domain.

She steeled her gaze.

“Make me an offer,” she said again. “A genuine one. I really will listen.” 

And then—

___________________

Alhaitham was at home, as if he was useless, incomprehensibly dead weight. He let the rest of them go on without him, and she had said he supposedly had “the most important job,” but really, it was just an attempt to sideline the weakling. 

The source of his ire was a small divine chess piece taking up all his focus as it sat doing absolutely nothing on his table. He had been staring at it for so long now, he wondered if it might do something if he willed it to. At least that would break up the monotony of this cyclical pattern of uselessness.

Alhaitham noticed Kaveh joining him out of the corner of his eye. After quick consideration of the situation, his roommate reached toward the gnosis, and Alhaitham smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t touch that,” he said forcefully, making the message as clear as he could—more clear than strictly necessary.

“You’re staring at it very intensely, and I was merely curious.” Kaveh spun away, feigning innocence. “Weird little thingy you’ve got there. What’s it for?”

“None of your business.”

His expression turned disgusted. “I will hit you.”

Alhaitham clicked his tongue and brought his hands to his eyes briefly, removing light as a contributing factor of his preliminary migraine. Then he continued staring at a thing he didn’t particularly want to be in control of, not even during this short amount of time while the rest of his makeshift team faced the issue head-on.

“It’s something I shouldn’t be in possession of,” he eventually said.

Kaveh opened his mouth comically wide. “Don’t tell me—you stole it?”

“No.” He did something worse. “I just took advantage of our Archon’s fast-acting trust.” Even now, it felt a horrible thing to admit, no matter whether he told himself in the biting criticism of his own mind or just the presence of Kaveh.

“Our…our what now?” Kaveh squinted at the chess piece with newly found interest. “Since when did you meet our Archon?”

“A couple days ago.”

“That’s not funny, Haitham.”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” It was time to stop dragging out his attempts to hide her; he had been destined to fail the second she stepped into this city. She was likely fine with it at this stage, anyway. “You met her, too,” Alhaitham mentioned casually. 

“WHAT?” He screeched. “I refuse to believe that. You’re not tricking me with this nonsense.”

“Suit yourself. That’ll make conversing with her in the future rather awkward, though.”

“Why would I need to—I’m not talking to our Archon! I thought she wasn’t coming back. What the hell happened to that?”

“It’s…complicated. But she’ll be around, probably. With me, most likely.” Alhaitham grimaced and pointed at his roommate with a limp arm, “and you through association.” 

That would bring a whole slew of new issues that he was determined to ignore until they became relevant.

“I was trying to keep her secret,” Alhaitham said, “but there’s no point now.” 

He had failed rather miserably as it was—Il Dottore had found her within a day—so it was rather pleasant to know his efforts had at least worked on Kaveh, even if Kaveh was the most clueless of them all. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you last time we talked,” Alhaitham added. “I was trying to keep one damn secret.” A secret, he didn’t say, that had no chance at remaining a secret no matter how hard he tried to keep it under lock and key.

“That’s…surprisingly reasonable, but not nice at all. Don’t think I forgive you for it. Telling me to move out? That was a dick move. What would you do without me, anyway?”

“Enjoy silence.”

Kaveh rolled his eyes aggressively. “ That—and also go out of your mind staring at random gifts from our apparently-not-departed Archon.”

“It wasn’t a gift.” That was a grievous misunderstanding that could land them both in trouble if left alone, even if the truth sounded almost worse, like the kind of idea that had absurdity for bones. “We’re sharing, according to her.”

“You’re…what?” He threw his hands up. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

Why did Kaveh have such a hard time believing anything he said? It’s not like Alhaitham benefited much from lying about the pedantic wording of interactions that he had participated in reluctantly when Kaveh wasn’t around.

“Trust me, if I didn’t want to tell you, you wouldn’t know.”

He continued his staring, the gnosis still being boring. Alhaitham had gone his entire life not at all concerned about the potential of someone breaking into his house, but only now did he wonder what might happen should a criminal decide noon on this specific day to be prime time to rob the Grand Sage. The outlandish nature of the possibility didn’t relieve his tension because he remained in possession of a divine object of proportions which he didn’t even understand.

Being the Scribe was better than this. At least then the materials he handled weren’t completely irreplaceable and capable of mass destruction. For all he talked about the power of knowledge…well, it wasn’t a gnosis. 

He sort of wanted to get rid of it entirely because then he wouldn’t have to watch it like a loner in need of a job. Although, what he actually wanted to do was get rid of its very existence, not merely throw it out like garbage. 

That was one of those impossibles, though. 

Funny thing is, it reminded him of a conversation he had had with Nahida recently, one that he would never forget. An impossible to him was a challenge to her—that’s simply how it was, it seemed.

Nahida had suggested that the memory of Rukkhadevata could be wiped, and she must’ve meant through Irminsul because how else would that possibly be accomplished? Those two things must be related, even if it hadn’t been stated outright. 

And she never said it worked on objects, but…

What if… the dendro gnosis could be wiped from Irminsul…like Rukkhadevata…

Well. He smacked his forehead, begging he wake the fuck up and not let fatigue drag him into the depths of the impossibles.

It was certainly an idea, though. A crazy, potentially dangerous, very stupid idea. Sitting still wasn’t good for his mind, apparently, because he chased stupid delusional ideas, and he greatly wished for something—anything—to do that wasn’t thinking in impossible circles.

…But if it worked, then he could save her from giving up something precious. Would it still be precious if she forgot what it was? He assumed the answer was probably, and it would still be better than the current situation in which she planned to barter it away in due time. 

She could keep the strength she had, and there would be no need to cripple her power to save a nation that had never once done anything for her. 

A strange sacrifice, only if it worked, but anything to do with Irminsul existed so far from his understanding, it seemed mere phantasmagoria. 

He could try though, even if a hypothesis without testing or proof was usually an incredibly dumb thing to put all of one’s hopes and trust in. She was worth a shot in the dark.

But seriously, what kind of nonsense had his mind decided to latch onto as his only hope? On any normal day, he wouldn’t have spared an idea like this more than a passing thought and then he’d promptly forget it forever—but this wasn’t a normal day.

He had the gnosis. He was currently in possession of a divine artifact so powerful that a man who wanted it was willing to threaten an entire nation to get it. 

Except Alhaitham's theoretical plan was hackneyed at best and pure insanity at worst. 

But Alhaitham could try—if he got over the idea of chasing made-up magical bullshit. While the rest of the team were handling the discussion with Il Dottore, if he altered everything, and if he was able to do it quickly enough, would it even change the tide of this confrontation? If no one ever knew? In fact, would it result in a positive rewriting of the world, or would it make it worse? 

In the midst of this, he became certain: he was going crazy. He could tell because he was entertaining his own ridiculousness. He wanted to blame Nahida for invading his life. Then again, she may have been the origin point of the chaos, but she wasn’t what fed the flames and kept them burning. That honor belonged to the nation itself. 

“If I could get to Irminsul,” he said, his mind still stuck on wishful thinking. “That has the potential to fix everything.” Unfortunately, he had briefly forgotten he wasn’t alone.

Kaveh started laughing very audibly and high pitched, and tears gathered in his eyes. 

“Seriously? What the hell have you gotten yourself involved in that whatever you just said sounds like a reasonable option?” He asked. “Are you possessed?”

“…I wish.”

Being possessed would be superior to his mind conjuring this idea on its own and failing to scrap it immediately as a result of implausible madness.

The first team should manage, and they should be able to reach an equilibrium with Il Dottore, find a better deal, gain time. Three Archons was one hell of a fighting force to send out for a ‘conversation,’ and surely Il Dottore knew it. All this was meant to do was get him to back down. But in the case that they failed…

If he gave this passing interest a moment to be an actual, possible plan B…

Well, he didn’t know how to actually accomplish a journey to Irminsul aside from years of meditation and Spirit Borneol. That’s how it was accomplished, supposedly. 

Easier said than done.

Theoretically, that’s how it worked, except when had he ever believed in the spirituality argument? No one knew for certain what they saw while in a drug-induced stupor, and he wouldn’t subject himself to such things without due cause and trust that it wouldn’t result in the liquefying of his brain.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said, partly to dissuade himself from continuing, partly to make himself further aware of what his life had become.

Alhaitham didn’t like sitting this one out as if he were a god-weapon babysitter, but he did agree that he shouldn’t participate in what they were attempting. He had no business being anywhere near godly feuds, and frankly, he didn’t want to be around them, anyway. If the intended deal-making devolved badly, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t stab Il Dottore in the throat. And Nahida had been very specific on that point; she did not want him dead. 

But if this worked, he could save them, even from all the way over here. If. What a ridiculous sentiment. While he was sitting alone (with Kaveh) thinking through theoretical plans that had no chance of success, foreign entities and one forgotten God were actually doing something to save his nation.

He grabbed and squeezed the gnosis tight and closed his eyes. Darkness was just darkness, even when holding a divine artifact. 

He was ready to give up, even if feeling useless hurt at this stage of all that had happened. Since meeting Nahida, his job had exponentially grown, but he couldn’t say he was mad about it because he had wanted a chance to make Sumeru better in her eyes. 

When he originally took up this mantle, part of him had doubted he would ever be able to do that, but then she showed up. Then she told him more than he ever wanted to know. Then she was okay with staying, and that was a better start to making up for his failings than he had ever imagined.

“Even though it sounds ridiculous, if I could make it to Irminsul,” he said, “I could help her. I’m just useless right now, and it’s frustrating.”

“Haitham…” Kaveh whispered, suspicion at its peak. 

Alhaitham kept his eyes closed to avoid seeing his roommate’s expression regarding his obvious devolution into mania. 

I’d be glad to help, said an unknown feminine voice.

It was certainly not Kaveh—and Alhaitham jolted out of his delirious state, doubting whether his senses were functioning properly, and his mind jumped to whether someone had broken in and bypassed Kaveh altogether somehow, and fuck, were his worries about someone breaking in really justified, and his thoughts flicked from one to the next in less time than it takes to open one’s eyes—

Black became white.

And the world shifted.

…

Alhaitham could see even though he didn’t recall opening his eyes, and a magnificent white tree reached into the heavens in front of him, an existence made of flowing white earthen wood that was more magic than tree if thinking logically about it.

Although, there was nothing logical about any of this. That, he was certain of.

He knew his plan was overreaching and extended into unimaginable proportions, so the ease at which he had accessed this sacred space had certainly come as a surprise. Some other entity had an opinion on his machinations, apparently—one that was unknown. 

There was nothing scarier than assistance from unknown divinity, and the cost to get here couldn’t be cheap, he imagined. Alhaitham wanted to say that he hadn’t meant it when he said it—but he definitely had.

Nevertheless, he didn’t have the luxury to complain.

Someone or something else helped him with his sudden improvised idea that even he considered more fiction than fact. He could merely hope the help was anything but malicious. Maybe this entire area was a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.

Except he was holding something, and it was solid—nothing was ever solid in a dream.

