Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is a certain comfort in forgetting. When all of the memories you should have retained leak away from your mind, leaving nothing but a hollow shell of events you’re meant to remember. The actions and words which should have been imprinted on the brain, written and permanently staining your subconscious with the strokes of an inked brush, disappear without a trace, the minds way to erase the pains of the human condition. It’s akin to reading a particularly boring excerpt of a book— one which no one except a truly dedicated fan could possibly remember, thousands upon thousands of words forgotten. The miasma which fills the mind can be ignored in favour of endlessly taking a back seat to your very existence. A push and pull of the importance of some days, weeks, and months over others. It’s that very yearning for something of importance— for something to grip onto, which pushes the human mind to continue.

It's a factor of her own existence which has confounded her from the very beginning. Humans forget just about everything, their thoughts a mere fleeting moment: they forget basic tasks like cooking or brushing their own teeth, they forget their anger, and they forget their dreams. It is so very different from being a God, a Deity. She remembers everything. She remembers the day she was born, found sprouted from a flower which had grown in the same place the Greater Lord had perished. She remembers each dream any of her people has ever had. She remembers what all of them have eaten for any meal. It’s almost a curse, her brain is an overhaul of every piece of knowledge that has ever existed. She supposes it is the result of being the Goddess of Wisdom, or perhaps the result of being a God at all. She figures she will never have answers to her questions, it is not as if she is ever leaving her cage, she will never get the opportunity to ask. Presumably, there is no way for her to leave. No chance of escaping her captors, no chance of seeing the sun for herself– the sun she has seen so many times as Katherine, a sun her own eyes have not seen in over half a millennia.

A small part of her wishes desperately to leave, not just escape in the body of a robot created by the Fatui in order to spy on people they deem of interest— but truly leave. For her body to run through the grass barefoot, to feel the grains of sand falling between her fingertips, to witness the cycles of the day changing around her. Instead, she remains here, ever-present, not quite awake, yet not quite asleep. There is nothing to accompany her, nothing to keep her thoughts at bay. There is only the jungle that is her mind, and the cocoon the Sages keep her stowed away in. The longing to go outside never goes away, always inhabiting at least part of her mind. However, with that comes fear. A bottomless pit which lurches her stomach in a way which has become familiar to her in the past 500 years. A swell of anxiety at the idea that her people will not want her, that Sumeru is truly better off with no archon to watch out for them. 

After all, the people of Sumeru had once been granted the honour of being protected by the mighty Great Lord Rukkhadeveta. Perhaps, in their eyes, they have no use for a God who cannot live up to the impossible standard set by her predecessor. She is not as wise, as kind, as experienced, but what else is there? What is there for her to do besides be a God to her people? It is her only purpose, the only thing she has ever truly longed for. Her desire to see the sun is nothing compared to the desire to be a good archon, someone her people can look up to like they do for the archons of other nations. She longs to be revered, to be trusted, to be liked— maybe even loved. It is a selfish desire, she knows that. However, after 500 years of complete solitude, she thinks she is deserving of a bit of selfishness.

Yet, she continues to float. There is nothing for her to experience that is truly personhood. She is a robot, or she is herself, and neither of those are truly human experiences. Maybe if she could understand humanity better she would not be locked away, maybe if she was wiser, kinder, better, maybe then she would not be left here to rot. 

— 

Decades upon decades of exploring through the dreams of her children, the oldest of them being just thirteen, has left her confounded on what to do in this situation. She is used to seeing fantastic beasts and creatures– the likes of which even Celestia cannot create, horrible monsters conjured by fears of the dark and unknown, she is even used to walking through dreams which make the same amount of sense as the gibberish spoken by a baby. 

