Archive of Our Own

Nahida loved the people of Sumeru. This was a fundamental truth of this world that no erasure in Irminsul could ever change.

This fact had not changed when she had exhausted the extent of her ever-encompassing power 500 years ago, restarting the Samsara of growth all over again as memories returned to the soil; like a plant, old leaves withered and petals faded away to make room for the new. Yet, like an anchor in the vast desert of the hourglass' grain, the roots remained - those roots being her love for humanity that grounded her to this mortal plane. No matter how much she lost, whether memory or strength, she would always regrow, for she knew she had to return to them, to guide and to nurture those same brilliant yet transitory flowers that would chase after her light so they too could find their place in the Garden of Life.

Her conviction had not wavered when rough hands snatched her from where she slumbered with an iron tight clamp, replacing the embrace of sunlight with a lifeless hum of muted human ambition, of knowledge that had grown thorns instead of bearing fruit. When they understood that she loved furiously rather than lectured omnisciently, they locked her in a cage, leaving roots that would have once been hers to command as her impenetrable bars. The little sapling was left to decay; no twinkling smiles from the moon would nourish her nor would there be dances and festivals and candies and music from those that she loved fervently, almost reverently. And for all of her reverence of the miracle that was humanity with their gift of miraculous dreams, she was left as non-existent, buried with the God she once was.

She was no longer the sapling that would grow into the tree. She wasn't even a rare flower to be put on display, left to garner value with the passages of time.

Somewhere along the way, when the darkness of the void swallowed her physic of purity, she hoped with a festering shroud of anxiety that her love was enough for those it was her duty to guide, for she felt that her unworthy self had nothing else to offer as compensation for her heinous inadequacies. For her crime of folly, of inexperience and general disappointment of expectations, she could only pray that her loyal love to those she barely knew was enough.

She didn't know if she would ever be enough.

So she found new ways to show her love; her innate sense of duty as the Archon of dreams advised her to guide those left with the capacity to weave together marvellous worlds from vivacious threads of consciousness. She followed them in deep forest adventures, soaring on organisms hidden in the depths of the earth through Saharas then in shimmering oceans. She accompanied the sick and the lonely, befriending the innocent yet the wise and bearing witness to the bold and the brave. And she knew that she still loved them, even when the waking world ripped away the fantastical branches that connected them, leaving her in dazed isolation for another twelve hours. She was resigned to a shade from their dreams that cast a slight shadow at the back of their minds; she was a fond sensation they couldn't quite recall, a comforting embrace or a soothing voice. She was constrained to debates of fiction thanks to the finicky pillars dreams were built on - like sand disintegrating in water when the dreamer awoke, leaving a foggy afterimage in still oceans.

Then, she was liberated. Despite the pressing matters at hand, her heart swelled with so much love she could cry.

Whilst the darkness of her cage still lingered, a parasite on a tree, she still endeavoured to love without requirement of anything in return. She was Sumeru's moon. She was Sumeru's sun. She was the dove that pointed the direction of true East. She was the tree of wisdom that sheltered all, helping them to find a place for the fruits they had gathered whilst traversing the long roads. She smiled with them, she dreamt with them and she grew with them.

She didn't know, though, that her love for humanity could grow even bigger, despite being the God of Wisdom. She doubted, in fact, that her love could ever die unlike beings such as herself who were followers of the cycle of life. Perhaps it was the true epitome of immortality. Maybe it was the true answer to eternity that she had heard the Shogun was seeking. Yes, she was a sapling, but she would always be defined by the seed she came from; this seed's walls were the hard shells of love. Love was instilled in her. Love was her birthright, the gift she was given by some unknown deity that's existence sifted through her fingers, and was meant to pass on to the birds.

It was odd yet completely sensical to her, irrational yet logical at the same time. She had never experienced love prior to her ostracization by the Sages. She only had the chance to observe it. Even then, the emotion felt intrinsically rooted in her. She could recognise it, follow it to its fullest extent and understand it with such nuanced complexity not even Sumeru's wisest could fathom. It was leaves from a tree she had grown into before. It was a tune hummed as part of some old hymn once used as a meditative lullaby. It was the steps of a dance that someone had gifted for a birthday before.

And yet this feeling defined her, defined most of her actions. It was her diligent tutor and her attentive guide. It was her secret strength instead of a weakness. It was the other power she possessed; she could not only access Irminsul and the minds of others, she could not only manipulate dreams, but she had the capacity to love and apply it indiscriminately.

She would sacrifice herself despite the fear that gripped her and the resignation of reverting to something more primitive. She would adjourn into the bowels of a dragon that could miam her to shreds, reduce her to a blade of grass. All out of love for her people.

Even if the occasional dissenter stormed through the Akademiya halls to speak of thorns and iron clamps and centuries spent slowly descending into the unknown and imperceivable with the memory of something brighter slowly being digested and emulsified by the abyss as the only suitable fate for one such as herself, she would offer them a smile and continue to love them.

She was a Samsara in itself. If Wanderer was a Samsara of burning bridges, she was a Samsara of repairing them or building them even, no matter if she was plunged into 168 loops of her nightmares all over again by humanity. As Lord of the Rainforest, the trees bowed to her, providing her with the branches needed to mend what was broken, bridging gaps to unify all living beings in a never-ending celebration of life under the same Maya Shrine. She represented life, growth, connections; the branches of a tree only continued to extend ever naturally, nurturing and tutoring the many birds that would one day need to leave the nest, yet not without a parting gift of wisdom from their god. For the people of Sumeru, life was the end and she, as the idol of knowledge, was the means. 

This Samsara of love was the cycle that had coexisted with every incarnation of her entire being and one she did not plan to grow out of, even if there were many cycles she had yet to grow into. This Samsara was fact, it was her definitive 'truth' that she would never shun or hide from. It was carved into her very nature.

"You scare me in only one regard, Nahida". The Dendro Archon had been sifting through knowledge in Irminsul one autumn day, attempting to find information for the Traveller whilst they traversed the desert. Her companion (although he insisted she should suspend this informality and refer to him as advisor) had some Irminsul panels of his own; she recalled he had gathered information about Fatui hiding underground in Sumeru's cave systems. At the statement, she felt herself furrow her brow as her hands suspended in the air, suspended in time by confusion. She had been called many things that were an antithesis to her personality but this was the most perturbing. Fear had never been her intention to instil. She could not even spend time registering that the Wanderer had been honest about a feeling defined in vulnerability - not to say that fear was weak - showing that their regular conversations were having progess as a new conundrum had been sown into her mind.

For the Wanderer, a being skilled in subterfuge and as astute as he was powerful having spent a lifetime observing the tea parties of the world's anthropomorphised serpents, his honest words meant that his statement was the unpolished truth.

Some thoughts bloomed and withered inside her mind. Were his words a comment on her actions? Had she created an unfavourable decree amongst her people? Or was it her words? She was well aware her inexperience in identifying and understanding the spectrum of human emotions often left her seeming blunt. But she had always hoped her kindness would remove the scope for intimidation. Perhaps this was metaphorical?

She was learning to have more confidence in herself and her judgments, but that did not mean that she was not susceptible to the occasional waver. In the darkness of night, even fireflies needed to pause to find light in the stars.

"Scare? How so?" Nahida responded.

"You open your heart far too freely. You open yourself up to the inevitable fall. It's almost masochistic. Do you gain a sense of egoism or superiority out of it?"

"I love because humanity has earned it".

The puppet scoffed, laughed sarcastically with brevity even. In the Sanctuary of Surasthana, his cynicism echoed off the walls with an oxymoronic hefty lightness to it that spoke of centuries of nuance and complexity; it was a gust of wind on some cloudy day, bitterly heavy yet refreshingly, transiently light. It bubbled lowly in the void beneath them. It became a choir of cacophony above them. Its presence became all encompassing, reflecting conviction and certainty that no smirk nor quirked eyebrow could convey alone.