The gnosis had come with him, or at least a metaphysical manifestation of it, and so there was no barrier to his goal or to his own opinions on the waste of dreamlands. This wasn’t a dream.

He approached the tree and put a hand to the stark white bark. 

There was no point exercising caution at this point in the road. Spending more time here than necessary would merely dilute his efforts, and he still doubted whether this was a hallucination or not. 

If it wasn’t real, whatever he didn’t here wouldn’t matter. However, if it was real…well, his allies were on a time limit, and it was better to act now and hope, desperately, that the world and its memories may reform around them in their favor. 

Should it be real, that is.

Which it wasn’t.

He didn’t have time to doubt, though.

He would wipe the dendro gnosis from the world record. And then see. 

It had been a ludicrous plan, but with an unknown helper, perhaps it might actually work as he had imagined when flicking through every nigh-impossible possibility.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, thoughts running wild. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Information splayed across his brain in a mindless spew of thoughts and facts when he leaned into the tree, and he couldn’t keep a single one still. When he focused, however, all information on the dendro gnosis gathered, as if in the palm of his hand, and he could see the strings tying it to thousands of other places located in the grand elsewhere. 

When he waved a hand—not his actual hand or even the hand he had manifested in this space but rather a hand of the world itself—the strings began disappearing. Just like that.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he said as even his own mind began drawing blanks on facts he could only conjure half-truths about, and they continued disappearing as easily as erasing pencil lead. He had always assumed memories were written in ink—how absurd this was. “How is this possible,” he asked, with no intention at all of recovering an answer.

I’m glad you came here, the unknown voice said, and I’m glad I could help. I hadn’t thought of doing this, and I do hope it works the way you want it to.

Alhaitham caught a glimpse of a white silhouette, white hair down to her waist and green accents decorating a dress of silk, floating as if gravity was a factor she had just decided to opt out of.

When Nahida said Rukkhadevata’s memory was at risk, he didn’t know that translated into her memory existing as a ghost whispering in random people’s ears and spiriting them away into dream lands. This deserved further discussion, though he wondered if he’d get a chance to mention it before he forcibly forgot considering how he expected this to function. A shame it would be, but likely unavoidable when thinking about it clearly. He valued his ability to think through any situation with aggressive focus on the outcome, but he thought it might’ve failed him here. 

“You really are…” his eyes widened, focus caught on her entire nonsensical existence. Seeing her didn’t make her easier to accept, and unfortunately, he was out of time. 

“This is impossible—”

…

Alhaitham was holding a wooden statuette of a small white tree. 

He was in his living room. There was birdsong outside. 

And he was standing still, which was the first indication that something was wrong because in what context would standing still be a valuable use of his time?

The air was stale, sun bright, and his feet were planted firmly. In his hand, the white carved tree thrummed ominously, although it might just be something in the air. Kaveh stood next to him, snapping his fingers in his face.

“You back? You zoned out for a second there while I was talking.”

“Oh. Did I?” The object might’ve been glowing, but it could also be the aforementioned migraine. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“Our Archon?” He raised an eyebrow. “You said she might be staying with you.”

“Right.” He may have engaged sooner on that matter than he would’ve liked. “Yes, I did say that.”

The wooden statuette pulled his attention as if magnetic and powered by some undefinable intrigue, and his roommate faded into the background.

What…was it, again? Just a little carved object, right, but why was he holding it?

When he looked closer, there was nothing too interesting about it, merely a lovely curly design etched around the body and a strange absence of leaves. A bare tree was a strange thing to carve in wood being a thing already made of wood and all. What was the point of that?

It belonged…to Nahida, didn’t it? He didn’t recall why she had her mini carved tree or why he was so completely sure that it was important in a genuine way, but it was, and he needed to give it back— wait, that’s right, she asked him to keep it safe while her and the other Archons went to challenge Il Dottore. It wasn’t Alhaitham’s, and as further strange feelings percolated the longer he stood there, he was increasingly sure that he shouldn’t have it. Why’d he agree to hold it when she had asked? 

She had…

She had given it to him…so he could protect it, of course, and because he belonged nowhere near the upcoming conflict, and…he had agreed because he…wanted to be helpful. It was a good thing for him to do for his partner.

He didn’t want to hold onto it anymore.

He’d give it back as soon as possible. 

Immediately he put it on a nearby table casually, a paperweight for meaningless pages, and he immersed himself in work in an effort to ignore the wrongness, to keep himself from resenting having accepted this useless task. 

The object was no longer in his sight, but what did it matter? It was just a knack. 

___________________

Nahida jumped, much like a hypnic jerk—like the moment she was first set free. It unsettled her, but after a quick glimpse around the area and at her friends, it seemed clear that she was the only one impacted by whatever had happened if it really was anything other than her own mind playing tricks.

Since it was just her, she’d assume it wasn’t important. She wasn’t one to fear shadows. Not anymore, at least.

“Your offer?” She repeated, jittery for some reason. Keep yourself together. 

“Ah, of course.”

Il Dottore de-summoned his catalyst because…he had only pulled it out to see if he could take her without consequence, and he had failed. Venti and Zhongli made sure his attempts fell flat, and now that he had hurt her, he wasn’t quite so ready to try again.

Because he was after her. 

Nahida was the only Archon without a gnosis, the only one who the Fatui couldn’t simply strip a gnosis from in their search for gathering godly power sources.

Il Dottore had hoped to take her here, and now that his quest seemed impossible, he likely didn’t know what to do next. He had spent time attempting to uncover what made her special, found nothing at all, and even after she had displayed the power he was in such desperate desire for at the hospital, it was as if she had then…lost it, and he seemed conflicted on what to do next.

Why…did that feel slightly off?

“Well?” She prompted.

He snapped back to focus. “My offer is such: the Tsaritsa will extend an invitation to you in the future. We will come to fetch you last, and we will require your assistance when the time for it comes, and in return for listening to her majesty’s request, I will call off my threat. For now.”

That’s along the lines of what she expected him to say. From the get-go she had been hoping for an invitation—and more than anything else, time. 

“If you manage to acquire all the gnoses, return, and I might help you then,” she agreed, knowing that this was the best outcome for her nation and for herself. "We can make a fair deal when the time comes."

She would be willing to do so, try helping them with their strange intentions—and letting them chase their little fetch quest would give her all the time in the world to help Sumeru stand on its own feet with her as an outlier, as just an entity willing to offer aid, someone who wanted to live for a while.

After that, when the danger had long passed, she would consider helping the Fatui. And until that time, a proper destined invitation would keep the Fatui from trying to damage Sumeru in any way. When the promised time came, she could always…change her mind. 

“Leave Sumeru,” she said, “and our deal is finalized.”

His catalyst vanished, and the sun punched through the icy fog over Surasthana. “Very well,” he said with a sneer. “I will return, someday.”

“I look forward to it,” she said, the very picture of sardonic amusement. Let them come back; she’d be ready to accept or refuse what they wanted from her because there was so very much she could do with time. 

Perhaps in the time it took the Fatui to collect the rest of the gnoses, she may be far away, wandering the desert, or lost at sea, or right in the same place. Who knew what the future may bring?

Il Dottore bowed—not deeply, but enough—and when he left, it was as a diplomat, not a ruffian or loser of their battle. Their fight was being put on hold, but it would inevitably resume one day. That day was not today. 

He exited without any flair, flanked by his two allies, and Nahida was merely relieved to put off this particular issue for later. Technically speaking, his goal had nothing to do with Sumeru, just her, and she’d rather deal with it when not lost in an ocean of choices and broken things and unknown obstacles.

Now that one thing was taken care of, though, the other surfaced. 

Rukkhadevata floated into frame, as if on cue, the next task silently pleading for her attention. 

Nahida had no doubt that the ghost had been watching this all play out, waiting for an opportunity for her own desires and promise to be fulfilled. It wasn’t really fair to be mad about it—what could a ghost do about Il Dottore—but Nahida was! How could she just leave? And then wander back when convenient? And sure, had Rukkhadevata returned during the battle, it would've been dangerously distracting, but she had chosen on purpose to stay away all this time. She had opportunities to show herself and hadn't taken them.

Rukkhadevata got closer, and from here, Nahida could make out the pleased look on her face, as if proud or something, and she certainly wouldn’t let that sway her out of the frustrated hurt that had become her bed and pillow. She was only here because she wanted something and Nahida was finally in a position to give it to her.

Venti and Zhongli were trying to get her attention, looking off to where she was staring and finding nothing there of course, but she didn’t care to resolve it because Rukkhadevata took priority at this moment; after all, who knew when she might leave again?

“You finally decided to come back,” Nahida said harshly, “after disappearing. Without a word. And I didn’t know when—if—you’d return.” 

Was she being selfish? Unnecessarily confrontational? Bitter? All of the above. But while her frustration burned deep, she didn’t care. 

“Who are you talking to?” Venti asked curiously. 

“It’s—I’m—she’s just—it doesn’t matter.”

I thought you might want space and time, the ghost said, her hands up placatingly.

Nahida couldn’t take it anymore. Silence would get her nowhere, and she had too many emotions bubbling to the surface. “But you requested I do something so difficult, and then the second we got to Sumeru, you ran away! How could you do that?” Her voice became breathless at the end. 

I didn’t want my request to hurt you. I thought…perhaps you’d get a chance to have fun if I wasn’t hanging over your head, reminding you of it.

“But I love you! And I’m going to kill you! And I’ll miss you! Why would you think I don’t love you enough to want you around, no matter what?”

Venti leaned toward Zhongli. “I think I’m missing something,” he said. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“…No.”

“Should we intervene?”

My request is despicable. I know it, Rukkhadevata admitted, her form flickering like a firefly.

“And I’m despicable for trying so hard to avoid it!” Nahida argued back. “But I know you love me despite that, and I love you, too.”

“Does she love the air?” Venti whispered sharply. “Because the air is very worthy of love, but I didn’t think she had such strong opinions on it.”

“I am not certain,” Zhongli whispered back, “but I suspect that is not the case.”

Only then did Nahida become aware of the gallery standing watch and the obvious fallout of her lack of control. This was going to take so much explanation, oh goodness. Her gift of ignorance was about to get torn open and shattered. So much for keeping them out of the worst of it.

She had tried, but couldn’t let this stay outside of Venti’s knowledge. Oops. Well, there was no taking it back now, and it was only polite to invite him onto the next journey since she couldn’t avoid explaining it.

Breathing deeply, Nahida straightened her dress and fidgeted with her hair, tucking it behind her ears. Her head cleared, intent directed at being forthcoming for once. 

“I have a ghost friend.”

“Okay then,” Venti said immediately. “Sure.”

Nahida let her eyes drift to the side, and she stared very intently at some very boring rocks. “And you know her.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She gazed back and forth between him and her most precious person, who was looking guilty, off to the side.

“She’s my friend,” Nahida admitted, “and yours, too.”

“I don’t think I have any ghost friends?” He asked, jovially confused.

“Her name is Rukkhadevata.”

