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It was another long night.
With a recent influx of ley lines, the amount of threats near Wangshu Inn just kept increasing, and Xiao had to fend them off all by himself. Usually, such trivial matters as hilichurls posed absolutely no problem to the Yaksha, yet his karmic debt had begun flaring up again after his journey to the Chasm with the traveler.
Was it his encounter with his brother Bosacius? The thought of his dead friend left a bitter taste in his mouth again, remembering how he had to fight the one he had been looking for. Slowly closing his weary eyes, Xiao decided to rest for a while, his back pressed up against one of the rigid branches of the Wangshu Inn. He felt the thick bark through his shirt, and the leaves that blanketed him tickled his limbs.
However, he never allowed himself to let his guard down.
He knew it tired him out further, but he could not bear to let the people of Liyue down, to endanger them by resting. He could bear it. He would.
The karmic debt kept assaulting his senses, like needles piercing every surface of his body. His head throbbed, and he could not properly relax.
But he deserved this.
For every life he had taken, every deity slaughtered by his hands.
He knew he had to pay, to live and suffer for what he had done.
He felt a presence approaching. He heard the light footsteps of another coming up to his balcony on the top floor, and he smelled the sweet fragrance of almonds wafting up to him as well. He had to get away.
He could not let himself hurt another person any longer.
He didn’t want others to feel the numbing pain of his karmic debt, and he didn’t want them to see him like this. Weak. Suffering. This was his burden, his and his alone.
Verr was used to his antics by now, she would understand.
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As Verr Goldet made her way to the edge of the balcony, she looked around, hoping to see the Yaksha again. He was gone, just like usual.
She always wanted to thank him for everything he did for the people of Liyue, but it was always hard to find him. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want praise or recognition for his feats, or if he simply disliked company, but she hoped the almond tofu she brought him every day was enough to pass on the message.
It was the only thing the lonely yaksha ever ate. Whenever she tried feeding him anything else, the plate would be left untouched, the food cold and abandoned. The traveler had told her that to him, his favorite dish tasted like a “fond dream”, whatever that meant.
Making space on the floor by brushing away all of the fallen leaves, Verr left the plate on the side of the balcony. It was already fall, and the weather was only getting colder. She hoped he kept himself warm during the winter months.
She hoped he took good care of himself too.
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Once the generous woman left the balcony, respecting his wishes to be left alone, Xiao made his way back to the Inn, teleporting back to his prior position. He reached down for the plate of tofu, into which a stray leaf had fallen. Climbing back up the branches, he silently thanked the caring lady and started to eat.
The wind softly blew through his hair as he sat down, enjoying his meal. He could ignore the pounding of his head, the tightening of his chest due to the karma he had accumulated.
He still had time to rest. The humans would be fine for a little while.
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As an Adeptus, his responsibilities never changed. For centuries, Xiao had been protecting the citizens, the followers of Rex Lapis. Long ago, these responsibilities were shouldered by his companions as well, the other four Yakshas.
However those days were only a fond dream now. The burden he bore kept getting heavier by the day, the karmic debt never stopped piling up, and now, he no longer had the support of his long lost friends.
His fate was a cruel one indeed.
Yet his loyalty to Rex Lapis was still absolute, unwavering. No matter what happened, the Adeptus would serve his savior until his dying breath.
And so, he stood up again, ready to eradicate the foes that kept emerging from the ley lines. He had had a few hours of rest, and the sun was slowly starting to rise, chasing away the night that shrouded Liyue. Droplets of dew formed on the leaves of the great tree Wangshu Inn was built on, and the morning breeze was cold and fresh, slightly misty.
He leaped high into the air, spear raised and mask donned.
The Yaksha had a job to do.
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His movements were as fluid as ever, his senses honed in as he focused on the battle. The hilichurls never put up much of a fight, their speed could never rival that of Xiao’s.