What she is not used to is seeing an adult, a full grown man's dreams. Those only come to her when outlanders visit Sumeru, and recently even those have ceased, no doubt because of the Sages. Nahida is not sure what to make of him, he is someone who she has not seen the dreams of since he was a a child, before he disappeared out of her realm completely, his dream energy being used to power the Akasha. While children are prone to forgetting, or believe that she is something conjured out of the imagination, adults are different. They can analyse and seriously inquire about their dreams, rather than be dismissed as children often are. 

The strangest part is him staring at her, like she is a puzzle he cannot solve. She wonders how a native to Sumeru, a member of the Academia could  possibly be experiencing a dream, especially with how they all constantly wear their Akashas.

“..Hello Haitham.”

“Hello, Lord Kusanali.”

Nahida freezes for a second, before sighing. She supposes she should’ve expected this from one of the Academias brightest students but it still leaves her reeling. It isn’t really hard to put together, after all she’s aware her appearance is rather.. peculiar.

She wonders if she should warp over to another dream, but it’s been so long since she’s last been able to speak to anyone who isn’t a child that she digs her feet in and figures she can stay for a little while.

It’s been over a decade and a half since she last saw one of Haitham’s dreams, just before he turned 11 and finally got an Akasha. His last dream had been an ornate library, with books from all over Teyvat lining the walls, and desks. It had been a thing of wonder, she had played as one of the other library goers. His dream at the moment was a far cry from that, and was especially peculiar for a Haravatat researcher. It was a beautiful building, one which she has seen in the dreams of one of her other followers, a little girl by the name of Dori. The Palace of Alcazarzaray, truly something which was as marvellous as it was expensive.

She wonders why it has appeared in the dream of Haitham, who to her knowledge has no dealings with Dori, seeing as she deals in business which the Sages deem illegal. It may have to do with his roommate, who is designing the building but it’s still an odd dream nonetheless.

“Do you appear in everyone’s dreams?”

The question catches her off guard, she had almost forgotten she was in the presence of someone else. She stiffens. How does she respond? She doesn’t know how to talk to anyone except for children. Would he expect her to act like a child anyway due to her appearance? Would he judge her for not speaking regally like a God should? She takes a breath, trying not to fall down a spiralling abyss of thoughts again.

“I jump between them, but I can appear in the dreams of people in Sumeru.”

He seems to consider this, before nodding. Nahida thinks that she will never understand humans, no matter how many dreams she visits or how much she knows, they are confusing creatures.

“I see.”

“How are you having a dream right now?” She blurts out before she can stop herself, her hands smack over her mouth when the words tumble out against her wishes.

Haitham looks down at her, before his face shows a tiny smirk, “I have to remove my Akasha due to my being hard-of-hearing. I did not leave it on tonight.”

“How come?”

Haitham thinks for a second, searching her gaze as if looking for something.

“Maybe I simply wanted to see what would happen.”

She knows he is lying, and she is sure that he is aware that she knows. After all, what is the point of being the Goddess of Wisdom if you are not wise enough to see through a blatant trick. Surely, a member of the Academia does not view her mind as so weak as to assume they can trick her so easily.

“What is it that you want?”

There is a look in his eye which indicates that it might not be something she wants to hear, but if there is truly a piece of knowledge which has escaped her grasp, she must know. After all, it is not as if the Sages who already give her so little will need her if she proves she does not know something.

“Do you believe it possible to create a God?”

Chapter Text

He shifts his body, the rigid suit around him making it impossible to be comfortable. It traps him on all sides, making it impossible to breathe, it feels less like the armour of a God and more like a prison. He isn’t sure he would be surprised if it was.

“How many more measurements could this possibly take?”

The tape measure around his waist tightens, an act of petty revenge from the man in front of him. His mouth twists into a snarl. Asshole.

“Patience, you want to be a God, don’t you?”

Zandik’s teeth are bared, his smirk inching on insanity. It’s an expression which has only become more frequent over the years, a sign of his decaying mental state. It’s not as if the Tsaritsa cares, the insanity has only made him more useful, willing to partake in more grotesque experiments. Scaramouche isn’t surprised, he expects something more intense at this point, centuries of being experimented on by the man and his clones have left him itching for something more during the rare moments of anger or annoyance Dottore displays. It feels like a last bit of disservice he can do before Scaramouche becomes a God, a reason to cement the Prime’s demise.