The day had cleared, welcoming one final, overdue goodbye. 

“Oh.” His face blanched, looking to where Nahida's gaze was pinned, yet finding nothing. “She’s…a ghost?”

Nahida nodded. "And I think,” she said, finally aware of how her own shackles had completely disintegrated in wind and song. “I think I’m doing this now because I promised.” She offered a hand. It was a good day, she thought, a good day for a hug. “Do you want to come? Meet her one last time?”

He took the hand but tilted his head, as if not quite comprehending. That was okay. She could help him get it.

“What am I agreeing to do, exactly?” He asked, still confused, yet he agreed anyway because that’s just how he was.

She addressed him and Zhongli, “I need to delete the corruption from Irminsul. By removing Rukkhadevata's memory. And along the way, there’s one more thing that needs to be done.”

“Which is?” Zhongli prompted.

“Saying goodbye.”

That’s it. 

Simple in theory, simple in practice, and so impossibly heartbreaking. Nahida would be glad to have someone with her, to know the heavy truth of it—just like what Alhaitham had been for her, but more intense—even if for less than five minutes. 

“Do you mind coming along?” She asked Venti.

“Not at all,” he said, still having difficulty comprehending, his brow furrowed. She’d bring him with anyway because she got a feeling he’d regret missing this.

She sat down in the middle of this dead palace, where she spent 500 years of her life, dragging Venti along to follow suit. 

“We’ll go into Irminsul,” she said, “and Zhongli can keep watch.”

It might’ve been rude to exclude him from this, and she knew he might be mad later, but she couldn’t handle bringing two people with her. She didn’t want an audience of any kind at all in the first place. This was merely giving back to a dear friend who she hoped to someday repay in full.

She sat down in rubble, and something clicked into place, as if simply right. 

This was her first home, and a proper goodbye required certain requirements, she thought, and being here was one of them. Because the times here hadn’t been tragic. Some days were bad, some good, but Rukkhadevata had been there for them no matter what, and that made all the difference in her world. So, the place deserved its own sendoff, as she would never come back, and she imagined it would get properly cleaned up in the near future—especially if she asked Alhaitham. 

And she would ask.

Once more for old times’ sake.

She dived deep down into the world, where a tree grew nestled in its soul, stretching its influence into every corner of Teyvat. 

Irminsul reminded her of familiarity itself: so it was simple to find her way. A familiar sentiment it was, and she understood better these kinds of little things which needn’t be spoken.

…

Irminsul lay in dreams, somewhere she could visit whenever she pleased if she only dared step into that space. 

She stood under the grandest tree that ever existed, blended of true majesty and dream-like form, in that place that heralded the sort of sacrifice she regretted to give with her entire being. She continued on anyway because this is what made one brave. 

“This is where information is stored,” she said, even though of anyone, Venti didn’t need a lecture on it. It made her comfortable to talk openly about things which she had kept so very quiet about for so very long. She had confided in Alhaitham first, but had things gone differently, it would’ve been Venti, she bet. 

“Hmm,” he nodded and tilted his head up to stare all around them, as if the air had changed, too. Maybe it had; she wouldn’t know, not like he did. Then again, even with an absence of wind, a breeze of memory cascaded through her mind like surf on a beach, and she was certain he couldn’t feel that part like her. They had their own specialties.

“I wanted to come to Sumeru for this,” she said, finally cracking her heart open. “Rukkhadevata asked me to remove her memory from the world so that the forbidden wisdom which corrupted it may be cured. Her people are suffering, and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

He snapped to her, eyes wide, fumbling for a moment. “That’s a lot more serious than I expected. You were carrying that responsibility around this whole time? By yourself?” He asked, almost breathless.

“I guess, but it’s okay. I wasn’t really alone.”

When she turned, there was her best friend of 500 years, hovering beside her. 

“Thanks for guiding us here,” she said, and things finally found their place for the destined promise. 

Nahida could’ve made it by herself, but having an entity intrinsically connected here helped bridge the gap, especially because she had bothered to drag along someone else. She was glad it had worked. 

I’m glad you came, Rukkhadevata said, smiling, voice echoing across the wide plane of dreams they found themselves upon. Grass that wasn’t really grass and a sky that wasn’t really a sky welcomed them, as did she, a ghost that wasn’t really a ghost. 

A memory, she was. That’s all. 

It had taken Nahida until now to think about it seriously, but how close was Rukkhadevata to a real person? It was entirely possible that she was merely the lingering echoes of an entity who had long since gone from the world. If that were the case, she might merely be a repeated loop, left behind from the original, pushing forward her last thought and encouraging Nahida’s job of purging forbidden wisdom. 

However, did it really matter at all? So what if this entity wasn’t truly Rukkhadevata? Even if she was just a copy, leftovers from the original, her thoughts and feelings were sincere. Her love had been real, Nahida believed. Her final request had been born from it, as had every moment they spent together. 

“I’m ready,” Nahida said. “I was ready a while ago, but issues in need of my immediate attention arose.”

I understand. Life, the singular most unending dream, tends to twist uncontrollably. I am merely happy—and so incredibly proud—that you found your way.

Although she didn’t say it, Nahida knew she meant that in more than merely Nahida making it to Irminsul. 

“I did. And I’m sorry for yelling.”

I’m sorry for leaving. She laughed, and it was like a winding stream of emotion gushing into the open ocean. Feelings carried over a bit differently here. I’ve always loved you, now and forever more.

“I love you, too.” 

Nahida had never, ever stopped and never would, either, not even when she forgot. Love was eternal, she believed.

There was someone else here who she thought might deserve a chance to speak, before the experience vanished forever, and she kept quiet long enough for him to understand that she wanted him to get his chance, too.

Venti held his arms folded, face trained on the ground, as if embarrassed, about what, she couldn’t tell.

“It’s been a while,” he said, speaking toward the grass. “I—I can’t believe I have a chance to talk to you again.” He rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t think…you were…”

Rukkhadevata floated over and crouched down in front of him, where he refused to look at her.

It’s good to see you, too. 

“Were you always there?” He asked. 

I was, the whole time, for Nahida. She held out her arms toward him, as if exalting his very being. You’ve done so much for her, and I can never express how thankful I am.

Venti finally looked up, and his face was the very picture of weak shame, even though Nahida couldn’t find a single reason why he’d feel that way. Rukkhadevata had only spoken the lovely truth.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he said. “In all honesty, I made more mistakes than anything.”

Maybe to you, but the dream says otherwise. She hugged him, and when she pulled away, he stretched after her, but stopped himself, halting on the barrier between courage and retreat.

“It was good to know you, and—and I loved writing stories with you before,” he said hurriedly. “I’ve sung songs about you, a bunch of them. All good things.” He reached for his lyre, but it wasn’t there, not here in this dream. “I know lots of people that have died, and they all live on through song. Always.”

I’m afraid I won’t survive in your songs this time, Barbatos.

He was quiet and so very gentle when he spoke, “I mean, maybe you will, right? You never know, right?”

She shook her head. Not this time I’m afraid. But do not mourn for me, nor for lost memory. Some things are meant to be forgotten.

“Not you,” he interjected immediately. “Never you.”

She merely smiled and leaned over him, placing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head, and he kept his eyes closed as she did so, biting his lip. Nahida almost wanted to look away, but she didn’t dare miss the last moments of her most precious friend. 

Rukkhadevata drifted over toward Nahida, her greatest guardian, the one who never once did it for any reward or recognition, true family, and she placed her ghostly arms around her. They might as well have been real.

She could swear she felt something brushing against her skin, the feeling of memory in this space, as if tangible like wind, so close to genuine touch. Nahida let her head fall against her guardian, a soft thing. It couldn’t last, not as time marched onwards, and she would not remember, but right in this moment and this moment alone, it was real. 

I’m wishing you all the world, sweet daughter. When I smile, it means I love you. When I’m gone, you won’t even miss me.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she replied, embraced by the entity that only now did she realize was more than a friend, more than family. She was her mother, the only one she had ever known.

Rukkhadevata smiled so gently, like the unfurling of a white blossom in spring. Don’t be, she said. I’ll be nothing but the lingering pieces of a bad dream, and those are easy to scare away.

“That was what you did, though. Scare away bad dreams. I don’t know how I’ll do it without you.”

It was a lie, a bad one at that—she had bested worse than bad dreams—but she couldn’t help but try and say anything that might reverse the decision, even if it was already certain. Memory was the only single truth in a dream. Of course, her pleading did little, and that was okay. 

To forget Rukkhadevata forever was a hefty price, one inviting of desperate attempts to stop it, but it hadn’t happened yet, so Nahida lived in this moment as earnestly as possible, savoring the feeling of love and touch, of home, and the warmth of ‘mother’ because once they were gone, there was no getting them back.

Right now, she was very, very happy.

You did so well. May you find your own way, wherever it takes you, and may your dreams always sing of joyous laughter and the most wondrous of love.

Nahida didn’t cry. 

She didn’t talk. 

She didn’t do anything but live because in this moment, she could exist with her mother, and that was a unique kind of privilege. When she was ready, she let the memory begin to fade. 

When it eventually disappeared completely, it would drag along with it the corruption, freeing the world of Rukkhadevata’s greatest fear. Never again would her influence cause pain, not even to Nahida, because once she was gone, it would be like she had never existed.

Her form began to fall apart, and Nahida still wouldn’t let herself be sad, not while her mother held her with such warmth. Not yet, not until it was over. But before the end, there was one more thing that must be spoken, as was only polite to her who did far more than ever required of her—for Rukkhadevata, an amazing Archon and glorious guardian of those she loved.

“Goodbye,” Nahida said, a simple hushed word. “Rest well.”

And Rukkhadevata faded into nothing at all.

___________________

“Alhaitham! There’s a problem.” 

He became alert in an instant as a young boy, clearly a student, slammed open his front door. There goes his peaceful working time. Why people thought it was appropriate to begin invading his house was a complete mystery. Technically he was the one that decided to set up shop here, but still. That didn’t make it fair for people who thought they needed him to barge in whenever they pleased without restraint.

“What kind of problem?” He asked the boy who must’ve been a student or messenger of some kind.

“The-the plants!” He said.

“What about them?”

“There are clovers everywhere!”

And with one word, Alhaitham was lost—what was going on, exactly?

“…Clovers.” 

He spent a single moment wondering what exactly had led him to this moment, at this time, on this day, being hounded by some nobody about clovers of all things. Come on, world. You have to let up eventually. He had spent a significant amount of time recently smoothing over relations with their Archon, and it weighed on him. She had asked if he was okay with her removing the Withering, and he had said yes because why the hell wouldn’t he? 

There wasn’t even a price for it! Normally these things came at a steep cost…which was suspicious, but so far, he had no reason to suspect her for misleading him. Should he have suspected her?

“You need to be more specific,” Alhaitham said. 

The boy took a deep breath. “Right. There is a whole invasion of clovers. They’re climbing the buildings, filling the fields, they’re just everywhere.”

“Do we know what species?”

