Chapter Text
Once the rest of the men had returned to their tents for the night, Capitano found himself sitting alone by the fire as usual, although this time it was with a name turning over in his mind.
Dainsleif.
He knew who the man was, of course. Every Khaenri’ahn would have. He had seen Dainsleif plenty of times, including when Khaenri’ah had finally been evacuated and he had seen him leaving Vorukasha with the princess before leaving for Natlan himself. Speaking to him personally though was another matter entirely, something that very few people — even within the palace walls — would have been able to do. Despite what he had told the Traveler, however, there was a time where they had not been so completely distanced from one another, and had perhaps exchanged a few words in passing. Dainsleif had been a year or two older, and was quickly whisked away by his brother and the other higher-ups, but for a brief few months during their adolescence, the two had been assigned to the same training group, and had practiced fighting alongside each other in preparation for their service in the military. Even back then, the young man had often been stoic and anti-social, only speaking when directly addressed by a teacher, and paying little mind to his peers even outside of training. Perhaps in his personal life he was different, but he would never have been privy to such a thing. He only remembered that for most of them, it had been a relief when he had finally left. His brother held an extraordinarily high position in the palace, and it was rightfully assumed that Dainsleif had been taken from general training in order to take on a similarly extravagant role. His classmates were only glad that they no longer lived under the watchful eye of the teacher’s pet.
But those were only old memories that meant next to nothing now. It was of course unsurprising that Dainsleif was still alive, but to learn that he had remained largely unaffected by the curse of immortality was something that required investigation. Capitano knew that his own condition had likely been worsened by the strain of carrying so many souls and the resulting lack of sleep, but he only knew of one other person who had escaped the curse mostly unscathed. Pierro had never offered any explanation for his own condition, but neither had he mentioned any others that were also unaffected, so the source of Dainsleif’s abilities may lie even outside of his knowledge. He would have to bring it up when he returned from his mission in Natlan.
Unfortunately for Capitano that was currently his best option for solving this particular mystery if he decided to do so. After the meeting with Mavuika, he had spoken with the Traveler briefly to see if he could get any more information about Dainsleif, but it seemed that despite them having met many times over the past few years, he was nearly as much in the dark as Capitano himself. He knew who Dainsleif was, that he had traveled with his sister for a time, and that something related to the formation of the Abyss Order had driven them apart and he was now dedicated to destroying the organization. None of those things related to Capitano’s current goals, and frankly based on what he knew and what the Traveler had told him about his feelings for the gods, Dainsleif arriving in Natlan now could very much interfere with what he was doing. But it was rare to hear anything about another Khaenri'ahn roaming Teyvat, and so nevertheless he found his mind drifting through his scattered memories of the Twilight Sword Dainsleif.
The thin ring on his hand silently thrummed with energy just as it always had for the past 500 years, a constant reminder of what had happened to him and his people, and the responsibility he now held to prevent their corruption. Dainsleif had been roaming the outskirts of the Sumeru desert for the past few months, cleaning up the small gatherings of Abyss Order members that seemed to congregate there. Just beyond the ridge he stood atop was the eastern entrance to Natlan, colorful mountains and cliff formations overlooked by the large volcano to the southwest and the remains of another ancient fallen city to the northwest. From what he had gathered, that nation was now on the brink of an all out war with the Abyss, and he had no intentions of getting involved with such a matter. Of the Seven, he could say that the Pyro Archon was perhaps one of the most agreeable to him, seeing as they had kept their tradition of having the position passed down among humans, and had presumably focused their efforts on protecting their own people while staying uninvolved in larger conflicts. Still, an archon was an archon, and no amount of goodwill on his part would change the fact that their protection came with the power of Celestia rather than their own abilities, not to mention Natlan's rather... questionable history with the dragons who had once ruled the continent.
