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Bellowing thunder. Surging fires. Endless cries. Heart-wrenching screams. Pleas for help. Rain softly kissing corpses of loved ones.
These, are the sounds of nightmares - and Alatus was beyond familiar with them. For centuries, his only food was the hopes and miseries of others, and as each dream he swallowed trickled down his throat, the echoes of its story rang in his mind. When the silence grew too loud, the sounds came flooding back. Too often, Alatus was the cause for such nightmares, yet he had not the freedom to right his wrongs.
It was the middle of a moonless night. All who still lived hid from the demon who consumed everything that they loved. Even the stars hid behind the clouds, leaving Alatus surrounded by darkness. Before him lay the remains of his latest victims: An elderly man, clutching his dearest book; A husband and wife, hands still intertwined; A small girl, face painted with red. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her final attempt to escape the nightmare before her. Alatus’s spear dripped blood, as the dead silence was filled with those sounds once more - the girl’s cry for her parents was added to the morbid record. His bitter reminiscing was interrupted by the call of his master, and so in a dark cloud of cyan, he vanished from the scene.
Red was the colour of the raging wars. Red of the angry sunsets, red of the uniforms of soldiers, red of the soils stained from bloodshed. Red filled Alatus’ vision more than any other colour. He hated red. Hated that he was the one who brought so much red to a world of green and blue. Red meant death. Red was all that remained after the havocs he wrecked at the command of his master. Alatus could not remember what any other colour looked like. But as he bowed before his tyrannical master, he was swiftly shown another colour - or lack-thereof; the only thing worse than red.
Darkness. Overwhelming, uninterrupted darkness. While red sung melodies of pain and suffering, darkness plucked the song of loneliness. Darkness was when the nightmares cried the loudest. Darkness was when Alatus was forced to remember his sins. Darkness did not mean death. Darkness meant nothing. Nothing, was always far worse than something. It was darkness that drove Alatus exponentially closer to insanity.
Once his master finally released him from the darkness, only red awaited him. On the war-torn grounds of old Liyue, Alatus found himself looking anywhere but down. The once black sky started to stain with grey, as the sun came to illuminate the tragedies of the night. Before the sun could make its appearance, however, a golden light flickered into the constellation, outshining whatever brilliant sunrise that may follow. Dimly, Alatus recognised it as a shooting star. In many of the dreams he consumed, the streaking light had wishes cast upon it - wishes to liberate oneself from their suffering. Never had he seen those wishes be granted. Perhaps it was just a way for mortals to hope for an escape, no matter how fruitless.
His eyes followed the trajectory as the star shot across the early morning sky. Against his scepticism, he cast his one selfish desire onto it.
I wish to find light; I want to experience joy.
It would be many centuries before his wish came true.
____
Xiao’s first impression of the golden-haired traveller was… not the best. Someone who dared seek out the resident adeptus of Wangshu Inn in spite of the warnings of the receptionist? Sure, they came with a sigil of permission but Xiao had no need for conversation with mortals. Yet even after rejection, they approached him once more, this time bearing food, and so Xiao gave them the small mercy of listening to their message - Only to find out that the prime adeptus Rex Lapis, the one who saved him from the darkness and granted his new name, was dead.
As if they didn’t sense Xiao’s displeasure, they continued to seek his presence almost daily, bearing plates of almond tofu each time. The floating child that accompanied them everywhere tended to spout words of nonsense, filling the silence needlessly. But regardless of how many times Xiao told them he does not need their offerings or company, they kept coming back.
Just over a week later, Xiao was called to help defend Liyue from Osial, a once-sealed god who had somehow managed to be freed. What he did not expect, was to see that golden-haired traveller once again. Yet there was no time for questions nor complaints, for it was once again a time of war - if only briefly. When his fellow Adepti entrusted their strengths to the traveller, Xiao did so too. It was then that he saw; this mortal was not quite the same as others he had seen, however he thought nothing more of the traveller than the other two mortals present on the Jade Chamber, fighting alongside the Adepti to save Liyue.
Osial was losing, and thus summoned forth torrential rain, causing the geo-constructed platform they were standing on to break. The traveller fell, and Xiao moved in an instant, catching him and landing safely on the Jade Chamber. This, of course, was out of necessity. He could not let a clearly skilled warrior fall to their death. Yet, he found himself unable to let go even after they were both safely on the ground, one hand around the Traveller’s waist, and another holding the hand on his shoulder. If not for the dire situation before them, perhaps he would have given his hesitation to let go more thought.