"Earned? When have they ever earned anything aside from pity?"

As per usual with most things, the small God lacked hesitation, instilled with an equal sense of gentle certainty in her response.

"I believe they possess great power. They possess the power to dream. These dreams form ambitions, form relationships, form every web in their life".

In the silence of the room, the Irminsul panel was closed with a sound similar to the mechanisms heard on Fontainian cameras. In its place, vivacious strings of Dendro wove between her fingers, forming an image of cutout people holding hands. This was not merely a visualisation of her point but also an expression of her dreams for they had always entailed people holding hands and dancing in circles. The idea coaxed a soft smile from her not too dissimilar to the one's seen on teachers when they admire the tenacity of their pupils.

"Human dreams are like the ocean. They can erode away at coastlines, forming new rivers and pathways to flow through, all having a different end goal. Water is the element of life, and dreams are the life force that sustains human beings. Not only that but water has purifying qualities. I believe that dreams are the only thing that can completely dispel the madness. Us gods are rooted to our ideals, we do not have the capability to move past them. But mortality? They form miraculous dreams with a power of their own".

"Moreover, I pose this question to you. If a gardener values growth in their wide variety of flowers, will they flourish if left to their own devices? Or will they flourish when tended to with love and care?"

The bemused, challenging expression that ran free on the Wanderer's face had long since faded, probably some time during her explanations she guessed. His statement was rhetorical, oftentimes they were, yet she still felt the need to enlighten him, to challenge the beliefs that had been hammered into him by the cruel carpenter of tragedy. His studies in Vahumana were initially meant to take that role, encouraging him to move past the hurricane he kept himself confided in to shield from bridges that had long burned and fires that wished to shake him with a vengeance.

However, these studies still seemed to ignite a hostility in him as he challenged his peers and excluded himself from groups to do research on his own, leaving her to continue providing gentle nudges and lessons that guided his weary wisdom to a place of purpose.

He was talking openly and frankly with her about his views and questions at least. Although, she had come to learn that, like her, he valued the truth no matter how sharp, making their conversations easier; she had observed, after all, that many mortals hid behind platitudes or would rather hear a lie that soothed their wounds than hear honesty.

These open, challenging conversations allowed her to teach him and him to teach her. Such was the way of sharing wisdom.

"Your ideals are flawed," Wanderer countered bluntly, those muted wisteria in his eyes sliding to acknowledge her in a languid fashion whilst the rest of him remained attentive on his personal task. "Not all of humanity dream and not all humans dream to dispel madness, but rather to induce it. Would you want to nurture them then? To use one of your analogies, what happens when an invasive species enters your garden - just as beautiful but just as deadly? Then what? Do you nurture it to the detriment of your other plants?"

Nahida folded her arms, arching a finger at the bottom of her chin. She narrowed her eyes, fixating on a point on the floor, not missing the way that the puppet dispersed his own panels and folded his arms in patience.

"Whilst the plant is dangerous, it still has value. The best course of action would be to remove that plant from the populace but keep it elsewhere where it cannot cause harm until it is properly understood. Maybe how it grows is misunderstood and thus a different approach is needed. Maybe it has been impacted by a parasite and needs more care. Maybe the other plants need its introduction to grow stronger by adapting to its presence. Maybe it merely must be separated so that the gardener knows what to be wary of next time. There are many variables to consider. Just because a person is evil does not necessarily mean that the knowledge within their dreams does not have any worth nor does it mean that they are not worth redirecting to a better path".

The god of Wisdom stepped down from the platform to walk over to one of her shelves decorated with books and trinkets of her desires. From there, she picked up a small plant pot, pattering over to the taller of the two so he could observe it with ease. It was a rare flower in Sumeru, rarer than the Pardisarahs that attempted to emulate the beauty their ancestors had been blessed with, all due to the fact that it only existed in the land of dreams, nourished by the purest of memories planted in the earth. Its ethereal colours added vibrance to the typically sage background, glowing in giggling communication as Nahida fed it with some of her Dendro power.

"People can become misguided but the knowledge and dreams that come into fruition from that misguiding are not necessarily worthless, even if they can cause harm, as they all come from a unique perspective with unique experiences that all hold a version of the truth. Sometimes, they only need guiding to the right path and sometimes it takes nurturing from others for them to be truly understood. And sometimes, for the people who stray too far, their knowledge and dreams are a lesson in what we must avoid whilst also providing the groundwork for someone in the future to pick that knowledge back up but utilise it for good, as seen with Sachin and Kaveh. No person is not worth guiding or nurturing to see where they go".

There was a brief pause of silence, the song from some dusk bird outside seeping into the large room. The Wanderer narrowed his eyes at such a large explanation before sighing, his tone weighted with inconvenience as if this explanation was unprompted rather than asked for.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

There was a chorus of bells as the former Balladeer signalled his exit in the form of a chimed symphony, blankets of blue silk slowly swaying behind him like feathers on a bird.

"Does all of humanity really deserve your love, Lord Kusanali? Especially when they are quick to deny you of it".

"I will never ask for love from my people".

"Hmph. It's the least they could do for you as a god since they demand your love without remorse".

"Not all relationships are transactional, we've discussed this".

"I know, I don't need reminding".

Icarus stopped, his head turning to the side as one hand came to the brim of his hat, allowing him to sweep it round effortlessly to face the small god. His gaze was cold, although this icy stare was not made of frozen hatred, rather of something that had infested his core for many a year now. His words that followed were even colder, accompanied by a low tone with plosives purposefully announced to show his conviction, to show the fruits of his growth and their lengthy conversations of the laws of life so far.

"But sometimes they should be. Sometimes, one party does not deserve to gain anything at all".

—

The Akademiya was arguably the crown jewel of Sumeru. It was the centrepiece in the bouquet's arrangement, framed by the exuberant leaves of the Sacred tree that cradled the life force of the city. When uttering the name 'Sumeru' to any other occupant in any other nation, vivid dreams of the impressive building would come to mind; it was not only Sumeru's sparkling joy but it was also what defined the country. With tourmaline tiles painstakingly carved by the twinkling stars of Ksharewar complimented by the white pillars and curved cyan windows, it was a beacon to all living beings across the seven nations, the pinnacle to aspire to, the floating lotus on a pond of dreams and desires. Those grand arched doors with golden accents that mimicked the winding and unrestrained nature of vines were always opening, welcoming indiscriminately and closing, accepting new bright eyes whilst celebrating the graduates who would walk out with pride, path now forged and a concrete end in mind.

Outside, one could guarantee there would always be a crowd of eager scholars discussing academic matters to some degree in the circled plaza overseeing the many markets and new opportunities docking in at the small port. They were birds, flocking to the highest branches of the tree of knowledge to find the twigs, seeds and branches needed to construct nests or plant trees for future forests and the Akademiya would gladly give them the tools needed to track their goal amongst the boroughs of intellect and shrubbery Sumeru kept stored in its hollow.  The Akademiya's purpose had always been to educate and nurture the small finches that hopped from local roofs as well as the hawks that had soared overseas, fulfilling the will of the Dendro Archon; everyone had a right to seek knowledge and everyone had a right to have their knowledge guided to a purpose. This was the intention that would always remain within the building's roots, even if sand buried it alive or the sacred tree burned.

Yet, despite the institution's importance to the nation, to the fundamentals of how Sumeru was run and to Kusanali's own values, the small god had not set foot inside the lobby bustling with curious conversation since her liberation.

There were several reasons for this.

