Chapter Text
Up to the stars, and down to the Abyss.
Every adventurer knew those words, but only an exclusive amount would ever live to see either of those things.
Of course the Traveler would be considered as exclusive .
That’s simply the way the die rolled for them.
Regardless of that sentiment, they were now very much standing in what could be considered ‘The Abyss.’
It was brighter than they had expected.
Unfortunately, they couldn’t risk getting their Kamera wet here, no matter how beautiful the surroundings were.
“It’s so quiet…where’s the monster?”
Paimon drifted nervously between her companions, as if the answer was written on someone’s face.
Was it a mistake to bring her along?
Never mind that now. The duo were inseparable.
For now, atleast.
Focalors was saying something, but the Traveler couldn’t bring themselves to pay attention, smiling their iconically absent smile as they stared into the distance.
Or, rather, the surroundings?
Depth perception in the Primordial Sea is weird.
After an irritatingly long dialogue between the other three, in which the Traveler didn’t speak up once, a low, cavernous rumble ripped through the space.
Finally…
The All-Devouring Narwhal had finally arrived in this space.
Maybe the others had some sort of plan. The Traveler wouldn’t know. Their job was to learn truths and stay alive, not listen to endless rambles.
They sighed.
Let’s get this over with .
And so it began.
The push and pull, the sparkling steps, the songs of steel. Yes, the Traveler was well-versed in the tongue of combat. This would be a piece of cake , as Paimon would say.
The aforementioned being took advantage of the monster’s slow entrance to quickly withdraw into a flurry of stars, fading into a world of only her own comprehension. The Traveler didn’t envy that ability.
They’d had quite enough of sealed-off worlds within nothingness.
They leapt into action, blade following their line of action akin to a comet’s trail.
And the rest of the sea may as well have ceased to exist. It was just the golden Traveler and the hellish beast.
They made contact with its luminous flesh, and dug their sword into the first vulnerable point they could see. And then they let their weight fall, gripping the sword tight as they gradually fell. The rift left behind by the tearing blade was most satisfying indeed.
The Narwhal screamed again, before falling silent.
That’s an abnormal response.
Noticing a sudden surge of hydro, the Traveler stole a glance in the direction of its source.
There stood Focalors, hands outstretched as though in reverence. The divine energy emanating from her form was enough to put the creature into a state of suffering beyond agony.
Admirable power.
Next, Neuvillette stepped forth. It seemed that the Traveler had just been a battering ram to set their collaboration into motion.
Insulting? Maybe, but they weren’t in this for a heroic contribution. They just had a way of getting swept into these things, regardless of what they wanted.
With a flourish of his cane, is that thing really a weapon , a purple blood began to leak from the wound the Traveler had just opened.
They took a leap back, sharply inhaling to analyse the unfamiliar situation.
Neuvillette was probably using his affinity over hydro, as well as whatever authority Focalors had granted him within the Oratrice, to manipulate the primordial seawater within the All-Devouring Narwhal.
Bleeding it to death, then.
It seemed cruel from a certain perspective, but the Traveler knew this was the best course of attack.
Not to mention, that water it had ingested was property of Teyvat…
Their musing was cut short by a flash of silver.
Just who…?
A tear in the sea opened up, and the Narwhal took advantage of the Traveler’s confusion to push past them and through this new portal.
Had they failed?
“I do not recall you, newcomer. State your name and purpose for intrusion.” Focalors spoke with a gracefully controlled bafflement. She really wasn’t all that different from Furina.
Furina…
There was no time to think about her fate.
The silver-haired “newcomer” had a lifeless gaze that slowly glided over Neuvillette, Focalors, Paimon, who had just resurfaced, and finally the Traveler.
Appraising them.
Judging them.
This was clearly more than a trespasser.
In this reverie, maybe, she could’ve been the equivalent of a god.
“Skirk!” Paimon squeaked, “you’re the one Childe mentioned, right? His master?”
The woman’s expression shifted somewhat. Only Celestia knew what that meant to her. “Indeed. I’m afraid that my training session may have caused a disruption of some sort, if envoys from heaven and hell have come to intervene.” Her voice was placid, calm.
Is she even human?
“Training session?” Paimon squealed, appalled. “That Narwhal was your dummy?”
“It is my master’s pet. You need not ask more. It will not be reappearing from where I have sent it.”
