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Perhaps death was the most he deserved. Perhaps it was his righteous punishment for living a lifetime of lies. To be cut down by the same hands that welcomed him and held him when he found himself overwhelmed by the unfamiliar nation he was abandoned in.
This was all he wanted. This was all he deserved . And by Barbatos this was his retribution for his sins. For abandoning his homeland, for being a spy against the very people who gave him a roof over his head and treated him with nothing but love and care. He was finally ready to stop running from his wretched past and confront it, let it consume him in cleansing flames and turn his sinning body into nothing but dust scattered on the ground.
Like dirt that was meant to be stepped on.
He was ready for it.
So why was fate so cruel to him? Why even in this moment he couldn't die with honour. For once in his life when he was determined to make the right decision why oh why did the flaming sword of retribution, of salvation, stop before his head.
Why couldn't it crush his skull? To smear the blade in even more of his blood. To the Heavenly principles why was he granted protection against it at the last minute.
A sickeningly pale blue orb was nestled in his bloody hands, a faint snowflake flickering in its center. Kaeya felt nauseous as he clutched onto the offending thing, limping away from the house he once called home in withered shame. His hair and clothes was signed beyond repair, coat torn and drenched in his blood.
He never wanted this. He never wanted to be allowed to walk away with his life, tail tucked between his legs. He wanted Diluc to end this misery and Kaeya could tell from the way he swayed that flaming longsword that he wanted to do the same. Those vibrant red eyes held nothing but grief and fury and the intent to kill. Resentment so bitter it struck into his very soul.
So why-
The orb pulsed in his hands as he collapsed to the ground, his legs finally giving out under him. A small layer of frost spread onto his fingertips, a feeble attempt at cooling his burning body. Despite the rain, he still felt like he was incinerated from head to toe.
"Why did you have to show up-! Why why why-!" He cried as he wrapped both his hands around the vision in a desperate attempt to crush it. His fingers kept slipping off of each other from the blood. "Why did you ruin everything-!"
A sob lodged itself into his throat as he tried to keep himself from screaming. Years of pent up guilt and agony wishing to free themselves from his treacherous mouth. That wretched sinful mouth of his. How he wished to sew it close so that it may never tell another lie. How he wished that he had no mind to speak those awful awful poisoned words, no heartbeat that would pump that cursed blood through his veins.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he gazed up above him, daring to accuse the high heavens for playing such a cruel joke on him. A colourful string of insults dying on his tongue as he found himself kneeling right beneath a statue of the Archon of winds himself. Its hands held an orb like any other statue. The figure stood serenely, its features calm and light like the cool summer breeze sweeping through the grapevines, sweetening the fruit in its passing.
Kaeya felt nothing but terror and rage upon seeing the figure. The ever present loving embrace of the wind that surrounded him as a child now felt nothing more than a whirling chokehold, constricting his throat until he couldn't breathe.
His father- did he even have the right to call him that now? - always told him the Anemo archon protected the children of the wind and Kaeya deluded himself into thinking he was one too. But how could he be? He betrayed this land. He betrayed it from the moment he stepped foot onto the blessed soil with the command to dismantle it from the inside.
How could Lord Barbatos protect such a person? How could he stand by idly and offer his blessings to this lying snake that would betray his people when the time came? How could Kaeya stand before his presence without being struck down. Vision or not the wrath of a god would erase his very existence from the world.
And yet the statue stood before him. Ever the gentle presence, nursing the ball in his soft hands as if it was the most precious offering to this world.
Kaeya felt undeserving of such a gesture, to be in the presence of such a tender thing.
"Finish the job-!" He growled as he crawled on his knees towards the statue, his vision now clutched to his chest. He hoped both his black heart and that treacherous orb would be pierced by Lord Barbatos' arrow. He hoped that he would hear his final hymn of death from the holy lyre as the archon slayed him "Finish the job!" He yelled louder, desperately crawling towards the rigid statue, gripping its foundation with his nails.
He was soiling the clean carved stone with his flowing blood.
"Strike me down! Protect your people as the ballads say-!" The sob he had been holding in broke free and bubbled up his throat like poisonous bile. Pain filled his voice. "Do it now-!"
Tears streamed down his face as he rested his head against the smooth stone. Agonising cries and screams wrecked through his body. His pleas for retribution muddled together with begs for forgiveness for sins a child wouldn't even have thought about.
Desperate, he tried to will the statue to life or to summon the archon himself and force him to finish what his brother couldn't. Diluc was right. He was a danger to Mondstadt and as such he must be eliminated. A spineless spy like him should never have been welcomed into this nation. Loved and raised in a family he was undeserving of.
Years and years of hatred against his own self resurfaced in his mind, further muddling his thoughts as he screamed for any act of mercy to end his miserable existence.
Nothing came.
The statue above him stayed serene and gentle. Kaeya's pleas fell onto deaf ears as the intricate stone face remained as loving as ever. No hint of whirling winds to tear him apart, no sound of a bowstring being drawn or of a lyre strumming to be the harbinger of his death. It was simply him, his screams, the statue up above and the sound of the soft rain dancing across the overgrown pavement.
It took him hours to give up. To finally accept his fate. He yelled until his voice gave out and he realised that even despite his best efforts he would still be cursed to walk this land. No matter how hard he prayed, salvation was always just out of touch.
He could never truly redeem himself, could he?
He laughed at that. A hollow, wretched laugh, blinking away tears as he let his body slowly go slack. His forehead rested against the drenched foundation as he felt his limps slowly go numb from exhaustion. Perhaps he would be lucky and succumb to his injuries before dawn. Perhaps the wind will grant him mercy and snuff his light out in the dead of night.
With one last humble apology Kaeya closed his eyes, his tortured mind slipping into a peaceful oblivion. He would dream of times and memories long bygone. Of grapevines and crystalflies, wine and a father who lovingly embraced him. A brother who smiled brighter than the sun. Sweet images would flood his mind of the land he truly belonged to, nothing like the cold unforgiving clutches of the Abyss.
When he would wake the next morning he would find his injuries healed. Clothes bloody and torn, waiting to take their rightful place in the first available trash can, and yet all the cuts and bruises healed as if he had never been injured at all. Only faint scars remained as a grim reminder of the night before. He would find his vision right beside him, glowing brighter than he last remembered it, almost proud of its presence and its cold blue light would cast a hopeful shine on the plump red apple sitting right next to it.