Chapter Text
Kaveh stepped to the side of the road and paused. Ahead of him loomed the Divine Tree of Sumeru City, dusted in gold from the setting sun. The lights were beginning to turn on, shades of gold for the ones on the lower levels lighting the paths, golden-green ones for many of the houses, a blue-edged white for ones higher on the Tree.
From the angle he stood, Kaveh could see the blue lights reflecting off the Tree from Razan Garden, and the greenish light of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. That part of the tree, even shrouded in branches and leaves and hidden from view, seemed almost magical in a way that went beyond the average Vision.
Perhaps it was the kind of old magic that was said to have shaped the world well before the Archons were given their power. The ancient magics that Zhongli -daren had seen firsthand, had used to shape Liyue. He thought that he had remembered a story once, hearing that the Dendro Archon, born of Irminsul, had created the Tree herself well before Sumeru City had existed, before people had settled there.
At some point, stories stopped being stories though, and became the pretty lies that no one wanted to address.
For a long moment, Kaveh just stared at the City that he’d called home for so many years. The angle was wrong, it always was, but he imagined that he could see Alhaitham’s house from where he stood. For the first time, he felt true dread at the thought of returning.
But, as Candace and Deyha had not so helpfully pointed out, he didn’t have much of a choice. There had been some cruel words said, but they hadn’t been untrue and, in many ways, they’d been exactly what Kaveh had needed to hear.
So here he was, staring at the Tree and wondering if praying to an archon he didn’t believe in would bring word to Nahida that he’d returned. He used to enjoy singing those old songs with the riders of whatever caravan he traveled with, words in a language nearly forgotten that announced their presence to the great tree, that sang of the joy of returning home.
Now the song felt irreverent. He did not feel joy in returning home, he did not want to announce his presence to the Divine Tree.
Sighing, Kaveh adjusted his bag and returned to the path.
The night markets were beginning to open, lit by green-golden lights and warm golden lanterns. The air smelled of cooking food, of spices, of the particular date wine common in the City, of incense and flowers and fresh fruit. Scents that he’d learned to connect with a “home” that was more than just the house he shared with Alhaitham.
Several vendors called out to him in exuberant greeting. They beckoned to him but he shook his head with a regretful smile. Seeing how he was covered in travel dust and sand, how he carried travel bags that had seen better days, they waved him on with graceful smiles and cheerful calls of “ it’s good to see you again!” and other similar sentiments.
Kaveh wondered as he climbed the familiar path to the higher reaches of the Divine Tree if he would receive similar sentiments from Alhaitham.
From Nahida.
Nahida who was a god in disguise, the forgotten and unneeded archon of Dendro.
Kaveh’s steps faltered. Because he couldn’t think of Nahida without thinking of the way her face lit up when he called her habibti, when she smiled so sweetly at him when she called him ‘mom’.
He couldn’t think of Nahida without remembering how she had created chains and vines of pure Dendro, how she had created giant platforms of plants that shouldn’t exist, how she had stopped a lawachurl in its tracks to save her friends, to save them all.
Without thinking of how she had lied to him, how Alhaitham and Cyno and Tighnari had all lied to him. How they had known and let him act like a fool.
Kaveh’s steps slowed but he refused to let himself stop. He knew from experience that if he stopped walking, it would be harder to start again.
He supposed that it applied to many different things in his life. If he didn’t keep moving forward, he’d never move again. An object at rest wanted to stay at rest and if he rested, he’d fall apart.
Something that he’d learned many times throughout his life.
Kaveh reached the level where Alhaitham’s house was and paused, breathing hard. He was in fine shape, but hauling his bags up after a long trip was always exhausting. He stared at the innocuous door, at the windows. Was he even still welcome after he’d left? Had Alhaitham changed the locks?
Fishing out his keys, Kaveh slipped it into the lock and was surprised to find that it turned still, that the door opened.
The entryway and living room smelled of incense and furniture polish, fresh and clean. There was no smell of dinner, of the lingering smell of coffee.
Kaveh took off his shoes, wincing when sand dusted the ground from his travels, and looked around.
The study was empty, without even a single book out of place on their desks. The drawing he’d been working on when he left was still there, the edges beginning to curl from the humidity as it struggled against the tape holding the corners down.
He went to the kitchen and found it stocked with nonperishable items, with no sign of any fresh fruit or meat, any sign that Alhaitham had been cooking in his absence. It shouldn’t be surprising—though Alhaitham could cook, he didn’t always. Without Kaveh after him about how much food cost, he likely would have gone back to purchasing meals from the bazaar around the City.
The thought irked Kaveh, and Kaveh was further annoyed that he was frustrated.
“Alhaitham?” he called and was answered by silence. “Archons damn you,” Kaveh muttered. He walked toward Alhaitham’s room and stopped. The door to what had once been his room but was given to an archon pretending to be a little girl was open.
The pile of stuffed animals was gone, including the giant red vulture named Dook-Dook and the large round plushie of the Golden-Winged King and the long plushie of Yanwang Dijun.
There were no clothes in the laundry basket, no clothes in the drawers when he opened them, no trinkets on the shelves, no books, no pieces of art from daycare. The room was a blank slate, with a bed and a very generic blanket and set of sheets on it, as if it hadn’t been lived in for months.
As if Nahida hadn’t existed at all.
He should be happy to see everything returning back to normal, but all Kaveh felt was empty.
“Alhaitham?” Kaveh demanded and shoved open his door.
It, too, was empty. Not the same empty as Nahida’s room, but still a kind of emptiness that told Kaveh that it hadn’t been used in a long time.
Perhaps even as many weeks as he’d been away.
For a long moment, Kaveh stood in the hallway where he could look into both rooms. In the bathroom, there were no used towels, only ones that were still neatly folded from the linen closet. The beds were made, the pillows arranged in ways that neither Alhaitham nor Nahida had ever quite done.
Despite the anger that had never quite gone away in the long weeks he’d been gone, Kaveh hated how hurt he felt. He ran his hands through his hair, wincing when dust and sand fell on the clean floors.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” he said to the empty house. “I really can’t.” He returned to the front door and locked it. He went to the kitchen and looked around in the cupboards but couldn’t find any of the wine that should have been there. “Fuck you too, Alhaitham,” he muttered, slamming the cupboards shut.
Angry, and not wanting to think about why, Kaveh grabbed his things and stomped off to take a shower.