Chapter Text
Part 1: The Cage
You are the descendant scion of all faiths put to rest. You are the lack of faith—not from a lack of believers—but of all the sinners left behind. You, the last remnants of a society faith tried to kill, embody every agnostic concept born from your home’s ashes.
You are a sinner for the burden of knowing too much.
You deceive to hide those truths—but your higher understanding of reality in turn ruins your own sense of it.
So, as your master once said:
Be afraid of living. Living is the duty of those too innocent to understand what survival means.
And you were not made for innocence.
Albedo was familiar with the idea of his own creation. He was at peace with it, to some extent. He feared himself—he feared the truth behind his master’s intentions.
That regularly cold morning, when he looked across the indefinite edge where snowy mountain peaks met the white sky and saw his own eyes staring back at him, his origins he had tried so arrogantly to hide came back in the bitter reminder of his own sinful existence.
Albedo never painted his own portraits.
The subject of inanimate scenes provided much more comfort for someone without the safety of predictability. Those in Mondstadt knew freedom as one part, the ability to embrace whatever it was they wanted to embrace—but also as another, the notion that they will forever be able to do so. One of the first things Albedo was ever taught was the reality that he could never be allotted those freedoms; it was a lesson sourced from deep beneath Teyvat’s crust, level with the ancient roots man would never come as spiritually close with as they could be physically.
Albedo gripped the hilt of his sword, finding security in its place against his hip. There was reassurance in the idea it would always be there. The edge of his free hand’s glove rose to touch the star by his throat—a cursed little mark, it was.
It’s only the natural way of someone born from damned histories to kill as the means of survival.
Albedo wondered if he should feel remorse for someone built without the capacity for it.
But—if he could create the safety that nothing would rise from his imposter’s own capacity for evil, he would do whatever it took.
Thus, he was at peace with what he knew he must have done.
He managed to follow the failed creation’s footsteps out from the peak Albedo had seen them at and down into the opening of a cave he failed to recognize.
Drawn out notes formed from the impression of Albedo's boots in the semi-solid sheet of ice that lined the cave's floor; they echoed in the natural acoustics, as if a living chorus thriving in the perfect quiet. Occasionally, droplets of water would shower from the overarching stalactites and subtly fill the cave's silence without stealing from its serenity.
Albedo was the hunter, that much was true—he watched the ground for the trail of footprints he had been tracking. Up till this point, they were consistent in pace and boldly formed. That was, until they just seemed to end—disappear completely. It rendered Albedo struck still for a moment.
Where had they gone? He asked himself; it was a simple question, but one problem near-impossible to solve.
He looked around. The imposter couldn't have gone far.
Though, oddly enough, it was a rather narrow cave, built from a running stream over thousands of years. There was little to investigate in the first place, which only seemed to add to the mystery.
Albedo refused to move his feet. Wherever the imposter went, it had to have been reachable from those last seen footprints. He looked to the ceiling and along the walls until his eyes fixated on a particularly dissonant shading between two conjoining rocks protruding gently to form the cavern wall of his right side.
There, his mind concluded before even considering the reasons that justified the decision.
It was a narrow fit, but it had to have been the only option. Upon closer inspection, the rocks had seemed to have been contacted, as dust and rubble was wiped clean from only select portions of its surface. Though, all that it told Albedo was that the imposter had placed a hand to manage himself through the crack.
Prince of chalk—
Albedo halted. His head throbbed. Foreign voices struck him deeply.
—of bygone histories—
Albedo’s brows furrowed.
—listen to the still winds.
Time spills all blood.
The unrest individual destroys its cage.
Even if the cage is home itself.
Albedo scanned his surroundings, feeling the air for elemental energy. There was none—so little that it was strange. Usually Albedo could feel the dendro in the flora, anemo in the passing winds, or geo in the earth, but here all was quiet—all was still. There was nothing breathing the same way the surface did—as if the environment was trying to tell him some story outside the realm of elements and gods—forgotten—forsaken.
He sucked in and turned his body to fit through the narrow passageway.
Child of Gold.
Child of Gold.