It’s not as if Scaramouche is going to take pity on him regardless, he’s not a Harbinger for nothing. Tartaglia may be soft-hearted and weak to the pleading of others, but centuries of misery have made it all too clear that the world is a cruel and unforgiving place, and no one, least of all a Harbinger, deserves mercy. His sister showed that when she murdered Rosalyne, he doesn’t blame her, if she hadn’t he probably would’ve ended up doing it himself. She was an idiot to oppose the Gods, even the Harbingers who could stand to oppose them hesitate. He’s sure if the God’s cared enough Zandik wouldn’t have been around either, but the Gods are fickle, and so the thorn in his side remains.

“Shut up.”

The tape measure around his waist further tightens, Scaramouche sighs. He can’t wait to finally be rid of the Second. His greatest headache crushed beneath the mechanical body’s hand like a bug. Then he can get rid of the copies, the little termites which continue to spread no matter what. After all, he has the luxury to see the original for the first time in over two centuries, surely he should take the opportunity and be rid of him entirely. It’s not as if anyone would care, the Tsaritsa has made it all too clear that they are replaceable. A dead harbinger is one too weak to be among their ranks, and a living harbinger is a pawn to be used in her war against the Heavenly Principles.

—

Nahida has spent the last few weeks looking over every log in the Akasha of the Sages whereabouts and searches in the past few years. It had started with days, before expanding to weeks, then months, before she finally decided on years. A plot like this would take a long time to come to fruition. Still, why move now? It felt far too sudden, hadn’t Rex Lapis just ‘died’? There was also talk of the Anemo Archon finally returning from his five century slumber. It felt like an inconvenient time for them to pull such an operation. Or perhaps it was perfect, with all the other nations so caught up with their own deities the Sages would not have to worry so much about rumours spreading of another dendro archon. 

Regardless of who could possibly be behind such a plot, there was no indication of treason. Every single log uploaded to the Akasha had been checked once, twice, then thrice. She has the highest authority, she controls that damned thing, and yet there is nothing to suggest the Sages plan to usurp her. Yet, she could not sense the intent to lie from Haitham, and the man was not stupid enough to draw this conclusion from nothing.

She would need to investigate, and unfortunately Katherine was simply not cut out for snooping. There was only one person who could get close enough to the plan without arousing suspicion, and it was also the man behind it all. She was not a God for no reason, and while she may remain in the shadows, she would not allow a harbinger to take over in her stead.

Chapter Text

Azar is a rather boring man, at least by Haitham’s observations. He’s unassuming, dignified, normal. There is not much which makes him stand out from any other older man who believes he is better than the younger generation, though he is far less upfront about it than the Grandpa’s at the market. The Grand Sage is rather hands off all things considered, asking for others opinions before deciding something for himself, upholding the rules of the Akademiya the same way anyone else would. 

There is nothing substantial to him, at least at first glance. Of course the fact that he is the Grand Sage immediately discredits the fact that he is not special. To be a Sage is to be a genius, it’s devoting your very life and soul to research, to the Akademiya, to Sumeru. The Grand Sage is meant to be someone who is competent, and wise, someone who upholds the three virtues, and admonishes the sins, but regardless of the rules set by the Akademiya on who should and should not be a Sage, it has become increasingly clear that these expectations are no longer being met. 

Haitham is not sure when he noticed, perhaps it was when he watched several proposals a year go through despite their clear violation of the sins, or when he was slowly being slipped more and more work which he should not have had to complete, documents for the Grand Sage’s eyes alone which joined his workload on top of his regular scribe duties. Perhaps it was when he started to realise the funding which would typically be going to the Darshans was dwindling, he’d heard that complaint from Kaveh at least a thousand times over before finally checking for himself. 

