Chapter Text
So, reciting a nonsense spell,
Chewing my fingernails, I was waiting
I called out an incoherent name
And the sapling said to the raging tempest, “ You deserve kindness too. You deserve it.”
.
The divine tree burns behind them.
A madman looms over it. He clinically observes the situation.
You scramble like ants below his gaze, trying to salvage the fate of the world desperately.
If Irminsul burns, the world’s memories will burn down alongside it. Chaos would unfold, and disasters of immeasurable proportions would ensue. Your friends, your people, and even the whole of Teyvat will be in disarray, memories thrown into oblivion. It is a scenario you cannot let come to pass.
You rack your brain for solutions, and unfortunately come up blank, save for one, final thing.
It’s one that you wanted to avoid. You swore before, that you’d find a solution. You’d look into every possible alternative, every timeline. Alas, time has run out.
A familiar stare pieces into the back of your head, and you whip around to look at your trusted familiar.
“You know what to do.” He said candidly.
You promised, you dolefully think. You promised.
You hesitate, “But-”
He bites back, annoyed, “Do we have another choice now, Buer?”
You don’t want Irminsul to burn down. You know what he is suggesting to remedy the crisis they are in. You also know the cost.
You had a similar conversation back then too, as if time is truly a circle, a samsara that repeats only the most vulnerable of moments.
“If Irminsul is burned down, then-”
“You want me to take your core to maintain the leylines in its place, right? Have you seen a situation where we find another way, and you make it through? Where do you get to continue studying at the Akademiya, get to live your life out? I know you think about your death often, but consider. I promise I’ll try to find another way first.”
“If push comes to shove, then you need to choose Sumeru first. You know that, right?”
“... Yes. But I’ve never broken my promises. Let me try first. Please.”
You drift away from your recollections to his grim, determined face.
You want to know what he is thinking now, to throw away his life so readily like this, when you know how many unfulfilled regrets he has.
You peer into his mind like you used to, something you stopped after he told you off enough. “Boundaries, Buer.” You remember him snapping at you, until your attempts to know more about him this way eventually petered out. This time, you murmur a quiet apology as you probe into his thoughts. This time, he doesn't even notice the intrusion.
I’m willing to do anything for her people to be happy, no matter what it takes.
For Nahida, and the land, its people I somehow care about find myself caring about.
Hmph.
You blink out of his mind, overwhelmed with the sincerity of something you were never supposed to hear.
It makes you feel seen. It makes you feel oddly tender, even at a time like this. It makes you feel like you want to throw up.
Dottore’s machines whir to life, noticing movement, resistance, and gearing to lash out.
“It’s between me or Sumeru,” he rasps out, “We talked about this before, Buer.”
And you-
You know it’s necessary. You acquiesce to that.
You’ve done it before. Now, you have permission, so-
Why can’t you seem to move?
You were supposed to find an alternative. You made a promise, and it may be the first one you failed.
You have to.
You can’t seem to move.
“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Kusanali.” He scoffs, voice lacking its usual bite. “Nahida.”
I was supposed to find an alternative, you want to scream. Your throat is dry.
You promised.
The fate of Sumeru, the whole of Teyvat, is at stake. You both know this.
The scales are unbalanced. It tips over, over, over, crashing and burning. You have the power to salvage it, to save one side, lest both be lost forever. You’ve made a decision about which side to save long ago, mutually agreed upon by all parties. You know what to do, so why aren’t you moving?
His slender hand raises, in half an aborted goodbye.
Your tiny hands tremble next to your sides.
He plunges his arm into his chest, grasping something and ripping it out with reckless abandon.
You stretch out your hand at him, not quite sure what you want to do except to get to him
He takes the heavy lifting into his hands, placing himself on the uneven side of the scales to weigh it down. He’s ever reliable as your second sage, even in a laughable, dire situation such as this.
You can’t stop him. Not if it means dooming Sumeru. As much as you care for him, you care for Sumeru all the more too. He’s a part of Sumeru too, so he’s all the more a part of your duty and love to your nation too.
It’s the right thing to do. You can’t stop him.
You do not want to lose him either.
