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A blade pointed to Dorian’s neck, a hair’s breadth away from his Adam’s apple. Dorian closed his eyes. This is it. His attempts to replace and eliminate Albedo and Lumine failed. He would never get to experience life as a human.
“Talk,” Albedo demanded.
Dorian opened his eyes. The messy remains of his campsite lay around them: an overturned alchemy table and broken pots and with food and materials spilling out. Fire pit ashes and Albedo’s stolen alchemy notes lay scattered everywhere. Dorian lay on his backside in a proverbial corner between two sheer mountain slopes. Albedo stood over him, sword glinting in the sunlight.
Voice sharp as flint, Albedo asked, “Tell me where Master is.”
“Rhinedottir? Why would you care where she is?” Scoffing, Dorian closed his eyes and turned his head away. “I don’t know, nor would I tell you, so be done with it already.”
Jaw clenched, Albedo tightened his grip on the hilt. “Was there anything in the last few conversations you had with her that could lead to—”
“You really want to know? The last thing I heard before I was swallowed alive by Durin was Rhinedottir laughing.” Dorian leaned forward, pressing the blade deeper into his neck. Blood trickled down his front. He spat. “She’s a monster.”
With the flat of the blade, Albedo struck Dorian across the face. Albedo’s eyes blazed. “You hold your tongue.”
Shoulders shaking, Dorian chuckled. “Haha… ah. It’s so sad. Different primordial, same story.” Raising his head, Dorian gazed evenly at his brother. “Listen to me. I used to long for her attention, too, but you don’t know what she’s really like. Killing the archons is all she cares about, and she’ll do anything to achieve it.” The wind howled through the campsite, chilling to the bone. “Including experimenting on us.”
Brows furrowed, Albedo asked, “Experiments? What do you mean?”
“Weaponizing us.”
Dorian sweated in the heat. He and Rhinedottir had left Khaenri’ah and the council’s prying eyes to Sumeru, the land above it, to conduct research. The treetop canopy loomed over them. Leaves rustling, animals darted through the shrubbery. Birds shrieked deep within the forest, sounding like human screams.
“Come close,” bade Rhinedottir. They both were dressed in hooded black robes with gold trimming. She knelt by a ley line blossom, her long silver hair hanging down. “Deep within the slumbering earth lies a tree, a guardian of this world. Its branches contain accumulated memories from eons past. But also flowing within its network is elemental energy, power beyond measure. You were born from chalk, from the same soil that sustains these branches.” Rhinedottir’s sunken pink eyes bore into him. Her cheekbones and jaw were sharp enough to cut glass. “Become one with the ley lines. Channel their power through you. Master it and mighty enough to slay gods, or else it will consume and destroy you.”
Dorian gasped, his eyes widening. He spoke in a hushed whisper. “You… you trust me enough to wield such power? To use it and shape the world into what you envision?”
“Indeed. Do not disappoint me.”
Eyes wide, Dorian stiffened like a soldier at attention. “N-never!”
Rhinedottir summoned a censer of spirit borneol incense. Following her instructions, Dorian closed his eyes and meditated. Soon an ancient memory flashed through his mind. A young boy played a violin within the rainforest. Birds alighted on branches, cocking their heads at the music. Even a wild sumpter beast paused in its trek to listen before plodding along.
“Amin!”
A woman walked down a trail towards him. Grinning, the boy ran to meet her. “Mom, you’re back!” She scooped him into a hug, holding him close. They walked down the path hand in hand, the boy chatting about his music while she nodded along.
Dorian stilled. What… is this? Is this… a family?
Dorian pushed aside a bush to glimpse a black skeletal dragon. The dragon stood before a pond misshapen like an ink splatter. Patchy sunlight poked through gaps in the canopy, illuminating the otherwise dark shade. Moss and mushrooms covered the stones and trees. Birds sang.
Several piles of assorted gems like crystal chunks and core lapis glinted in the sun. The dragon nudged a scarlet quartz with a claw from one pile into another. “Shiny, shiny…! My shiny.” He quietly sang.
“Hey, Durin!” Hand on his hip, Dorian approached the reptile. “You losing your eyesight in your old age? You’re not doing a stellar job at sorting them by type.”