Despite that, he still hoped that the war would end quickly, and that the people of Natlan would prevail over the invasion. Because there was something there that he was interested in and hoped to be able to see for himself, just as he believed Lumine would as well, as evidenced by the Order's activity just outside the border. It appeared they were also waiting for the war to resolve before making their move, whatever it may be. While Khaenri'ah had been totally destroyed in the cataclysm, nations on the surface had not been completely unharmed, and Natlan had received the most damage of the bunch due to the peculiarities of their ley lines, which even before then had been mostly separated from the rest of Teyvat. Afterwards they had been completely severed and the people had had to entirely rely on some other system to keep their remaining leylines in check and functional. It was this that he was the most interested in, in part because of its apparent importance to the Abyss Order and in part due to his own curiosity about another nation that in its own way existed outside of the standard rules set by Celestia.
He and the Order were not the only ones interested in what was going on in Natlan though, it seemed. He had heard through his travels that the Fatui would also be making a move during this time, likely to acquire the pyro gnosis as they had done in the other nations. He knew that their leader — who now went by the name Pierro — had been a royal mage in Khaenri’ah in the time leading up to the Cataclysm, and he suspected that there may be another Khaenri'ahn among the organization's highest ranks as well, although he couldn’t be sure, and would have no idea who it could be or if it was even someone he would recognize. He had run through a list of possibilities in his mind several times in the past, but none seemed to match what he imagined such a person to be like, and the few who perhaps would have joined such a group had most likely been killed before the curse was placed upon them. The Fatui's main goal remained largely unclear to Dainsleif, but unlike the Abyss Order who wanted to change fate itself in order to somehow revive their fallen country, the Fatui were more focused on the destruction of the current order of things so that they might build something new atop it. A commendable task if it weren’t being led by the Cryo Archon herself. The idea that his fellow countrymen would abandon their beliefs in order to serve under one of the Seven, even if it was for a noble goal, disgusted him to no end, and he could not help but see any survivor who had joined the organization as anything other than a traitor.
So he remained on his own, letting the other factions involved in Natlan fight between themselves so that he may have a chance to put yet another dent in the Order’s plans and satisfy his own curiosity. Just as he moved to stand from where he was currently resting, however, a sound akin to a large clap of thunder emanated from the direction of the nation of war, spreading and echoing out across the desert as rolling, dark clouds began to form over the southernmost region. Perhaps the war would come much sooner than he had anticipated.
War had come and gone as it always did, and while Capitano had done his best to avoid this outcome, he would not allow Mavuika to sacrifice herself in order to maintain the Night Kingdom. He had not told her of his plan, of course, as he knew that she would disapprove, even if he could provide a better deal to the Lord of the Night. He had informed the Tsaritsa, however, with the promise that should any part of his consciousness remain afterwards, he would find a way to use it to further the Fatui's goals. When he had first come up with this plan, it had felt like the obvious choice. He would be able to protect Natlan for an indefinite amount of time, and the souls he had been carrying for so long — as well as himself — would finally be able to rest. But now faced with the reality of it, he almost hesitated. It was foolish, and selfish to feel that way of course. He had lived far longer than any normal human, seen and experienced more as well, and his “death”, if you could call it that, would save an entire nation. It was a life well lived. But he couldn't help but regret, if only for a moment, that he would not be able to see things through to the end. Perhaps his consciousness would continue on in some sense and he would be able to learn of the rest of the Traveler's journey and how the Fatui's plans would play out without him. Perhaps there was a chance, no matter how small, that he could continue to serve as the First Harbinger in whatever form his new existence took. But those thoughts were nearly as foolish as his feelings of regret. Yohualtecuhtin could guarantee the extension of her own life, but made no promises in regards to him.
Below him in the stadium, the victory feast went on without issue. People danced and ate and gave speeches and traded stories as they always did in these situations, all of them unaware of what was about to unfold. He could only hope that it would remain that way. Mavuika was missing, of course, but the actions of the Traveler during the war were enough to distract the people from this most important detail for now as they all took their chance trying to get close to him. It would only be a matter of time now.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the Traveler seemed to sense what he was thinking, and looked around the stadium for the one who wasn't there. Upon realizing what was happening, he quickly left the venue, no doubt in search of that woman Citlali, who always seemed to know what was going on without being told. Not being able to talk with her more about the Natlan of the past 500 years was another of his regrets that he would have to push to the side. Behind him, a familiar presence suddenly appeared, and he turned to see the bat-eared young man who had, entirely of his own volition, become a part of his group over the last several months. He gave a nod in Capitano’s direction, confirming that the Traveler and Citlali had left for Ochkanatlan. Whatever regrets he did or didn't have, they didn't matter. It was time to go and fulfill his own personal mission.
