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nigredo
nigredo is the first step in alchemy, drawing from primordial forms. as beings who live in this world, we must find our own meaning.
to start with your own creation would be too forward. one must start with the gleam of false stars and the quest for gold to even grasp how or why you were made.
one must start with khaenri'ah, where the gods' gaze never falls, for the khaenri'ahn art named khemia runs through your veins, runs through the chalk you make and the soil you collect.
you were born after the fall of khaenri'ah, much like many a magnum opus being borne out of putrefaction and decomposition. because of this, you are not bound by it, and neither is your master. you are an alchemist— bound only by your pursuit of knowledge. so you learn. you shadow your master through the deepest of ley lines, through the roots of this upside down world.
and when the stars align, your master teaches.
"those born of earth are bound by its imperfections, but those born of chalk are free of impurities," rhinedottir tells you, brown soil turning white in a flask, "both are important: from soil was birthed chalk. this is the first rule of the art of khemia.
your master takes your hands, laying the white dust upon your bare palms and gently closing them. the dust inside starts to move— your clasped hands in theirs emitting a soft yet intense light from within.
"the universe is the sable essence of the true starry sky... earth is the accumulated memory of time and being… chalk: that is you. soil is where alchemy derives its name, and is the basis of all life. and this...
when your master rhinedottir coaxes your hands open there's something on your palms, "...this is new birth.
the dust has disappeared— leaving a small, white thing behind. it resembles the leaves on dead ley branches that you gather from the abyss, only smaller and scrunched up in a bundle. later, you would come to know them as flowers.
"ah, a cecilia. it's been a while since i've seen one of these," rhinedottir says, taking the small bud from your hands. "from chalk we could form the simplest of beings, like this cecilia— to the most complex ones. chalk is the spotless soil, and was used to make primordial man.
"... but albedo," they continue, a soft, quiet voice that makes the darkness tremble, "also remember that what is made of dust must return to it.
with a wave of a hand, the cecilia crumbles into fine powder, the wisps of white blown away by the wind.
"do you understand?" they ask.
"yes, master."
this is merely the first lesson out of the countless you learn, and the foundation of all the knowledge that you hold.
albedo
albedo is the step in which change begins. clearing away the excess so we can take on all the knowledge that is available. would you like to investigate this world with me?
chalk is perfection, with no fault in its being. chalk is the whiteness— the albedo— from which change begins. when you open your eyes for the first time— a mere imitation of a human in a bottle, this comes as instinct. you were born to change.
"what am i born to change then?"
your master shakes their head and looks at you with the power of a thousand suns in a land devoid of sunlight. "figure it out for yourself, albedo. that is my test to you, find out the truth and meaning of this world."
with this instruction comes a sealed letter, a small satchel of supplies, and her last gift: a title, kreidenprinz. head to a place named mondstadt, find an adventurer named alice and give her the letter, and start to find the truth amongst these false stars.
the heart of naberius starts to beat in your chest, molten gold starting to flow inside false veins and false organs. the warmth was too much— where is my master where am i what am i supposed to do—
you hope this isn't just wishful thinking, but... when parents speak to their children about 'the meaning of this world'... surely they just mean the pursuit of a happy life?
there is no answer to be known at this point. but mondstadt's skies are blue and bright, and you stand in awe of all of creation for the first time in your artificial existence. the cecilias that bloom on the clifftop called starsnatch are a sight to behold— and from the ashes of your past you produce new life.
it's not easy to find an audience with your master's friend alice. when you ask around, it's hard to pinpoint where and when she could be found. you eventually find her in the garden next to the knights of favonius' headquarters— yellow-and-red, just like your master described her. she's a striking figure, all blonde hair and elven ears.
"miss alice?" you say, voice a little shaky. "my master sent me to find you."
you hand her the letter. she runs fingers through your master's wax seal and sighs. "typical of her, where is she?"