Firstly, the Sanctuary of Surasthana provided all that she needed. There was no need to aimlessly totter around the busy hallways, likely scaring a few of the reverent kind half to death, all in search of information or tools. The latter half of that point also had some importance; despite the thorns that her nation had previously bound her in, she was still an archon that was widely loved - loved in fervent sort of worship that her mere presence could bring the most erudite scholar to a bumbling mess and the most stone-faced Eremite to tears. For the sake of academics that often prayed for the gift of concentration as well as her emotionally inexperienced self, it was better to steer clear from the building to allow it to thrive.

She had also been extremely busy. Managing Irminsul, reconstructing Sumeru's political and economical landscape and finding time to address the issues of corruption had kept her within the confines of the Sanctuary most of the day, panels at her fingertips bursting with information. She would occasionally go for strolls around the city and breaks in the Akademiya gardens, but having the time to peruse the House of Daena had unfortunately not been slotted into her self-made schedule.

Moreover, she had no need to be in the Akademiya. Whilst it had governed Sumeru during her imprisonment, this was no longer the case. Yes, she communicated with the Grand Sage often in regards to arranging events, distributing resources and implementing new laws, but she was ultimately the highest authority in Sumeru. There was no purpose to doing her business in some stuffy office belonging to a sage when her room in the sanctuary existed, full of items that both relaxed and invigorated her, a jar of Candied Ajilenakh nuts just in arms reach to pop in her mouth when she hit a wall in her thinking.

She told herself that these factors culminated into the humane emotion of 'unfamiliarity', like a lost deer apprehensive of their surroundings. It had to be 'unfamiliarity' she was feeling, sitting in some closed off Akademiya office with a weathered looking Azar glaring daggers at her small form.

The Former Grand Sage, the enforcer of her prison, being present in the very place he once operated in would be considered unorthodox to any advisors that rose up from the depths of the building on that circular lift. In fact, it would possibly even raise the alarm for concern considering that the elderly man was now restricted to Ghandarva Ville for the rest of his days after his crimes of both treason and arrogance. However, with her duty to protect her people, it was Nahida's job to cut off any infected branches before the disease spread to the roots and could no longer be untangled; the Fatui who were partially responsible for the unrest in Sumeru had to be chased out and even the Wanderer's assistance was not enough in achieving this conquest. They always dissipated into some shadowy corner, slithered underground like the venomous snakes of Teyvat they were, constricting their grip of discord round the seven nations in the name of the Cryo Archon.

The icy fangs of the Tsaritsa were not welcome in the nation of life and summer.

So that's why Azar was here, slouching in front of her, in the very office that used to be his own, some clock ticking away in the background as she patiently waited for his cooperation as in his hands were the threads she desperately desired to understand and snap, forever removing Sumeru from the Fatui's sphere of interest, sealing any exploits they could abuse in the future.

The vastness of the room only exaggerated how small the two were in this debate; compared to the large walls fitted with bookshelves to house a library in itself, the tinted windows behind the desk that encompassed a wall in itself, and the large orb that had once been the brain of the Akasha and remained floating in the office as a reminder that the purpose of the Sages were not to give away and store information but rather use it to help, the pure drop of sunlight was nothing but a glimmer in a sea of information whilst Azar seemed swallowed under the current of shadows.

The old man had indeed shrunk since his punishment. Perhaps it was finally the toll of mortality ironically making him face his penance for his arrogant attempt at crafting an immortal. Perhaps, with his title stripped from him, his ego and pride had also gone to the grave, leaving his gestus weak and insecure. Or perhaps he was like this all along, a small being who hid behind a large coat.

He kept his arms crossed, covered close to his chest in a position she recalled was defensive; psychologically, it symbolised attempting to hide vulnerabilities as the chest was the weakest part of the human body, containing most of their vital organs that had been swaddled in cloth and flesh. His hands, which gripped tightly on his cotton sleeves were bony, the once bold, thick essays that were his skin reduced to nothing but thinning, brittle paper decorated with messy, sloppy blotches - the bruises of time, the words of finality. His white hair was nothing more than an aged quill that had frayed at the ends, connected to the long dried ink pot inside his head that could no longer demand decrees that fit his whims.

Yet his eyes were still young, exuberant. She recognised that from the many times he had towered over her, blocking out the sun and moon to wither the small sprout who was desperately trying hard to grow its first leaf. Deep blue voids that spoke of the uncharted ocean where monsters prowled. The Abyss where the worst of human ambition guided wayward souls. The darkness that squashed her between its hands, speaking sweet discouraging chapters as she fell further into the long dream. Those pools of everything suffocating were locked on her, a sharpened glare of disgust and disappointment constantly trying to lacerate what composure she had.

Nahida kept eye contact with him, hoping her steely resolve was apparent in her irises.

She did not fear him, she was certain in that analysis of her own feelings. To some degree she pitied him; he was merely lost without his god, and chasing after illusions of the past with the closest thing he had that could never live up to those expectations. Most of all, she was angered by him, although she refused to let this emotion take the throne where her brain should lay; she had proven to everyone she was a capable ruler. Capable to everyone but him.

Her hands remained patiently clasped over the wooden desk, intricately carved with an artist's love for flora. Underneath her wrists were files on Azar's life, history and work, all for her perusal beside a pot of pens and a box of smaller paper for notes, given to her by none other than the silent and solitary Scribe. It had been interesting to read on what exactly the old man had done in her absence; she had never been allowed to peer into his mind or life as he had been wary enough to keep an Akasha away. A quick skim led to the resounding confirmation: not a lot of good, it seemed. His rule had been defined by apathy and governed by logic to kill the epidemic of folly in all scholars who would represent the greatness of their nation.

The pendulum of time swung again. Left. Right. Left. Right. It marked the minutes since she had entered this room with the Scribe at her side, clutching the hem of her dress as she recited intently how she wished to start this interrogation and what points she wanted to hit with precision. It marked the seconds that she had been sitting in the cerulean cushioned chair, watching as the tyrant ascended with two guards at his side, her legs swinging back and forth. Back and forth. It marked the lost grains of sands only perceivable to Irminsul and the Thousand Winds since Azar took his seat with an air of haughty dignity and refused to answer her freely, gaze cold and analytical.

Nahida exhaled. She had been expecting some show of resentment, an outburst of pent up emotion that would leave nothing but cooperative fatigue in its place. The naive dreamer that loved humanity had hoped that the passing months had mellowed him and the time spent in nature had swiftly brought the realisation that there was more to life than accruing a kingdom of wisdom or surpassing the limits of mortality; that he would be more than willing to help. She knew this latter hope was nothing but wishful thinking. If Sumeru was defined by the tenderness of plants that grew, this man was the epitome of unflinching stone that moved for no one and crushed those stuck underneath its deathly weight. He would always be arrogant, selfish and elitist. It was the nutrients that had sustained his life form for so long. He was the invasive species that could not grow but acted as the red flag of what to avoid. That was the truth.

Lord Kusanali narrowed her eyes.

"I appreciate you accepting my invitation to discuss vital matters regarding Sumeru's future".

Silence.

"You may have noticed yourself but, despite the destruction of Shouki No Kami and the Doctor disappearing after the experiment failed, Fatui still roam the land. I'm concerned their continued presence could not only put my people in danger but hint towards further intentions to intervene in Sumeru's political process to cause further unrest".

"And where exactly do I come into this?" Azar drawled, words annunciated with emphasis on the plosives. "Have you forgotten, Lesser Lord? You confined me to labour in those rainforests amongst those putrid fungi and dim forest rangers. I have not contacted nor seen the Fatui since Dottore failed to uphold the success he promised me".

 "This is not a matter regarding your present station, but rather your past". She clarified, ignoring the title that intended to shame her and the underlying insult of 'are you stupid?'. ' Set boundaries and take control of the conversation', Wanderer had once advised her ' don't be a hypocrite and encourage me to set them and not do so yourself. Boundaries are the best way of backing your enemy into the corner. If your defences are watertight, they will never win over you. After all, a negotiation is merely a spar of whoever has the sharpest tongue' . 