The voices kept chanting. Albedo’s body resisted, tense as if to urge him to turn away, but he grit his teeth and bore it—his mind’s natural intrigue consistently beat out all warnings within his head.
Come here, Child of Gold.
Albedo grew faster. His body was shaking, though he didn’t notice.
Listen to our story.
Albedo heaved for air as soon as the passageway gave way to an open cavern. It was a huge clearing, filled with a strange light emitting from crystals along the edges of the cave and from somewhere deep below the frozen lake filling the center floorspace.
There was no life. That much he was sure of.
Child of Gold.
The voices grew more prominent in Albedo’s head, throbbing with every word he could understand but not hear.
Then, he saw him—his imposter, standing in the center of the ice staring back at him, taunting, beckoning.
Albedo gripped his sword and charged forth.
Child of Gold. Child of the Earth.
The voices in his head weren’t coming from the imposter.
In fact, the imposter wasn’t there at all.
The ice cracked underneath him. Albedo made an attempt to call upon his vision, but no response came.
The place forgotten by all gods.
He plummeted through open air as soon as the ice shattered from under him and all faded to black. The lake was hollow, empty of all but snuffed cries of the dead and their echoes.
“Is it unusual to see Albedo gone for so long?” Kaeya said, twirling a fountain pen around his fingers. He was sorting through domestic issues on Jean’s behalf, though at the moment he took more leisure, placing his feet up on the desk and laying back in the Acting Grandmaster’s chair.
“Well, no, but…. but given the circumstances…” Sucrose said, itching at her own hands from where they were in her lap. She gave Kaeya a look of true concern.
Kaeya sat up, sharing her solemnity in his stare for a fraction of a second. “Well, I’m open to anything other than paperwork,” he said with a laugh, blatant in his comically obvious excuse. Sucrose’s shoulders dropped a few inches as she let out a sigh of relief. “Don’t worry. Go back to your little experiments, I’ll go fetch some of Eula’s guys to… investigate Fatui activity on Dragonspine.”
Just before he stood, he held the pen between his first fingers like a dart and threw it into a corkboard of maps filled with similar stationery holding them up. It landed perfectly in the center of Dragonspine, piercing through the "n" of the map's label.
Sucrose smiled at him, clear of anxiety in her gratitude. She said, “Thank you, Sir Kaeya.”
He put a hand on her shoulder as he left the room. “It’s my duty.”
Kaeya ran over the fact inside his head. He didn’t particularly worry when Sucrose came to him in her standard expression of nervousness talking about Albedo disappearing, Kaeya was used to his antics. He didn’t blame Sucrose either, but it was impossible to take every one of her desperate cries as serious when Albedo disappeared without a word so often.
He let out a sigh. “How is an alchemist so…” he waved a hand in a vague gesture, searching for the word.
“Problematic?” Eula answered for him.
He snapped, pointing at her. "Problematic."
She breathed through her nose, exasperated within the first couple minutes of Kaeya being in her office. "I really do not have anything to provide in relation to your… domestic affairs."
Kaeya waved his hands, letting out a dramatic sigh. "No, no. It's not like that. Sucrose says Albedo is missing."
Eula raised an eyebrow. "Are you just slacking off, then?" she concluded based on Albedo's tendency to ghost people.
"No. I'm completely serious."
Eula leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, finally giving Kaeya her full attention. "And what do you expect me to do?"
Kaeya placed his palms on her desk and leaned into them. "What happened between you, Albedo, Amber, Bennett, and the Traveler? That Dragonspine team."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "We rescued adventurers," she said, mentioning nothing more than what she was asked for.
"There were complications," Kaeya stated.
"What are you trying to learn?"
"Knights shouldn't hide things from each other, Lawrence." Kaeya smiled at her.
"There was a battle with a mutated whopperflower that took the form of Albedo. That was the extent of it," Eula answered genuinely.
Kaeya backed away from her desk. "Thoughts, Rosaria?"
Rosaria emerged from behind the door, leaning against the frame. "That's as much as I gathered, as well."
