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The world is on fire.
The roaring sound of the flames that engulf the entire kingdom of Khaenri'ah are deafeningly loud, echoing in the underground chamber that held the capital. Buildings crack, with wooden beams exploding as they burn and thunder, collapsing inward without proper supports. Abyssal monsters snarl in the streets, casting shadows among the light of the flames; their bone-like bodies clattering as they float and chase.
From above, a terrible mixture of the elements coalesces and descends. The earth splits open under spears of stone. Lightning strikes crash into the ground like rain. Shards of ice fall from the sky and any that melt becomes a torrential flood. Then the swirling, violent winds mix it all together into something terrible, painfully inescapable.
Despite all of the noise, there is only one thing that Fern can hear from her hiding spot by the underground spring. Screams. Carried by the wind, the young noble girl can hear her peoples terrified cries so very clearly. Somewhere, a baby wails alone. Somewhere, a man screams a name in anguish. Somewhere, a brother fights in tears. Somewhere, a sister chokes on guilt. Somewhere, a mother begs her child to open their eyes.
Above all of them is the collective screams and wails of terror. Like a morbid and formless umbrella, the Khaenri'ahns cries arise from every alley, house, street and basement that exists. Some are cut short, some go on for too long, some are beginning to distort. From every corner of their underground home, a hauntingly macabre melody of fear plays in a dissonant echo.
Fern hates it more than she fears it. Which is why she doesn't stay hiding for long. Today was the last day her and her friend would be considered children. Today they were supposed to meet up for a personal celebration before his coming of age ceremony the next day. A trip to the city before he became too recognizable, the last day she could freely spend time with him before others scrutinized every moment of their friendship. It was supposed to be nice.
The kingdom is falling.
Fern has to find Zewal. She has to make sure he's okay. Has to make sure he's alive. And that's more important to her than being afraid of the screams in the wind. So the young girl stands, abandoning her tiny cove filled with trinkets shared between the two of them, and runs down the path. It's familiar and grounding to know that despite the earth shattering spears and rumbling ground, it's stayed the same.
When she reaches the first alley, she recoils from the smell that assaults her nose. Rot, blight and a lingering tone of copper. It mixes together in an awful way and Fern can't help but gag, taking a step back- But no, she has to keep going. Zewal is in danger. So she steels herself and moves.
Forward through the alley until she finds the street, then down the street past the flower store. Fern tries to ignore the weight of the tears in her eyes when she spots the window shattered and the newly shipped white lilies stained red. The distortion of her vision makes it hard to see, and breathing in the smoke is doing her no favors, but she keeps running.
'Zewal.' She chants in her mind. 'Find him.' She focuses on her goal.
She turns the corner and screams when fangs are the first thing that fill her vision. Her feet carry her momentum as she leans back and before she knows it, Fern is splayed out on the ground right below the largest set of claws she has ever seen. A sob escapes her as the creatures head turns down to look at her, it's mouth filled with teeth the size of her fingers and a maw large enough to swallow her head whole.
It's roar is more like a snarl, and she barely has time to push herself back by her feet as it strikes out with claws the size of her forearm. It's not enough to escape completely and she screams again when her left leg is lit with the agony of scorching iron. Her hand immediately goes to her leg to stem what bleeding she can before she rolls to get away and pulls herself to her feet.
Fern tries to turn and run, but putting weight on her injured leg immediately sends her back down as weakness overtakes it. She already told herself not to look, but reflex causes her to do so anyway. She's not sure if she's grateful or terrified of the amount of blood that hides the severity of it. Because all she sees is blood, all the way down her leg from just the brief moment she was standing.
Fern is struck with the realization that she will not live.
She can't run, hell she can barely stand. The blood flowing from the massive wound to her thigh is already enough for her to feel dizzy(even though she's not sure if that's because of the loss or the shock). And the creature is already rushing towards her with wide open jaws.
In that moment as she stares down her death, all Fern can think about is how much she wants to see Zewal.
In the library, stuck together for their history lessons about the Eclipse Dynasty and the Crimson Moon Dynasty, passing notes and trying(and failing) to stifle their giggling. The slap of a wooden stick against a desk as his father reprimands them for not paying attention. Him reading the note out loud; only to stop when their laughter turns boisterous. The realization he'd fallen for their trick and devolving into laughter right alongside them.
