Chapter Text
Under the funereal veil of clouds that cry and mourn among mortals for the loss of a family, a child can only blame himself for the lives that had been stolen that day. He knew this was all thanks to him, he heard it on one of the many times he pretended to be asleep so as not to worry his parents with his insomnia. The conversation was like any other at first, mundane commentary about their day and the the long journey that awaited them, it was until they were convinced of his act that the tone and atmosphere switched.
The couple was worried, the woman kept questioning if this was a good decision while 'you know it's our only one' was the only answer she could receive because it was true. This trip wasn't like any other, he was aware, he wasn't naive. He noticed how his parents collected everything that was worth to keep and silently grieved for the life they were about to leave behind before closing the door of their loved home for the last time. It didn't bother him, they didn't give him a proper chance to get attached after all.
He heard his mother talk about their King for the first time, about how he was slowly losing his mind and becoming a threat instead of a proper ruler for Khaenri'ah, about the unjustified violence, the threat of the new law and how brutal the idea of this "school" was. His father could only promise her that he won't let any of those crazed bastards drag their son down that path to comfort her—and it worked, with a great confidence coating his tone she could only believe him.
An innocent child does not deserve the destiny of a cruel assassin whose humanity will be ripped from him.
So they flew, before it became too obvious, before the option of leaving became harder to achieve. Their nation's borders were already too strict, who knows how worse it will get? Who knows how much longer will their freedom last before the Court opts to imprison their people and tear away their choice?
Long days passed as they crossed other nations as quickly as possible, avoiding much interaction, knowing the prejudices people held against their people. The mere fact of having eyes that betrayed their roots earned them hostility; they were judged as blasphemers for rejecting the law of Celestia and refuse the merciful aid of the Archons. The poor kid couldn't understand this, what was so wrong about not having a god?
From Sumeru to Natlan all he could feel was rejection, his mother tried to deflect those stares, assuring him it wasn't his fault and promising him that once they reached Nod-Krai everything would be better.
How wrong she was.
A lawless place means freedom, but sometimes freedom can also be a lethal weapon. It was true that few there cared about their identity, everyone was far too occupied with their own affairs to pay any attention. The recent promise of prosperity after receiving the Tsaritsa's approval had them busy and content, it even gave his family a sense of comfort to see the nation they would soon call home would grow alongside them.
Unfortunately fate is a cruel thing.
Now there he was, his tears mingling with those that belonged to the sky as he stared at the name of the only people he had in this world engraved in stone announcing their eternal absence. How touching it was that his first encounter with rain was to accompany him in his grief, how tragic it was that this storm was his only company.
Some of the King's dogs had tracked them down, and in his paranoia he had ordered the execution of anyone he considered a traitor. Leaving was enough of an excuse to be labeled as one. The kid was fortunate enough to escape and, as they didn't consider him a threat, they gave up on going after him. How can he survive anyway? Abandoned in a place where he had nothing, in a world where no one would provide shelter or care for a sinner, left without the option to go back. He would certainly die soon.
But, surprisingly, there's still mercy in Teyvat and even those sin-bounded had a chance.
Of course the orphan had no idea of where to go now, his parents were planning to buy a small residence and almost got it, but they are gone now and the contract wasn't properly made. The place where they had been staying prioritized other people, so he was homeless, wandering around the streets seeking temporary refuge. He barely knew the general language of this place so communication was hard, and he definitely got scammed a few times while selling the belongings that he couldn't carry around.
Some people noticed the state he was in but did nothing, too busy with their own problems to deal with whatever he was going trough. It was until a day when he strayed too far from the borders of the small city that ensured safety and got close to a zone of danger, a day when he faced the abyss and neared death, that life finally got redirected to a better path. He was saved by one of the people that holds proudly the title of "Lightkeeper", the man didn't judge him for his struggle with conversations nor the clear sign of blasphemy in his eyes, he took him in like any other of the children that shared the same tragedy of loss.