She wanted to get down to business and so that was what she would do.

"When building Shouki No Kami, you had to construct a way in which you could not only communicate with the Fatui but enable the Doctor to enter the Akademiya without being noticed. When you failed, these methods were not discovered by the Matra even after thorough investigations of your documents and your abode. These methods are believed to be how Snezhnaya still manages to penetrate the rainforests of our country".

"The all-knowing God of Wisdom is begging me for information? How pathetic. Look what you have been reduced to, gambling and negotiating for scraps of information".

Stand your ground. Mortal lives, values and beliefs waver like bubbles on water. They're fickle and it makes them weak. You are immortal. You are a God. Have confidence in your conviction. If you don't, you will fail.

A phantom of the past left Azar's mouth and entered through her ears; the chasm that had replaced the tree of confidence was defined by 'unfamiliarity', yet now it seemed the opposite. Familiarity defined the hole in her chest, the weighted yet empty feeling of cold air rushing through one's insides as if they were free-falling into the depths of some distant, dark canyon.

Her hands felt heavy, holding landscapes of boulders and the might of the trees; they would either submit to the slow chill that had been prickling the hairs at the back of her neck begging for attention and acknowledgement, or they would crumble in the earthquake of the mind that, by extension, would always materialise in the body.

Those words, their incantation and the way they were accentuated possessed her entire being, haunting her small form. Those were the words first given to her when she was born. The ones she was raised on. The nutrients she helplessly fed on when floating in a cage that would have once bent to her will. They were her past. They were the shadow she occasionally saw in her peripherals before she went to address those with an air of importance. They were the hooks on the fishing rods that dragged her from her attentive observation over dreams.

Thickly, she swallowed. These sensations that a few comments had necromanced from beyond the grave could be processed later.

"I could read your mind," Buer stated, showcasing the determination and strength befit to the one who represented the lofty trees and it's characteristics, "but you still count as one of my people. I feel it would be a breach of your rights if I did such. Moreover, if you truly cared for the progress of this nation, 'superiority' as you call it, you would understand that the presence of the Fatui who desire to rule this nation undermines that".

Azar paused, the look of disdain slowly falling into something more pensive as he brought a hand to his chin. For all of his faults, at least he was consistent with his personality. With an arrogant man, one always knew where they stood and what words were like a brandished iron, burning hot and ready to poke them into submission. What was it her advisor had said once? Knowing your enemy allowed you to hold all the cards.

"Given that the Fatui were the reason for our failure, I am surprised that you could not yet rid yourself of their useless and inefficient servants. The Doctor was far too detached and arrogant whilst the vessel they chose for godhood was too weak".

He was referring to the robot, of course, for that had been the villain in this timeline. The comment still felt like accidentally stumbling across some form of seafood in her meal, however.

"It seems we stand upon common ground then. You dislike them and view them as a detriment to the glory and strength of Sumeru. I view them as a danger and also dislike them. Logically, to complete our mutual aims, it would be in your best interests to provide me with the information I need".

"What would I get in return?"

Nahida's ears twitched, recognising the language almost instantly. The two major conversations she had participated in since being reinstated as Sumeru's central authority contained such; the language of deals, of trade, of transaction.

And normally, she felt it befit to comply. Negotiations were, after all, a completely fair way of ascertaining a desired item, ensuring both sides were satisfied whilst also encouraging future negotiations and mutual agreement. She had entered such a transaction with Il Dottore and apparently also with Scaramouche, the mask previously worn by Wanderer.

But here? Now? With him?

This would be the first time that she would refuse a negotiation for knowledge, refusing the fair terms that came alongside it.

She wouldn't even take his bait of deigning his question worth consideration or debate.

"You are still being punished for your crimes against Sumeru. I believe the terms of your penance are quite favourable in comparison to punishment in other nations; in Inazuma and Snezhnaya, treachery is punishable by death. Work cultivating new plant life in areas healing from the Withering is more mercy than you deserve".

"Hah! So not only do you plead for information from me but then you refuse to consider that the terms should be just? I thought the lessons you were given from Vahumana regarding the culture of Liyue would have taught you such vital factors. It seems that even the pity we gave you upon finding you was also a waste of time".

"You do not desire knowledge, you would have no need for it," she listed on her fingers, "given your access to Irminsul and your control over the Akasha for many years. You are also stable materially. Moreover, in your current position, both knowledge and material would be useless. The only thing you would want is for your punishment to be removed and to be reinstated in the Akademiya due to your scholarly nature. Those are terms I simply cannot agree to, for the risk that you bring is far too high".

“Reinstating me would be beneficial to the Akademiya”.

Azar’s words had always been sharp for as long as she could remember, a sickle that expertly tore an argument, or pleas for that matter, to shreds without an ounce of sympathy or remorse dulling that blade. But she never recalled it being this quick; the ex-Grand Sage enjoyed lengthy and slow debates wherein he could showcase his intellectual and structural superiority whilst leisurely digging the weapon into the heart of his opponent so that the pain and shame would forever be lasting, marring their reputation and scarring their self-worth.

Perhaps this was desperation, a man crawling to the oasis in front of him even if it meant losing his mind or sacrificing a limb. Perhaps it was irritation at her stubbornness; she was notorious for fairness and mercy but these rumours had failed him. Or maybe he was more used to her not being able to fight back, floating in the eye of humanity’s opal with no grasp on what was reality anymore.

Much like throughout this conversation, she did not know what emotion was appropriate to feel. Anger at the continuing selfishness? Anger at his clear lack of accountability? Pity for the man he had become? Or maybe concern that the punishment she had deemed merciful was in fact driving an erudite scholar to the ends of madness.

Nahida frowned, opening her mouth to speak before she was interrupted.

“Under my rule, Sumeru flourished. It was the pinnacle of Wisdom in Teyvat. Do you not wish for our people and their wisdom to surpass what was previously thought to be impossible?” He rasped, grip on the desk in front of him becoming quickly more white whilst those abyssal eyes only grew more wild, as if the creatures from five hundred years ago were trying to crawl out and consume her whole.

“Under your rule, Sumeru decayed”. The God of Wisdom clarified simply, swallowing her pondering that would contribute to the creeping desire she felt to end their talks as quickly as possible. Unfamiliarity, that’s all it was. The synonym for inexperience. That was all it was. That was all the tension in her chest was, the tangle like-feeling of the string of some child’s toy tightening over her ribcage but tender like elastic bands. “Your restriction of information and overreliance of the Akasha stunted the cognitive abilities of the scholars you valued. You ignored the rights of the people; the right to freedom of speech, freedom of expression and the right to welfare. And this not only impacted those in the Rainforest but also those beyond the Wall of Samiel. Simply, you were not conducive to the growth of this nation”.

One could predict an arrogant man to a certain degree. But when an arrogant man had nothing to lose, arrogant only for the stolen pride he felt entitled to, he became as predictable as a forest fire; wild, frenzied and uncontrollable.

She started to sense this when Azar laughed, a sound so unnatural for him, the one who never showed joy and shunned the human ability to emote as merely taking up space for what instead could be used for rationality. He threw his head back and emitted a hearty laugh, one that accentuated the rattle of his breath that came with declining age.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, moving her hands onto her lap to fiddle with her fingers. She never took her eyes off of him.

What next came out of his mouth was predictable yet unpredictable all the same.

“You are not omnipotent, omnipresent or omniscient". Azar seethed, a stormy unforgiving ocean, a relentless whirlpool with suffocating currents, a barrage of mountainous waves towering over the small teardrop of light she represented.