Osial was defeated, and Xiao once again retreated into solitude. He kept his hands and mind busy quelling evils for days after the battle. He did not think about his lingering touch of the golden haired traveller, he did not think of the comments his fellow Adepti made about it either. However, his ignorance could only last for so long before he discovered an unassuming plate of almond tofu on the top balcony. No sign of the traveller, nor a note explaining the offering. Upon trying it, Xiao found it to be decent - not as good as the Inn’s chef’s, but better than expected. The texture was almost silky, the flavour was too subtle, but it was still enjoyable. Perhaps he would’ve forgotten the gesture, except that the next day, and for many days after, the same offering was made. Occasionally, Xiao caught sight of the golden traveller who made them, but never confronted them. The dish slowly became more refined with the constant cooking of it, however the improvement was hardly perceptible. Then suddenly, the offerings stopped.
A strange hollowness opened up in his chest when he saw an empty balcony, as if a worm had dug a hole through his heart. Did something happen to the traveller? The floating child was also nowhere to be found, and despite how irritating it was, Xiao found himself also missing its presence. Strange, how an unsolicited gesture managed to take place in his heart, and now that it was gone, it was like a piece of the puzzle was missing. He eavesdropped on various conversations, trying to find what had happened to the golden-haired traveller, but found nothing in the conversations around Wangshu Inn. He wondered if he would ever hold the soft yet strong waist of the traveller again, feel that gloved hand against his own. He noticed red in the corner of his eye, and drew his weapon in an instant.
Only to realise that this time, red meant something else, as it creeped up his cheeks. It felt like the part of his heart that had gone missing, it felt like the almond tofu he had consumed the past week. It felt like looking at golden hair.
It felt like the small spark of hope he held when wishing on that star, so many centuries ago.
____
A month had passed, and the feelings of red had stayed buried. Xiao found himself sitting upon the roof of Wangshu, once again looking upon the grey skies of the early morning. Gold caught his eye, but this time it wasn’t from the sky.
Staggering onto the balcony, with a plate in hand, was the traveller. All the feelings of hollowness rushed back to him, mixed with that feeling of hope. It was just like that night, and belatedly Xiao realised he was looking at the same star. Softly, he landed behind the traveller, being careful not to spook them. They let out a sigh as they placed the plate carefully on the railing.
That was when Xiao saw red.
It wasn’t the red he felt many weeks ago, no. It was the red that stained his life when he made that wish. Red which seeped into the cloth on the traveller’s back, red which grew with each shuddering breath they took. Immediately, Xiao’s hands wrapped around that waist once more, saving them from the inevitable collapse. A congested gasp was all the reaction he got, before the traveller fell fully limp. Tenderly, he picked up the red-tainted body, and as quickly as possible brought them inside to inspect the wound.
He called many others to look at the wound, demanded for some kind of medic or healer, but all who approached were hopeless to do anything about the lethal injury. The sky started to flush as the sun peeled above the horizon. He was losing time. In a breath, he teleported himself and the traveller to Bubu Pharmacy. Surely, someone there could help. If not, then he would have to find an adeptus willing to heal this mortal, but by then it might be too late.
The herbalist at the counter nearly fainted at the sight of the dark adeptus carrying a seemingly lifeless corpse in his arms, but quickly called for the doctor, guiding Xiao into the back of the building. Delicately, he laid the golden body out on a table as directed, and watched in anticipation as blood stained clothes were stripped and the wound was revealed.
A slim diamond shape pierced through the left of his stomach, shifting ever so slightly with each laboured breath he took. A green-haired doctor waved Xiao away, as he started to poke and dress the wound, and stubbornly he obliged.
The sun had well and truly cleared the horizon by the time the green-haired man emerged. Xiao bit his lip in anticipation for the news, and felt his stomach drop at the strained sigh.
“There’s nothing I can do.”
In an instant, Xiao was by the traveller’s side again. He grasped one hand in his own, eyes searching the face and now-bear chest for signs of life. His stomach quivered with each breath, each far too slow and shallow. His eyes flicked rapidly under closed lids, his brows furrowed. He looked to be in immense pain. He squeezed Xiao’s hand subconsciously, as a pained moan left his lips.
Darkness creeped into Xiao, as the light he wished for so long ago began to flicker and fade. Someone who once shined so bright, who weaselled their way into his life despite his best efforts to keep them away, now was about to meet their end. Water landed on the traveller’s body, and distantly Xiao realised it was his own tears. What a cruel twist of fate, that he understood the wish granted on him too late.
The traveller’s chest stilled, hand fell limp, as finally his body gave in to the darkness. Xiao dropped his head, pressing their foreheads together, as he weeped. He lost the light before he even learned to adjust to it’s brightness, and plunged straight back into the darkness he had wished for so long to escape.
When he got back to Wangshu Inn, the plate of almond tofu still sat, unassuming as the first time. A note was tucked under it, and shakily, Xiao opened it.
Adeptus Xiao,
Perhaps it is cowardly of me to only admit this now, but I have found I have feelings for you.
However, it is clear that you are not fond of my presence, but I wished to give you one last almond tofu before I go. The only time you seemed to smile is while you ate it. You always looked prettier when you smiled. I hope you will find happiness one day.
Stay well.
Love, Aether.
The almond tofu tasted unusually bitter.