"Welcome to your new home, Rerir."
Nobody looked at him with disgust or hatred, there was only kindness and understanding from them. For the first time he felt a sense of belonging, the warmth of a home and almost felt like he had found a family again. They weren't so different on something, these people seemed to reject the current Archon, or at least find the whole thing irrelevant. Although they still worshiped a God, Kyryll the Azure Flame.
There were many tales about the miracles of the Lantern Fae, a blue flame that guided fallen souls across the icy plains and protected those who had given their lives to stop the expansion of the abyss deserving their rest in the Final Night Cemetery. The Lightkeepers owe so many deeds to the compassion of this God, it was only natural for them to praise it in return.
He grew up in the orphanage and learned the universal language properly among other things, he gained an interest in the moons and performed well in his "training", perhaps if he stopped getting in trouble he would end up as a lightkeeper as well. Once he turned 13 he felt prepared to pay back the kindness, so he accompanied a few of the ratnik to help on the church, It wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he offered, but it didn't matter. They seemed truly devoted to this mysterious divinity, a good amount of people visited to deliver offerings and prayers as well as to empty their hearts leaving whispered words lingering in the air with the certainty and comfort that a divine being would be listening to them.
Beneath the blue veil of the church stained-glass windows, many mourned, many thanked, many begged for mercy and forgiveness, many confessed their most intimate secrets, and no one dared to interrupt that moment of comfort.
Rerir didn't understand the foreign obsession with worshiping a god and surrendering all their hopes and faith to it, partially for the nature of his nation, but aside that… it just seemed mediocre having to wait for their help—vision or not humans could still achieve great things. It was until then, when he saw the mural that portrayed an image of this God, that Rerir understood, a strange and unknown feeling stirred inside him as he stared at the image in awe. It wasn't too detailed, its features were still somewhat blurred and its identity remained uncertain, but he could tell that this deity radiated a haunting charm.
The deity looked ethereal under the gentle touch of light that leaked through the glass, humble robes covered the figure that had been traced to imitate that of a human, skin replaced by a sea of blue flames which faded lazily over the sky, the eyes were closed yet managed to evoke a kind expression. The God was holding a lantern that outshone the shadows of the abyss below with its stunning light, the image filled him with comfort in ways Rerir couldn't explain.
Enchanted by its holiness, the son of a godless nation surrendered his devotion to a new religion.
It wasn't the life he expected, one of silence and peace, one where he found solace within the community that prayed for the safety of their soldiers instead of being part of the battlefield. It was nice, at least he could be sure that wherever his parents were, they would be resting peacefully knowing that their son had gotten away from all that path of bloodshed. Their sacrifice had been worth it.
At least for some years, unfortunately fate had the title of a warrior prepared for him.
When his eighteenth birthday was approaching, a calamity swept away a good amount of their resources and took the lives of many ratnik. The damage was severe, a lot of families were ripped apart and most of these brave soldiers fulfilled their promise to protect this land until their last breath. All these sacrifices left them with no choice than to gather new recruits as the threat was far from over, so Rerir resumed his track to the life of a lightkeeper.
This time it wasn't about innocent brawls between friends and games, it was serious training where the weight of duty fell over them, lives depended on them. Rerir left the church unsure if he'd ever return, forced to part from his home once again, but this time it did hurt.
He prayed to the Azure Flame for a chance to reunite again in the future.
It took them five years to finally achieve a moment of stability, the danger hasn't been eradicated, they weren't even close, but it was more manageable. They had learned and adapted like they always do, the first year for Rerir was simple, just some basic training that escalated fast. A joke compared to what awaited him in the coming years. During that time, he encountered loss so many times that at some point it became a routine. Time can change a person quickly, and war simply disfigured you brutally.
Now he understood his parents' desperation to shelter him from this, a shame that fate was spitting on their graves at this exact moment.