At the riverside, grabbing shells and glass stones as he runs around in the water looking for his own treasures. She'd tease him for not wearing a shirt. 'What would the ladies think!' she'd exclaim in mockery. He'd gasp and then mock her for looking at him. 'What would the men think!' he'd exclaim right back. He'd blush, from his ears to the back of his neck when she'd smile at him. Only a moment to set down her things. A failed escape to remain dry.
In their hideout, organizing her trinkets and stones as he reads a book about sword fighting. She'd look at him then and watch. His chest would rise and fall in a calm rhythm, stuttering when he perhaps reads something that excites him. The sharpness of his eyes as he reads with focus, the pinkish-yellow colouring looking like honey in the dark space. His families familiar dark silvery grey hair sits on his head, resting around his face and down to his neck, in need of a haircut from the way he'd lift a hand to move it out of his vision. Without saying anything, she'd reach over and put a yellow fish scale she found that morning on his forehead, just to listen to the depth his voice had gained as he flustered about, asking her why.
In front of the flower shop, staring in shock at a beautiful blue and yellow flower from outside Khaenri'ah. He'd say it was from Fontaine, that it was specially ordered through his family specifically because it's colours matched hers. His ears and neck would be bright red while his face remained dusted pink. The seller would stifle her giggles at the pair while the old mentor would scoff and say 'Rainbow Roses would have been better!'. She'd have no idea why, and his face would only get pinker.
Anywhere but here, in fire and flames.
The clang of metal, the shattering of glass, and a grunt of pain pull her consciousness back into its body. Fern blinks and, as if summoned by magic, Zewal is standing right in front of her. For a moment she's elated, happy. He's right there, right here, safe, protecting her with his sword and holding back the monsters jaws. But then she sees where the creatures mouth has landed. Blood coats the left side of his body as the monsters teeth dig into his back. His sword is just barely holding back the bottom jaw from clicking shut around his front.
"Zewal!" Fern, for a moment, forgets her own wound as she tries to stand. She doesn't know what she'd be able to do for him, as she'd never had the strength to learn to wield a weapon, but she can't just stand by. Her hopes last only as long as her leg does. Fern never fully gets to her feet.
Helpless, she looks around for anything she can to help him, to distract the monster for even a moment. Zewal was smart enough to know how to fight with an injury without making it worse, she just had to distract it. Before it remembered to use its claws.
The glint catches her attention first, and Fern takes hold of it without thinking and throws the object as hard as she can. Years of practice, tormenting Fern with crumpled paper, pebbles of varying sizes and light paperweights, pay off. The item nails the creature in what appears to be it's eye and it recoils. Though the girl is proud of herself, the twin yelps of pain that follow drown it in guilt.
As the creature jolts back it's fangs dislodge, but they leave gouges in her friends back and he stumbles forward with the momentum. Her heart stills when he wobbles, his left arm visibly trembling with the effort to move it. All she can think about is him falling, of the creature killing him in front of her. All she can see is the blood on his back, staining his hair red on one side.
Why is this happening to them? To Khaenri'ah? What did they do? What could they have possibly done to the gods on the surface for them to rain retribution upon them like this? Why was her peaceful life uprooted? Why is she watching her childhood friend bleed for her on their day of celebration?
Fern is stuck watching. Stuck listening. Grounded and dizzy and losing blood. She can't breath. She can't understand why. Why is this happening? Stuck watching as Zewal grips his sword with both hands and attacks with mortal strength.
'He won't survive.' Is all she can think. They were one day away from awakening their magic. One day away from being given the choice to master it. With no power, the two of them are stuck with only one weapon to share; his sword. He's been practicing, but he's still new enough to be afraid. It's pure luck that he strikes the creature down.
Fern is given no chance to feel relief for him, because as the creature fades to dust Zewal stumbles and falls backward. He lands with no grace, his sword clattering somewhere away from them and his head hits the stone with a clack. It's a sound she's familiar with, but not in this way. It's always been a pot that breaks, or a bowl that chips. The girl doesn't like the idea that Zewal has broken.