Durin looked up, his red glowing eyes flickering like a candle. Seeing a skeletal dragon with horns and spiked bones running down its spine would normally freeze anyone in their tracks. But the sight of his elder brother, Durin, was a familiar one to Dorian. Speaking telepathically, Durin explained, “I’m not arranging them by kind, but by their reflectiveness. Whether it mirrors back my radiance or makes me look dull. Take anything you’d like from the ugly pile. It would be a perfect match for you.”
“Why, thank you! Rocks that don’t show your reflection are a real treasure.”
Durin belly laughed. He flicked his wing much like a human would wave a hand in dismissal. Glowing swirling lines ran down his wings like alien veins. “Deserved. But still, quite some cheek you have. Where does it come from? Not from me nor Master.”
Dorian flinched. “S-sorry.” I’ve been watching humans too much…
Turning back to the gemstones, the dragon tried to pinch a starsilver sliver with his claws. No matter how many times he tried, the soft material crumbled at his touch. Durin sighed. After Rhinedottir abandoned him, scavenging for food and collecting were the only activities to occupy him. While as intelligent as any human, Durin lived like a beast, never knowing another one of his kind.
Lying down, Durin turned his head towards Dorian. “How is Master these days?”
Dorian clapped his hands. “Great! Well, actually, I haven’t seen her for the past two months, but I assume she’s well. At the very least it means I’m not progressing too slowly in acclimating to the ley lines’ energies. Or else she would have materialized and punished…” Memories of being left to sink or swim in the primordial sea and abandoned in the desert without food or water flashed through his mind. Dorian shuddered. After clearing his throat, he shrugged. “So… yeah! Master said once I’m acclimated to normal ley lines, I’ll channel one affected by disorders or the abyss, so that sounds promising.”
Durin hummed.
“Don’t worry; I’ll be fine. Besides, whenever I’m exhausted, I take a break to watch the memories of humans the ley lines recorded. Actually… I haven’t glimpsed one before, but I could search the ley lines’ memories for dragons. Once I observe their mannerisms and relay them to you, you’d better know how to get along with them.”
Sighing, Durin laid his head on the ground and closed his eyes. “There is no need. Even if dragons existed in ages past, I know of none now.”
Dorian balled his fists. “But you don’t know what you’re missing out on until you meet others of your kind! Like music! Here, listen.” He summoned a violin. Eyes closed, Dorian drew the bow across the strings, a mournful, deep vibrato ringing out. Freezing, Durin watched with rapt attention. The music’s pace ebbed and waned as if someone was walking through the wilderness with only the full moon for company. The last note trembled before dissipating.
In its wake, bugs droned. Fish swam in the pond water. The breeze rustled the trees. Panting, Dorian felt sweat slid down his face from the humidity.
Durin never moved a muscle. “I… What was…? Music, you said? You learned this from watching the humans?”
“Uh huh! I…” Biting his lip, Dorian lowered the violin. “Um, do you… think Master would enjoy it? I could play as background music as she experiments or calming music as she sips her tea! I just wasn’t sure if she would… you know. Care.”
Durin fell silent. Cawing, birds flew through the canopy.
Dorian laughed. “Yeah, I figured as much. Well, that’s all right. I’m probably on par with human musicians, so if I ever were to perform for them, they might like—”
“Take heart, little one. Master once told me all her creations are creations of beauty. This ‘music’ is beautiful.” Durin moved a spiked edge of a wing down the violin, caressing it. “More precious than any gem.”
Flushing, Dorian lowered his head, a smile on his face. No one has ever…
“Look.”
Dorian glanced up to see the underbrush shaking. Whopperflowers watched in the distance, swaying to the beat of the music.
Durin chucked, his laugh sounding like rattling bones. “Keheheh. For others to flock at its call… perhaps there is wisdom in watching the humans after all.”
Dorian gripped onto one of the bony spikes on Durin’s back for dear life as the dragon soared through the air. The rainforest canopy passed in a blur beneath them with occasional glimpses of rivers and villages. Laughing, Dorian grinned as the wind whipped through his dirty blond hair and black robes.
Dorian called, “…and every year on Lord Rukkhadevata’s birthday, the whole city comes out to sing and dance! Flowers are on every street corner with petals strewn about on the roads. They play music, dance, and drink until the sun goes down—”
Durin cut in with a quiet growl. “It would be wise to be wary of the archons.”