"i— i do not know," you admit, "she sent me to find you."
she nods in understanding, and reads. she stands there, scrunched brows and narrowed eyes, then looks at you with a knowing grin.
"so, rhine said that you'll need a laboratory... and not one of a size that a civilian could build, either. hmm... i know!"
you get dragged around the favonius headquarters, you are introduced to so many people in the span of a day and a half— a far cry to the solitude you and your master once shared.
mondstadt accepts you, despite everything. you rise in rank and prestige as fast as vapor rises. word of your skill spreads like wildfire. only alice knows about your past. you see your master's symbol in the calvary captain's eye, yet there is a part of you that's too scared to ask.
("khaenri'ah? it's no big deal, mister kreidenprinz. only the sinners are left," kaeya drawls, lips pressed close to your ear. "what do you think that makes us?"
"what does that make you, cavalry captain?" you ask back. "other than my master's origin, i have no relation to that dead land."
you look at the flask you were fumbling with instead of kaeya. you avoid the diamond-blue gaze instead of confronting it.
ugly pause. there's a strange weight to the air. the other captain sighs. "i don't know," he admits to you, "the way you also don't know. i really should get going now."
"stay safe, the mountain is cruel this time of year," you say. the wind carries it up to him, and the other khaenri'ahn merely sighs.
"i know."
he leaves. you stand there, cold, except for where his breath touched your ear. you never talk about it again.)
khaenri'ah's echoes ring in your ears, but what has khaenri'ah ever done for you? you have grown your roots in mondstadt whether you intended to or not— it is true that alchemists know no mother nation and real identity and yet… in mondstadt you have purpose. isn't that important too?
("cecilias represent the real feelings of a prodigal son," alice tells you once, "it has grown its roots here, opposed to where it once stood. is this how you feel about mondstadt, albedo?"
have you truly turned your back on your master? you have no answer. you don't think you'll have any answer.)
alice… is an enigma. she's odd and when she sets out to do something, grandmaster varka has outrider amber hot on her tails. she calls you albedo, the way your master does… and she has a daughter— little klee hides behind her mother when you first meet, all red-and-yellow like her mother. two sets of identical red eyes look at you with interest.
"we'll be a family from now on, treat her like a real younger sister!"
you don't know what to say— the little girl in red doesn't know either, so you crouch to see her eye to eye. she holds out her hand, you place your bigger one so you two touch palm-to-palm.
"hello," you manage to say. "my name is albedo."
"hello," she says back. "do you want to play with dodoco?"
you don't know what a dodoco is, even after long years of training with your master… but this shouldn't hurt— right? so you nod your head.
the little girl in red hands you a tiny fuzzy thing, a small toy with a face and an equally fuzzy tail, she places it into your gloved hands like it's the most precious of jewels.
"mommy made dodoco to be my bestest friend!" she exclaims, hands balling into fists and standing on the tips of her toes to meet your gaze. "i hope dodoco's going to make you happy too!"
"i'm sure he will," alice says, patting the little girl's head. "right, albedo?"
"yes, thank you," you tell her, when you squeeze the small thing in your hands, it is soft and warm with pyro energy. there's a new feeling that springs forth from your chest, you learn later that this is called happiness.
"ooh— maybe you could even call me mom!"
mother seems too strong a term— one reserved for someone like your own master even, but there's a certain familiarity to alice, almost like warmth in a hearth, a force of nature that changes the seasons as years pass— she is similar to your master yet so so different… "if it's alright, may i call you aunt alice instead?"
the blonde-haired, red-clothed adventurer is peeved at this, a strained laugh leaving her lips, but little klee laughs. "big brother 'bedo!" klee shrieks, clawing at your sleeve and laughing all the way.
her touch is warm, almost like it pierces your skin and reaches your heart. perhaps… is this the feeling others call belonging? your heart skips at the thought.
the next time your heart skips beats like that is when alice leaves along with most of the other knights. klee's hold on your hand tightens, and she curls up into you like she always belonged there. dodoco is safely nestled between your chest and hers.