He doesn't move, but she can see his chest moving. Struggling. She can hear his wheeze from a few feet away. A word, a mumble. What is she supposed to do? The earth rumbles and she remembers the screams. She wants to live. She wants Zewal to live. To hell with gods or moons or eclipses- She'll do whatever she can to live for him. With him.
Fern crawls closer, scuttling as much as she can with a near numb leg. She's uncaring as she pulls herself over broken shards to his side. Determined. A wall of bricks could come up between them now and she'd find a way to punch through it instead of going around it. Zewal has risked his life for her.
Once she gets to him however, her hope and determination crumbles. Three jagged yet evenly spaced slashes across his chest leave blood quickly pooling on the ground beneath him. The bite marks on his back no doubt helping increase the size. They're dark, purpling at the edges, and it scares her. She's been scratched and it didn't look like this. She's seen him cut himself on a sword before and it didn't look like this.
The smell from before assaults her nose again. Rot. Blight. Sickness. That creature has poisoned him.
"Zewal.." Fern says through a sob, because that's all she can do. She doesn't have the strength to pull him out of the alley. She can't carry him with her torn leg and he can't carry her with a limp arm. There is nothing about this poison she knows, so she can't cure him either. "Zewal.." She begs. But who would she beg? The gods are burning the kingdom to the ground, and their king has remained silent for years.
The girl is reaching out to him when she finally notices the cuts on her hand, the one she used to throw the object. The stinging doesn't register until she sees it, and she doesn't know what it's from until she remembers another sound from earlier. Shattered glass.
Fern risks looking away from Zewal to instead look around him. Indeed, he's surrounded by the shards of glass of the thing he dropped before, the main pieces of the body just barely avoiding his fall. The pieces are stained red with his blood, but as she picks it up, she can see hints of pink and green. Another piece, and another. She recognizes the shape instantly as she catalogues it all.
A flower. He made her a glass flower. Not only that, he made it using the pieces of glass she'd gifted him. She can't see the intricate details anymore, the story of how long it took him to make this. She has no idea where he started and when he'd perfected his technique, but he made this for her.
Fern startles when a bloodied hand reaches for the fragments in hers and she pulls them closer to her for protection. Though when she looks up and sees yellow and pink looking back at her, she lowers them again. Zewals hand, though stained red in this moment, is careful as he rests it on top of the pieces in hers. She can still see the callouses he earned from learning to wield his weapon and fresh tears run down her cheeks.
She won't ever get to see him practice again will she? She'll never get to tease him about tripping over rocks that she purposefully throws at his feet. She'll never get to watch as he focuses entirely on learning. Never again will she pretend to complain about him giving so much attention to his swordsmanship.
"H-Hey.." Fern sniffles as his voice cuts through the pain, reminding her that he's losing time. "I-" She drops the pieces of damning evidence to hold onto his hand as he stutters and gasps for another breath. There's nowhere that she can go. Nowhere she can take him. And now that she's discovered his flower, shattered though it may be, she will not leave his side.
"I'm.. I'm glad." Zewal says, voice laced with pain. His eyes are barely focused on her, and without his families magic he will die permanently. He will not have the ability to sacrifice his life-force to heal from this. When his eyes close and his breathing stops, he will not wake up again like the legends say he will. He will die. But it's alright. She'll be here with him.
"Sorry I.. I didn't give it to you.. sooner." He chuckles, strained. "Been done… been done for a while now."
Fern shakes her head rapidly, ignoring the way it makes her body sway with dizziness and instability. "Don't-" She chokes out. "Don't apologize for that. I don't care if it wasn't perfect or if it broke. It was yours and it was perfect."
His family was symbolized simply with a flower. Not any specific one or type; any single one could fit as long as it had petals. Life and death were simply a certainty for them. Old flowers die to make place for new ones and that's normal. But each one was a different type. They were going to find out the next day which one Zewal was supposed to get because it would define him for the rest of his life. It would be his fate, his direction, his goal. It would also be the one he offered to share with his other half.
The fact that he made one without knowing which he would get, told her enough about what he was thinking. Who knows how long it took him to make it, she gave him so much glass over the years that even she's not sure when he would have started the process.