One of the first people Kaeya went to with his concerns was Rosaria. As someone who had her own fair share of suspicions towards Albedo, Kaeya's understanding was that she would be the first person keeping a tab on every action he made in Dragonspine.
Eula frowned. "Sister Rosaria."
"Lawrence," Rosaria responded half-heartedly. "Since when were we addressing each other so formally?"
Eula gave her a look, coughing into a hand. "So you knew what happened on Dragonspine this entire time. What else did you come here for? Men?"
"No. Extra heads would only overcomplicate things, but," Kaeya paused for emphasis, passing a glance to Rosaria to show he was addressing her as well, "if I go missing for more than two days, I want you two to look for me. If that means sending search parties, then so be it."
Rosaria groaned. "Why me?"
"You'd know where to look."
Kaeya waved a hand behind him, leaving quickly as he came. He gave a sarcastic bow to Rosaria as he approached her, but she refused to move.
"What are you planning to do?" Rosaria said, folding her arms, planting her back into one side of the doorframe, and kicking her leg up across the opening. "I think you tend to forget I have as many suspicions about you as the alchemist."
"What, are you worrying about me? I'd never want to make a dearest sister worry," Kaeya responded.
Eula stood, saying, "She's right. You're doing it again."
Kaeya didn't bother to turn and look at her. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"You're either shouldering the burden of looking for him all by yourself or there's something involved that only you want to be able to know," Rosaria said.
"What if I'm just in love and want to be the one to save Albedo?" Kaeya whined.
Rosaria clicked her tongue. "I have no doubt that sentiment is involved as well."
"Don't worry about it, Rosaria," Kaeya said with a smile, then turned over his shoulder to look at Eula, "You neither, Eula. It's just a curiosity of mine. If anything actually comes out of my personal investigations, I'll be sure to let you two know."
Rosaria lowered her leg and let him leave, though not before passing Eula a suspicious look.
You'll never learn of my machinations, Kaeya was really saying. No matter how hard you try to pry it out of me.
Dragonspine was as cruelly beautiful as always. Kaeya had always wondered what Albedo saw in it; he supposed that the landscapes were something to be in awe about, but all of that amazement quickly passed as soon as the cold steeped in.
It was easy to find Albedo’s camp despite the amount of snow that had drifted in over its lack of maintenance; Kaeya had visited on multiple shameless occasions.
Kaeya looked through Albedo’s notes idly as he ran over the facts in his mind. There was one distinction between what Rosaria’s information and what Eula told him: while Rosaria only mentioned a “whopperflower,” the visit to Eula confirmed that it was one that had taken the form of Albedo.
Anyone would assume that it was relatively inline for the behaviors of whopperflowers, albeit somewhat audacious in scope—but Kaeya knew a little more about Albedo that no others did.
From the eyes of someone who bears it, it’s easy to recognize the mark of sin.
And Sucrose’s intuitive concern fit too well in the narrative constructing itself in Kaeya’s brain to overlook.
Of course, no mastermind goes without a second plan—so if it was truly another instance of Albedo ghosting all of Mondstadt as he usually did, Kaeya would just admit to some romantic attraction that inclined him to search for Albedo out of a genuine and well-meaning concern. It was an excuse—an easy one, given that the character people perceived him to be was one he had intentionally crafted to be so usefully flexible. When the stoic and untouchable Albedo rejected him, people would excuse his entire story out of pity. Nobody would give the romantic a second look.
And it was better for everyone that way.
Kaeya whistled to himself as he flipped through papers strewn around the camp by the wind. Most of them were irrelevant, but he decided to scan through them to occupy his mind—Kaeya held a certain intrigue that made it impossible to pass up the chance to revel in Albedo’s sheer intelligence.
When he inevitably concluded that search the camp wouldn’t get him anywhere, Kaeya decided to feel for the elemental remnants scattered about the camp. He recognized the geo humming in concentration about the camp, most certainly evidence of how much Albedo spent there, and only a faint trail leading out. The wind had dispersed most of it, and given how long Albedo had been missing, it made sense for only so little to be left of elemental traces.