She’s distrustful of something. Is it Neuvillette? No, as far as I’m aware, dragons aren’t uncommon in the abyss. She’s responding to Paimon, so it can’t be her, and somehow I feel like my origin means little to this place.
That only left Focalors, the Hydro Archon herself. It made sense, now that the Traveler considered it.
The Abyss and The Heavens would always be at odds. This was true of all worlds in the sea of stars.
Skirk glanced warily at Neuvillette. She clearly had something to say, but decided against it.
She turned around.
“The Star Beast is gone, but the damage sustained by this world’s amniotic fluids will not be so easily halted. The crisis is over now, but the eruptions in seawater that occurred during your little scuffle…”
“The prophecy couldn’t be avoided, then.” Focalors didn’t seem surprised by this. Was there any love in her eyes? Or was it all just a machination to her?
“Authority and Gnoses are two separate things, I now realise. While I returned the latter to Neuvillette, as long as there is a Hydro Archon, there will be no Sovereign to embody the will of the sea. As such…this conclusion was fated in the instant that the Oratrice failed.”
The Traveler was marginally aware of an oddity of her statement, as though this situation was folly.
Surely, Focalors died.
They shook their head. It must have been the lack of sleep.
Skirk remained a blank slate. “My work here is done-“ she began to make her way to a newly-opened rift- “so I bid thee adieu. I think I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
And then there were four.
Paimon was practically bristling with emotion, and Neuvillette didn’t look much better off.
The Traveler didn’t know what to feel about the situation. They understood loss, death, and heartbreak better than anyone could dream of, and yet losing Fontaine felt… different.
The dragon spoke up first. “Regardless of what we shall meet… the best course of action at the present time would be to resurface.”
There was no room for dispute.
It’s time to face the music.
~
Hello? Can anyone hear me?
…
Who am I? And what is this place?
No…I can’t even feel my body. This must be a dream.
…
I hope I wake up soon.
…
It’s so cold. That means the dream is fading, right?
…
I’m getting tired.
…
There are other voices here…I think I’ll ask them for help.
…
A trial? …That sounds familiar, for some reason. And who might you be…?
Navia…Clorinde…Lyney…Lynette…Freminet… it’s lovely to meet you all!
…
Me…? I’m not quite sure who I am. I think I remember seeing a big blue light before…it all returned to nothing…
An Oceanid? That sounds nice…
…
Sure, I’ll join you! It’s nice here. I’m not lonely anymore.
…
…
…
This isn’t where I’m supposed to be.
…
…
…
“I”…there is no “I” now…!
“We” are one, after all.
The water is so lovely here. We’re glad we could all join together like this.
…
…
…
…
…
…
“I’m sorry, Mirror-me.”
~
Upon re-emerging in the Opera Epiclese, Neuvillette promptly closed the void, officially ending the “All-Devouring Narwhal Crisis”. All that was left to take care of was the collateral damage.
Yes, the nation of Fontaine.
In horror, he led the small group on a mortifying tour of what was once the opera house. Trampling on the remains of the people he had sworn to protect.
They had encountered the young harbinger again, who respected the weight of the situation and chose to remain silent, closely following Neuvillette as he stepped through what was left of the grand entrance.
“The prophecy…it was real…” His heart stung at the sound of Paimon’s voice. In a sense she was similar to the younger Melusines, who were too perfect and naive for the cruel world of humans.
Neuvillette would have to return to Merusea Village soon.
There was not a lot to see. Only the clouded puddles that were once the beating, longing and ever-wondering hearts of humans. A disaster of this scale would, in most cases, be a source for endless paperwork and reports. However, it was clear to Neuvillette that there was nobody left to report to.
They boarded the aquabus bound to the Court of Fontaine, where they were met with the most marvellous sight.
A floating ship.
It seems that Wriothesley’s “Ark” did not fail him.
While Neuvillette doubted that many people could have been saved by this endeavour, he felt the faintest trace of hope, nevertheless.
~
It was not difficult to get picked up by the Ark. Paimon had seen her fair share of irritating quests, but luckily, this was simple enough.
Once onboard, she hovered close to the Traveler, staying uncharacteristically silent.
Don’t get Paimon wrong, Paimon has plenty of things to say…but something in Paimon’s heart is hurting too much.
A conversation with Wriothesley. He said that he had managed to save a lot of people. A big number that Paimon couldn’t remember. But that didn’t make her feel any better.