Clearly that money had to be going somewhere – but the money appeared to be all on the books. So, he began investigating. Admittedly a dangerous task if the Grand Sage was being so meticulous about this operation. Initially, he had figured it was just typical greed, the Sages hoarding mora for themselves just for the sake of it, but none of their lifestyles had changed, they did already earn an exorbitant amount of money, but there was still nothing different about their spending habits. It felt like a futile endeavour– but Haitham was nothing if not tenacious and he kept digging. There were rumours of an Akademiya graduate who had returned from Snezhnaya and was speaking to the Sages. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was a start.

–

Three days. That’s how long he’s spent awake, putting this whole mess together. Over the course of his two month long investigation he’s uncovered hundreds of clues, dozens of rumours, and seen more than a few suspicious occurrences. Regardless of that, he finally had a working case. Something which he can use to prove the Sages conspiracy.

There is a part of him that wonders why he is doing this. He has no care for the Gods, no reason to create all this extra work for himself, no reason to go out of his way to help someone else when it is of inconvenience to him. Perhaps it is his own dislike of change, or the unpredictability of the Sage’s plan which has led him to this, because ultimately he is selfish. It is something which he has been told time and time again, that he is selfish, cruel, too detached from human emotion. On some level, he knows that is true. He has never understood the ambitions that drive Kaveh, or anyone else for that matter, but he does not want the Sage’s plan to go through, and if that saves the archon then so be it. It is merely a consequence of his actions.

“What the fuck are you doing up at 2 AM? I can hear you shuffling around, you know!”

Haitham sighs, before pulling himself up, better to be prepared for Kaveh’s ranting at him. He winces slightly at the throbbing pain of his skull, the result of the lack of sleep over the past few days. A few hours of respite should undo the damage, but he knows it will only serve as more fuel to Kaveh’s argument of his ‘bad habits’. He doesn’t understand why a man who claims to hate him cares so deeply about whether or not he sleeps, but he knows if he asks there will only be a louder fight, which is not something he is privy to at the moment. 

The door to his room bursts open, and Kaveh stands at the entrance, arms crossed over his chest, and looking slightly ruffled but still in his day clothes. Did he not hear him return home? 

“Seriously? When was the last time you slept?”

He pauses, will giving an honest answer lead to more haggling? He’s not really in the mood for an argument, especially at this hour. His neighbours will surely hear and then he will have to deal with complaints and gossip from the Auntie across the street. Then Kaveh will keep complaining because he had to go make amends with her since Haitham refuses to engage her in a conversation for longer than a few minutes.

“Haitham!”

“Ah, sorry.”

Kaveh’s face scrunches up in confusion, as if the concept of him apologising is so foreign that it’s basically impossible. He walks up to him and places a cool hand on Haitham’s forehead, before flinching back as if he’s been physically burned.

“God, what the fuck? You need to sleep.”

“I’m working.”

Kaveh’s arms cross and he looks annoyed, as he lifts him up by the collar of his shirt, like he’s a misbehaving cat and not a human being. Haitham attempts to bite him in retaliation, which just makes Kaveh roll his eyes. 

They stare at each other for a solid minute, before there is another attempt to bite Kaveh. Usually Haitham is above such petty violence, but he feels awful and sometimes the only respite is being a little cruel.

Kaveh looks exasperated, it’s a look he’s seen a thousand times, but this one is also tinged in concern and another emotion which is lost on his sleep-deprived mind, “It’s time for bed.” He’s lifted up, his hearing aids taken out, before being tossed on his bed like a ragdoll. His back grazes the wall and he considers trying to bite Kaveh again, before he accidentally falls asleep, vowing vengeance when he doesn't feel like such shit.

Chapter Text

Nahida loves Sumeru. 