That stopped the messenger midst his manic-addled tirade. “Uhm, what?”

“Of clover.”

“Uh, yes, we have identified it. Here.” He handed over a very long document along with one piece of clover.

Alhaitham took the clover and investigated it closely. A single delicate four-leafed plant. This was all he needed because he had seen this exact shape before as an insignia of sorts—emblazoned inside green eyes. Not again.

“Is this particular type an invasive species?” He asked anyway because intuition didn’t always steer him correctly, and he’d rather err on the side of caution.

“It…shouldn’t be. This shouldn’t really be possible at all,” the guy said mechanically.

Alhaitham clicked his tongue. “Sure, but clearly, such expectations are not suitable to thrust upon reality. Is this type supposedly dangerous? Invasive? Poisonous?”

“No…”

“No to one of those things or all of those things?”

He blinked, hesitating, “No to all three.”

“Potentially dangerous, then? Could anyone, realistically, use this species of clover to cause harm in literally any way?”

The guy raised his hand to answer as if he were in a goddamn class. “It’s currently filling nearby farms.”

“But we can remove them if it’s not invasive.” Alhaitham paused to let the man confirm, but in the absence of such, he prompted him, “Correct?”

“Probably…”

Alhaitham stared at it once more, and then he decided to give up. Clovers were not a national emergency, even if it suggested… certain things. They had her mark, but he hadn’t thought her to be vindictive, not like the others. There was no way she would hurt them, in fact. The idea was comical—they had agreed to work together toward a better future. On equal grounds. The clover fell to the table. 

A part of him urged he exercise worry. For all he knew, this was stone Mora all over again, but…her symbol. Of Nahida, a flesh and blood girl he had met, who he had talked to, who he had befriended. 

“I don’t care. Go away. Come back when they’re an actual problem.” 

He’d take bets on one entity and her capacity for clemency—and the chance of an occasional, accidental elemental mishap. 

That’s how they’d met, after all. 

“Kaveh,” he called, “I’m going out.”

“To where?”

“To see our Archon.” He’d nip this in the bud before panic became logical or his own thoughts ran undeterred.

He heard the pounding of feet upon the floor before Kaveh hit a wall and stared with wild frenzy in his eyes. “Take me with you,” he said. “I must confirm this.”

Alhaitham sighed. Kaveh would have to meet Nahida properly eventually, and he wasn’t half bad in a fight, so technically, he wasn’t the worst person he could bring to a potential battlefield.

“Fine.”

He really hoped he didn’t regret this. He grabbed Nahida’s little leafless tree figure on a whim while on his way out the door. Maybe if she were planning revenge, he could placate her with it. 

___________________

When Nahida’s eyes opened, she was lying in the Sanctuary ruins with Zhongli watching over her and Venti’s still figures. Things were fuzzy, like she wasn’t processing any incoming information correctly, and it took her a moment to realign with reality as it innocuously presented itself to her. Colors became different hues with names, and sounds were more than static noise. Success, too, reached out to be acknowledged. 

“I did it,” she said, sitting up. “I removed the corruption from Irminsul.”

And yet. And yet.

There shouldn’t be anything tragic about such an operation, a quick in and out now that she had found a chance to do so and the outside threat had been removed, but…she was shaking. Why was she shaking? Her power was depleted completely, too, and that was strange in its own right.

Zhongli stuck out his hand, and when she took it, he helped her to her feet, and she stumbled slightly, as if on brand new legs or something. 

Venti popped up from where he was lying next to her. “That was fun! Thanks for taking me along.” He stood up and seemed perfectly chipper for a moment until he paused, turning back towards her, scanning the area, finding nothing but them three and rubble. “Wasn’t there…someone else with us?”

“No?” It had been the three Archons who came to confront Il Dottore, no one else. “I’m pretty certain that it was just us.”

Venti stared forlornly into the sky, lost. “Oh. Yeah,” his eyes squinted in the sun, “You’re right. Nevermind.”

Zhongli cut in without remorse, “I hate to interrupt Venti’s…confusion,” the person in question shrieked indignantly, “but was this display of power on purpose, by any chance?” He said as his face flipped between suspicious and curious like a spinning coin.

“What…display of power?” She asked, almost afraid of what answer she might be welcoming upon herself. 

“Unintentional, then. I suggest you observe.” He gestured to the ruins, and at first she wasn’t sure what was so interesting about broken stuff, but—then she saw the green.

Oh no.

Clovers. Clovers everywhere. Clovers peeking out from rubble, clovers climbing what little structure remained, clovers spreading their influence across all visible surfaces. That would take a pretty intense clean-up process here alone. It’s not like anyone cared about what happened at the ruined Sanctuary, though. Unless…

Don’t tell me…

She scrambled to where she could peer out across Sumeru and—yep, it was all clovers. Shoot. She ducked down, essentially hiding, staring down as if she was not supposed to be seeing what she was. Sure enough, there were her signature four-leaved clovers taking over the city, and well, she was certain they weren’t dangerous, but it was rather unideal. 

Power overflow in Mondstadt had done nothing but grow little patches of them; she hadn’t anticipated wiping forbidden knowledge to do anything on this scale. The event didn’t match the outcome, and normally, it happened when she was happy or overwhelmed in some way. Deleting forbidden knowledge did make her glad, but not enough to cause…this.

Alhaitham might be disappointed. 

And right as she thought it, she heard his voice, the Grand Sage himself, shoving his way into the Sanctuary, past the vines and stone supports she and Zhongli had made during the fight.

What a resilient man—and he had brought his roommate, too. Why? She had no clue. He was remarkably quick on the uptake, though, and she hoped he brought no news of disaster, merely curiosity into her little mishap. 

“Alhaitham!” She shouted, waving him over. “We succeeded! Il Dottore left, and then I fixed the Withering like I said I would.” She smiled brightly, imbued with overwhelming relief. All her tasks had been completed, and now they could work toward the future rather than stay stuck in past mistakes.

Here’s to hoping all that she had done would placate him regarding the current unfortunate botanic invasion cascading through his land. The clovers should be easy enough to fix, so it should be okay, but just in case, she found redirection a masterful technique to offset her strange failings. 

Alhaitham merely ran forward, glanced her over once or twice, and nodded, as if finding her figure satisfactory. 

“Good work.”

He shoved a hand in a pocket and handed over a small, white, carved wood tree. “You left this with me to keep safe. It is yours, though. I figured you might want it back”

She received it delicately. As she stared at smooth edges, white branches, a tear fell onto her treasure before she even noticed her instantaneous change in mood. 

“Oh, sorry,” she said quickly, “yeah, I did want it.” At his suspicious gaze, she hurried to assure him, “I’m fine.”

Completely fine, just…sad. That was horribly random, she thought. This thing was precious to her, for reasons beyond her reach.

She held the little tree to her chest, and it sent ripples across her soul, as if speaking in concepts that weren’t compatible with translation into reality. While holding it close, it flashed a bright glow, and suddenly it was gone, locked inside somewhere, kind of like her catalyst—but as if it hadn’t existed to begin with. 

There was a very intense jolt, a feeling that she had missed something important, but once it was gone, she couldn’t recall why she cared so much, and when she looked up, even Alhaitham had seemingly forgotten that he’d just given her something, making no comment or obtuse glance at where the small tree had vanished in a brilliant flash. 

He was squabbling with his roommate again, and…that light had been rather bright, right? Very, very strange, but no one said a thing about it. And….

What was she thinking about, again? 

What was it that had been odd?

She had greeted Alhaitham when he had arrived likely due to the accidental clover invasion.

And then…they were talking.

She couldn’t recall. 

It must not matter. She had a good memory, especially for things that she needed to remember. That’s how she had made it all the way from Sumeru to Mondstadt—her memory. 

She thought she might’ve been forgetting something…but no matter! Surely she’d remember if it was important. 

There were things to do still that mattered more than something so insignificant it could be forgotten. Like pay Venti back properly. 

She had held him here for long enough. All of her tasks had been completed, and it would be lovely to spend more time with him, but he was in desperate need of home, his home, and she had accomplished all she sought out to do here, and she hoped to set him free once more. Keeping him with her any longer would be unjust, especially for all he’d done for her. There were people waiting for him to get back.

Love could outlive any distance, but it could also be ignored very effectively if one considered themselves collateral.

It would be unfortunate to hold him away from Mondstadt for a second longer. 

Nahida had learned so much, had been given a chance to be anything. That chance meant more than she could convey in words, and she doubted she’d ever be able to explain it to him. She was free, and it had cost her, and it had hurt, and it had been hard, and it had given her the greatest boon of all. 

For now, it was time to say goodbye to her friends, even though that idea ignited some obscure form of deja vu. 

One more thing, then. Just to make sure they didn’t forget her—even if she knew that was the very height of impossible. She was unforgettable.

She grabbed two pieces of clover from the ground and pressed her palms together tight, plants held inside where she gathered energy, light, and a touch of joy. It wasn’t a very hard thing to do. She held and pressed and tightened, and she imagined them, their happy faces, and their own form of love.

One Cecilia, one glaze lily. It wasn’t a hard thing to do at all. Why had it ever been hard before?

The world molded itself against her touch, like clay on a potter’s wheel, and all it took was a bit of intention and a willingness to change. And she was willing. Willing to live and give the world a chance to be kind. 

___________________

She gave him a flower.

Nahida gave Venti his favorite flower, and he received it quietly. 

A gift like this deserved to be appreciated, not talked over or lavished in praise. It was a small, simple thing, and it felt like everything he had ever loved packaged into white petals. So he said nothing about it. 

She just smiled as if she knew—because maybe she did—and said, “take care of them,” as if he wouldn’t, ha! 

He stuck it in his hair underneath the hat that wasn’t his, and planned to keep it safer than anything else. Zhongli received his graciously too, and it was clear where this was headed. 

She was kicking them out. 

Well, not really…but kind of! She had stuff to do now, he supposed, in this nation she had decided to stick around in for some reason. If she needed help, he trusted she knew where to look, but for now, he would accept her decision and leave, even if he knew not at all where he might go. She could handle herself. 

Besides, he had a reputation to uphold as a self-sustaining, perfectly okay individual. 

“Keep in touch,” Venti said, meaning every word, “And I’ll come find you for that second Liyue trip if you don’t find me first.” He remembered one more thing he wanted to add. “And don’t walk on your own next time. Please. Get Alhaitham to take you or something.”

“Mm-hm.”

Tears edged her eyes, and Venti turned away before she broke open in front of him—not that he cared, but she seemed to, and it was only polite. But while his back was turned, he heard her sniffle, and realized just how long it might be. They weren’t going to see each other for—for at least a week! Zhongli could call him clingy all he wanted to; Venti would not leave her to cry alone before flying away. It was simply unforgivable to leave family like that. No matter what.

He rushed to face her again and rushed to give her one more giant hug. She was warm and safe and alive. Thank goodness she had come to find him. He was so very glad he had promised to help. So glad.

“Dummy,” she said, “I was trying so hard not to cry, too! And you ruined it.”