But with this moment of… "peace" he had the chance to go back, his effort had paid off and he was rewarded with a break from that grotesque brutality, it only cost him some trauma. He chose to visit the orphanage and stay there to help for a few days, they received him with the same warmth as before and delicious food that soon became flooded with tears, a bittersweet reunion where grief was inevitable yet the relief of still being able to see a few familiar faces comforted all of them.
After some time he was back on the church, his prayers had been heard and he had to accept the chance he had been granted. His long-awaited reunion. Not a second had passed since he set foot in the place when the priests had already rushed to welcome him back, and of course the habit of asking him for favors had not been lost. Rerir ended up with a pile of boxes in his hands, heavy ones, he couldn't complain when the feeling of familiarity erased his annoyance and replaced it with a warmth he had almost forgotten on the battlefield. He clearly accepted even if he had no choice, it wasn't a hard petition after all. It also gave him the opportunity to tour the building and see how much it had changed.
Halfway there, Rerir stopped suddenly, dazed by something—by someone. Time just stopped, and possibly his breathing too, his eyes were fixed on the beauty presented before him. A man with skin as pale as porcelain, his features so sharp yet gentle engraved on that delicate canvas while golden moons focused on the painting he was working on, it was one being made for the deity that had stolen his devotion, and Rerir could swear that —although it seemed impossible— there was a resemblance to the stranger. His hands moved gracefully with the brush, tracing the waves of fire that so characteristically adorned the Azure Flame. Those same strokes were present in the angelic sea of indigo silk that faded to a lighter shade, gathered into a ponytail so as not to interrupt his task.
Rerir's staring was probably too loud, hence why the man had stopped and turned to face him with curious eyes. He panicked and thought that looking away would be enough to disguise his rude intervention, but he forgot to pretend that he was just a passerby by remaining completely still. He could hear a soft laugh coming from the stranger and oh it was the sweetest melody, it spilled like honey in his ears. Out of curiosity, he peeked at his direction once again and was met with the surprise that he had moved closer without making a sound somehow.
That almost made him drop the boxes in his hands.
Rerir's surprise was rewarded with another laugh, one that hit the right button to paint his cheeks with an adorable shade of light red, "Forgive me, do you need any assistance?"
A heavenly sound echoed through the empty church like a hymn, voice sweet and soft with a hint of interest gracing him with the privilege of blessing his ears, so enchanting like the song of a siren. It had trapped him and sunk him deep for a moment where his breath was caught in his throat.
"No, I'm just… I'm sorry please continue with your painting, I won't bother you anymore," he rushed to reply, making his embarrassment more than clear.
"I insist," the stranger took two boxes from the pile that were blocking his sight without any struggle, "are you taking these to the office?" he didn't give Rerir a chance to respond before he was already on his way.
Rerir blinked, once, twice, then started following him like a lost duckling. He gave a last glance to the painting and smiled, even unfinished it was simply breathtaking.
The mysterious man walked with an elegant grace, one of aristocracy, even with weight on his hands his posture was perfect and his steps were almost feathery, his refined expression was adorned with a smile that promised safety yet left a strange feeling, chilling and haunting. All along the way, Rerir internally scolded himself every time his eyes unconsciously wandered back to steal a glimpse of him.
Each time this was noticed, he was rewarded with a swift change to a more teasing grin.
"My name is Flins, I serve as a priest in this chapel," once they arrived at their destination, the man decided to introduce himself while taking out the supplies and arranging them in their respective places, "seeing how everyone else recognized you immediately upon your arrival I believe it's proper to assume I'm the only stranger here."
The man wanted to help but was unfamiliar with the place, a few things had changed here too. He ended up standing awkwardly in front of the desk where they had left the boxes, Flins noticed this and helped him by pointing out their respective spots and Rerir lost no time in getting to work.
"I'm Rerir, a ratnik" Rerir also gave his introduction as an excuse to brush the awkwardness, the mention of that title gained him a quick interested look, "did you join recently?" while placing some candles on a shelf, he glanced back and caught the priest with a letter on his hands, a slight frown soured his expression as he read whatever contents it had.