It’s beautiful, it's lively, it's everything she’s ever known. She was born here, she will die here, just as her people have, just as the Greater Lord had before her, despite all that it has done to her, Sumeru is her home. Sometimes, she whispers into the dark cocoon that has been her home for half a millenia, and she begs. She begs Celestia that Sumeru may love her as much as she loves it. With its soul, with its very being, until she feels renewed and whole for the first time. It’s a futile endeavour, Celestia is a cruel magistrate and her people are crueller, but she loves them regardless. She loves their cruelty, their anger, their love and joy– it sustains her, becoming a part of her as she lets it seep into her soul. 

Yet, their betrayal only hurts so much more because of it. She knows about their capacity for hatred, to cause pain, to sink their claws into her and rip her apart until the only thing that’s left is the bones which hold her up. It was not a surprise that these ways extended to her, she just did not think it would extend into being rid of her altogether, to take what is hers from her as if she is no longer worthy of her place as Sumeru’s archon. Perhaps she isn’t, perhaps she is being selfish and cruel herself for wanting, but it is a cruelty she has learned from the very people who are renouncing her. Is it not in the nature of Gods and humans alike to be selfish? To want something more for themselves? To have ambitions which they can never truly achieve unless they rip apart everything in their way? She wonders if the one meant to take her place is like her in some way, cruel in ways which can only come after decades and centuries of being cast aside. Will she be able to stop them if they are anything like her? Or will the idea of looking into her own reflection cause her to retreat once again?

She knows that if she wants she can ask a thousand questions, ones which she will never find the answers to no matter where she looks. There is nothing for her to do except move forward, no point in sitting in her cell, overanalyzing every aspect of her existence. She must leave, investigate, escape. It is not an absurdly difficult task, all she must do is find the control panel on Azar’s desk and open it. All she has to do is free herself, but what then? Where does she go from there? Does she show up at the Akademiya and declare herself the ruler of Sumeru? Surely, the God of Wisdom should know what to do, afterall, her title has to have some meaning beyond a meaningless wish from her minders for Lord Rukkhadeveta to return from the dead.

What does she do? Where should she go? There are a million possibilities, and she fears there is only one person with any answers. 

—

“Haitham.”

The voice of a child invades his dreams once again, it’s a voice he hasn’t heard in almost two weeks, but it is not something he wasn’t expecting. After all, Lord Kusanali has not made any moves as far as he could tell, none of the Akademiya’s operations have been disrupted, and Azar seems the same as ever, sitting on his throne as though he is above the common folk because he has been declared a genius.

“Greetings, Lord Kusanali.” The child in front of him seems flustered at the formal address, as though she isn’t used to it. It had been a long time since anyone has spoken to her, he does not think there is a Nation as unfilial to their archon as Sumeru. He cannot say he does not contribute to that, but at the very least he has the same respect for her as he does for anyone else, he does not revere someone who is long dead, as the people around him so blatantly do.

She rocks her body side to side like she is about to ask for something she is embarrassed to admit out loud. Perhaps because she views humans as beneath the Gods and finds it embarrassing, or perhaps, it is something which she is not used to asking for. It is hard for him to clearly read people, he can figure out what they want and are going to do, but understanding their personalities is beyond him. He supposes that is a contradiction, Kaveh has told him as much, but he is not versed in the art of conversation, so he simply jabbed back instead.

“You.. may call me Nahida.”

Ah. So that is what the child God wants, but then why is she visiting him again? Maybe she did not believe him the last time and wants proof, or she needs help executing a plan. That feels more accurate to an archon of wisdom. The wise are not foolish enough to believe people are beneath them, he thinks it is a lesson which Azar needs to learn. 

Nahida takes a shaky sigh, forcing the words out with great nervousness. It is another thing Haitham doesn’t understand. She is a God, she has no reason to fear humans in terms of physical strength. “Would you be willing to lend your assistance to me?”

“Whatever for?” 