As they turned to leave, something else seemed to appear in his sensory periphery. It carried a sharp sense of danger and something else he couldn't fully describe, but made no move to come closer or follow them, and there was no time now to investigate further. Hopefully whatever — whoever — it was would not try to get in their way.
He had caught sight of the figure just as they had turned to leave, but hadn't gotten much of an idea of who it might be. He was a man, very tall, with a mask obscuring his face and a large cloak covering most of his body despite the heat of the evening sun. The cloak bore the distinct symbols of Khaenri’ah, confirming his suspicion that there was indeed a harbinger from his homeland. It seemed the man and his companion, a local from what he could tell, were headed in the direction of Ochkanatlan, but for what reason, he was also unsure.
Once he had been certain that the war had concluded, Dainsleif had crossed the last bit of desert separating himself from Natlan and made his way into the country, doing his best to remain hidden. The dark abyssal clouds had cleared, and there were far fewer monsters than he would expect even under normal circumstances. That included the Abyss Order as well, who for some reason had not made any moves to cross the border as he did. The few people he saw were joyous, and most appeared to be headed towards the large stadium in the central part of the country for some kind of victory celebration.
It was here he now found himself, observing this mysterious individual and their unusual destination. The war was clearly over, but for such a figure to head to a place like Ochkanatlan… something else was about to unfold, and Dainsleif wasn't sure whether it would be wise to try to follow. The lack of movement by the Order also spoke to this outcome, although as with most things having to do with this mission so far, every new detail only added more to his list of unanswered questions. Despite the possibility of being discovered and recognized, however, his interest in uncovering this harbinger’s identity as well as what was going on on the edges of Natlan won out, and he slowly made his way up the side of the mountain, trailing the duo by a considerable amount.
As the massive stone structures of Ochkanatlan came into view, he had a couple of his questions answered. It was nighttime now, the stars and moon shining enough light on their own for him to navigate the unfamiliar terrain, but beyond that, beyond the sky itself, the shadow of another celestial body, a different moon, now broken into pieces, loomed overhead, almost seeming to watch him. He had known that the skies of Teyvat were not real, and that a different night sky existed beyond what was visible to them. He had even glimpsed it for a moment at the height of the war when some great celestial power —which he later discovered was wielded by the Pyro Archon— had fully shattered a large piece of the firmament, likely revealing the moon he now saw. But to see such a large body so completely destroyed filled him with a dread he could not explain. This was one of the truths that Celestia had tried to hide from humanity, now visible to an entire nation.
Before he could think further on this, however, something even more terrifying appeared before him. What had once been a clear night sky over the ancient city, with only the occasional cloud rolling by, began to turn a dark, glowing red, and a bright crack began to form directly over the central tower, slowly widening like a giant eye opening from a long slumber. That red color… Surely the other man knew what it was and yet continued walking directly towards it without hesitation. They both had witnessed the destruction that sky had brought upon Khaenri'ah 500 years ago, and it spelled almost certain destruction for anyone who dared to cross its path. For even those who had been cursed with immortality may not be safe from the very being that had set them on that path to begin with.
There was only darkness once Capitano sat upon the throne at Ochkanatlan. He had closed his eyes and at once felt his soul retreat from his body into this dark space where he could not see or feel anything around him, and the voices of his companions faded into the distance. There was only a slight hum coming from some unknown source, and eventually the sensation of some other incorporeal being joining him in the space.
“Is this truly what you wanted, warrior from afar?” The voice of Youaltechutin echoed around him. “You know you can no longer leave this place, did you truly not have any business left unfinished?”
“I am not sure why you would bring that up now when it is too late to make a different decision.” He couldn’t tell where his own voice was coming from exactly, but it seemed that he had been understood.