"Sort of," Flins replied vaguely almost lost in thought for a moment but quickly snapped back to fix his attention on him again, "I spent a good amount of my journey here until I had to leave for some personal matters, once I was formally ordained a priest, I returned. That was two years ago."
"I used to help here too, but the lightkeepers were short on recruits and I had to volunteer." Flins walked to his side with more supplies in his hands, "We've been out for five years."
"Everyone appreciates your bravery, your good deeds won't be in vain." the priest praised him as he handed him the candles one by one, his words were genuine, "I can assume things have been getting better there," Rerir nodded at him, focused in his task but making sure the action indicated him that he still had his attention, "I hope your well-deserved rest lasts for a generous time."
"May the Azure Flame hear you," Rerir couldn't see it but Flins' grin widened with those words, even holding a chuckle, "all I hope is to stay here for a while, just be at peace for some time."
"I'm certain your wishes are being heard."
♱
Idolatry always brings undesired prejudices, it leads a road of mere spite. People tended to act in heartless ways convinced that their hateful actions were justified, a dangerous thing indeed. Rerir had fallen victim to cruel hands in consequence; taken by surprise and deprived of his freedom, tied up like a fierce dog that has been condemned to confinement, but he has not bitten anyone to be punished like this.
"Your presence has brought nothing but misery, this is all your fault!" one of the men that had abducted him was now spitting insults at him while his fist took its revenge on his body, "A sinner like you doesn't deserve to walk free in holy land!" another hit, "You have angered Celestia, look what your selfishness has caused us!" and another.
Each worse than the last one, hatred fueling the force and cruelty of his fist, of his words. These years had ripped so much from him, but it didn't mean he stopped feeling pain, it didn't mean he was strong enough to endure a reality he never understood. He wasn't sure which dagger hurt more, which one pierced deeper into his flesh bruising in a crude way, the one that would leave an exposed mark or that which was being injected in his mind like poison?
"It is you who caused all those deaths."
Stop.
"Sinner of cursed land."
Make it stop.
"They should have buried you alive along with those other blasphemers."
Stop.
"I'll be merciful and help you reunite with those felons."
Stop.
"There is no place for you here, Khaenri'ahn."
STOP!
It was so much, the possibility of this venom being the last words he would hear was unfortunately becoming tangible. His vision began to blur, dizziness numbed his body, and now he danced between reality and unconsciousness unwilling to close his eyes and succumb to the threat of eternal darkness.
"Would They accept the cursed eyes of this sacrifice as an offering for Their forgiveness?" the man held a knife close to his left eye as he spoke with spitefulness rotting his tone, examining the star-shaped pupil with disgust.
Rerir was scared, he couldn't hide the fear gnawing at his bones while the threat echoed around him and the icy metal mocked his instincts, brushing against his skin a few times, taunting him and fueling his panic.
And, once he got bored of toying with him, without any warning he made a swift cut across it.
Rerir was only permitted to scream in response, his restrained body trembling as the excruciating, sharp pain coursed through all his nerves. Now he couldn't even open his eyes, being tortured with the unbearable stings and the slight feeling of that crimson liquid spilling and staining his face, he screamed uncontrollably until his throat was sore and burned as if his vocal cords were being ripped out.
Exhaustion had weakened him so much that he could not withstand this torment for long, a scenario even more brutal than any he had experienced in battle. The pain was too much, he couldn't hold himself conscious anymore even with the fear of never waking up pulsing in his head.
In his dream, he was comforted by the blue flame that legends affirmed guided the lost on their way to find their rest.
♱
Rerir didn't expect to wake up, it was a miracle.