She continues to rock, her eyes shifting off to the side as if waiting for something that is not there. People and God’s alike are truly confusing beings, they are a routine which has been lost on him ever since he can remember. 

“I need some extra people to help me with my plan, namely to distract Azar.”

Haitham thinks this over. If she needs more than one person he does not think she will be able to find them, but he can. He has one thing she does not, even when she is technically the ruler of Sumeru, he has never understood selflessness like Kaveh does, but he thinks he can do something just this once.

“How many?”

She looks startled, as if she was not expecting agreement, he cannot say he blames her with how little she is typically given, “What?”

“How many people do you need?”

Nahida looks contemplative, before replying, “Two. Maybe Three.” She seems more steady than earlier, as if remembering her position, and that this is a dream. 

He nods, he can do that. Anything to deal with less work, “Consider it done. What’s the plan?” A new God would only be more of a hassle, a nuisance upon his existence. Especially when that God is involved with the Fatui, he would rather die than work under such a reigme.

She looks relieved, smiling as though she did not expect this outcome. Perhaps she didn’t, again, he does not know what the God’s are privy to, but he would not be surprised if she knows him better than he knows himself.

“Alright, so..”

—

“Kaveh.”

His roommate looks up at him like Haitham has committed a crime, perhaps his actions have become slightly unpredictable in the past few months but he doesn’t think it warrants this. Just the biting incident, and the multiple instances of not sleeping enough. But it does not justify the way Kaveh is looking at him as if Haitham is going to bite him again.

Kaveh purses his lips, before finally replying rather curtly, “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Kaveh’s eyes narrow, analysing Haitham as if he does not believe him. He isn’t the one causing trouble all the time, so he doesn’t understand his roommate acting like he is. He’s not the one who has to get picked up at the Tavern at least once a week. Haitham’s eyes furrow, he considers biting Kaveh again, but he’s sure he won’t get the help he needs if that happens.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Kaveh looks at him disbelieving and Haitham sighs before conceding, “I need your help.”

His roommate physically recoils like he’s been burned and the culprit is in front of him. He isn’t sure if he should be offended. He considers snarking but ultimately decides that he does not know enough people to help him without Kaveh.

“Who are you and what have you done to my roommate!?”

Haitham chooses to ignore this, after all he doesn’t need to explain himself to this idiot, he just needs a small favour.

“Can you sleep without your Akasha on tonight?”

Kaveh’s face sours a bit, his nose wrinkling, “Why..?”

He sighs, he really did not want to do this; he is going to make sure Lord Nahida pays him back once all of this is over. He is also going to scrub himself clean so he can pretend this never happened, and preferably purge it from his memory. Maybe he’ll turn off his hearing aids so he never has to hear Kaveh speak again.

“Please?”

Kaveh begins malfunctioning, that is the closest he can describe the twitching movement he does.

“Fine.”

Haitham smiles and turns away, and he’s pretty sure he hears Kaveh fall out of his chair, but honestly that isn’t his problem.

Chapter Text

People often ask whether humans are truly free to make their own decisions. If free-will exists, or if the predetermined nature of every action that is executed lends us to having none at all. After all, our environment shapes who we are, and in some ways perhaps we are doomed to our actions– our fates. 

Scaramouche is unsure if the principles of humanity effect beings who are fundamentally inhuman. 

He was created as a vessel to a God after all, a rejected vessel, one which was never meant to be used but rather thrown away, but a vessel nonetheless. Discarded by his mother, by Katsuragi, by the boy in the shack that he called a home until home was nothing more than the roaring flames of his past licking at his feet and bearing their teeth. 

Perhaps in some senses discarding continues, something he can never truly be rid of. Cast aside by Dottore and his many clones as soon as they lose interest, and now by himself and the little God that stands before him. The one whos place he is meant to take.

She is so small, the size of a child, and up until now that’s all she has ever been to him. A defenseless, weak, powerful, undeserving, child. 