She had even lost her appetite, turning down the NRE meal that the Traveler offered.
The Traveler and Neuvillette went to a meeting with some people on the ship, talking about plans to rescue foreigners and those who had not been dissolved.
Paimon doesn’t like meetings. The Traveler has a lot of things to say, and it’s Paimon’s job to put them all into words. It’s too sad in this place to think.
Focalors hadn’t spoken since they left the Primordial Sea. Paimon wanted to say something to her, but she knew that she would probably make the situation worse.
Like Paimon always does.
A day passed. And then another, and another. And then a week. And soon the Fontaine survivors were leaving to take refuge in different nations.
The Traveler had managed to contact Dehya to help organise transport through the desert, though more people wanted to go via Lumidouce harbour. Paimon didn’t blame them. The desert was just as empty as the Court of Fontaine.
She wondered what she would do if the Traveler was swallowed up one day.
She couldn’t think of a good answer.
She tried not to think of her friends from Fontaine.
One day, the Traveler had decided to return to Sumeru, and then onwards to Liyue, in order to find more people to help.
Paimon admired that. They always tried their hardest to make everyone happy, even if those people were strangers, or would give no reward.
Paimon wants to be just like that, one day.
A small group had gathered at Romaritime Harbour to see them off: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Sigewinne, Childe and Focalors.
Paimon didn’t know why that Fatui guy was still in Fontaine. She had asked, but was waved off with a typical response of “Oh Paimon, you remind me of my dearest younger siblings at times like these…”
“I must thank you again for your generosity to our nation…” Paimon still hadn’t regained her cheerfulness. She didn’t feel like listening to what Neuvillette had to say, either.
The conversation went on for a while, with neither the Traveler nor Paimon saying anything.
Focalors spoke for the first time in over a month.
“…There is something you must know, lest we do not meet again.” Paimon was caught off guard by the hurt in her voice. It made her feel hurt, too.
“Furina…” Focalors winced. Was she too upset to continue? “She…”
Time seemed to freeze.
“Furina is gone. I can’t make contact with her consciousness. It’s almost as if she has disappeared into the Primordial Sea.”
~
Flash.
Imagine you’re a gold-eyed drifter, faced with the fact that you’d failed to save yet another person.
Would it make you angry?
Would it break you?
You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?
She was so willing to go along with it. Even in the end, she saw no worth in her existence.
You weren’t her friend, but you know this is wrong.
She was human and she was hurting and nobody ever told her that she deserved to live.
Would you have been the person to say that?
Of course you wouldn’t.
~
Flash.
Imagine you are a god, branded with a sin and cursed to never embrace the fruits of your suffering.
Do you feel guilt, that you killed an innocent?
That you tortured her endlessly for a scheme that fell victim to a lapse in your judgement?
Judgement… how could you call yourself a god of Justice, after doing this?
You couldn’t save anyone.
~
Flash.
Imagine you are a judge, who spent the last 500 years at the side of someone who had now faded into oblivion.
You once wondered if she was strong enough.
Is this an answer? If so, what’s your verdict?
After all, you’re the one who delivered that final, awful sentence.
Do you think she despised you in the final act?
You know you would despise yourself.
She never learned to trust you.
And you were blind to her pain.
You don’t even deserve to cry.
~
Flash.
A killer. She was just a kid, wasn’t she?
~
Flash.
A duke. Not everybody can be saved, and that’s that.
~
Flash.
A nurse. This is all wrong.
~
Flash.
A guide. How can you even use words to describe this feeling? How can you dare to speak?
~
Rain.
It was raining.
It wasn’t enough.
“Why wasn’t it enough?”
~
Somewhere, someone is crying.
The curtain of this world never fell upon the sinner, instead, turning its malicious gaze to the peaceful.
The pure.
The suffering.
Maybe it was nothing more than a possibility, a fleeting colour in the silvery mind of the stars.
Tomorrow, this imperfect bubble will be smoothed out by wooden hands, leaving a flawless world in the moonlight, in which good prevails and plans succeed.
But tonight?
Let us dream.
Let us dream of bleeding and sorrow and fading voices, all so that it meant something.
The victory.
The salvation.
Even the figurative concept of failure and disgrace.
Because a day will come where reality’s seams will merge with dreams, it is inevitable now.
It all returns to nothing.