Chapter Text
At the height of the war Morax's army finally turns its gaze towards the lands of the northwest.
Qingce Village, which is under the dominion of the Chi. Dragons are not social creatures by nature – Morax considers it a miracle of Guizhong's making that he has learnt to tolerate and even on occasion enjoy the company and emotional attachment of those around him – but the Chi and himself are... acquainted. It is inevitable, given the many centuries they have lived in such close proximity.
Dvalin reigns over the sky, Morax over the earth, and the Chi is content with its quiet and fresh waters. That is the understanding between them, the way it has been from the beginning of time and thus they have never had reason to clash.
But dragons are by nature greedy creatures, and even the stalemate of a thousand years is not immune to the erosion of time. In recent years the Chi had begun to take from both the sky and the earth and so Morax must move to reclaim the land.
The Chi's domain has more than tripled its size in the past hundred years. This is a feat neither small nor particularly extraordinary; before, it had been nothing more than the river that flows between Dvalin's territory and Morax's, but it now extends all the way to the edge of Guili Plains. The catalyst is a tale whispered in fear across all of Liyue: the Chi has recruited a single warrior who keeps guard over his territory, who is capable of moving from one end of it to the other in the blink of an eye, who has eyes and ears on every inch of the ever-expanding perimeter, who does not sleep, and who sees the mind of any and all who so much as thinks of invading. It is said that this one warrior alone is capable of flawlessly holding the fort while the Chi pushes his ranks further into enemy territory.
They whisper also that the warrior is a demon who takes the form of a beautiful child to beguile his enemies. Why else would such a powerful being wander as a child for a hundred years? Morax has another answer, and his suspicions are far more terrifying than the tales they tell.
Morax himself is an adeptus, and one his fellow adepti defer to for reasons other than that he was born a dragon. Adepti are different from gods in that they are self-made; creatures who have gained a human form through sheer will and discipline, through endless cultivation. One's original form holds little meaning in the eyes of the adepti. Morax's own human form is the result of centuries of cultivation; as a hatchling he had been restless and curious as those new to the world are wont to be, and even as he neared adulthood he had not bothered too much with cultivation, knowing that he had an eternity to spend sitting under waterfalls if he so wished. It was the beginnings of the war that had given him reason to hole himself up in Jueyun Karst and meditate.
He had already been a young adult at that time, and so his human form naturally reflected that.
Dragons are the longest-lived creatures on Liyue. The average dragon is a hatchling for a hundred and fifty years. Amongst the other creatures capable of cultivating a human form, the most common is the crane, which matures in three or so years after hatching. For one to achieve a human form in the twenty-five years it may expect to live, the following are necessary: self-discipline and will, a suitable environment, and a competent master. The case is similar for other creatures of a similar or slightly shorter lifespan, such as the deer or snake.
Their short lifespan is the reason most creatures cannot get far on the path of cultivation without a master and the right environment. This is why the circle of adepti is a tight one, and they tend to gather in Jueyun Karst. Even then, only the very rare prodigy achieves a human form before adulthood; even more rarely does a creature gain the status of an adeptus away from the flock.
And this: a hatchling adeptus appearing out of nowhere? Unheard of. The very notion is preposterous.
Morax is a dragon, and so he knows this for sure: He will not rest until that hatchling adeptus without a mentor is by his side.
If asked why, Morax would simply say that adepti are not meant to be alone. It is a transparent excuse even to those less perceptive than Guizhong.
Guizhong does not ask, she simply accepts his decision and reminds him to be kind. A hatchling adeptus who is a century old is still a hatchling, and may be a hatchling still a thousand years later.
As he prepares to lead the charge onto the marshes, Morax thanks the Chi for granting him such a noble excuse to attack. There is no glory in war, and the victors write history. Still, in the future the people will speak tales of his heroism, at least the Chi has ensured that they would not be entirely a lie.
The Chi is invading the lands in the east, where there is an excess of mineral deposits. He intends to claim the border between Liyue and the mountain where Barbatos had dumped all the snow from his lands.
Guizhong had suggested invading the Chi's territory on two fronts. Morax had chosen instead to employ his signature blunt force. It has not failed him before (though neither has Guizhong – the two of them individually are formidable; together they are infallible). While he trusts his generals to lead a separate attack force, given the Chi's current unpredictability and that none of his scouts have returned from the Chi's territory, he feels much more secure leaving the defence of Guili Plains to them and leading a single battalion himself.
They cross into the marsh, past the line that the Chi had declared his land.
