Chapter Text
It is a well-known fact that of the seven victors who endured the Archon War, only Morax and Barbatos remain. It is also well-known that of these two, only one remains tangibly connected to the mortal world. It is less well-known (and that is to say not known at all) that Morax, alive and breathing as he is, lives among the streets of his people, existing in tandem. He has a new face and name, but the same creature lives on. The God of War is, as ever, indomitable.
All this to say that it has been well over two thousand years since Morax (Rex Lapis, Zhongli--he loses track of his own titles sometimes) was wrestled into doing anything he didn’t damn well want to, and waking up disoriented in a place he does not recognise makes a brittle anger rise in the back of his throat. He leaps to his feet, eyes swiveling sharply. To his left, Hu Tao lies sprawled on the floor. His hands curl into fists. He can hear the gentle ease of her breathing, but it does nothing to calm his anger. Someone hurt her. They will pay.
They are not alone. He turns in a full circle, taking in every detail of the alien place in which he finds himself, but sees no trace of an attacker. He is the only soul awake, it seems; the rest of his companions lie in the same state at Hu Tao.
With a soft growl, he ceases the search for the moment, focusing on his unconscious friend. He lifts her with careful arms--to his left is a futon covered in rich red velvet, and he lays her gently onto it. She stirs but does not wake. No matter. He looks her over for injuries. Finding none, he turns away, examining the others. There is no small number.
What could have dragged them all here? What sort of power would that even take?
Zhongli turns and goes stiff.
On the floor, draped uncomfortably over someone else’s legs, Xiao lies still and pale. He’s at his side in a flash, on his knees, lifting him into his lap. “Xiao?” he questions, urgent. He can hear his heart beating in his ears. “Can you hear me?” There’s no response. He holds on tighter.
A soft groan echoes in the silence, and his head snaps up. In his panic, he had neglected to take in who exactly Xiao was laying over--a young man in vibrant green, disheveled and unkempt and achingly familiar. Zhongli blinks slowly. “Barbatos?”
Barbatos blinks back. “Morax?” His voice sounds the same as it did two thousand years ago. Zhongli can do nothing but blink again. “Where are we?”
“A reasonable question.”
“I thought so too.”
Zhongli shifts his grip on Xiao, lifting him into his arms. “I have no answer for you, I’m afraid.” He sets the adeptus down on a second futon and arranges a pillow carefully beneath his head. Xiao murmurs in his sleep, eyelids fluttering.
Barabtos’s voice is uneasy. “You didn’t do this?”
“I did not,” he confirms, turning back around. They stare at each other in silence.
And then, very suddenly, a scream splits the air.
-
“Do not fear me.”
The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Zhongli’s back stiffens, his head swiveling once again, trying in vain to find the source. It had taken an hour (or maybe two, or maybe ten minutes; time feels as though it isn’t passing) to calm the chaos once the others awoke. Now it begins once again, clamor rising as they panic. The little elf girl, the one that had been screaming, huddles into her brother’s side. He, strangely enough, remains perfectly calm, petting her hair.
“Quiet.”
And they are. A chill settles over his throat, and he cannot open his mouth. Next to him, Hu Tao shivers, her eyes narrowing. No doubt she is already picking a coffin for whoever took her voice away.
“I cannot explain myself very well,” the voice continues, and isn’t that a lovely thing to hear? “There is far too much to explain for mere words to carry. But--”
The room plunges into darkness. On the far side of the room, the wall lights up with splashes of red and orange. Fire. No--blood. Liyue Harbour burns, and then Mondstadt’s cathedral crumbles, and the streets of Inazuma split open. There is screaming, sobbing, a child wailing for their mother--
The image fades. The light returns.
“That is what your future brings, but I cannot sit by and watch it happen again. Think of this as… a lesson. This is your classroom. If you will allow me to help, the world will come out the better for it. Please do not kill each other.”
Even if he had not felt the chill in his throat ease, Zhongli would have known the exact moment their voices returned, because Barbatos uses his immediately. “What the fuck?”
He is smacked on the back of the head. “Language.”
“Shut up, Master Diluc, you’ve said worse over less--”
Diluc does not look impressed by this argument. Barbatos slumps into his seat (he had, of course, found a place to sprawl his entire body, taking up more space than he should be able. Clearly he hasn’t changed a bit). On Diluc’s other side, a young nun chews at her lip, brows drawn tightly. “Do you think it’s true?” Her voice is a little timid.
The room is awkwardly quiet. There doesn’t seem to be an answer, and Zhongli cannot muster one up himself. It has been well over two thousand years since he was this confused.
It has also been well over two thousand years since he last saw Barbatos. He is choosing to believe those are linked.
In any case, he clears his throat. “And you are?” He directs this to the young nun, since she seems more reasonable than anyone else who has spoken thus far.
Her eyes skid over to him, wide and anxious. “Barbara. I-I’m the deaconess of the church of Barbatos.” (Barbatos, he notes, looks mildly interested in this bit of news. Egotistical little bastard.)
“It’s nice to meet you, Barbara,” he says as calmly as he can, as if speaking to a wild animal. “My name is Zhongli. I hail from Liyue.”
Barbatos has been silent for all of ten seconds, which is evidently much too long. “Your name is stupid,” he says, and then giggles like he’s said something very funny. Diluc smacks the back of his head again.