 "How do you expect to qualify to represent wisdom when the knowledge of humanity surpasses your own? I made a god. You make childish dreams. How are you worthy of the mantle of god wisdom? You cannot even understand your people, seeking to learn about subjective cues as if that holds the truth to what people need and how they should be governed. Ignorance. Folly. Unintelligence. Weakness. That is what outrage springs to mind when I think of your crimes against the nation that was defined by logic you have slowly drained from it”

Azar slowly rose from his seat, tone low and dangerous yet containing the energy of a crazed fanatic as he leaned closer to the steadfast God.

“You have weakened the Akademiya. There is a struggle for funding and for resources all because you now focus on dispersing material to the desert and to the arts, how pathetic. You deny the crown jewel of our nation the gold it deserves to be gilded in”.

“And soon, the scholars who are the blood of this nation will realise that my laws and decrees were right whilst my punishment is unjust. You did not do what was best for the nation, you did what was best for yourself, fuelled by irrational emotion, manipulating the populace into believing that we were villains and then pretending to be merciful to consolidate your rule”.

“I see you clearly. You are not only a poor excuse for a god but you are a tyrant. I do not think your narrow-mindedness will ever overcome this. You will never be worthy of Sumeru”.

And finally, everything clicked into place in her head as a slight drizzle of rain clouded the rainforest in her eyes. The shackles that weighed upon her bones, the cold gales that whipped up in her lungs and knocked all certainty out of her, leaving her chest quivering as if frazzled and out of balance, the earthquakes of the mind that gave rise to a sense of dizziness. Her analysis of these symptoms had resulted in an incorrect prognosis; 'unfamiliarity' was not what she was feeling. In fact, this feeling was one she had experienced before, although Kusanali had been correct to initially assume otherwise - the intensity was…. Different this time round, beguiling her for these past few hours.

No, this feeling had stricken her at several times in this incarnation, often leaving her to wonder if her predecessor was plagued sometimes with such curses.

It was the void that suffocated and muted her mind when she was locked away to never be released for her failures. It was the ash that had started to formulate deserts in her lungs when she awoke in an unfamiliar land, sky painted with the anguish of all living beings. It was the iron that clamped upon her wrists to drag her back to the Akademiya.

It was pure fear. Sheer anxiety that started in the diaphragm and slowly clawed its way up the trachea.

It was the worry that governed some of her decisions, for the fear of letting her people down despite everything still occasionally lingered unresolved like fog shrouding the guiding moonlight. This fear led to a domino effect; she feared letting her people who had worked so hard to free her down, she then feared that if she failed them she would be put back in her cage left to sing a lonely ballad for 500 years more.

Azar's words had power and wisdom to them for they left her drowning in mirages of the past that threatened to lock her away once more whilst she acknowledged the horrible truth of them - she was only still learning about the world and there would come a time when it would not be enough.

Archons, there had already been a time where it was not enough but, before she could sacrifice herself, those elemental beings instead took that place inside the great Dendro dragon Apep. How many more times would that happen? What would happen if the time came and only she could create a solution? What if the Fatui Harbingers intercepted the country again? She had no knowledge useful for Dottore, in fact he traded unknown knowledge to her, and with the gnosis gone she had no bargaining chip or negotiation that could act as a failsafe.

And tyrant? She hoped that she would be able to rule with kindness and fairness like her previous incarnation. But did judgements made on pure subjective emotion contrast this aim? These were questions steeped not only in inexperience of life but inexperience of her comprehension of emotions - not just identifying and understanding them, but debating the morality and validity of it all.

Kusanali hoped her expression steeped in thought did not obviously betray this flood of unwarranted thoughts. Her composure had to remain for the sake of Sumeru's safety and such troublesome questions could be pondered later in some fresher air. She closed her eyes and silently counted to ten in her head. Set boundaries . Her boundaries were that she did not want to talk about this now. Have conviction. She was certain she did not want to talk about this. Not sheerly out of avoidance of the harsh truth but because it was not conducive to their conversation of which had a singular purpose; to put an end to Fatui interference. Now all that was feasibly needed was to steer back on track once again, limiting all further distractions to the vital matter at hand. For the people she loved, she would merely have to put her own dilemmas aside.

If there was one thing she was good at, it was compartmentalising and moving on.

"These comments, whilst I acknowledge them, are not relevant to our current conversation that you agreed to partake in when you accepted my invitation. Are you possibly like a little fledgling staring out of its nest, lacking in conviction about your beliefs on Sumeru's superiority?"

"Whatever tactics and mind games you are thinking of pursuing, brat, it will never change the natural fact of your inherent uselessness".

The books on the shelves started to rattle as Azar's words came to a perfect cadence, as if what he was stating was universal commonsense, and a gush of pressure had whipped up, rushing past her ears to drown out the sound of the grandfather clock. It was cold, this Arctic blast, reminding her of the wet and windy days in Apam forest spent with Aranara, and it was relentless, refusing on compromising a bit of the attention currently trained on its presence.

The gale whipped around the room, howling and scratching at the walls, threatening to tear papers loose into its tumults. It was as if an animal had entered the room, sprinting along the walls and roaring ferociously down at them.

Even Azar's attention was diverted as he moved away from the young God, eyes narrowed in confusion at the phenomena surrounding him. His posture straightened and any guard could walk in and just see an old, weary man. Yet, as her gaze flickered between the white pristine walls of the office to Azar's scrunched and scrutinising face, she eventually noted that his fists were still gripped with his conviction; she was the worst thing to ever exist in Sumeru. He was trembling too, eyes darting around the room in a frenzied state to ascertain the origin of this elemental energy. It was as if he was scared, as if he recognised this situation; of being alone with the lesser lord or seemingly so.

She then heard the old man scowl and relax, leaning her body to the right to see past his cotton white clothes to the area of the lift.

Nahida had not realised thanks to the growth of the howling desert of erosion in her chest, one that frayed her nerves, that a certain blue-clad advisor of hers had entered the office. His eyes were concealed by the brim of his hat, something that wasn't typically unusual because he seemed somewhat aware that his eyes always betrayed his emotions, but his jaw was kept tight, straightening his lips into a fine, intolerant line whilst his footsteps lacerated through the noise around her. Each step contained the might of a tornado that simultaneously stunned the room to silence whilst adding to the power of the voracious wind rampaging around them.

His presence perturbed her. If she memorised correctly, his classes in Vahumana were timetabled for that current moment. He was either avoiding his lesson again or he had gained some vital information that needed to be shared.

The God of Wisdom opened her mouth once again, this time to warmly greet her companion with that signature small smile and enthusiastic wave of her hand.

And, for the second time in the last hour, she was interrupted.

"How pathetic. A bit of air has gotten you all worked up and trembling".

This attitude was nothing new, one could even call it one of his signature traits that exacerbated his eccentricity. However, the Wanderer knew to hold his tongue unless necessary when she participated in meetings such as these; the Balladeer had been a master of subterfuge who had no room for imperfection when it came to that which he specialised in; to contrast popular belief, he had not simply been the volatile lightning but also the looming, patient clouds restraining such danger before. He adapted to his situation with slick ease, never missing a single beat in the musical score plan made up in his head that brought victory each and every time. In the complex orchestral construction of a symphony, he was the fuge - the calm and the chaos. To coexist as such a juxtaposition was a talent, one that had helped effectively govern her nation time and time again.

Enlisting the chaos of the situation, being this oxymoronic fuge had been clearly so unexpected to Azar that his annoyed demeanour faltered conspicuously to genuine shock as some words to register the situation bounced in the back of his throat to leave strangled stutters.

The puppet ascended the stairs, his eyes finally in view.

The wisterias he harboured no longer contained the serenity of flowers and spring, instead there was a crackle of something familiar glowing darkly behind those vaults to the soul, something that reminded her just how dangerous her advisor had once been when allied with the fatui; the petals had been torn from their stem, worn down in agitated gales of some brewing storm. A storm that grew bigger in not just size but intensity, heavy with the weight of scorn. In fact, it was clear to see that the behaviour of the hurricane currently threatening to hurl all the books from the shelves into random directions reflected whatever he kept locked behind those narrowed eyes and fixed scowl.