It is almost anticlimactic, but they know better than to let their guards down.
The air today above the marsh is unnaturally still.
Morax is glad for the noon sun when a disturbance spreads amongst his men and he looks up; a dark shape is plunging straight down to the middle of his ranks, gathering so much momentum that Morax almost expects it to catch fire.
He only barely manages to put up a shield before the hatchling adeptus turns half his army into a crater. Nevertheless his spear is sharp and the pressure is enough to break through his hastily created shield. The hatchling's spear skewers straight through one of his soldiers before hitting the sand with enough force to cause a sandstorm.
The first shield Morax puts up to contain the storm and protect his men is too close to the hatchling and too slow, the shockwave that causes the storm had already travelled beyond its confines. The second one just barely misses the wavefront. The third finally encloses the storm and far, far too many of his men.
His men part as easily as stone does beneath Morax's palm when he starts to make his way towards the hatchling. When he reaches the barrier he had created, the storm dies down and Morax sees a single child standing in a sea of fallen men.
His first thought is that he would not be surprised if the hatchling turns out to be a creature more divine than dragons, descended from Celestia itself. In the wake of the storm, he looks perfectly untouched and all the more otherworldly for it.
His second thought is that whatever price the Chi had paid for it, Morax would pay a thousand times more and still know that he had struck a good bargain.
When the hatchling meets his eyes, (Morax inhales sharply at the gaze that could cut stone, and) the barrier is dispelled without any conscious decision on Morax's part. The hatchling steps onto nothing, and walks on the air unobstructed towards Morax.
“Leave,” he says.
Morax smiles; the hatchling knows he cannot win. “I think not.”
He stops a short distance away, and if Morax's men subtly shift away from him, he does not blame them. “I will eradicate your army.”
Morax does not doubt for a second that he could and would, and that he is prepared to face the consequences. In fact, for all that he seems indifferent, Morax does not miss the tight grip he has on his spear. He is prepared, already, for death.
Naturally, Morax does not intend to kill the hatchling.
(If they fought now, he would be left with no choice but to execute it; as much as Morax is more than willing to trade the army for it, Guizhong would not approve of sacrificing the men, no matter the pay-off.)
“What would it take to buy your loyalty?” Morax wonders aloud.
The hatchling simply scoffs, “I am not in the business of placing my trust in reptiles.”
Reptiles. Morax almost laughs. He has never been insulted so subtly to his face like this. And this one statement tells Morax everything he needs to know about the relationship between his hatchling and the Chi, and how to win it over.
A murmur of outrage spreads through the throng, though none are brave or foolish enough to approach him. (And they physically cannot, because he is standing on air and the path towards him is littered with the bodies of their comrades.)
“Very well,” Morax concedes. “We will leave for now.”
It is only a matter of time before there is a confrontation between Morax and the Chi. Neither of them rush.
A century later, the Chi lies motionless at Morax's feet, and he takes his human form again.
The hatchling – Alatus, the Chi had called him – is here, too, leaning heavily on his spear and closer to death than life. His facade of detachment is broken by the way he vomits blood into the ichor-tainted waters, and the expression of pain painted across his features.
Morax points his sword at the hatchling. “Your price?”
The hatchling glares up at him, and this time Morax thinks it can probably cut air. His knees buckle and he falls further – or so Morax thinks, before he pounces at him in yet another display of astounding control.
But he is in no shape to hold his own in a fight against Morax.
It is no coincidence that Morax is present when Alatus awakes two days later. His mask of detachment has once again settled naturally over his face, but Morax notices immediately that his gaze is that of a soul too gentle for war. (He is like Guizhong in that respect – Celestia has done them wrong by involving them in its thirst for bloodshed.) Even when he catches sight of Morax, his expression does not waver.
That changes when he sits up and his ankle tugs against its shackles. In an instant, his eyes narrow and his cat-like pupils dilate in preparation for a fight. Morax nearly regrets putting the stone shackles on him.
He stands still as a mountain. "I do not intend to harm you."
Alatus merely glares at him distrustfully.
(Once, Guizhong brought back a kitten and left it with Morax while she went about Guili Plains helping the mortals. Morax has tried to forget that incident, but his arm throbs even now at the memory of how viciously the kitten had ruined his skin, which he had softened to protect its soft claws.)
"I have yet to seal the Chi. Would you like to join me?"
And though he had waited in the infirmary for two days just to make this offer, Morax is pleasantly surprised when Alatus agrees.