“I know, I know. But it’s not just her birthday that’s celebrated. Every human’s day of birth is acknowledged with gift giving, meals, family reunions, and…” Frowning, Dorian craned his head back. Clouds whisked by as they flew. “No one else experiments or works as hard as Master makes me. They’re all… I don’t know. I don’t know how to describe it. But once I saw this girl show her father a straw doll she made. It was totally dilapidated and falling apart, but still he, he praised her. And her smile… Man, if someone ever said that to me… To be a part of a community like that instead of just an observer…!”
Durin looked back at Dorian, his expression impossible to read with his skull face.
“What? Something wrong?”
Turning back, Durin chuckled, “Keheheh. Sing and dance? You’re as coordinated as a sumpter beast. And you smell like one too.”
“And you call me sassy?”
Durin laughed, bones rattling. “Well, if it’s customary to celebrate birthdays… I’d like you to get me 500 amethyst lumps, Master’s alchemy notes about my beautiful self, and locate a mud hole large enough for a bath.”
Shaking his head, Dorian patted the dragon’s spine. “Now you’re really pushing your luck. But I do have something even better for you. Once we reach a clearing, go on and land.”
Durin landed by Chinvat Ravine. Small grassy patches rose out of the ankle-deep water. Trees closely hugged the riverside.
Dorian slid off the dragon’s back. After summoning a violin, he closed his eyes. Dorian relieved the Sabzeruz Festival in his mind—the cheers, everyone clapping in unison to the songs, and how they’d throw heads back and laugh—and played.
At the tune, whopperflowers morphed out of their sweet flower disguises. Others emerged from the soil. They observed Dorian for a moment, saw how he didn’t appear threatening, before coming closer and swaying to the music.
Dorian grinned up at his elder brother, but Durin only watched the flowers without comment. “What?” asked Dorian. “Just tell me already.”
“This does not look like a clue leading to Irminsul’s location, little one.”
“I… I know what I’m doing, all right? Master doesn’t mind me visiting you every once in a while so long as I continue to progress. This is no different. I’ll just power through without breaks from now on.”
Durin studied him for a long moment before bowing his head to examine the whopperflowers. “These do not look like creatures with two arms and legs. Too leafy! But they’ll do.”
A particularly brazen whopperflower approached Dorian. “Here you go,” he said, offering the violin. Curious, the whopperflower took the violin and bow with two leaves.
“This one seems friendly, Durin. Let’s name it. How about after one of the steps of alchemy? Maybe… rubedo?” Seeing the whopperflower struggle to mimic his method of holding the violin, Dorian smiled. “No, let’s do citrinitas, the final stage of alchemic transmutation. An ordinary material transforming into gold.”
Citrinitas gripped the violin too hard, breaking it. Startled, it shrank back.
“Keheh! More like fool’s gold.”
Rolling his eyes, Dorian reclaimed the violin and repaired it with alchemy. “Time for our own festival.” Dorian struck up a jaunty tune. The flowers jolted to attention. Like synchronized swimmers, they burrowed and jumped out of the ground in a circle around him. Durin laid on the ground with his eyes closed, soaking in the music. Grinning, Dorian spun, swayed, and danced along with Citrinitas and the others.
“And so…” Rhinedottir tapped a fingernail to the whopperflower restrained to the table. “This is a fine opportunity to study whopperflower anatomy. Their mimicry almost approaches something… quaint. Amusing.” She handed Dorian a knife and guided his hand into raising it. “Dissect it and report a thorough analysis on their physiology.”
Heart pounding, Dorian watched Citrinitas. The creature jerked and writhed against the restraints. It locked eyes with Dorian. Strained its leaves towards him.
Dorian’s eyes darted to Rhinedottir. Her pale albino eyes stared at him. Assessed his every sinew, tendon, and nerve. From head to toe, Dorian broke out in cold sweat. Lightheaded, he swayed. “Uh… nn…!”
Rhinedottir tsked, “Not another one.” Stepping closer, she reached for the knife.
Eyes squeezed shut, Dorian plunged the knife down.
The longer Dorian kept his hand on the ley line blossom in a withering zone, the more vivid the visions became. Fires burning everyone inside buildings. Soldiers ransacking villages, taking no prisoners. Meteors hurling from sky, wiping out entire towns during the archon war. Their screams echoed in his head. In his mind, a thousand voices competed with each other. Help me, please! Kill every last one. No, please, I beg you don’t hurt her!
Grimacing, Dorian writhed at the burning sensation of corrosion flowing through his veins. Some primal part of his mind cried, Break the connection! But his right hand held the ley line branch in a death grip.