Yet, they are nearly equal in age, with five hundred years of experience, knowledge, and power behind them. He used to think he was more worthy of this position.

Looking at her clearly, he does not think he matches up to her.

She seems physically at least, far more frail than he ever was. Yet, there is a strength in her eyes he has never had, every decision he’s made one lashed out and carved by his uncontrollable emotions, every step he’s taken tainted by the very things that got him thrown away by his mother in the first place.

He tries to reassure himself, he has far more battle experience than this tiny God ever had, locked up in her cage, kept far away from the realities of war, chaos, and pain that plague Teyvat from end to end.

Of course, there is the matter of the gnosis– but the electro gnosis has been far more powerful than the dendro gnosis for centuries. 

So, why are you so afraid?

Is it those pesky emotions inside of you, the ones that make you hesitate before harming a child’s parental figure?  

Kusanali is no parent– she’s hardly half his height.

Yet.. she looks like someones daughter. In another life she is not imprisoned, in another life he never takes her place. 

The suit– its still unfinished, unable to move, unable to fight. So, it’s all up to him, to steal this throne he isn’t even sure he wants anymore.

Where are Dottore and the Sages anyway? 

Kusanali takes a step forward, he almost flinches. 

–

The blonde haired woman enters the room, her lungs heaving for air, the sword shoved carelessly back into it’s holster. Paimon follows after her, huffing as though she’s ran a mile and not had the privilege of flight. What a pathetic being.

He takes a scan of her, she seems a little roughed up, but still nothing too bad. He’s seen Kaveh in more dire straits after returning from the desert. 

“Al Haitham, I’ve cleared the security backup that was sent. If we can hold back a little longer– I’m sure Nahida will be able to fend off the Harbinger.”

Nodding, he looks at the manuscripts he’s found sprawled across Azar’s desk. Mentions of a vessel for a god, a host, the electro gnosis, and a litany of other nonsense fills the pages. They seem almost hysterical in nature, as though the Grand Sage was a mad man and not the most powerful man in all of Sumeru. 

“How’s Kaveh doing with the sages?” 

“He’s managed to keep them distracted, Azar’s still detained in that weird prison he has.. though none of us have seen Dottore,” Paimon squeaks out. He’s really staring to get annoyed by her voice, but he presses on. He can ignore her when the need is not so dire.

There’s suddenly a loud crash, and the door breaks open, wood splintering as the wood is ripped from it’s hinges. They’re faced with a small mob of the security that’s usually stationed around the house of Daena, and a blue haired man in a Fatui mask.

The traveller draws her sword, and he instinctively takes a stance, drawing his own weapons. 

He doesn’t believe in prayer, but he sends out a silent one of hope that Kusanali will finish up her work soon.

Perhaps she may even hear him.

–

The room seems to tremble with each strike, each swing, each miss. Nahida hates to admit that she’s far worse at combat than the harbinger, even if she technically knows what she should do, her muscle memory is just not there. Knowledge without experience is an unfairly limiting skill.

Granted, the information from the Irminsul is still incredibly valuable. Still the harbinger– or boy, really that’s all he is; puts up an incredible fight. 

“THIS IS MY DESTINY!” He screams, before charging up an attack that feels almost lethal, she dodges it and keeps throwing attacks at him. What of this was his destiny? Nothing in the Irminsul ever mentioned another Archon besides her, and Lord Rukkahdevta of course. He keeps throwing attacks at her, and she just keeps dodging as she watches him exhaust himself. 

She puts in another attack before he comes crashing to the ground from exhaustion.

Gingerly taking a step towards him, then another, then another, before finally kneeling in front of his crumpled form, his palms and knees to the floor, heaving. 

She reaches into him, pulling out the electro gnosis.

Smiling ever so softly, she pats his head.

“Your destiny is far better than this, now please have some rest.”

The boy exhausts himself and passes out. 

Good, that’s one problem out of the way.

Just two more left.