Each step closer resulted in the anemo wildly dancing around them stilling, yet his eyes only darkened with something . The closer he got.

She was still learning to accurately read emotions for they were unique to each person - she was lucky that the Wanderer, despite all his ranting on the uselessness of mortal feelings, was actually fairly expressive. When it came to him, it was easy to tell what he was feeling and, sometimes, what he was thinking.

But there were those rare times where she couldn't tell.

This was one of those times.

She could identify easily that he was angry. His vision would not have reacted in such an aggressive way otherwise. But looking into his eyes, so severe yet so energetic, sparky, alive, there was something else she could not quite pinpoint. Perhaps this was a token he had brought with him from his previous incarnation, for there were times she forgot he had formerly been the Balladeer before erasing that title from Irminsul and the desperate, broken life form along with it.

When he finally reached the top of the platform, he only took a few more precise steps; he strayed from the desk, acknowledging his presence was unorthodox after all, since he had just waltzed in without official Akademiya staff identification, yet keeping close to Azar. Whether that be to stop him from running or so that whatever emotion he was feeling would seep from his figure and suffocate the man he waited shrewdly upon.

"You said it yourself, you created a god. So why are you shaking like a coward?". His tongue was a blade, sharpening itself on those metallic words in a skilful yet abrupt manner, sparks flying from the combination of the two. He kept his eyes on Azar, narrowing his eyes further and tilting his head in a taunting motion.

The old man gaped, eyes widening with sheer disbelief at the disrespect he was currently being assaulted with. Knowing Tighnari, he would have advised the forest rangers to merely watch over Azar as he laboured to correct his wrongs, but never had the man not only been challenged but had his ego ripped from his throat and trodden on the floor right in front of him, electrocuted and burnt for good measure.

Nahida watched carefully as the very obvious cogs started to whir in the old man's head, trying to formulate some retort to save the only precious thing he had left. Instead, he shut his mouth and turned back to face her, his posture now stiff at the imprudence he was facing as a sharp spike in apprehension cursed her, waiting to see how he would interpret this as a personal slight against him.

"Have you fallen so far from grace that even eccentric strangers can enter highly restricted areas of the Akademiya as they please, throwing their visions around?" He spluttered, once again directing a disdainful glance upon the god he rejected, firmly folding his arms together. "I know you lack power and control, but I didn't know that the small semblance of order given to you had also crumbled".

Whilst keeping her stance strong, she mentally deflated.

She had never planned on someone entering to scold him, but she had hoped that with the Wanderer's honest and blunt attitude it would humble the man slightly. Then again, that was the naive dreamer within her, not the one who acknowledged the truth that this man was now a cornered dog, bearing his teeth and striking in every which way with his claws in hopes of landing a hit that allowed for his survival.

Why was she gambling on outcomes when she could see in front of her what was happening, as clear as sunlight? Her predecessor would have just known the best course of action. She really was just proving him right instead of wrong. Another seed of resignation planted within herself at that realisation, nurtured by the liquid anxiety flowing through her lungs and the burning of her heartbeat through her entire being.

"Are you deaf or just stupid?" The puppet intervened once again.

There was a silence as Azar quickly whipped his head around, that sickly pallid skin blooming with hot blood. The winds seemed to stop, watching the situation with amusement.

"What?"

"I asked you a question. Aren't you scholarly types so keen to start lording your intellectual superiority over everyone and answer the question? I expect you to answer"

"I won't stand for-"

"If you don't have the answer to my question then I guess that makes you stupid. If you refuse to answer my question that confirms my suspicions that your only defining feature is cowardice. All bark, no bite". Her advisor drawled as if this occasion was something he encountered daily and had become quite a dull event. This only seemed to anger Azar more, she noted curiously as she tangled her fingers into knots, for he took a few hasty steps forward as if to accuse or perhaps even assault the puppet. Both decisions were folly when it came to dealing with the creation of the divine, one wiser than his fair appearance and uncouth lexicon let on.

"And, if you're unintelligent AND a coward, Ex-Sage, then realistically you were never a suitable ruler anyway. You can't even surpass basic human knowledge and instinct. You're worthless".

"How dare you! You are an outsider to the magnificence that is this institution. You know nothing of my teaching history, credentials," Azar's hand shot up in front of his face, a finger raised for each achievement he listed off, "of the prosperity I brought Sumeru as a nation by producing erudite scholars and maintaining order-"

The Wanderer rolled his eyes, sighing loudly.

"If we're giving lists of your impact, the expanse of your mistakes must be larger than the House of Daena". He mimicked Azar, raising his own hand in a more lazy, bored fashion to accentuate the list of sins.

 "You couldn't understand what your people wanted, therefore you fundamentally failed them. The Akademiya was declining in your grasp with the spread of misinformation. Every little decree you uploaded into the Akasha was based on your own pathetic whims and what you wanted people to know and believe. Doesn't that sound a bit more like a tyrant to you, or do you need to be enrolled in Haravatat classes to know what that word actually means? It's amusing how blindly ignorant you are"

"Speaking of tyrants," Wanderer started to move forward, closer to Azar, encouraging the old man to stumble backwards in uncertainty. Each step contained the echoes of the eye of the storm, an area of sheer focus and peace where the cacophony of chaos that surrounded it seemed so distant yet so present and threatening. He smiled, but it was devoid of the softness that was associated with generosity and peace. It was menacing, chiding. It was something recognisable. 

A new concern painted the nervous skies of erosion to an uneasy navy. Nahida stood from her chair whilst putting a hand on the desk. She could feel her face contort into an expression she wore regularly; her brows were furrowed and eyes narrowed as she scanned over the situation both in front of her and the subtext floating in the air.

"Wanderer," She stated softly.

 "How much do you like your hands, Azar?" He ignored her, grabbing one of the man's wrists to prevent him from escaping further. 

"Because they bear the blood of thousands; from those in the desert to those in the rainforest and under your eye. In some villages in Inazuma, you would pay for that blood with a blade through your wrists".

He leaned in, tone fading to something dangerously low, like the faint hum of peregrine wings before it dove through clouds to attack its prey. Meanwhile, his slender fingers only further snaked around the small, bony wrist of Sumeru's former ruler, the skin suffocating from pink to red to purple, iron white striking in some areas as well. The man squirmed under the grip of a wooden puppet who had once destroyed countries, ended bloodlines and annihilated armies with a single swipe of his arm and cold command.

"If you're unsatisfied with your punishment, I could do it now. Break every bone in your measly fragile hands until you can no longer hold anything, losing any mere fragment of usefulness you had to anyone. Even a bug currently has more use than you".

"Wanderer, that's enough".

The grip only tightened and Azar yelled out something unintelligible, the man of elitism reduced to the primal cries of wounded hounds.

"Instead of running your mouth when nobody asked you to because you failed and wasted your power, you could answer the Lord of Wisdom. Your insignificant life could finally have a bit of use to it".

Something cracked. Nahida couldn't ascertain what.

"Wanderer!"

Azar fell to his knees, arm twisting like an eel stuck between fallen rocks.

"Fine, fine! Just let me go! Let me go!" He begged. The Wanderer cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing and the vice only tightening more.

"The information first, and I might consider it".

"The Fatui are still able to enter Sumeru through the desert. They have some contacts within the Akademiya student body who help to organise their route into Sumeru city itself and their resources. Please," Azar gasped, those abyssal whirlpools spitting tears onto his eyelashes, "just let me go".

When that last wisp of desperation left his mouth marred with agony, he was liberated and his wrist was instantly cradled to chest, shaky breaths being the only indicator that this man was still alive - the motion reminded her of that idiom, 'a dog licks its wounds'.