The first thing he saw when he opened his eye was a familiar sight, one under which he had lived for many years. He was back at the orphanage, in an individual bedroom instead of the usual shared room where everyone slept together. A trembling hand reached for the eye with which he could not see and found the texture of rigid cloth, sending a shot of panic to his nerves. The anxiety boiling in his chest was interrupted by someone abruptly opening the door.
"You are awake."
Sweet gentle voice melting his concern like a blessing with a hint of worry, that sacred figure that radiated a holy light under the faint sunlight spilled over the room through the window made his way to his side while holding a new set of bandages and a basin with water and a rag. This time he was wearing the formal attire of his occupation, the black fabric traced his shape in a way that–
"How are you feeling?" Rerir internally thanked him for cutting those inappropriate thoughts before they could even form properly. The priest placed everything on the table to roll up his sleeves and sat down next to him, "May I?" he reached for the bandages in his face, the brunette nodded, distracted by his own whirlpool forming silently in his mind, and Flins proceeded to carefully remove them.
Flins took his time unwrapping him slowly and taking caution on not hurting him more than necessary, once finished he took the basin and dampened the cloth to start cleaning the wound. His expression wasn't one of disgust, but rather of a gentle sorrow for the state of the man. He tended to his wounds with such tenderness that felt too intimate, his touch soft and light enough to help him relax and make the burning much more tolerable, and he wrapped him with the same care.
"I'll come by all week to check on the state of your wounds, the bandages need to be changed daily." The priest announced with that gentle tone of his, the Khaenri'ahn could only stare at some random point in the wall just hearing the beautiful sound but not fully processing it.
Rerir was still in a trance, trying to figure out if he had really woken up… he swore he was truly dying. Just as he was about to reply, Flins interrupted him.
"I wonder…" he leaned in, closer than was appropriate for two strangers, his delicate hands gently cradled his face holding him like he was some precious and fragile thing; even though cold, his touch offered him a warmth he only found beneath the mantle of his God's image. Half-lidded golds admired the diamond iris with fascination and grieved the possible loss of its match, a flash of anger soured that aching expression at the thought, "who would try to rip out such beautiful sapphire eyes?"
Now it had become harder to tell if he was on Teyvat or the afterlife was as merciful as to grant him such an illusion before taking his soul to whatever chamber he was destined for. It was the rush of his heart beating that grounded him back and assured him that he was indeed alive.
Rerir was left speechless, a strange warmth bubbled in his chest unsure if it was a consequence of their sudden proximity or the words of this man, the signs of discomfort and even anger at the fact that someone had hurt him, his touch, his concern—it was warm. Does this man know what that small action could mean to him? What could this unleash? It was not appropriate what this man caused in him, the way his mere existence left him mesmerized, enchanted. Rerir had to stop reacting like that, he was not a dumb teenager to get so flustered over… this was nothing more than an act of kindness! A priest would never–
"Rerir." Flins called, soft and fragile. He was slightly nervous for his sudden absorption in his own mess, so the brunette replied with a timid smile to sweep that worry away from his mind and the effect was immediate. Flins' expression softened again, they stayed like that for a while, simply enjoying the silence until the priest was reminded that he still had duties to fulfill and this was only a visit.
With hesitation, he gathered the strength to step back and break out of their little bubble of comfort, and when he felt the cold claim his skin again Rerir finally acted. He held Flins' hand with a grip that was not hostile but firm enough to convey his displeasure at their separation, if this was not clear enough his face betrayed it completely, a silent plea begging ‘don't leave’ .
"I'll return," he reassured him, a promise, "I will… your well-deserved peace will be granted and no one will dare to disturb you."
An affirmation.
"I can assure you, Rerir."
Flins broke the slight distance that remained between them and rested his forehead against his, he closed his eyes, uttering his name with fondness and keeping his voice low in a intimate whisper as if he was sharing a secret reserved for them only. He presented his side of the deal with determination, a more macabre and threatening tone twisted the atmosphere at the end as his eyes pierced deeply into him with a look that matched his voice.
"All those who harm the innocent shall receive punishment."