So, he set out to follow the trail around and across Dragonspine, wherever it would take him. While the footprints had all but disappeared from new snowfall and nightly winds, Kaeya’s elemental sight miraculously remained reliable.
He found himself traveling down a cave, then a passageway, and it was only until the traces faded completely that Kaeya stopped to scan his surroundings.
Immediately, he knew something was off.
This force, he thought, honing in on his senses, calling upon them like a trusted advisor—but they told him nothing. Something dark lurks here. It cowers away from me.
Prince, prince—
Kaeya manifested his sword and pivoted on his heel, finding that the voice came from no one direction.
Prince, prince—
Kaeya gripped the handle tightly. The leading voice within his own head screamed in rebellion, demanding the lurking shadow to stay quiet. Don’t call me that, he thought.
His eye caught a glimmer between the rocks created as light emitting from Kaeya’s vision caught and reflected back.
Albedo’s chains, he noticed. Out of the natural jagged landscape around him, the intricate craftsmanship stood out more than ever. It came as a relief that Kaeya had been looking in the right place—but as a newfound dread as he understood Albedo had also experienced the cave’s ancient voices.
What did they tell you? Kaeya let the question linger in his mind. What did the shadows whisper, Albedo?
He was fitting himself through the narrow passageway Albedo had evidently also traveled.
Then, he saw the lake shattered like a great mirror, shards floating as if suspended in the action of breaking; the giant sheets of ice still attached to the coast thrummed with a hum as they gently swayed under their own weight. Scattered off to the side, resonating with the soft cave glows from some unknown depth, was Albedo’s Cinnabar Spindle disappearing into stardust without its master’s grip. Though as Kaeya approached, he saw that the sword was in the middle of disappearing—seemingly suspended in one moment just as the ice was.
“Albedo?” Kaeya called, his voice echoing near-perfectly a thousand times before leaving him in the same silence he began with. Even when he whispered a quiet “that alchemist” the cave returned his words with an impressive accuracy.
Cursing under his breath, Kaeya stepped out onto the ice tentatively as to test how well it held his weight. He let in a breath, tasting for elemental energies—but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hauntingly nothing.
Not even Albedo's sword carried the same marks of elemental use.
In fact, Kaeya began to wonder if the ice was ice at all.
Everything within that cave seemed like a projection preserving one singular moment.
Theoretically, the not-so-ice ice wouldn't break under his weight.
Thus, Kaeya began to walk to the hole of shards by the center of the lake. It let out long wails that grew more concerning the more steps Kaeya made; eventually he reached a point where he was hesitant to advance at all. Peering over the edge and staring into that dark maw, he felt like the void, infinitely reaching below him, stared back.
(And suddenly, the voices had a body.)
Come, prince.
The voices pulled at his consciousness like thick tendrils, carrying some untellable blend of malice and apathy; it came around his legs first, sinking deep into the fabrics of his being and unwrapping them—though, perhaps when it reached his heart, it only filled the crack-like veins in his heart like it was always meant to be there.
At some point, he questioned what he was resisting it for.
Stepping over the edge, his skin felt no air as he fell through the lake's surface and rejoined the starless abyss he was made from.
"Sir Kaeya…"
Kaeya's head throbbed. He pressed a palm into his temple, attempting to call upon his vision to soothe the ache—though, for some reason, no elemental power could be summoned.
"Five more minutes," Kaeya responded and ragdolled on the ground.
Albedo, arms wrapped around his own knees, squatted down beside Kaeya, inspecting him for injuries.
Kaeya donned a peculiar outfit. It was a fitting vest, corset spines sewn into the thick and detailed velvet. It separated at his collar and exposed a cravat that enunciated the edge of his jaw. At his shoulder, instead of his standard Favonius coat, was a gold cavalier cape drawn by a thin rope across his chest.
“You didn’t see anything more than you were supposed to, did you, Albedo?” Kaeya started, playfully accusative.
Albedo stood, concluding that Kaeya was in peak condition—to Kaeya’s disappointment. “Of course not. I was checking you for any injuries.”