She moved around from behind the desk, feet echoing against the marble floors growing cool as the afternoon went on outside, unaffected by the events inside, as she calmed herself to address him once again, the venom he spouted still bound to her brain and circling the bloodstream in her brain.

She wanted to place a hand on his shoulder, perhaps crouch down to his level in a tender and caring gesture, maybe even use Dendro power to soothe his pain in an act that would be akin to extending an olive branch. She was the benevolent Dendro Archon, God of Wisdom, and it was her fundamental truth that she loved humanity.

But she couldn't bring herself to love him. She couldn't bring herself to comfort him. She didn't want to touch him. She didn't want to even be near him. He made her feel uneasy. He made her feel as if the Matra would burst through the doors and tug her by her wrist back into the Sanctuary, uncaring if she tripped and scraped her knees as they clipped her wings and locked the canary back in its cage. He made her feel like an eclipsed moon, blocked out by the mighty sun to forever be forgotten and neglected.

So, instead, the dainty god of Wisdom stood at the corner of the desk, hands clasped in front of her in a polite gesture as she patiently waited for her captor to recover, expression monotonous as her gaze trained on the floor.

The Dendro Archon waited patiently as he nursed his injury. A quick look at the way it had discoloured and a brief reminisce of the Amurta lessons she was forced to commit to memory told her that, despite her prior concerns, the Wanderer had not broken this man's wrist nor sprained it. The puppet had bruised it, concisely applying pressure to his joints so that the air within them would release a cracking sound that would panic Azar.

It was a clever strategy, she realised. He had no intention of harming Azar, at least not seriously, and had aimed to scare the man into submission.

Soon, the former Grand Sage rose to his feet steadily, having regained his composure, perhaps lacking the egotistical pride he had waltzed into this room with. It seemed, with the anger clouding his eyes and causing his jaw to twitch, he had come to the same conclusion as her as well about the Wanderer's actions. He had played the role of court fool.

"Thank you for your cooperation Azar, although I apologise about the unprecedented way it was gained. It was unexpected, even for me". Nahida placed a hand on her chest in an attempt to show sincerity, although it felt more like she was searching for it within her heart that was typically so bursting with sentiment. Now, it felt hollow. The apology felt hollow. She should have apologised more extensively, she told herself. However, this meeting had only evoked memories that had been like leaves, flowing in the wind and plucked away from the tree of recollection; she did not want to apologise to him when she never received acknowledgement from her captors of the harm they did to her and Sumeru.

"You bruised me". The man scoffed, a clear attempt to piece together his flimsy dignity, "Not only have you been reduced to extorting information out of your subjects, but you even fail at effectively causing them to conform for the future-"

"I wouldn't brag about the numerous instances you had the Corps of Thirty pressure your enemies". Nahida returned quickly with a defiant tone. Something about the way she looked whilst saying it had caught Azar off guard, resulting in a quick snap of his jaw. Perhaps it was because the expression on her face seemed older and more familiar than on her childish visage. Maybe it was because somewhere in those lush gardens residing in the gilded white gates of her eyes were thorns, a reminder that Buer represented wisdom in all its ugly glory, ready to unleash the Pandora's Box to protect that which she held dear.

"The harm you caused to Sumeru to maintain your authoritarian control is not something to be proud of. I am trying to heal these wounds you have inflicted upon the people whilst you seem only to aggravate them due to your views of me. You can harbour your opinions on me and my abilities, in fact I welcome this analysis and scrutiny, but you cannot deny the harm you have caused to my people".

Images of Dunyarzard, Dehya, Nilou, Collei and many others flitted like butterflies past her. Dreams of their happiness and reminders of the torture Azar had allowed others to carry out in his name, viewing it as a reflection of his power, dug up the determination from within her that typically lay covered in soil. Her job was to protect the people of Sumeru and, against all odds, it would also be against slander and misconceptions that their agony was justified or something to revel in.

"And whilst I do not believe in inhumane punishment or fatally harming a living being, there are many people across these lands that cannot grow, move on or gain respite with your continued existence. They are like plants, nourished by the waters of wisdom. But even an element as flexible as water can become oppressive and violent when given too much jurisdiction, drowning fields and consuming all. The return to normality must signal the absence of this disaster".

Nahida placed a finger on her chin.

"You have many debts to repay. But I have my doubts that they can ever be fulfilled given the extent of what you have done. Your cooperation today was a step in the right direction but be careful not to become complacent and believe that you have done enough to be absolved. As I Said before your punishment was a mercy".

—

Evenings in Sumeru were one of her favourite times of the day.

The sky would weave together those fine indigo silks with navy blue cotton, stitched together by white, glittery stars. Meanwhile the moon acted as a luminous button that drew the fabric of the night together, allowing the sleepers to peacefully dream below its curtains whilst nocturnal creatures took central stage, soaring from rooftop to rooftop and humming their twilight chorus, or scurrying amongst the the blades of grass to admire the lake outside the city in its moon-kissed glory.

There were many reasons as to why she loved this.

In the day, Kusanali was swarmed with work after taking up her rightful mantle. Night times were the only period where this work slowed down as the human counterparts she depended on went home to see their families and rest. This allowed her to wander around Sumeru in peace, a small dusk bird able to spread her wings without the need to feed her young. She could watch the breathtaking scenery of a city lulling itself to sleep or visit the Aranara. She could leaf through some books in the house of Daena or be rocked to sleep on her balcony by the blue fluorescence from Mawtiyima forest. Simply put, she was free to do as she pleased. To satiate her intrigue. To sleep. To wander.

The other reason was that it was the time dreams roused from their 12 hour coma; dreams were marvellous things, powerful enough to dispel madness she believed. From flying flowers to deep sea adventures, no two dreams were the same. With the adults of Sumeru also regaining that ability, there were more dreamers to accompany and more civilians to protect from nightmares. Entering them and experiencing them amongst her people was a duty she adored and one that had not changed since her imprisonment. She wondered if her previous incarnation had also visited the dreams of her people; it seemed amongst the old Archons that the notion of a 'dream' was a popular belief. Barbatos based his songs upon it. Raiden Makoto believed it embodied the true concept of eternity. Even the Archon of Snezhnaya had once dared to dream.

The night was for the dreamers. And she, as the God of Dreams and the Wisdom cultivated within them, was the Shepherd of them.

Another reason was that, for some reason, she felt intrinsically allured by the night. It was almost as if it reflected her soul in all its glory: a gentle guiding light who ensured safety and peace, an enigma to be solved but also one that attempted to unravel the enigma of the earth by shedding light upon it. The night was powerful. The night was serene. The night was curious.

On the day she had been freed by the Traveller and their companions, she spent her first night sitting outside at the balcony of the Sanctuary, a Dendro swing conjured as she stared up at the enigmatic firmament. It was said that the stars carried the fates of all living beings and fate, to the God of Wisdom, was the ultimate form of knowledge. But, it seemed the stars were subjective too; to scholars, they represented a law of the world that had to be understood. To normal civilians, however, they seemed to represent something else. Many a time whilst watching dreams she had heard the idiom "my love measures more than stars in the sky" said towards lovers, family and children. Wanting to test what this phrase particularly meant, she spent the whole night counting stars. She had looked over the dreams of her people for 500 years. Scarce as they had been, she was certain they could live without her monitoring them for tonight.

When daybreak had hit, her curiosity had been sated and she came to understand that it meant their love was 'more than infinity' as there were endless amounts of stars in the sky, possibly yet another thing she would never have a concise answer to.

Her interest in the world around her had not dissipated that night as the warm winds threaded around her arms to embrace her, cradling her small figure. After a long day of speaking with former sages, those involved in the God creation project and the Matra, she had dispatched a group to negotiate with the Eremites in the desert in regards to the Fatui. With Dehya also accompanying them, she hoped the talks would go well whilst being bound to Sumeru given her workload. Now, when everything had come to a still like dandelion seeds coming to a lull on a clear Mondstadtian lake, she could keenly observe the nilotpala lotuses greeting the stars at Razan Garden. 