You channel dendro to pull ḩ̵̢̈́i̷͇͖̙̎̈́m̵̱̏̊ towards you, like that day before, and your fist closes around something desperately
and the world goes w h i te-
You hear a whisper, from the depths of beyond:
T̷̟̗̈̌͋h̵̳̬͛ȁ̶̦̹̂n̸͚̏͠k̴̝͘ ̶̺̌y̸̢͚̝͂͑̅o̵̭͔̱̎̈u̸̖̜͐́͂. N̶̤̔̀̕a̵͍͋ḩ̸́i̸̘͉̪̓̈̊d̸̝͝ͅa̸̗̩͎͌̇̔,̵̙͔̄̏̏ ̵̻̯͘I̴̛̹̹̼͐̊ ̷͖͚͉̎l̴̹̱͌̾o̴͙̖̊̈v̶̠̟̺̓e̵̢͙̩̎ ̷̛̗̫̑y̶̧̪̓̃̊o̸͓͠u̴̥̽͆̈́.
I’m sorry.
You let out an incoherent scream, wailing out his name.
.
You blink back to yourself.
A core, made of pristine, pure, Irminsul wood, sits innocently in your hand.Where is he?
You look up.
A prism of light has speared him through, barely missing the valued core you hold. Purple liquid, oozing with electro, drips from the puncture in his chest, coating the charred, formerly sacred ground in blood.
It’s only been a second.
In that one second, your the w̷̟̽o̴̥̼̞̅r̸͔͒͌͆l̷̰͚̱̋͂d̴̢̀ has ended.
As much as you want to scream, or cry, or grieve, or do anything, you finally force yourself to move.
You can’t waste this moment, this rare, valuable opportunity granted to you.
You plant the seed of memory, left behind by your treasured friend, into the leylines. You channel energy into it, and watch as the world stitches itself back piece by piece in mild amazement.
As for what it took to get to here-
Isn’t it ironic? The peregrine, the wanderer, wiped away from the reminiscence of the world itself, now being the only one to sustain the thin, fragile fabric of its memory?
In another second, a new world starts anew.
It’s lacking something. You have to trudge on anyway.
The battle is still raging on.
I'm a monster who was born into this vague, new-old world
At a glance, it seems to have been scattered by a careless hand
A slider thrown outside, a batter who got a strike as expected
It hurts so much to keep my expression composed;
give me some medicine, doctor
.
The Doctor starts making motions to yank his body towards himself, reaching his hand out to collect him, and you refuse to entertain the notion of leaving him to the whims of the Doctor, to eternally rot in Snezhnaya. Inazuma was where he was created, but he has become a part of Sumeru, and you sincerely hope that he could rest in Sumeru, as well. You promised.
A stray gear launches itself into your patch as you reach out with vines of elemental energy to intercept, and you're forced to retreat as a sharp beam barely scrapes past your ear.
You’re wailing in denial before you even can comprehend it, as Dottore’s cold, outstretched arm gets dangerously close to him, and you think a desperate plea to prevent that at all costs-
The traveller, your first sage, comes to heed your wishes once more, taking the Doctor’s loss of focus in your warriors to leap past his defenses and get in a well-timed strike, sending the Doctor reeling backwards for a second.
His machines stutter for one, integral second, and your second sage slips out of his waiting grasp.
The one lodged within him pulls itself out of his body with a sickening squelch. You freeze.
He is suspended midair for a deathly, still moment.
The scene unpauses, while you’re still stuck rooted to the spot. His body careens headfirst towards the ground in a sickenly familiar visage.
In any other situation, he can channel his vision’s energy to fly and swoop freely in the air, away from the carnage. As it stands, his vision remains dull, muted, grey, unable to flicker even a single burst of Anemo again. The owner of the vision cannot move, cannot do much more either.
This time, you catch him with a blanket of dendro before he thuds to the ground, and gently lower him to the floor.
You are forced to leave him there first as you turn your attention back to Dottore.
Faltered momentarily by the thought of losing his experiment (you think with mild disgust), the Doctor stumbles for one, single second.
Your people surge in on the offensive while he’s caught off guard, and you support them with tendrils of dendro at the back. At last, the traveller lands a decisive, finishing blow on the heretic who sought to burn down the world, striking their sword through his chest.