Kaeya trailed off, “So considerate… Help me up, would you?”
Passing him a skeptical eye, Albedo complied with his wishes, extending a hand and doing the best his small statue could at raising Kaeya to his feet.
Because it was somewhat of a struggle, at some point Kaeya simply planted a foot back and did most of the weight lifting himself.
Off the bat, Kaeya noticed Albedo’s own unique look. Albedo wore a long white overcoat and a high-collared shirt with his vision centered where it had always been. Kaeya could recognize the parallels between his standard outfit, but took an interest in the newfound sight nonetheless.
"Sorry," Albedo cleared his throat.
Kaeya laughed at the modesty. "It's the thought that counts."
Looking to change the conversation topic before he ran out of small talk related things to say, Albedo said, "I inspected the room while you were unconscious, and—"
"You left me unconscious?" Kaeya pouted.
"I—" Albedo narrowed his eyes, sighing. "I concluded that you needed no medical attention."
"But only now, as I'm waking up, have you been checking me for wounds," Kaeya responded.
"You think too deeply into it," Albedo said simply before turning away to view the room's walls. It was a dark, quaint little area filled with hand-drawn maps and various arrays of crystals, books, and candles lining bookshelves. There were also plants—species capable of surviving in little sunlight, Albedo noted—in pots hung down from the ceiling by chains.
In the center of the room was a thick rug, basin of water, and a desk.
Kaeya tried the door. "Locked, is it?"
Albedo nodded as he trailed a hand along the desk's edge. After inspecting his glove's fingertips, there was a considerably thick layer of dust. Noting this and looking around the rest of the room once more, Albedo observed various sections of the walls and ceiling that had begun to crumble. Despite it, the plants were alive.
Unlike the plants, though, an empty cage with only bones, feathers, and rotten flesh remained.
"Canaries…" Albedo said under his breath.
"What was that?" Kaeya responded, turning back towards him.
"We're underground," Albedo clarified.
Kaeya hummed. If he was surprised, he wasn't showing it. "I see… Well, that explains the feeling."
"Pardon?"
"You've never felt the Abyss, Albedo?" Kaeya leaned in and slid an arm past Albedo, locking the latter between Kaeya and the desk. "Surely you have."
Albedo stared at him, retaining his composure. "Of course. Skilled vision holders can sense it from ley lines and domains."
"And Abyss Mages. Good answer," Kaeya said with a smile. Letting him off, Kaeya went to inspect the desk.
"If the door is locked and nobody is here, the key won't be in this room," Albedo stated.
Kaeya clicked his tongue at him a couple times. "That's where your analysis falls apart, Albedo."
Albedo crossed his arms.
"It relies on the idea that I'm looking for a key." Kaeya seemed to get a kick out of mimicking Albedo's little deductions. He laughed at his own comedy. "Anyways, right—I'm just… checking the place out. Waiting for you to find the way out, yes, but mostly checking the place out."
Albedo didn't know what to particularly take away from that exchange. "Fine, then," he said and turned to inspect the door. It was old, but there were subtle markings of color that insinuated some design once decorated it. The sculpting matched the sharp edges and gentle curves along the tall ceiling. From a distance, Albedo could say it resembled a star. Though, that was most likely his artist's conscience filling in the details and making sense of the unknown.
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the water collected at the surface and scattered in rippling waves within its basin in the center of the room.
Albedo turned, approaching with one curious step after another, until he could trace a hand along the fountain’s edge; it was filled until the very top. Albedo couldn’t see past the surface, for it reflected the ceiling perfectly.
In it, he noticed something… odd.
Before he could think too deeply into it, his mind excused it as a product of the fall and his attention was torn away from the basin as—
The door exploded into shrapnels of wood as Kaeya managed to buck a leg back and hit it with enough force to break the internal metalworking lock.
“Some clearance, please, my dear alchemist,” Kaeya said with a smile.
“A little late for that, I suppose,” Albedo responded, though cut his remark short when a powerful smell wafted into the small office.
Kaeya raised a sleeve to his nose.
It smelt like death.