“That I did.” 

No regrets. None at all. This was rather nice, a hopeful kind of goodbye. Because it wasn’t forever, and they’d find each other again, some day. 

“This is our Archon?” The blond man interrupted. “Seriously?”

Venti separated from her, a little embarrassed, but too happy to consider it much. Her people had come to find her, and he wasn’t involved in this, really.

“Yes,” Alhaitham replied. 

“Good to know you’ve been bringing an Archon into our house. Couldn’t you have led with that? And what the hell does that make them? ”

Venti noticed the guy pointing, but kept still. Kaveh was apparently the only person in the entire world who hadn’t figured him out yet, and he meant to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, the world wasn’t on his side. He was starting to wonder whether there might be anywhere in the world where he could go and wasn’t at risk of rogue Monstadters or people who knew him from this mess, and then…

Kaveh stared, and stared some more, and then his eyes went wide, his mouth dropped open, and he pointed in increasing variants of aggressive fanaticism.

“IT’S—YOU! You’re the devil who did the unforgivable, aren’t you? Repent!”

Well, that wasn’t the token response he had gotten used to.

“What?” Venti scuttled back on light feet at the guy’s approach. That had taken an unpredictable twist. “Nahida? What did I do?”

“You should run,” Nahida said, gently poking him in the ribs. “You weren’t around for that talk, but basically,” she said while Alhaitham attempted desperately to hold back his rabid roommate, “Kaveh is an architect, and he’s not…pleased about what, uh, happened to the Akademiya.”

“Ah.” Venti tried cracking a smile, but Kaveh merely snarled when he did. “Uhm. Whoops?”

“Really. Run.” She pushed him gently, smile saccharine. “Like, now.”

“But we—”

She pushed harder, eyes practically gleaming. 

“You don’t need to stay. I’ll be okay! Better than okay, even!”

“But maybe I can be helpful,” he suggested, pretending that he wasn’t just avoiding the source of his tension. 

Nahida wouldn’t let him run from it that easily, though. “Mondstadt is waiting,” she said.

True, very true…but what if…they didn’t want him back? Or they wanted the wrong version of him? He could still commit to wandering the desert—or not the desert actually; he had left a guy there and actually didn’t want to face that particular conundrum—but somewhere else! There were lots of other places. 

“They’re waiting, for you!” She said, again.

“I know that, but—” 

“Your family is waiting!” She shouted joyfully. “Go home, Venti!”

When she said it, he could almost feel the breeze that played through Mondstadt again, his favorite place in the world calling his name, all his names, every name he had ever claimed as his. Just a hop, skip, and a jump away. It might be really bad and horribly embarrassing and so very wrong to go back. It could blow up in his face even more than it had already. It could get better too, but how much better? Better enough to justify trying? He guessed…it was worth the risk in the end. 

It really, really was.

He missed home, like he missed a good song when he forgot the right notes, like when the words slipped away into dreams, and he wanted them back but couldn’t remember. If he wanted it badly enough, there was no reason not to try. But he would make no promises to stay. 

“Go!” She said again, and there actually was a time limit to this decision, and he wouldn’t sit in stasis any longer. 

“Ok, ok! I’m going.” He summoned his wings, and hovered just high enough for the tips of his toes to graze the ground. 

“See you later?” He asked. “Promise?” He looked back at her bright smile—so much better than when they’d met before, a good conclusion to a reunion they had gotten, even if it had been 500 years late.

“Definitely!”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He really would, and he’d hold her to it.

As he began to lift off, he realized that there was one more person to deal with, and when he saw how forlorn Zhongli looked, he knew he’d have to bring him along, just for a quick thing. Venti offered a hand and didn’t say a single word, but his oldest friend got the message and held on gently. 

Venti lifted him up with wind rather than the strength he didn’t have, and they hovered together. “Let’s leave them to it,” he said as they headed out of the rubble bowl they were congregated in. “And…I’ve got a request for you, if you don’t mind.”

“I do not,” he replied. He waved as well, and Nahida waved back with both hands. 

Kaveh escaped Alhaitham’s iron grip somehow, but Venti was off for real this time, just out of reach, and the winds absorbed him into their embrace and pushed him onward before the crazy guy could try shooting or throwing miscellaneous objects at him.

…

Venti landed them in a secluded area of the city, remaining under the boughs of the divine tree, a bit lower than the Sanctuary but above the main intersections of the city, and he sent his wings away in a flurry of feathers. ‘Barbatos’ likely wasn’t a welcome sight around here, and he had no intention to instigate panic. He had done enough of that already, it seemed. So so many mistakes, and yet he might’ve accidentally stumbled into some kind of resolution with no lives lost and no permanent sacrifices. 

And she was happy. 

“You kept your promise,” Venti said. 

“I did.”

“You helped. Worked with us. And I think…we might’ve made it through. Though to be honest, I’m not exactly sure how.” 

A lot of the past day had gone over his head, and Nahida had handled it in all the ways he could never manage, and that was good. He had hoped her and the Grand Sage guy could figure it out so that he wouldn’t need to be a permanently on-call safety net, but it seemed he had likely done more internal breaking down than helping anyway. 

Now he had his own issues to face. What he had said to Nahida about Mondstadt was still true. Although he did understand that he was being ridiculous about it. Nothing bad would happen, even if he went back and everything changed for the worse. 

He was the only one who could clear up this misunderstanding, but he wasn’t sure what that might entail. How long would it take to be no one important again? He’d have to go, and try, and see. Bravery didn’t come instinctually, but he could force it forward for the sake of his home and friends. (He wanted to see them again, and was that such a bad thing?)

“You also did well,” Zhongli said. “I’m glad you allowed me to assist.”

Zhongli really had done the unexpected and stay in a support position.

“I think you did better than me, really.” It was Zhongli who had found a good solution in an unwinnable game on an impossible board with indecisive pieces, and it was him who had stayed resolute till the end.

Zhongli turned pensive, standing at attention. “How exactly do you view your contribution in this matter?”

“Sabotage,” he said. 

Zhongli didn’t catch the joking nature of that answer, though, because he had no sense of humor. Obviously.

“Incorrect.” He shook his head. “You were the beginning, the key, and the safety.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

His eyes turned soft. “Nothing important if its meaning eludes you.”

“Oh, thanks.” 

Real helpful he was, damn bastard. 

“You know, I recommended this to Nahida, and I believe it is fair to recommend it to yourself, as well.” His gaze was present, anchored to this small piece of reality they shared. “You should rest, Venti.”

Who had time for that? He had rested for 500 years, and look where that had got him, and where in this whole world invited that kind of attitude?

“Where?” He asked anyway, knowing in his soul what answer he invited upon himself.

“Mondstadt, of course.”

“Two tasks,” he said in lieu of a proper response and with the aid of regained clarity.  It had just occurred to him what preceded all this and why he had yet to fall off the grid, and it was a simple reason. He might have to rethink it now, though.

“Excuse me?”

“Before I planned to run away, there were two tasks I decided I needed to take care of. Help Kaeya, find Nahida a place to call home.” His winds still sung his name from miles away, but he refused to be foolhardy and chase after them. Not yet. “I’ve completed both, so there’s nothing keeping me stuck here, or there, anymore.”

Zhongli didn’t hesitate, “I do not think ‘stuck’ is appropriate terminology.”

“Yeah. Probably not. Archon of freedom, and all that.”

“Aside from your epithet, I mean.” He looked out toward the dawning afternoon. “You were never trapped anywhere. You were never trapped in Mondstadt. Surely you understand that?”

“I…do.” Melodramatic nonsense aside, the last thing he'd let himself be is stuck. 

It would be so much harder to leave again if he went back, though. That’s when it would sting badly. He had never had to face his identity as dual-natured prior to this moment. The last time mortals knew who he was, they had known him as a sprite first, the weakest thing in existence. There had been no pretending or hiding then, and it was nice for them to know the whole ‘Barbatos’ thing was a sham. 

“You may always visit Liyue, you know. Although I ask that you do not plan permanent residency there.”

“As if I’d want to live there forever.” It was kind of him to offer, though, even if Venti wouldn’t say so. 

Forever was a really long time. 

“What are you going to do now?” Venti asked.

“Return to my job. I suspect Hu Tao would appreciate my timely return to her business considering I am still formally employed there, despite my lengthy hiatus. I have a responsibility to her.”

“Yeah? Good luck with that. I hope you have fun at your creepy little job.”

“And you? What will you do?” He asked.

Venti sighed deeply. “Yeah. So. About that. I’ll go back to Mondstadt and figure it out. I think I may have been…worrying too much about it.”

“The first step is acknowledgement.”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, face red, and he pointedly cleared his throat. “Anyway. Where was I before a certain someone interrupted me.” He hadn’t talked about this kind of thing with Zhongli before, and he was only thankful his friend was willing to listen, even if to what seemed the childish ramblings about problems worth far less than Venti had put into them. “I’ve always been me. It’s been easy. But they think I’m something else now, and if I can’t fix that, if it breaks down worse than it already has, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I can always wander, I suppose.”

Zhongli called the rock beneath their feet to manifest as a bench, and he sat down, offering Venti join him.

“To admit honestly,” Zhongli began, “This core idea of yours has puzzled me from the very beginning. I did not engage with it because I thought it more complicated than I had time to parse out, but I have since changed my mind regarding that original assumption.”

This bench wasn’t very comfortable. 

“What about me is so incomprehensible, exactly?” Venti asked.

Zhongli stopped and organized his thoughts, hand to his chin. “Why do you think their idea of you is faulty?”

“…Huh?” It was obvious. “Well, their concept of me is clearly misguided.”

“In what way?”

“Uhm. Every way?” 

Had Zhongli ever seen that statue? Because it was mimicking someone long dead. Hands cupped out in offering—come on. When had he ever been that benevolently requesting of worship? He wasn't near scary enough to justify it. Sure, he had been in the right place at the right time, had done what needed to be done, but that shouldn't mean that much for the people that lived today. 

“I certainly have. The stories told of you speak of kindness, and I believe them truthful.”

“Well, yes, I mean, I’ve done good things for them. I’m not completely hopeless.” His self confidence, although under fire, was not that ridiculously withered, “but I don’t require all this,” he said, waving his arms.

“And what exactly is ‘all this?’”  

“You know. Reverence.”

“They are merely thankful, might I suggest, about previous actions which you have indeed taken.”

“I know that!” His own voice was failing to convey any kind of assuredness, but Venti really did know. “But they don’t see it right.”

“And so I return to my original question,” Zhongli said, the darn bastard. “Why, exactly, do you reject their individual interpretation of such things?”

“Because—it’s. They’ve got it wrong. I didn’t do it to be praised, just to be kind.”

Zhongli halted and stated cleanly, “Mortals don’t praise you because they think you want to be praised.”

“Uh? Of course they do?” That was totally a thing. Didn’t people worship Gods because they thought doing so would keep the God at bay? Keep the God kind? Keep the God happy?

Venti never wanted anyone to think his kindness was conditional.