“Of course. And you are not obligated to provide an answer if you do not wish to. I only thought that if we are to be together like this, perhaps you would want a conversation partner. Your sacrifice was noble and I am eternally grateful for what you have provided to Natlan, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t perplexed by your decision and curious as to your reasoning. But you have had a long journey to get here, so perhaps you would prefer to rest for the time being instead.”
“So long as my comrades both in the Night Kingdom and outside are safe, that is all that matters to me now. If I am needed for some other scheme in the future, then I expect we will find out at the same time, and I only hope I will be able to protect them again. But until that comes to pass, if it will at all, I shall remain silent.”
A pause seemed to hang in the space for a long moment before the Lord of the Night responded, “Very well, I will not inform them of your status. You may exist silently and peacefully here so long as my original form still exists.” Another pause, “Hmmm, it seems, however, that there may be some kind of interruption much sooner than I believe you are expecting. A rather interesting figure seems to be approaching your body’s resting place.”
Surely by now Mavuika and the others had left Ochkanatlan, and Ronova had retreated as well after their deal had been made. Capitano wasn’t sure how the passage of time worked in this new space, but it could not have been long at all since he had arrived here, and so far as he knew, no one had followed them into the city or witnessed what had happened there.
“Do you know who it is?”
“I am not omniscient, Thrain, I do not see like you and your fellow humans do. They are completely unfamiliar to me, certainly not from Natlan. Ah, but something about them… it is familiar, similar to what I sensed when we first met. Perhaps someone you know? Or someone from your past?”
“The Fatui wouldn’t be so unwise as to come here so soon, and besides, they have already been informed of my choice. As for someone else, anyone from my past of any importance is already dead. Whoever it is is of no significance to me or you, and my body is still protected by the curse, so there is no need for concern or interest.” The space once again fell into silence, the second presence moving farther away to deal with whatever the usual tasks of the Lord of the Night entailed. But nearly as soon as the man had grown comfortable in this new, isolated environment, something seemed to slip into his senses. As Youhualtechutin explained, he couldn’t see or hear anything around him, but had the sudden feeling that something outside of this realm was approaching him, or rather, approaching the husk of his body. And she was right, it was a somewhat familiar feeling, although not necessarily in the way she described. He had no sense of the individual themself being familiar to him or relating to his past in any way, but that feeling existed all the same, as he had encountered an identical presence only a brief time ago before heading to the site of his sacrifice on the side of the mountain outside the stadium.
Once the red sky had cleared and he had seen the group including Aether come back down the mountain, Dainsleif still waited a considerable amount of time before making any moves towards the ruins. There were few things in Teyvat that would leave him frozen in fear, but that light was nearly enough to make him turn around and leave the nation entirely. Whatever had happened there, it was likely far outside his ability to deal with, and he refused to become involved in anything having to do with Them. Nonetheless, he felt strangely drawn to the stranger he had seen follow the archon and Aether up the mountain, and seeing as he had not returned with them, he eventually decided it would be best to investigate, if only to see whether another Khaenri'ahn had found a way to break the curse.
The path up to the city remained mostly clear of monsters, likely remaining hidden for the same reason he had. The central tower soon loomed straight above him, casting a long shadow that covered the city in an impenetrable layer of darkness. Silence permeated the space, even more so than would be expected in an abandoned ancient city, as if everything had not only gone to hide, but had been entirely erased from existence in that moment when the eye projected in the night sky emerged and opened. Only the sound of Dainsleif’s own footsteps against the stone path echoed as he began to ascend the stairs towards the highest point of the tower.
The higher he climbed, the more he got the sense that what he would find at the top was nothing like what he had expected. Where there had once been red light reflecting off every surface, he saw as he approached the top that a faint bluish-white light was was now emanating from somewhere, giving off a strange kind of energy that he couldn't quite identify, but which almost reminded him of the damaged leylines he had come across in his travels. Of course no such thing could exist this high up nor in a place like this to begin with, but that impossibility only further piqued his interest.