Razan Garden was a wonderful place specifically cultivated by her former incarnation for the sole purposes of giving scholars a well needed break from their studies; she recalled reading that time spent in nature was correlated with higher levels of happiness and efficiency. With this in mind, after the day she had practically clamoured through, she had adjourned to the little garden where she crouched to the side of those satin lotuses whilst tranquil water gently caressed her ankles, fireflies adorning her in the crown of nature that belonged solely to her, the avatar of all knowledge and all living things.

Archonhood could be exhausting. But, as a warm smile crept upon her face at the thought, she would not have it any other way.

Even if her people thought otherwise.

Even when he wasn't in the room, it seemed Azar had a talent for commanding his presence to stay firmly stationed in the back of her mind.

At this, she frowned.

She had acknowledged what he said, so why had it not been processed through her synapses and the cerebral cortex? Why was it still bothering her when she accepted some, not all, of his words?

A bitter chill ruffled her hair and the God of Dendro stood up in response, quickly squeezing the hem of her dress from any water that had soaked it.

"You shouldn't have resorted to force". She stated calmly before turning to face her equal, the puppet with eyes that had returned to those flourishing gardens of wisteria after being softened by the glow of the night. She wondered if he felt at peace too, given the lack of people to bother him and his natural affinity for anything shadowy and quiet.

If she was the moon, he had to be the stars, assisting in creating the masterpiece of peacefulness one could bathe for hours in. Sometimes glanced at due to its unique patterns but never appreciated for long enough, not that the stars minded with their dislike for attention, wanting merely to exist until overshadowed by day. And even in the day, they were always there, hidden behind pages of blue skies.

He had been watching her with a confused expression, it seemed, for his eyebrows had been raised in interest as he started pointedly at the plants that sang for the moon.

The Wanderer folded his arms and scoffed.

"You shouldn't have given him a chance to air his irrelevant opinions like that. Your involvement with him was purely transactional and it became a personal vendetta against you. Someone had to shut him up".

"Harming him was not the way to solve this conflict; it only justifies his views and may encourage him to start taking extreme action". Nahida explained, placing a hand on her hip.

"It is like throwing rocks at a Sumpter beast - eventually it will retaliate".

The girl stopped, looking down at the slate flooring containing so many perfect and artistic details. She wondered if it had always been like this, or if some other old light of Ksharewar had designed it during her imprisonment, thriving without the knowledge that their archon had cried enough oceans that a dozen forests could have grown strong from it.

"And, regardless of how I feel, Azar's words contain a fragment of the truth. Think of reality like a shroomboar. One person may say the shroomboar is made entirely of mushrooms whilst another may say it is made entirely of meat. Both views are correct but still do not fully ascertain the whole picture".

"Azar is right. I am not as powerful nor as wise as my predecessor. This has and will impact my ability to effectively govern and guide my people".

Again, the Wanderer scoffed, this time shaking his head that was heavy with disapproval.

"Humans are driven by greed and selfish ambition. They will always want more, more than they can get or deserve to have. Azar is influenced by his greed for you to be more but also his greed for power. He's not honest and he doesn't contain an ounce of validity in him - he is clearly biased to serve himself. I had little hopes that humanity actually learnt their place to respect the divine but it seems they disappoint me even more. I can never criticise them for consistency, though. They maintain their transgressions" The statement was followed with a brief, sarcastic laugh, a muted tone of disbelief at what he viewed as the cesspool of humanity. It did nothing to ease the abyssal water that had filled her lungs since that fateful conversation, making each interaction after feel full of levity.

"Your point itself may be biased," Kusanali pointed out bluntly, "whilst I am proud of the progress you have made with the persona of Hat Guy in Vahumana, you still have a natural inclination towards avoiding and despising humans. Isn't your view on the nature of humanity like viewing a candied Ajilenakh nut as half empty of nuts?"

"Wasn't it you who said to not focus on the past? Azar is still deluded by it. Stop letting him drag you into that deluded state too. You aren't in a cage. Nor should you, as the rightful archon of this nation, ever be put in one. That man has failed in every single aspect of his life, it's a wonder that his organs haven't followed suit and failed as well considering it seems to be in his genes. What makes you think he will succeed in telling you the truth?"

Despite the wording she deemed slightly misguided and brutal, he had a valid point. Azar was a man defined by misunderstandings. He misunderstood his people, he misunderstood the arts, he had misunderstood the purpose of the Akasha, he had even misunderstood history. His judgement had never been credible, resulting in failure.

"We still cannot dismiss the notion that he has a form of the truth just because we dislike him".

"I think his track record of dishonesty and tyranny should be enough to convince you if you want to be objective about this". He refuted hastily, almost as if the roles were reversed and he had the power to read her mind. "Plus, didn't he breach his own rules? The Akademiya states that the practices of all attending must be ethical. You must be really dumb if you think locking up an archon in a dreamscape for 500 years is ethical".

"You want a genuine criticism of yourself? You lack respect for yourself. And don't give me back chat about having confidence. Confidence and self esteem are two largely different things. Have some more respect for yourself. There. That's how you can grow. After all, boundaries only work if you respect yourself enough to enforce them, otherwise they become suggestions that the arrogant delight in ignoring".

"Next time, take what you need and don't bother with anything else. He doesn't even deserve to be listened to. Don't waste your time or your breath with somebody so worthless. A corpse has far more important things to say".

To ignore what her advisor was saying was to also ignore a version of the truth, was it not? This food for thought sparked the petals of some firework flower to bloom in her brain, like thumbelinas when small children popped open their petals. Placing a small finger on her chin, she pondered through those words as if they were a fire drying her after being thrown into the sea, evaporating all traces of the void clinging onto her.

The puppet stood in front of her with a raised eyebrow, expecting a response with folded arms. Instead, Nahida gave a curt sigh, nudging her head to the direction of the doors; it was a silent question, asking him if he wanted to follow or be left to the show of the night by himself.

As she walked inside, he followed closely behind, staring straight ahead with a neutral expression.

"There will not be a next time". She told him when inside the Sanctuary pulsing with Dendro energy, feeling the dreams of the nation she loved beckon her to take a visit and admire her people more than she already did. "But, with all said and done, I guess I am also upset about not reading his intentions better. It seems I still have a lot to learn about human emotions and social cues".

They both stopped in the centre of the room, her taking a brief glance at the hallway that led to Icarus' room before constructing a panel; one last nightly check of Irminsul before she put herself in a dream state to see what constructions of the mind bloomed like Pardisarahs tonight.

"You….."

Nahida looked up to Wanderer expectantly, watching as his face contorted into an expression of discomfort, possibly hesitancy as well.

He closed his eyes with a furrowed brow and sighed.

 "You did ok," he finally told her, "better than what most would do in your situation".

The Dendro Archon paused.

If she was the moon, Icarus was the stars, a ball of flame that could combust and destroy the universe if it saw fit or extinguish itself forever. Yet it could burn away the ash of erosion into oblivion, bring comfort to those needing guidance even in red, bloody skies.

It too, had been in a cage of isolation once, too far to be embraced by humans and yet below the heavens, unseen by their divine gaze. And whilst the smoke from its eternal burning told fortunes of misery, much like the bird in the cage singing a dulcet sonata, soon the star would fall and be reborn as the bird of the night that symbolised the future, the peregrine.

The pure white dove and the black peregrine would circle one another once liberated, two contrasting symphonies becoming increasingly similar until they combined into one.

"Thank you," Nahida whispered with a smile, tears in her eyes.

And then

"I think… I think I needed to hear that. For a while now".