“I see now.”

“What do you see?”

“Nahida was absolutely right. You should go home, Venti.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hey!”

Zhongli ignored him, straightened his outfit, and stood once more. “You mentioned a favor prior to this?”

Oh absolutely not—he couldn’t just walk away from that topic as if he hadn’t insinuated he was just so much more worldly and wise than Venti. What a horrible thing to do. 

“We’re not finished,” he said. ”Share what you’ve apparently figured out, genius.”

“Do you or do you not want a favor?”

Damn it. He really did want the teensiest favor. Would he pick that over trying to extract information from Zhongli?

…Yeah. He definitely would.

He wasn’t very good at the interrogation schtick anyway. What did it matter if Zhongli wanted to be a sneaky little weasel about something? It’s not like there would be any real consequences, just Venti’s ire, which came cheap anyway.

Although thinking on it now, wasn’t it kind of a bad idea to ask Zhongli to do anything for him? Zhongli had upheld his word til the end, though. Throughout this entire conflict, it had been proven that he would not take drastic action, and he had listened. If Venti was going to give Mondstadt a chance, Zhongli deserved one too. Even if he was being mean. 

Venti put his hands together, finger pads pressed tight. “Just…if you wouldn’t mind, of course.” All he wanted was for someone to listen, and Zhongli was good at that. “One favor is doable for you, yeah?”

“I’d be glad to oblige.”

It was just that easy, apparently, but that barely made sense because immortals were supposed to be something, built of the kind of permanent force-stuff that made up the natural rules of this world. They weren’t supposed to change. 

Venti was starting to think he had greatly misunderstood his oldest friend. Zhongli was a horrible person—but in all the right ways. 

…

“This fine gentleman is going to provide a community service for you!” Venti announced in the square, a crowd beginning to gather. “For one day only! Give him any stone Mora you have, and he’ll remove the clovers currently taking over the city at large in any respective section you pick. So, how about it? Wanna throw the man some rocks?”

“No, no, do not throw the rocks. Place them respectfully in this basket.” Zhongli looked pointedly at Venti. “We’ve discussed this. No throwing.”

“Never stopped you,” he mumbled.

Evidently, Zhongli heard him. “No. Throwing. Rocks.”

“Oh, but you get a pass for doing the same thing to me a buncha times, huh? What’s up with that? Where’s the sympathy for your dearest friend?”

Zhongli exhaled dramatically. “Not now, Venti. Be courteous of these people’s time, please.”

“It would take less time to throw them,” he grumbled under his breath. 

As Zhongli collected a growing stash of rocks—some of which he had to reject for being regular rocks and not Mora-turned-rocks—he asked, “do you plan to help me?”

Venti considered him, considered the situation he had stuck Zhongli into, considered the consequences of both options, and the funny option came out unanimously on top because it was just Zhongli. They were friends, and they likely would be forever. This once, he wanted the benefits of being the one deserving of compensation for poor friendship behavior. It was a new idea for him, and just maybe it gave him hope for the future to trust in Zhongli as the good man that he was. 

They always had choices. They had lived through more choices than a mortal could ever comprehend. They were faced with too many this-or-that scenarios to keep track of, some of which had a correct—and a wrong—option. They didn’t pick the right options by chance.

And sometimes they got it wrong. 

But not always. 

There was chance to every choice, and Venti trusted in a lot that he probably shouldn’t—including this answer. 

“Nah,” Venti said. “I’m going home.”

In the privacy of his own thoughts, he whispered a little thank you to his friend. For caring. And listening. And for being more. 

…

Venti flew back to Mondstadt at an altitude high enough to go unseen. 

Clouds made for a great hiding place, and he caught as many as he could and blew them to Mondstadt for personal cover as he traveled.

It may have been completely unnecessary, but it was also fun. Somewhere along the way, he started building shapes out of cloud matter, constructing birds, flowers, monsters, whatever came to his mind at any given time. He kept up this cover the whole way over, gathering more clouds along the way. There had been a point when his clouds thinned out dangerously, enough so that his figure might be seen, and that’s when he sped up til he reached more clouds and continued his little charade. 

It was a silly thing, but he kept out of sight the whole way, and he considered it easily a worthwhile endeavor. 

The wind buffeted the bad thoughts and fears from making themselves known. Up above the thoughts of the world, all was rendered white. It welcomed something close to fearlessness, even if such a concept was a made-up fairytale. Everyone feared something—except the wind, as it changed too constantly to find fears before they were rendered expired. 

Venti was a bit too constant to match his element sometimes, and it was good to forget for a time—except then Mondstadt came into view, and his mind was once more on call, and all threads of hesitance crept back into the sunlight. 

He remained a bit tumbled by wind, however, and as his logical mind righted itself, courage arrived for a chance to shine before it could get drowned out in fear.

The large entrance stood before him, and he absolutely wasn’t going to enter through the main gates like last time. 

He had wings…might as well use them. 

People stared. Obviously. Because who wouldn’t stare as a winged person flew overhead the city? He knew these people—he was one of these people once—and he would’ve stared, so it seemed clear they would, too. It was his bad for expecting them to act wildly out of character. Or for not thinking at all.

It was rather telling that he considered them to act as he would, though, and he wished it didn’t sting. He wasn’t supposed to be the default mold of a Mondstadt citizen, and technically speaking he wasn’t, but that thought process merely proved how connected he was to this city as a whole, how much he wanted to fit in.

Venti was like an intruder banging on the gate to be let in when he carried a spare key for the side door. They truly could not deny him, and they embraced a certain side of him already, but it was wrong. He would always be the intruder that snuck in with the skeleton key no one remembered casting.

But the potential to fix it existed, right? He had to believe in that. If it turned out that he was an idiot for thinking so, the consequences could find him later.

Before taking any drastic action or trying any stupid things, he needed to talk to Jean, just to tell her he was back. It was only right, and he thought it important to fill her in on the big, national items of interest. Sumeru and Mondstadt would have a weird relationship for a while, he suspected, for too many reasons to name. He’d cover the most important. 

Jean was happy to see him.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was, and he didn’t much know what to do with that. He told her all he could, what was important for the current Guildmaster to know, and she listened gladly. A bit too gladly if you asked him.  She kept asking questions, not about Sumeru, but about him and what he had been up to. She thought his Sumeru outfit humorous, too, and Venti realized he should probably change back as soon as he got a chance. Clothes hadn’t been at the top of his priority list for a while, but now that he was on pause, the little things became clear once more. 

Little things like Jean and her wisdom, that which he had neglected to acknowledge as he should. 

“You were right,” he said.

“About what?”

“A lot of stuff. Just…nonsense stuff.” The wind was happy he was back, and it was asking desperately for him to come out and play. “I’m going to be around for a bit, but after that, I haven’t decided.”

Keeping his options open was crucial at this juncture because if he was going to give this a chance, he wouldn’t get locked into anything before the dust settled and the truths made themselves known.

She just smiled warmly and interlaced her fingers. “Well, whatever you choose, don’t do it on our behalf. Mondstadt will always welcome you back.” She pursed her lips, foreboding bad thoughts. “You might have people trying to get you to stay, and they only mean well. But know you don’t have to.”

She was too sweet for words.

“It’s not like you guys can stop me,” he joked, yet it was less of a joke now that they were both aware of the factual nature of his statement. That kind of wording had been funnier when his audience thought he was just a bard. 

Nahida was brave enough to face that place that had treated her worse than he’d ever thought possible, yet she had found something he didn’t understand there anyway, something that compelled her to stay. He couldn’t pretend to understand, but he did wonder. Did whatever it was apply elsewhere? 

Well, Jean was here, and that counted for something. She knew how he was. If only everyone else would get the memo. They might, he supposed, with time. 

“And Venti?” She offered, “You’ve been a wonderful Archon. I’m glad it was you.”

Oh. 

Um.

Oh no. Did that mean…oh no.

He might've accidentally found himself at the center of a very grave misunderstanding of his own making.

Well, there remained time to figure it out. Of anything, he had time.

He was back, and his current plan was to go about as if absolutely nothing had changed, and he would try, give Mondstadt a chance to welcome him back and see what followed, even though the general expectation for such behavior was not optimistic. But if he had gotten it all wrong, then he might have to revise said expectations.

Just try. Who knows? Maybe it’ll work out.

Despite everything. 

___________________

Kaeya was buzzed, just on the edge of drunk, but not quite there yet. 

Although, he could’ve been fooled into thinking he was hallucinating, whether on wine or his own crumbling metal fortitude, considering.

Venti strummed his lyre in the front of the room, braids very clearly glowing, and the notes carried a certain warmth they hadn’t before. Kaeya didn’t know if being an Archon somehow improved his playing or if…he was just happy. Or nervous. Kaeya wouldn’t dare presume.

“Hey, Venti?” He asked, letting go of that last shred of caution as the current song died down into a quiet stillness.

Venti looked as if he’d been caught breaking the rules but came over anyway.

“…Yes, Sir Kaeya?”

Now that was just ridiculous. ‘Sir.’  The little brat still had a sense of humor, it seemed.

“You’ve got songs from long ago in your arsenal, right?” Alcohol swirled in his glass as a confusing mess of liquid color. “The founding of Mondstadt, perhaps?”

“Of course I do,” he said, smiling. He was always smiling, wasn’t he? That’s something Kaeya did when unavoidably sad. Did mannerisms migrate from one friend to another?

“Yeah, yeah, I figured. You used to play them before. I was just thinking…I might want to hear one or two tonight.”

He brightened instantly. “Sure! I’d love to accept that request.” He plucked his lyre, a delicate arpeggio. “Everyone okay with that?”

The din of drinkers and partiers swelled with noise and merrymaking, and Venti began without hesitance, first note cutting through the tavern.

This tale wasn’t new, Kaeya had heard it before. However, the last time he heard it, the ballad had been a fairy tale, nothing but the last remaining, warped dregs of a founding story mostly lost to time, extra details folded in for dramatization. Except it wasn’t lost because Venti had been there. And it wasn’t dramatized because Venti remembered. What a strange concept. Kaeya had heard these songs and stories more times than he could remember—a side effect of being Venti’s drinking buddy—but he had never once considered that there to be real truth in them. They were just fairy tales! Exaggerated stories about people and things long since gone and eroded beyond recovery. 

The story morphed as it was told this time, and Kaeya couldn’t help but realign every character with his perception of reality, with his understanding of Venti, as it progressed. And this time, details snuck in that he swore weren’t there prior to tonight. 

Vanessa had been real. She had been his friend. The lone bard, too. And they had died. And Venti had been there. He had seen Decarabian’s fall, and he had rebuilt Mondstadt over Cider lake by his lonesome, and he had watched the death of everyone he had ever known. He was friends with wind and with dragons, and he was Archon of Mondstadt, creator of the only home where Kaeya had ever truly belonged. 

Kaeya raised a glass, drinking to those facts and a million others which he deeply regretted his own prior ignorance of. 

To the future. To understanding. To home. 

If he wasn’t drunk before, he was most definitely drunk now.