"will you leave me too, big brother?" she asks you later, when you've tucked her into bed in her night things and dodoco.
"i'll do my best not to, klee," you say, "and you know where to find me when i do."
(lying feels bitter on your tongue.)
citrinitas
citrinitas is the final stage third stage of the alchemical transmutation process. the meaning of the object being transmuted has finally been brought to light, becoming gold and revealing its true value... i too have (not) found my own meaning.
you like to pretend that you are complete— that the gold that runs in your false heart would last forever— that this human form would stay until the rest of this false world rots away to entropy.
but your 'completeness' comes at a price, this comes as no surprise. your master has made countless beings— the corrupted dragon durin, your imperfect brothers that live in the dragon's belly— byproducts of trials and tribulations to form primordial man. knowledge could only advance with failure; by this logic, you are not the first to be made, rather the latest and the most complete model in a long line of mistakes.
however, there is truth to what you have divulged to the scholars that seek your help— that soil is imperfect but births chalk, which is free of fault. there is truth to the things you teach, the kind that makes young and starry-eyed alchemists look towards the horizon and see future growth. there is truth in the way you sigh in relief whenever klee returns to headquarters unscathed, a wide, bright smile on her young face.
"i hope that with your creation, you will purify the wrongs that i've done, do what your brothers could not," your master had told you once, so long ago. you did not know yet what this meant at the time, but dragonspine— the cold and the corrupted mountain of yore, held answers and questions that have slipped past your fingers in the past.
there is no doubt your brothers have affected the land, and to find out the truth of this world… it seems that you must study the mistakes your master has made first. dragonspine is the closest thing you have, so you spend much of your time cooped up in a camp within the mountains.
you are alone for the most part, and that's strangely… alright. company is a rare thing in this cold, barren place, yet… it feels so much warmer when aether visits and paimon rattles off for him, or if bennett stumbles into his camp yet again after another unlucky spell, or when kaeya hoists klee up on his tanned shoulders and makes the trek up the snow to see you.
perhaps, your most selfish desire is wanting them tied down to this dead place with you, because the warmth they bring is something that cannot be recreated by the most scorching hot of bonfires or even with the most advanced of alchemy.
the part of you that makes you human knows that if you were one such failure, you would want this, the jovial warmth that people bring, the selfish desires that consume you, the title of kreidenprinz… if you were one of your countless failed brothers you would also claw yourself out of durin's corpse, learn khemia, and try to steal the life that the perfect magnum opus has created for themself. the thought haunts your days and your nights.
(there's a voice in your head that assures you that the traveler, warm and golden, will understand.)
it comes at no surprise that your brother is waiting in the shadows. your sword is drawn, and his own strikes fast against your own.
("dragonspine has become more dangerous than it used to be," eula lawrence muses once. she is right.)
rubedo
rubedo in alchemy refers to the refining of feeling. i feel the refining of my own emotions is also thanks to you.
red.
the color of klee's bombs. the color of the purest of gold. the color of the corruption that once flowed in a dragon's veins—
the color of the blood that'll spill for khaenri'ah when your alchemy inevitably causes destruction.
you could only hope that the traveler— aether, with his warm eyes that looked so much like pure molten gold— has enough power to stop the corruption from within.
you hope that the day is not near. your eyes flutter shut as the frigid winds of dragonspine blow on your face, sweeps your coat, and ruffles your platinum— almost white— hair. for now, mondstadt is safe, and your false heart beats hard enough to still give color to your cheeks and assure you that you are alive.
it's only a matter of time. you could already feel the thrum of power in your veins, and you look towards the horizon. you unsheath your sword and feel the air in your lungs and the fire in your heart.
mondstadt is the closest thing you have to home— the knights, the closest thing to a family— you see klee's smile in the forefront of your mind and trudge forward.
after all, your story is far from over, right? this is merely a new beginning.