Fern hiccups and holds his hand to her face, uncaring of the blood that covered it. "Thank you. Thank you." She doesn't know what she's thanking him for. Is she thanking him? Is she thanking fate?
Surely it couldn't be fate. Right now she loathes it. For taking him. For taking her home. She just wants to live. She wants him to live. They never did anything to the gods, have never even been allowed to leave the nation because they were too young. What offense could they have committed?
A startled noise echoes from Zewal and Ferns eyes snap open in terror that some other monster has appeared, picking up a shard of the glass flower to defend herself. When she looks at him however, his eyes are trained on her hands. She looks down just as she hears a creature snarl nearby.
Blink.
And the pool of blood is gone. The stone street below her is gone. The thundering lightning and crashing spears are silenced. Phantom screams of Khaenri'ahns echo in her mind but she can no longer hear them all around her. The heat of the roaring fire is gone, replaced instead with a subtle warmth at her back.
Instead of feeling wonder at the sensation of this new type of grass under her body, Fern panics and looks to where Zewal was just lying in front of her. Her hands are empty save for the single glass shard she had just picked up a moment ago. There is no blood except for what was already staining her body.
No. No.
The girl lifts her head and flinches at the light that blinds her, unfamiliar yet familiar. Khaenri'ahs sky was an imitation of the real one after all. They'd had a sun just as the overworlders did, though false it may be. That realization in and of itself is cause for panic. Why is she on the surface?!
Her eyes adjust and she quickly looks around in hope. Were they saved? Did her prayers work? Will they live?
Zewal is not with her. Instead, surrounding her, are buildings she doesn't recognize. Farmland with crops she's never seen before. People she's never met. In the distance she can see an array of mountains on the horizon that tower even the tallest castle she's seen in Khaenri'ah.
But Fern is not in Khaenri'ah. And Zewal is gone. Alone. He will die alone. Without her. After she had just returned his feelings for her. The only thing she could give him in return was an end to their lives with her at his side. It was all she had left to give. And now the world has answered her wish to live in the cruelest moment it could.
They have been torn away from each other. She will live. He will die alone.
The statement echoes in her mind like the church bells. Like the hammers of the forges. Permanent and brief all at once yet continuing in an echo that keeps repeating. Time passes and eventually a figure approaches her. In her terror and grief and fury – Fern screams.
The grass around her sprouts to life. Butterflies and moths spring from nowhere, their wings covered in eye-like shapes. A cloud builds and circles her like a barrier between all that is her and all that is not. And then she wails and the bubble bursts. In an instant, the winged insects turn to sharp weapons and they fly. Roofs are destroyed, crops are ruined, holes are ripped in walls and entire fences are torn to shreds. Any cloth that lay out to dry is gone. Any food prepped to be made or stored is devoured by the ravenous beasts.
Ferns grief destroys the land around her. Hatred spills out of her in the forms of her creatures. Her fear turns to eyes to watch all that is near and to keep it all away. Zewal is gone. Zewal will die alone. Zewal. Zewal- Zewal-
Fern screams again, and her anguish echoes in every direction. Her tears wet the ground. Her blood fertilizes the land. Her power destroys the small village she landed in. There is nothing but agony in her voice, in her blood, in her tears and in her abilities.
She cries and cries and cries. All the while, she holds tightly to that single, fragile piece of glass like it's the last thing in her world. Because it is. Khaenri'ah is gone. Zewal is gone. Fern is alone.
---
Somewhere else, a god who has begun negotiating for his retirement with the Cryo Archon pauses, turning his head in the direction his Yaksha is racing toward. The ache and grief he feels through the earth is destructive. Similar to an ache and rage he has felt in his land once before. A feeling he will forever feel no matter how dim the light it radiates from gets.
With a days excuse from Hu Tao, Zhongli sets his tea down and grabs his coat as he heads out to investigate. Xiao is quite good at what he does, but the dragon wants to believe that maybe this time he can stop a calamity. He just has to heal the pain before it festers into Erosion. He wants to believe that this time he will not fail.
Mentally, he prepares for failure anyway.