At last he turned a corner and was greeted with the source of that light. A large throne, covered in massive blue structures made of ice, and holding the same man he had seen earlier. It wasn't surprising that he was here given his lack of return with the rest of the group earlier, but the state he was in was rather unusual. It seemed that even in extreme circumstances such as those in Natlan, even Ronova was beholden to the rules of Teyvat that she herself had set. The man on the throne at first glance appeared completely normal, sitting upright and looking straight ahead as if to watch over his subjects that were no longer there. But even after Dainsleif fully entered the man's direct line of sight, he made no move to greet or attack him. Only sat perfectly still. The next assumption of course would be to believe the man dead, but besides the fact of the curse, there was faint movement coming from him as his chest rose and fell in steady breaths over and over. So he had been suspended somehow, perhaps his soul disconnected from his body and placed elsewhere for some reason that Dainsleif could only begin to guess at. No matter the man's apparent state of unconsciousness, Dainsleif still used extreme caution while approaching the throne, more than wary of anyone who may be observing him, whether that be Ronova, another Shade, or the one who was in possession of the man's consciousness or soul if some third party had been involved in whatever had happened here.
Getting a closer look at the mysterious figure, he could make out a few more details that at the very least narrowed down his identity a bit. Even though he had at some point joined the Fatui, it seemed as though he was unwilling to give up many of the markings of his time in the Khaenri’ahn army. He had been a very high ranking commander from the time of the Cataclysm it seemed, and had won countless battles against the Abyss during that time. Had things not ended as they had, perhaps the two would have met and become friends, or it could be that they had met before in passing and simply never got the chance to work together given the circumstances. Strangely, however, the medals and awards from Khaenri'ah came to a quite sudden halt at a certain point on his jacket, and other shapes took their place. He was not familiar with many of the accolades of the other nations, but if he had to guess, these had come from Natlan, as they all shared a similar light purple hue that was common among one of the local tribes. So he had left Khaenri'ah before the fighting had entirely ended, and managed to land himself on another nation's battlefield. In hindsight the choice was an understandable one, but at the time it would have been seen as a quite serious transgression against the homeland, and he surely would have been punished had anyone discovered what he had done. But none of that mattered now. Perhaps that choice had been why he eventually ended up in the hands of the Fatui, or perhaps they offered him more than the scattered remains of the Khaenri'ahn population ever could. Why he didn't stay in Natlan after the Cataclysm was more unclear, but again it didn't matter. He had made his choice and it had landed him here, and perhaps this was no worse than the fate of any of the rest of them.
There wasn't much else to go off of in terms of identification. The man's face was completely covered by a large metal mask and dark face covering, but even if it hadn't been, seeing his face likely wouldn't have been much help. While Dainsleif remained largely unscathed by the curse of immortality due to the ring he carried with him, he knew from experience that others were not so lucky, and most became unrecognizable after a few hundred years due to the black and blue rot that would creep over their bodies until they had been consumed by it and most often fell into complete madness. This one had only been lucky enough to hold onto most of his sanity until this point judging by the small bits of blackened, scaled over skin visible around his wrists and neck.
Dainsleif turned to leave and head back down the tower. This had been interesting, and he was glad to see that it seemed another Khaenri’ahn had found some kind of peace despite the curse, but ultimately there was nothing there for him. The man could not speak and ultimately had betrayed their homeland, and even if he were to wake, he would likely be unable to tell him anything of substance about the Abyss Order, so it was better that they parted ways here. But something held him back. Despite his better judgement, something about the man on the throne pulled him back in. Dainsleif turned around to face him. Something bubbled up in his mind, a name, an image, a memory, he couldn't quite tell. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't bring himself to remember what was so familiar about this man. They had not fought together during the Cataclysm, of this he was sure, so most likely they had only met briefly in passing, perhaps when they were younger and weren't spending every waking moment in fear for their lives. He decided to look a bit longer, if only to pay his respects to someone he had apparently once met, but still nothing came to mind. He would have to ask Aether about it next time they met. Once again he turned to leave and those same blurry memories returned as he walked down the first set of steps.