Dorian searched the ground with his free hand. Dirt, sticks—a rock. Seizing it, Dorian bashed the rock into his hand. Over and over again. Teeth gritted, he raised it high overhead. “Let… go!”
He smashed the rock over his knuckles. Fingers slick with blood, Dorian’s grip slipped and he fell down to his hands and knees. He knelt in the mud, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Darkness crept in the edges of his vision.
Master… why?
His vision went black.
Hours later, Dorian opened his eyes. Night had fallen. He dimly recognized the surroundings as Vanarana, a wellspring of uncorrupted ley lines with purifying effects against corrosion. He lay resting against a large clump of moss. Before him a fire crackled. Next to it lay a pile of branches with berries on it and the body of a roasted Sumpter beast. Durin stood over it, contemplating how to cut the meat into human bite-sized pieces with his claws.
“D-Durin?” Dorian’s voice quavered.
Durin left the beast behind to encircle Dorian with his body. “You’re awake. How are—?”
Breathing hitching, Dorian screwed his eyes shut. “I… I’m so sorry! I killed, I killed Citrinitas. It was supposed to be your friend! Be with you when I’m not, but I went and killed it, and I’m so sorry…”
“Little one, that was months ago.”
“H-huh?”
“Regardless, it was not you who slayed him, but rather…” Durin gazed out into the dark distance, thinking. “It was a dream. Think nothing of it. Citrinitas was only….” Sighing, Durin hung his head. “It was only a sweet dream.”
Dorian tried to sit up, but, too weak, he couldn’t rise. “A dream? One of the ley line visions? Oh… maybe. I don’t…”
Voices cried in his head, Murderer! Throw yourself into the fire!
“No…” Grimacing, Dorian dug his fingers into his head and scratched. “No, no, no, no! Leave me alone! I’m so tired of hearing—I just want to…” Panting, Dorian held out a hand to summon his violin. Blurry vision sharpening, Dorian beheld his hand: mangled fingers crooked and broken in every direction, covered in bruises and blood.
Dorian’s eyes burned. Closing his eyes, he fell back against the moss. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry… I’ll try harder, so please, can I take a break? I’m so tired, I can’t…”
Durin wrapped his head and tail around Dorian, cocooning him. As he cried, Durin closed his eyes and hummed his violin composition.
Burning hot sand seared Dorian’s eyes. At her order, he journeyed with Rhinedottir to Old Vanarana, the border between the rainforest and desert. Huge jagged rocks jut into the air like clawed fingers straining towards the sky above. The landscape was riddled with holes to caverns so deep, no one could glimpse the bottom.
Like a broken record, whispers spoke to Dorian in his mind. For months on end, people’s cursing and shouting had sounded in his head like white noise. Distracted, Dorian gazed off into the distance, rubbing his knuckles. Although his broken fingers had long since healed, Dorian had chaffed them raw.
“…you’ll find within the caverns… Pay attention,” snapped Rhinedottir. She tsked. “To the last you’re… Now behold.” Like a grim reaper, Rhinedottir raised a pale, bony finger over a ravine’s edge.
Dorian approached the ledge. At the ravine’s bottom lay a portal to the abyss. Through the gateway, an alien night sky with upside down stars blazed. Even at this distance, Dorian could hear the screams of the darkest human memories.
Trembling, Dorian drew back. He dislodged a few stones and which tumbled down before being swallowed by the abyssal portal. Heart pounding, Dorian turned to his master. “Wha…? You can’t…”
Rhinedottir’s albino pink eyes bore into him. Watching. Waiting.
A cold sweat broke over Dorian head to toe. “You… you want me to…?” Lightheaded, Dorian stepped back. His stomach knotted. Every muscle tensed, ready to bolt. If he fell into the abyssal portal, he’d never survive. Even if by some miracle of fate he did, Dorian’s mind would be irreversibly broken or warped.
Dazed, Dorian gazed at the swirling portal. Master ordered me, but I… Memories flashed through his mind. Humans celebrating the Sabzeruz Festival. Playing the violin as Citrinitas danced. Teasing Durin.
Eyes closing, Dorian balled his fists. He inhaled deeply. Dorian whipped to Rhinedottir, his eyes flashing. “No.”
Rhinedottir stilled, eyes widening a fraction. She tutted. “So be it.”