Dottore falls. He crashes to the ground.
No one catches him.
You’ve finally won.
.
Even if I came to love humanity in the end,
There won't come a day when I know that love, will there?
So today hit me like a brick
.
It’s over.
A voice lingers in the air. “People of Sumeru,” it haughtily announces, “You’re not as bad as I thought after all.” The next words are gritted out, yet sincere, “I enjoyed your company somehow... thank you, I guess. S̵̤̺̦͗̆o̷̺͆ ̶͈̱̪͗̆t̴̝̖̣͝ȃ̸͗͜k̸̬̫͗ẹ̴̩͊̾ ̸̳̤̈͗̉c̵̳̜̺͛͊a̴̦͒r̴̝̺̬̉͗̓ê̵̻͊ ̵̛̹̣̼͌̈ǫ̴̯̓͐f̷̛͈̼͍̈́̾ ̷̛͈̬͎͐̏Ṇ̷̣͝a̴͈͂̀͘ẖ̶͂i̵̲͔̔̉̽d̶͉̥̮́a̶̟̞̍̉.̵͍͐̀̑ ̷͓̣̭̌̐P̶̱̗̯͝l̷͕̣̀̍̑e̷͍͘ă̶̢̩̇š̴̛̯e̷͈̭̘͊̒̽.̶͚̐͌͋” This is all you hear, before it too fades. You cling onto it desperately.
You crumple next to his still form and scream.
You scream in a shriek of denial. You scream, as you hold onto his unmoving corpse and wail uncontrollably.
What an unseemly sight it must have been, the dendro archon covered in snot and blubber, sobbing her heart out to the world! What a pathetic sight it must have been, the goddess of wisdom, whining like a child, unable to pick herself up to lead her people after a crisis!
An echo of voice sounding suspiciously like ḩ̵̢̈́i̷͇͖̙̎̈́m̵̱̏̊ resounds in your head, snarking, “You’re not infallible, Buer. Don't be a hypocrite and let yourself rest for once.” It sounds like something he would say, were he actually here. For once, you take it, clinging onto his memory in a clumsy attempt to keep yourself together. Under the imaginary scene of his soothing guidance, you let yourself slump to the floor in a jumbled mess of exhaustion and grief.
The Traveller and the rest of your people, ever reliable, come over to check on you after the battle.
They see what you cradle in your little arms, as their expressions flash from shock, to confusion, to belated, horrified understanding.
The grief etched on their faces is as clear as day. You wonder, what expression are you making, for the pity in their eyes to multiply tenfold when they look at you, even amidst their sorrow? They ask regarding your well-being, and you brush off the concern of your people. You’re their archon. You’re supposed to guide them through this crisis, to be strong for them, not the other way around.
You pick up his body with your small, small hands, despite the protests and offers to carry him for you, and return to the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
You have to take him to his room in the sanctuary first, before returning to your own quarters. Wait- that room has no occupant now, right? But he needs someplace to rest, anyway, lack of life in him notwithstanding. At least, until you can prepare a deserving final resting place for him.
Your people accompany you anyway, despite your insistence that it isn’t necessary. They surround you like the coral housing algae, radiating care, protection and warmth. Your heart wells up at the love from your people.
You wish he were able to accompany you too, instead of lying limp in your hands, like a broken ragdoll cut from its strings.
You appreciate what you have. You cannot be selfish.
You go the long way back home.
Even if I lit a perfect final flame,
It would still be painful, wouldn't it?
To be honest, I remembered
I wanted to try blooming
I've reached it at last, a love
That mimicked the truth
.