After the song concluded with a melancholic twist Kaeya had never noticed properly before, after the Archon fell into a 500 year slumber, the only ending that song could ever have, the one he swore Venti had never played, Venti found his way over to him swiftly, as if the wind had a role to play in the oncoming discussion.

“Thank you for the suggestion,” he said. “I wanted an excuse to play something like that. I haven’t played it for…I haven’t played it for real in a while. If you know what I mean.”

That made sense. Apparently, it wasn’t merely Kaeya’s mind tricking him regarding the sudden addition of elements and emotions he had never noticed in that song prior to tonight. 

“It was a good performance,” he said, nothing else to be noted aloud.

“Thank you. You were a good audience.” Venti took off that silly hat, and for a moment, he barely looked like Venti at all. He looked like—well, he looked like the statue. 

Kaeya supposed he needed to get used to that, and he would, as long as he had enough time to do so. But realistically, Venti wasn’t going to stay here unless he accepted it real fast, although it wasn’t supposed to be his job to do anything about it. Or, then again, maybe it was?

Damn. The nun was right.  

Ok, fine. She was right, and Kaeya had been avoiding Venti, and here was his friend, clearly on the precipice of abandoning this place he loved with all his heart. He supposed now was as good a time as any for some confessions and a starting point for fixing his mistake.

“Rosaria yelled at us,” Kaeya admitted with a casual drawl.

“She did what?”

“Yelled. At the knights. It was quite a spectacle. You would’ve been so embarrassed.” Kaeya laughed softly, as if he wasn’t trying to bother his little friend. 

Venti tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“She was mad.” Kaeya felt the alcohol flush his cheeks, and he wondered if he should exercise restraint in this particular matter. Oh well. He’d call it fate and move on. “About you. She said we weren’t treating you right.”

Venti froze where he stood and instantly threw his hands up. “Oh, no no no, don’t listen to her—I don’t want any worship. Or anything I don’t deserve. Did the sisters set her up? She really didn’t need to do that because I never wanted any special treatm—”

“Wait, wait, stop—”

“—and please, believe me, Kaeya. I didn’t mean to make you guys think I wanted more from any of you because I never did and—”

“Venti stop!” Kaeya said vehemently. “That’s not it.” 

What a pain in the ass. Kaeya was a bit of an awful person, wasn’t he? 

Venti had stopped his mad gibberish ranting, finally, and shrunk into himself, standing awkwardly. He fiddled with the strings of his lyre without letting a single one make a sound, bending them into one another. 

Kaeya should’ve used a bit more tact, but he’d rather just get it out there and deal with the fallout in a reasonable manner. Venti would’ve catastrophized no matter how Kaeya tried to explain. And maybe he wanted that, for Venti to feel a bit of Kaeya’s burning frustration with this whole ordeal. 

“You’ll damage your lyre if you keep doing that,” he said offhandedly. 

God, why did he decide that the best time to have this conversation was when drunk?

“No, I won’t,” Venti said. “It’s fine.” He stopped messing with the strings anyway.

Kaeya sighed deeply. “Here’s the deal. She wasn’t mad about us not treating you like an Archon; she was mad because we weren’t treating you like Venti.” 

Even if those two things actually weren’t mutually exclusive…

The bard went very, very still. It was absurd, the incarnation and God of wind itself halted by words. His Archon was a bit more delicate than Kaeya had ever wanted him to be.

“That’s…that wasn’t necessary, either.” Venti was quieter, now, missing his hyperactive edge.

“Well, I disagree, but whatever. I think it very much was because she was right. And I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

“Don’t say that,” Venti said, cringing. “This was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you guys care about me. It was selfish and—and mean.”

…What? 

Oh, Kaeya really was an extraordinary idiot. How absurd and… embarrassing. This was just a repeat of their conversation before at the fountain, but now he had been placed in that impossible position. His job was to convince his friend out of his idiocy, and he didn’t know how to. He kind of got why Venti had been so confused back then because now it was his turn, and he wasn’t thrilled with this twist of expectations.

He raised a hand to his temple. “I’m going to ignore that because it’s nonsense. You said as much to me, anyway. You belong here. Venti, you probably love Mondstadt more than anyone else, and we’d be monsters to force you out. If anyone tries, I’ll knock em out.”

“That’s definitely not knight behavior.”

“So? You’re my friend before my Archon. And I’m your friend before Cavalry Captain.”

“I think Jean would disagree.”

Why couldn’t Venti see it? 

“You’re wrong,” Kaeya said. “You’re just wrong. I’m sorry I can’t convince you otherwise. But I’ll work on it. We all will so that one day, you understand.”

Venti stared down at the floor. “I just want to love you guys. And I’m ruining it.”

“You’re not.”

“But I am!” They had attracted attention, but Venti kept going, “I’m just Venti. That’s it.”

“I know,” even if Kaeya didn’t believe it one bit, “and I’m sorry I didn’t understand that before.” He understood that’s what Venti thought, but it wasn’t true. “But I do now,” he said, despite himself. “Mondstadt will need some practice, but I’m sure we’ll get the hang of it eventually.” 

“I don't want to be worshiped because you think you have to.”

Oh, shit. That's not what he expected at all. That was one misunderstanding he would never let lie.

“No one ever worshiped you for that reason. Ever. Actually, I think it was the exact opposite.” Kaeya put his alcohol down. “So stay. Please.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“I’d be sad.”

Venti’s cheeks puffed. “That’s not a fair defense.”

“Fine. Jean would be sad, then.”

“And that’s just mean.”

“Nah. Just true.” He hailed over Diluc. “Sit? For a glass of dandelion wine, perhaps?”

Venti pulled out a stool and sat down next to Kaeya, despite the fight or flight instincts Kaeya could feel simmering from here. 

“Can we just talk like before?” Venti asked.

Never again could Kaeya treat him the same after all that he’d learned. There was a certain respect that had developed in light of recent revelations, but he’d try his damndest to rein it back. 

So, he did what he did best—lie. 

“Sure. Of course.”

He lied because that was his first step into becoming something better, and he’d need more time than he’d like to admit. Venti had all the time in the world; Kaeya didn’t. Besides, if he said it enough times, that his friend was the same as ever, he’d believe it one day. The bard didn’t need to know that he had changed in Kaeya’s mind because it was for the best. 

Kaeya got the feeling they kept a lot secret from one another, stuff that realistically, in the whole wide world, only the other would understand.  Someday, he would pull out Venti’s life story from his little poetry-drunk brain, and he would share his own life in return. Venti would know what he spoke of when ‘Khaenri’ah’ left his lips, and he would know what Venti meant when he waxed poetics on the weight of thousands of lives lost. He believed that because he would work to be better so that someday he might earn himself that stage of invaluable friendship and the weighty responsibility that came with it.

As it turned out, they really were built for this city. They were made for Mondstadt and Mondstadt for them.  

Eventually, with time, they’d get there. Kaeya trusted in it because he trusted in Venti, and he’d make damn sure to never tell him because that was the only way he could think of to ensure the idiot stayed.

___________________

“But—but you had photos! I know you did!” Barbara complained.

“I lost them,” Rosaria said, voice monotone, avoiding eye contact completely. 

This confrontation had been something she’d been expecting for weeks at this point, and she need only remain resolute in the face of one very angry Barbara. At least the fated argument was taking place in the Cathedral during downtime when not many people were around and only a few nuns stood in earshot, sweeping the floors.

“Wha—no! You couldn’t have!”

“And yet that’s what happened. Your misconception of what is possible is very strange, Deaconess.” 

“Rosaria! This is not the time for your—your snide remarks.”

Rosaria folded her arms over her chest, locked down. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Barbara. Technically, I took those photos on my own time with my own camera, so it’s not like they belonged to the church in the first place.”

“Maybe not but,” Barbara hesitated, “it was careless! You shouldn’t treat the image of our Archon with such disrespect!”

She shrugged. “I guess.” 

Rosaria kept her face straight, but laughed hysterically on the inside. If she had known this kind of stuff irritated Barbara this severely, she would’ve done something like this ages ago. Her mind swam every which way with how many fun tricks she could pull now that Venti was back to stay. It was the right decision, keeping him here. 

She was glad, secretly. 

“You’ll take on extra chores this week,” Barbara said. 

This time, Rosaria laughed for real, smiling wickedly. 

“No, I won’t.” 

___________________

Mondstadt was where Venti kept his heart. It always had been, not because of the physical location, but because of the wonderful people and their history that stretched his entire memory. He loved them too much for words. Family, he whispered to himself when alone, dining on memories with ballads of times long forgotten.

They loved him too. They loved every aspect of him, not just the divine part, and Mondstadt was home to them all, including Venti himself. 

Maybe he had this wrong. 

He stood right next to the statue in the courtyard, lyre shining in the sun, all eyes trained on his figure.

“I am back from my quick vacation,” he announced, “ready to resume my day job,” knowing in his heart he had always been so terribly silly. “Yes, I am an immortal Archon who has lived for centuries. But!” He announced, “more importantly, I am the best bard in Mondstadt, one who loves a good song and glass of dandelion wine.” 

Maybe being both wasn’t such a bad thing, and when he looked into their eyes, the people he had known for years, he realized he may have misjudged something really, really badly. A tactical error is what it was, one that had left him worried and confused while on a trip halfway across the world and back, thinking he had nowhere to go. 

They didn’t worship him because they thought he wanted them to or because they had to. Of course they didn’t. They did it because of who he was, to respect what he had done for kindness’s sake. None of it had to do with the divinity aspect nor the uncontrollable—not really.

Zhongli, you could’ve said something. You totally knew.

“I do hope you're all open to having some fun cause I’ve got some serious catching up to do with my bard duties.” 

He winked and plucked a few strings on his lyre. They looked at him like he was divine. They looked at him like they wanted to listen. And just maybe, in those gazes existed love for Venti the bard, a part that still remained in power—the only part in power, perhaps.

This wasn’t his first night as Mondstadt’s favorite bard since his return, but it was the first in another sense. Angel’s Share had been a trial run, but this? 

He looked up to the statue’s face, an exact stone picture of serenity.

Watch over me, my friend. Thank you for being my first family. 

His braids glowed, and he let the anemo swell and swirl excitedly. 

There was nothing in the word that made him feel more himself than song and freedom, and his heart had been caught in Mondstadt for so long, right where he wanted it to be. 

The song began—not his final song, just one that took place after the final trial of his tale, perhaps very close to the epilogue if he was being honest. How Rosaria had guessed such a thing he’d never know. 

It wasn’t so bad, though. 

This was home. It was never missing, just forgotten, and he had finally rediscovered—remembered—it once more. Freedom dictated he get to find chance in the most hidden and normal of places, and it meant he got the opportunity to live, and wait, and exist.  

Venti would stay for as long as he wanted, however long that may be. Because this place loved him for no other reason than because of who he was. How had he missed that? How had he missed all that was earnest and omnipresent?

Mondstadt welcomed home its most cherished spirit.