I am going to kill you, Zhongli thinks, but he knows that if he said it out loud, Barbatos would reply with you already tried that, and he thinks that he would snap if he had to listen to him sound that stupid. So he just sighs and says, “Thank you. And yours is?”
“Venti the bard!” he declares proudly. It is, of course, an outright lie, because his name is Barbatos, but details are secondary to the fact that his name is much stupider than Zhongli . He refrains from the urge to point this out because he is a reasonable person.
“Are we all going to go around introducing ourselves like a classroom game, or are we going to focus on the vision of the world ending?” Xiao’s voice is edged with venom. His arms are crossed tight.
Zhongli coughs. “Right. There was that.”
Another awkward silence descends upon them. He has no good way of breaking it this time. Luckily, their captor evidently brings matters into their own hands, and the room goes utterly black once more. The far wall has again been lit up, this time with the message please find your seats! in a bright font. When they do not move, it is joined by a second, smaller line of text that reads I will knock you out again.
…Understood. They find their seats.
-
Aether had thought he was prepared, because at the end of the day, he’s been through enough weird shit that he just takes it as it comes. And he’s got Lumine here holding his hand (bit tight. He’s losing feeling in his fingers), so he’ll be fine. Nothing can get the better of him as long as he’s got Lumine at his side.
Anyway. He thought he was prepared.
He absolutely was not.
A beach. Two stars drawn in the sand. A voice, high and childlike: “So, what you’re trying to say is… you fell here from another world?” Two stars streak through the sky over Mondstadt. “But when you tried to leave and go on to the next world…” A booted foot on white marble.
Lumine’s deathly grip tightens even further. “Oh, shit,” she whispers, nearly silent. The image of them, standing next to each other in grim silence, is reflected back in her eyes. Aether fights the urge to hug her. She’d be embarrassed by open affection surrounded by so many people.
Red shadows rip through the starry sky. “...Your path was blocked by some unknown god?”
Ah. Fuck it. He extracts his hand from hers to wrap his arm around her, pulling her into his side. She leans into it.
“Who are you?” Lumine demands.
The unknown god looks down her pale nose at them, gold eyes glittering. “The sustainer of heavenly principles. The arrogation of mankind ends now.” (Very presumptuous of her, Aether notes, because he and Lumine are not any part of mankind.) Her hands fly out to the side, and her crimson power flows with it. Aether and Lumine leap into action, their wings and swords flicking out as they attack. They move in the perfect synchrony that comes with a life spent at each other’s sides.
A burst of gold light. Golden eyes flick to the side.
Lumine dodges a sudden attack, shooting backward. Aether…
He draws in a sharp breath, his grip on his sister tightening. She twists to grab onto him in return. “No,” she whispers. It’s barely a breath, but he hears it. Her fingernails dig into her skin.
“Aether!”
The unknown god admires her catch. Lumine sweeps up behind her, sword crackling with electricity, and drives a blow into the god’s head.
Another flash, a burst of fire, and Lumine is left panting, her sword gone. Her eyes widen in horror. The leftover power condenses, twists, writhes--and then, inevitably, it swallows Lumine whole. “Wait! Don’t go!” she yells. The god turns away. “Give my brother back!”
Aether feels her shake in his arms. “No,” she repeats, a little louder. “No, no--”
Utter blackness. Lumine’s voice is empty. Defeated. “And just like that, the god took away my brother. A seal was cast upon me, and I lost my power. So whilst we used to cross world after world, we are now trapped here.”
The sand fades back into view, a crude version of god drawn into it. Lumine is sitting upon a rock by the sea. “How many years ago was it? I don’t know… but I intend to find out.” She looks down at her knees, a soft frown crossing her face. “When I woke, I was all alone, right up until I met you two months ago.”
Her companion is a small, floating creature with starry eyes. Their expression is sheepish. “Yeah, Paimon really owes you for that, otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned…” They are helpfully provided with a flashback shot of Lumine pulling Paimon out of the water with a fishing rod. (Aether laughs a little bit. Lumine does not look amused.) “So Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!”
Lumine looks away over the water, a smile crossing her face. Paimon’s enthusiasm has relaxed her, it seems.
“Come on!” Paimon chirps. “Let’s get going!” Lumine follows Paimon down the beach, which quickly fades into a lush forest.
“This is Mondstadt, yes?” This comes from a young man in white, who reclines delicately on one of the low-slung sofas. “It’s quite lovely.” As he says this, he gives a brief look to the man next to him, who smiles faintly.
Lumine comes up on a cliff, standing above the sprawling landscape of Mondstadt. Next to her, Paimon swoops in an excited circle. “Look! That’s a Statue of the Seven!” It’s impossible to miss what she means--it’s massive, even from this far away. Lumine’s eyes widen.
“Seven what?”
Lumine shushes him. “Quiet.”
“But seven what?” Aether complains. She shushes him again.
“There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show the Seven’s protection over the world!”
Zhongli scoffs under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Aether can see Venti lean forward slowly, staring straight at the older man with venom. Clearly, there is history here. Aether chooses to ignore it.
“Among the seven gods,” (what a simple answer. How simple it would have been to answer him.) “This god controls the wind. Paimon’s not sure if the god you’re looking for is the Anemo god, but…” She swoops into another circle, giggling. “Paimon’ll take you to the Anemo god’s place first, and there’s a reason why!”
The scene fades. Gold lettering appears.
Act I: The Outlander Who Caught the Wind.
Lumine holds on tighter, and Aether lets her, and neither of them has the will to let go.