An oddly sweet note, drifting through the air, crackling with the force of thunder:
M̸͈̬̠̑̈͠ÿ̷̠̲́͆͋͘ ̸̯̑̉b̸̺̝̌u̷̫̐͌s̵̝̻̄̌͋͝y̵̳̾͊͝͠ ̷̞͉͆l̵̘̥̎͑͝͝i̴͖̅͐̔̈́t̸̡̛̫̃̆̈́ť̴͎̙͕̳̂͂l̷̗͉̾̍̈́e̶̙̟͈̅ ̵̱͠b̸̡͋͐̿e̵͙͔̱̒̑̒͘e̷͚̭̊̎,Ĩ̵͍ ̸̚ͅḣ̸̨ȍ̵̤p̵̡͑ȩ̵̷̘͑͠y̵̦̽o̷̺͠ü̸̧ ̸̛͇c̴͍̀å̴̟n̷̘͠ ̴̧̎m̵̥͆o̴̱͒v̶͖̎e̶̩͂ ̴̡̎ȍ̶̱n̷̢̋ ̴͕̉w̸̜̅i̷̗͝ṫ̵͔ḧ̷̟́o̴̗͝u̷͍͗t̶̞̕ ̵̣̎m̷̲̓e̷̟͒,̸̯̕ ̵̦̽a̵̼̾n̷̲̽d̷̯͑ ̸̯̇b̷̥̎ę̵̅ ̵̛͓h̶̬̏a̵̮͒p̴͚͂p̷̛̗y̸͉͝.̵͖̄
Life returns to a semblance of normalcy, after that.
For some people, nothing has changed. For some people, everything has changed.
Some people flit out and about in celebration, praising the dendro archon, congratulating your land for its recent victory. You don’t feel all too deserving of it, but what matters is that it makes your people happy.
Some people look noticeably more subdued, mourning the ones lost in the disaster, the ones you couldn’t save.
Even Aqaba of Vahumana, who often argued with Hat Guy over his essays on Tatarasuna, looks particularly crestfallen.
You continue to look after your people.
You are looked after too.
The group of people who freed you from their prison, all of your friends, gather together for drinks at Lambad’s afterwards, and they invite you for a meal too. They want you to take your mind off him, off your sadness, you can tell. How can you refuse your people’s wishes? So you go.
Alhaitham, the former Acting Grand Sage, Kaveh, the Light of Kshahrewar, Tighnari, the Forest Ranger, Cyno, the General Mahamatra, Dehya, the Flame Mane, Candace, Nilou, Collei, Layla, Madam Faruzan and Sethos are all there when you arrive, greeting you warmly when you step through the door.
The gaping absence is noticeably cold.
You catch a glimpse of Sethos’ heartbroken face, sitting a little ways apart from everyone else, an empty seat next to his side, and feel the full force of his loss slamming into your side, prompting tears you cannot blink away to involuntarily prick in your eyes.
You order a plate of Candied Ajilenakh Nuts and watch as everyone's orders trickle in. Cyno starts a Genius Invocation TCG tournament right then and there, while everyone downs their drinks and laughs merrily. Faced with such a joyous scene, one could almost delude themselves into thinking nothing happened. You will not do him that disservice, and you know that everyone else is affected deeply as well.
You knew he hung out with these kindhearted people a lot, however begrudgingly. You want to hear what they think about him from their own mouths, need to know personally, ever a seeker of wisdom. You ask.
Collei speaks up first, clearly flustered at your presence but brimming with a need to share. She tells you about how he helped her learn to read and write, and despite the begrudging facade he put on, he never refused. He also helped her clear out Fatui camps in the forest, and spent time with her, and they became something like friends. She dips her head mournfully, and you echo the action.
Tighnari corroborates that statement, and adds how he always brought supplies to the Forest Rangers when necessary, how he gave water to him at the Interdarshan Championships when he was dehydrated in the desert.
“He takes care of the patients,” Tighnari explains, “even if he himself is the worst patient I’ve ever seen”. He’s always taken care of others, and he’s always been bad at taking care of himself, you’ve known that since long ago. It’s something you’ve always tried to get him to change, but currently, engrossed as you are in a story of him trying to fly away from the Birmistan with broken legs, you still can’t help but giggle at his antics.
Cyno looks up from where he’s sitting at Tighnari, having just finished his last round of Genius Invocation TCG. While he searches for a new opponent, you slip in and ask him if you can play a round together, to intellectually challenge yourself in both skill and wit. He looks surprised, but accepts, and you pick up your deck to begin the match. The General Mahatra slams cards down onto the table with vigour, visibly more at ease that he is on the job, and you become lost in the game. You beat him again, and again, and again, until you're both laughing from the results and the effort. It's your first time playing, you admit bashfully, and he praises your skill, eliciting a flush to your cheeks.