___________________

___________________

___________________

Lumine had made it out of Inazuma slightly singed, very damp, and just barely in one piece. When she sighted land, the Liyuean port was ridiculously homely just because there wasn’t a single storm in sight. Thank goodness for small mercies. 

As soon as the boat had docked in Liyue, finally back across that grand sea on the mainland, she found herself wandering along with the standard foot traffic if only for a taste of normalcy. No place in her travels had felt quite so exciting and busy as Liyue did, and she just wanted to be surrounded by people going about their lives without any idea of her or what she had been through. 

She was also unreasonably happy to return to somewhere functional like Liyue after the complete disaster that had been Inazuma.

She’d take tea with Zhongli over a duel with Raiden any day.  

And then there had also been the entire revolution…thing to deal with.

The Qixing and adepti, for all their inability to compromise or cooperate unless in the path of total destruction, remained more functional than literally any branch of Inazuma. Maybe the Kamisato clan could be a minor exception, but she still held the opinion that Ayato was terrifying, second only to Ningguang because he didn’t have a giant floating palace, and Lumine wanted nothing more to do with him or anyone over there for a long, long while. The stress had clearly gotten to her head. 

Even the trip back over with Beidou had been unusual and rather stressful for no reason!

Although, that was mostly due to the fact that Beidou had immediately gotten into a spiel about what she’d been up to after dropping Lumine off in Inazuma because apparently, there had been some complicated half-political half-divine drama Lumine had missed.

“It was crazy, you know, Barbatos showing up?” Beidou had begun, “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I totally thought he was a myth.”

Lumine must’ve looked uncomfortably startled. “Oh, uh, me too,” she had said. Paimon had merely floated awkwardly to the side, whistling some dissonant tune.

“And then he did the equivalent of declaring war on Sumeru. Insane.”

“…Yeah?” Her voice pitched up way too high at the end, there.

What the hell, Venti.

“Yup. He destroyed the Akademiya, and Sumeru has been having issues ever since. I heard their new leader is a good guy, and I think their Archon, Buer, is sticking around too, but who knows how long that’ll last.”

“Hm.”

“This trip was a nice break, is all I’m saying,” Beidou said. “Ferrying people to and from Inazuma is actually easier than the trip to Ormos nowadays. At the very least it’s been less stressful because I fucking kid you not,” she smiled maniacally, all teeth, “I think Barbatos rode my boat.”

At that point, Lumine’s brain shut down completely.

“I mean,” Beidou kept talking, “I’m honored and all, but I’d rather not run my trips wondering if just maybe I’m ferrying divinity around, you know? I had to work so hard to keep myself calm and seemingly normal. I didn’t want to bother him, and he was clearly attempting to travel unknown. And you know me—I’m used to giving strange disguised people rides, but this was an entirely new level.”

Lumine had spent the entire rest of the trip ignoring every single sentence directed her way no matter who tried to make polite conversation. Paimon ended up being wonderfully useful by distracting anyone who came over with nonsensical stories about Inazuma or her own various opinions on quite literally everything.

Whatever Venti had gotten up to while she was away wasn’t important. And besides, Inazuma had definitely had it worse. Surely. 

Sumeru would remain her next stop, even with all the rumors and chaos currently surrounding it; she would persevere, damn it!  

Lumine, after hopping off the boat with little patience, picked her way to Wangmin while in a daze brought on by a very long boat ride and a whole lot of accumulated stress and fatigue, no help from Beidou, honestly. 

Although, just when she thought she was in the clear for real, she caught sight of Venti and Zhongli sitting at a table having a meal—because her strange luck never let up, especially not at the end of a particularly long journey. There was always more to do. Literally always. A small girl with white hair was also sitting at their table, but Lumine didn’t recognize her. 

Lumine didn’t really want to say hi considering, but—oh to hell with it. Exhaustion tempered her normal, good decision-making discretion, and Paimon kept going on about how they should stop and say hi. 

Lumine was weak.

“Venti!” She called, waving, unable to simply ignore a friend, even if all she wanted was to crawl into a bed and stay there forever.

It took him a second to identify her, but he eventually broke out into a huge grin and waved her over too, screaming her name way louder than necessary. It was a very ‘Venti’ thing for him to do, and she was, surprisingly enough, not regretting her decision to engage.

They exchanged pleasantries, and Lumine went into scarce detail regarding what had gone down in Inazuma. Long story short, she had summarized, the vision hunt decree was over, feuding largely concluded, and Inazuma would rebuild. She was certain of it, memory calling back to determined revolutionaries, spirited clan members, and one repentant God. 

“Ei was always stubborn like that. Good job, traveler!” Venti said. “Now we can visit,” he told the girl next to him, and she lit up at the declaration. 

Lumine supposed it made sense that Venti knew Ei considering the obvious, but she didn’t think Ei would appreciate an impromptu trip to her country. That seemed like asking for trouble, but well…if Zhongli wasn’t going to step in, Lumine wouldn’t bother, either. They knew what they were doing, better than her at least. Although she would personally stay very far away from any attempt to visit Ei in the near future. 

“Is that really a good idea?” Paimon asked. “Are you sure Ei won’t mind?”

Venti brushed her off, but Lumine held a similar opinion to Paimon on the matter, even if she wouldn’t voice it.

Lumine then explained that she had been headed to the adventurer’s guild to catch up and see if there were any new jobs, except that that’s when she had spotted them, and she couldn’t have just walked away. Paimon claimed credit for it.

“It’s good to see you guys again again,” Lumine said, “especially since I didn’t expect a reunion so soon.”

Venti seemed enamored with that reasoning—Zhongli as well—and the little girl stared openly.

“Oh!” Venti exclaimed. “You two don’t know each other! This,” he pointed at the girl, “Is—uh—” He stared at his friends, and they looked back blankly. “Nahida. She’s a good friend. Who’s visiting and…stuff. And this is Lumine. She’s a traveler, honorary knight, savior of Liyue—”

“Okay okay, that’s enough.” Lumine raised her hands placatingly, cheeks already blushing to a steady pink, stopping him before Paimon could start up on the hero-worship, too. “Yes, I am all of those things, but really, I’m just Lumine. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered a hand and Nahida took it. 

When they shook, it was strange. It felt almost like… no. There was no way. 

“You too! You have very nice eyes,” Nahida said.

“…Thank you.” What an unusual compliment—but surely a compliment nonetheless.

Nahida nodded once, and when she pulled her hand away, Lumine felt just a thread of a chill, and the girl’s green eyes were certainly glowing and—no. 

Don’t go there; you’ll be disappointed if you follow that thought. You’re just tired, she insisted in the polite quiet of her mind. She had her eyes open for this certain brand of strangeness considering the ploy had worked on her twice—from the other two people at this table, no less—but she still refused to consider the niggling thought gaining traction. 

Zhongli cleared his throat. “What are your plans after visiting the adventurer’s guild? Are you still pursuing the quest we last spoke of?”

“I am.” She sighed deeply. That nearby chair seemed awfully inviting, but she knew if she sat down now, getting up would be ridiculously challenging, more so than it ever should be.

“It’s time I go to Sumeru,” she said, “but who knows how long it’ll take to find the dendro Archon.” She slumped down, eyes closing for a couple seconds of blissful darkness. Sumeru was her next stop, but with all the rumors and chaos surrounding it, she might want to rethink it, even if that idea burned with frustration. The things standing in her path had never been enough to convince her to change course before, and this occurrence should be no different.  

Nahida perked up. “What do you want with their Archon?” 

Everyone at the table stilled, watching, waiting. Did they not want Lumine to tell her? 

It might be better to not say, but at this point, her quest was common knowledge to most, especially Venti and Zhongli, and it was just their friend asking, and Lumine was tired, so what was there to lose? They could stop her if they didn’t want their small friend to catch wind of her story, and it wasn’t like Lumine was keeping secret about it. 

“Information,” she eventually said, shifting her hands behind her, where she could clench her fists out of sight. “My brother is missing, and I’m trying to find him. My only lead is that a God did it, so my hope is that another God might know where he is, or that I might find the one that took him.” 

What a ridiculous quest. It sounded outrageous aloud, but what else was there to say on it? She must’ve seemed pitiful, pathetic—even if she was slayer of monsters and savior of nations.

“That’s horrible, I’m sorry that’s been your only option,” the girl said.

And maybe Lumine had been caught in a moment of weakness, but she suddenly felt a desire to confess to all of why it mattered.

“It’s just,” she began, “we’re travelers, him and I, and he was the only family I have, the closest thing to a home, too.” Her fists clenched tighter at the admission; she shouldn’t carelessly share such things with a stranger, even if she was a friend of a friend, but Nahida just felt right, and Lumine’s defenses had melted away after what happened in Inazuma. Fatigue had become her ball and chain; and caution, which she had once worn like armor, had become nothing more than a dream.

Nahida smiled in such a genuine way, and that too was reassuring, despite the fact that Lumine would rather be taken seriously than pitied in all circumstances. 

“Well, it’s good we met! Because I think I can help you.” 

Lumine’s brain paused, slowed down by the sheer surprise alone. 

Nahida was so sure, so completely filled to the brim with confidence, and Lumine was taken aback. No one ever claimed such a thing in stark clarity like that.

And here she was, at the end of the line, at the start to another journey—one of proportions which she couldn’t guess or prepare for—so she held any scrap of luck and chance close, no matter where it came from, and she’d pry out any information she could get, no matter the source or dubious veracity of it. 

“You…can?”

Nahida nodded. “Knowledge is a free resource, and I have a lot of it.” She continued, and no one stopped her, “I’d be happy to help you find your home.”

She said the word with reverence, and Lumine was clearly missing context as to why, but she wasn’t one to reject help under any circumstance. She got the feeling Nahida understood her better than most, even if she couldn’t understand or explain it.

Maybe Lumine really could find her home again.

Nahida met her eyes, and Lumine barely had time to consider how beautiful Nahida’s eyes were too—how kind they seemed—before the young girl asked that most damning question, the one Lumine would fall into for hope’s sake alone.

“What is it you want to know?”

Notes:

OK THERE. Tis done. I’m done. RAAAAHHHH. YAY. (For real this time!)

And it took 130k words to learn, but I think the lesson has been properly absorbed: I do not know how to estimate word counts. Original estimate when I decided to commit past ch 1 was 60k. And then I extended it to 5 chapters. Then extended it to 6. Why am I so bad at this...

Anyway! I’m sending a big virtual hug to anyone that’s still around! I wasn’t expecting any kind of response at all, especially not in a fandom this large, and the outpouring of kindness has been an Experience. I wrote this purely for my own amusement, so it was wonderfully strange to have other people having fun with it too. Even with all the mistakes and idiosyncrasies—and there was so much I did wrong aaaaa—I’m something close to proud of my weird self-indulgent mess anyway, which is pretty neat! Thank you so much for being the catalyst for me to complete this. I’m really, really glad I did.

I had such a good time.

Thank you, once more, for everything. You’ve all been so lovely ❤️

- Wenticora