Striking with precision and conviction, Xiao never hesitated. Bodies fell one after the other, and he felt their dying grudges seeping into him, swelling with the mass of his debt, making it bigger, darker, hungrier. The mass craved his death, the vengeful spirits of his victims prayed on his downfall just above his shoulder. With each new addition, the burden got heavier.
He wished it would all end.
Maybe dying would finally give him peace, or maybe his karma would seep into the ground and slowly eat away at the earth, destroying everything it touched. His mind burning with the memories of his sins again, Alatus didn’t notice the stinging pain in his side was an actual wound, and not a phantom pain as he had thought. Looking around, the sunny landscape of Guili plains was gone. The only thing he saw in the distance was darkness, expanding its reach as far as his eyes could see.
Then came the pain, the clawing of souls he had reaped, the yells and cries echoing in his skull. His head was pounding, the sounds were getting louder, shriller, more desperate. They roared and yelled, clamored and blared, joining together to form an ear-splitting symphony of death and calamity.
His body ached as he gasped for air. His lungs were tightening, crushed by the weight of what he had done over the course of his life, the torment never ending. He writhed in agony on the ground, when finally, another blow to his back snapped him out of it.
A hilichurl shooter managed to land a hit on his back.
Leaning on his spear while he sputtered and heaved, Xiao needed to refocus his mind on the task at hand and get rid of his enemies swiftly.
He managed to polish off the rest of the hilichurl camp with relative ease, only tripping once in a while due to his prior confusion.
His job finally done, the adeptus made his way back to the Inn, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
He was only hit twice, yet within his weakened state, it caused more trouble than usual. Short of breath, the Yaksha decided to recuperate up high, on the branches of the Inn as always.
Climbing up, his blood stained the yellow leaves around him, its metallic scent intensifying as more blood seeped out of his opened gashes. Holding his side to stop the bleeding as best as he could, Xiao could not do anything to help the wound on his back. He collapsed from exhaustion on the roof of the Wangshu Inn, his body trembling, fading out of conscience. He could only hope no harm would come to the humans while he was out of commission…
__________
The warrior was floating. All around him was a sea of warmth, dancing colors and fuzzy masses of clouds…. or were they waves? He could not tell. All he could feel was the soft music present all around him, calming his body, relaxing his muscles.
The sweet sound of a lyre guided him through the dream and he felt his ache ebbing away.
The mysterious musician was back again to sooth his karmic debt.
The Yaksha knew not the identity of this mysterious being, one who played such vivid melodies that subdued the pressure of his sins. They only showed up every couple of years to play a nostalgic melody, the only thing that would calm the suffering Yaksha. He wanted to be able to thank them for saving him from insanity, to hold them close and feel their warmth, their comfort.
However, he could not risk hurting them.
And so, the Adeptus never searched for them, even though his heart tugged and pulled, begging to approach the mysterious savior.
He stayed content with the peace their music brought.
His worn out body felt like a far away nightmare, and his conscience drifted, whisked away by the lull of the stringed instrument.
Sometimes, the being would play the flute, and instill hope into the Yaksha’s heart with its joyful yet relaxing tune, but Xiao’s favorite was the sound of the lyre. With each pluck of a string, his muscles relaxed, the music reaching the marrow of his bones with a melancholic air.
Maybe, with their help, he could keep on living.
With the help of this comforting presence, the warrior could keep fighting for the weak, he could bear the weight of his transgressions, and recover from his fall from grace.
But what if this person was just a dream? What if no one was truly there for him?
He could not bear the thought.
Yet the Adeptus kept floating in the sea of clouds. All around him, the music materialised in the shape of colorful clouds, and he reached out a fatigued hand to slowly stroke the source of his solace. Closing his eyes again, he let himself be carried by the dream, the music.
And then, he opened his amber eyes.
Before him stood the musician of his dreams, the one who never stopped saving him time after time again. On the roof of the Wangshu Inn, he looked at them with drowsy eyes, tracing every dip and plane of their milky skin, observing as their braids fluttered in the cold autumn wind.
And they looked back at him with a loving warmth in their eyes, smiling down at him with a lyre in their hand.