As if spurred on by something unknown, he then wistfully starts recounting how Hat Guy demolished him too, the first time they played together. You got to know another side of him. You got to play a game that your people enjoyed. It’s some of the most fun you’ve had in a while. You resolve to play with your friends more often, even though you cannot play with him. It's not a replacement for him. You treasure them all too much for that.
Layla, more accurately her sleepwalking self, tells you about how he would offer her tips for her papers, followed by gruffly telling her to get more sleep because “humans need eight hours of sleep.” She remarks that Hat Guy only told her to rest more because he knew Daytime Layla wouldn’t remember it. It does sound like him. Kind, yet afraid to show it, bristling when anyone gets too close like a startled cat. You're glad that at least someone knows how much he cares.
Madam Faruzan, as she likes to be called, bemoans the loss of a talented student, as she rants about how his debates with her were truly insightful, even with his obvious disrespect towards her.
Nilou recalls seeing him in the crowd of the Zubayr Theater while she danced, always applauding after every one of her performances, yet he was never to be found when she sought him out afterwards. She tells you about catching a glimpse of him dancing with a sword on the empty stage late at night, when he thought no one was watching, and marvelled at his grace and elegance in the art. She never dared disturb him, in case she interrupted his flow, and she never brought it up to him either, lest he stop altogether in shame. She still wanted him to dance with him sometime though, and you think you would have liked to see that too.
Candace, the protector of Aaru Village, divulges how he fought off bandits raiding the village for supplies with gusts of sharp Anemo, only to turn around and refuse to accept compensation. “I’d like to thank him for everything he’s done.” She murmurs, and you share that sentiment with her.
Dehya talked about how he was a fun partner to spar with, and how he let her try makeup on him, despite his initial protests. He looked gorgeous with makeup in addition to his usual striking red eyeliner, and from the time you remember him huffing and puffing back to the sanctuary with his face all done and flaming red, you agree.
Alhaitham informs you about his thesis topics he looked over and found intriguing, and Kaveh interjects with his own opinions. You brought him over to their shared house quite often, and you ate together quite a lot as well. They got to know him quite well over that period, and came to see him as somewhat of a friend and brother figure. They don’t say much, ending up caught in their own squabbles, but you can see much from their tired looks and eyebags.
Your Candied Ajilenakh Nuts arrive, and you eat quietly, stewing in the mixture of joy and desolation, as the last few drinks are served to the table.
You notice a familiar beverage that no one touches among the mix of the usual batch.
In addition to their usual drinks, they’ve ordered the most bitter coffee the establishment served, a fine taste acquired by none present. You imagine him sipping the concoction and savouring its taste, brushing off anything else offered to him with a harsh, “I don’t like sweets.” It’s a scene that can now only exist in your dreams. The lack of his presence, already so obvious, feels all the more overbearing.
He’s really become part of them, you think, and he will be missed dearly by them too.
.
A little later, you head to Puspa Cafe to observe your people, and you meet Sethos again by accident.
You understand from your years of observing dreams how deep the gash of a broken heart runs, the loss of a loved one goes. You approach in silence, standing despite the empty seat next to him. You say no words, but he tells you about Hat Guy anyway. He tells you about his Hat Guy, his helpfulness in the Akademiya to his fellow classmates despite his rough exterior, his warmth despite his gruff demeanor.
He’s crying.
You tell him that Hat Guy would want him to be happy, so it’s okay to let it out. You watch him bawl his eyes out, and pat his back slowly in comfort.
Outside the window, you catch a glimpse of your people bustling about.
You see scholars of the Akademiya flurrying around the streets, and think about the essays he could no longer hand in for you to personally review.
You see merchants in the Grand Bazaar selling their wares, and think back to the scenes Sethos described of running to and fro on their shopping trips, something that could no longer exist in reality now.
You think about what could’ve been.
You wish he could’ve been here.
You tear yourself away from these thoughts. You’re the dendro archon, supposed to be wise and sagacious. You have a duty to rebuild your country. It is not one you intend to shirk.