She seized Dorian’s neck and held him over the edge. Choking, Dorian kicked out his legs but only felt air. Snarling, he clawed at her arm.
Rhinedottir thinly smiled. She loosened her grip.
A large form briefly blocked out the sun. Durin’s skeletal body flew through the air before landing on the other side of the ravine. The ground thudded at his colossal frame. “Master, I implore you, spare him.” He bowed his head to her. “You have shown great kindness in giving us life and letting me live as I please instead of disposing me like the useless refuse that I am. So, please, I beg you. Show him that same mercy.”
“Spare him?” Rhinedottir asked, an eyebrow cocked. “Life is full of disappointments, and he is one of them. If he is spared, how am I to learn the effects of this level of corrosion? Whether or not someone with a synthetic constitution can withstand the abyss? The length of time before one’s cognition collapses?” Rhinedottir tilted her head. “Will you disappoint me too?”
Hair frenzied, Dorian strained to look over his shoulder at the dragon. “D-Durin…”
Durin gazed at his brother, eyes dimming. “Forgive me, little one, for encouraging your distractions. I should have been firmer from the start.” He flapped his wings before taking to the air.
Hand outstretched, Dorian screamed, “Durin, no!”
Durin dove into the chasm, plunging into the abyssal portal. A roar erupted from the ravine, rattling Dorian’s eardrums. It felt like physical waves pelting against him.
Durin arose from the chasm. He loomed over them, his aura so saturated in miasma, Dorian struggled not to vomit. Soulless red eyes stared at them.
Laughing, Rhinedottir tossed Dorian aside like a ragdoll. She raised her arms out to the side. “Fascinating… simply fascinating. If you can still comprehend orders, obey your kind master and eat this husk.”
Dorian locked gazes with Durin. In that moment, an ethereal calmness settled over Dorian, giving him sudden clarity. Master, humans, or whopperflowers… it didn’t matter. You were the only friend I needed.
Durin lunged forward, teeth flashing, and swallowed him. The last thing Dorian heard was Rhinedottir’s laughter.
Rhinedottir watched Durin fly into the distance, heading towards Mondstadt. She sighed. Being infused with so much corruption increased his strength tenfold, yes, but a weapon was only useful if it could be controlled. She scuffed the gorge in the ground where Dorian had been eaten with a foot. “With the next primordial, I need to emphasize the inferiority of humans, introduce him to corrosion more gradually, and…” She smiled. “Ensure he loves me with all his being.”
Snow started to fall as Dorian finished reliving his near death from Durin to Albedo. Head bowed, Dorian’s bangs overshadowed his eyes. “Some shred of Durin’s consciousness must have remained for him to have swallowed me whole. Otherwise, I would have died alongside him. Rhinedottir murdered us in cold blood just because we wanted friends.” Looking up, Dorian’s eyes glared at Albedo through his bangs. “She’s not human.”
Albedo chuckled. “Human, huh? None of us are.”
Exhaling, Albedo lowered the sword to his side. He turned to gaze out in the distance. Behind them lay a frozen lake. Snow foxes pranced in the remains of a Fatui camp. Beyond the snowy slopes of Dragonspine lay Mondstadt's green rolling plains.
Albedo spoke as softly as the snowfall. “Yes, she could be strict. Cruel even. Maybe she’s been affected by the abyss, twisting her personality, or maybe not.” In his free hand, he created an Inteyvat, the flower Lumine wore in her hair. “Regardless, Master left a piece of her humanity in me, and through it I’ve made connections with others. Call me naïve, but I… I want to believe that humanity is stronger than the forces that could corrupt it. Perhaps the truth of the world could help me purify her from any abyssal influences.”
Albedo looked back at Dorian over his shoulder. “You should drop your disguise of me. Durin gave you a second chance at life. Don’t waste it adopting mine.”
Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you get it? This humanity you’re showing me now is your own, not hers—”
“A bit of travel away from Mondstadt might be good,” called Albedo, a bit of an edge to his voice. He walked forward, trudging through the snow before his figure disappeared in the snowy haze.
Dorian closed his eyes, chest tightening. You died for me, Durin, and there’s nothing I can do to atone. Nothing, save one thing.
Standing up, Dorian watched Albedo leave. So long as you search for Rhinedottir, we’ll meet again, Albedo. He scratched at his neck, reopening the cut Albedo had left. Blood stained his pontil mark.
Because I swear I’ll kill her.