Ah, even if I went back to humanity's first day
There would be no memories there, right?
I'd just be that much sadder, so have a laugh on me
.
A little while back, the wind carried a faint whisper across the world to Mondstadt, flitting through the mind of a young fledgling:
Í̵͚̫̰’̷̫̲͔̽͂̕m̸̱̲̗͑ ̶͔̜̄̋̄p̸͙͑͒̎r̶̯̰͝ơ̶̗͂u̴̜̜̔͜d̷̯̱͕̏ ̸͉̊̿̕o̷̧̹̣̽̒̚f̸͖̚ ̴̥̤̮̒̾͌y̶̱̠̏̆o̶̮̚u.
Durin comes rushing through the Sanctuary of Surasthana, wings flapping frantically.
“Hat Guy’s in danger, I felt it-“
He opens his mouth in another wordless question, raising his eyes to finally meet yours.
His jaw clicks shut. He finds the answer he’s seeking in your desolate expression. It’s not one either of you wants to hear.
His eyes well up with tears.
You drop your gaze away from his.
He asks to take something, anything to remember him by. You selfishly want to keep all of him with you, in his home, in Sumeru, but you’re not the only one who cared about him, despite what he believed, so you can’t be selfish. It’s unfair to Durin to keep all of him here. It’s healthier to cope through with a memento of him. It’s what he deserves, what he would want. You can’t be selfish, weren’t you selfish enough when you hesitated and it almost cost everything? You let him. He takes his hat and dips his head in gratitude.
You visit his corpse body together. It’s unblemished, carefully pieced back together, cracks filled with pure dendro energy and smoothed over, resilient and lacking any scars or traces of injury. He looks peaceful, almost like he’s just sleeping.
You know otherwise. His vision, now a muted grey, says otherwise.
It’s further telling how you cannot feel his dreams, as the god of that dominion. You hope that the everlasting dream he finds himself in remains a sweet one eternally. Oh, but he’s not a fan of sweets. Whatever it is, you hope that it’s a happy one.
You think, what would you say, if you could see us now? Would you chide us to move on? Would you be surprised that we care so much for you? Or would you be glad that someone will remember you? That someone won't leave you behind?
You oh so desperately want to peer into his mind to see, despite how much he would hate it. Alas, you cannot.
Ah, but there’s no point in dwelling on the past. You have to move onward, on this never-ending road of life, lest you be left behind and drown in the muddy waters of regret.
You both pay your respects to a dear valued friend.
He wants to stay for a while longer, you can tell. You allow him to stay by his side for as long as he wishes.
But soon, he has to return to Monstadt. What a pity. You wanted to talk with someone else who understood him too, but you couldn't muster up the courage for all the time he was here, regretting only when it’s too late. You hug him in the sweet comfort you both so desperately need, while he’s still here.
Eventually, you part ways.
He didn’t want to be left behind. Yet, he left you behind. You’re not supposed to be bitter at all, all-knowing and wise dendro archon. You’re supposed to know better. You’re supposed to be above that.
You were supposed to have more time. You promised. You never broke a promise.
How could you possibly move on from that?
Even if I went back to humanity's first day
I wouldn't have the qualifications to live
I've become a bit weak
.
You bury him, as you promised, on that quiet mountain.
It’s a promise you actually can keep.
From a seed to a sapling, all life shall grow; from a sapling to a tree, it must be allowed to flourish. The ley lines will be sustained, and the world is allowed to continue on. Some things have to be torn down to allow others to thrive. Weeds have to be removed to bring forth new life. It’s the natural order of the world.
You still mourn that it took from you.
You’re the dendro archon. You’re supposed to be above that, for your people.
You allow yourself to be selfish, one more time.
You allow yourself to mourn.
You will remember him, until the end of time. His memory is etched into the very lifeblood of the leylines themselves. You could not forget, even if you wanted to. You will not forget. You made a promise, after all.
You weep, as little viparyas sprout up under your feet where your tears lie, decorating his grave in sprigs of green and purple.
He deserves this much, at least.
And the storm said back to the tree, “You deserve it too.”
.
.
.
Please think it over
Please be quiet
Please look at me