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When Rex Lapis falls from the sky and dies during the Rite of Descension, something in Xiao's reality cracks.
It has been many decades since he'd seen Morax on a regular basis. Once peace was mostly established in Liyue and the Archon War was over, the need for soldiers and warriors had lessened into a need for protectors of the peace. Taking up residence in Wangshu Inn to protect the surrounding area had been something of a cross between a suggestion bordering on a order from Morax and Xiao's own need to leave a place (home) that held so many painful memories, even if some of them were good ones.
When the news reaches Wangshu Inn later that afternoon of the same day the mighty dragon Archon of Liyue crashes into the ground, dead, Xiao wonders, briefly, if he had missed something that could have been prevented, if this was his fault.
Verr Goldet's face had been twisted in an expression that Xiao has only seen a small handful of times when she had come up the stairs to tell him the news. I shouldn't be the one to tell you this, and we both know that, but I'm being forced to, and I am so sorry, is what her faces says before she even opens her mouth.
When she tells him that Rex Lapis had fallen from the sky, dead before he even hit the ground, something in Xiao's reality cracks.
"I'm waiting to hear from the Jade Chamber, there's a couple of rumours that the Traveller is helping with the investigation and the rites-"
"Thank you," Xiao manages to get out, cutting her off, before the darkness of what he supposes may be grief claws at his throat hard enough that he transports himself away from Wangshu Inn right into the middle of the marshes, far away from people.
He screams, pained and gutteral, like he had when the last of his yaksha brethern had died.
When Xiao returns a couple weeks later, covered in blood that is a mix of his own and monsters, and exhausted to the point where he sways on his feet if he stands still for too long, there's a small plate of now cold almond tofu and a letter sitting on the nightstand beside his bed.
He ignores the almond tofu and picks up the letter, recognizing Verr Goldet's handwriting immediately when he opens it.
The Traveller came by two days ago, asking for you. He couldn't stay and left a message to be passed on. Rex Lapis' death was staged, in an attempt for him to be able to step down as Liyue's Archon to let the people rule themselves, as he thought would be best in this era. He is still very much alive, having permanently taken on a mortal form as Zhongli, and is still continuing working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor as a consultant. He and I agreed that it was an aggregious error on the part of the Quixing to have not informed you of the plan, even as a courtesy, something that he was una-
Xiao doesn't bother reading the rest of the letter, setting it back down and stepping towards the door, nausea swirling in his gut.
It's been five years since he had last seen Morax. For gods and adepti, that is a blink of an eye in their long, long lifespans. But now Xiao can understand a little why humans feel that that is a long time.
He's been forgotten. By another stroke of bad luck, even his lord has forgotten the last of his old soldiers, the ones who gave up everything for Liyue to be able to even see an era of peace.
When Verr Goldet comes up to Xiao's room with a new plate of almond tofu sometime later, she stops when she sees the opened letter and the cold plate on the nightstand untouched, bloody bootprints marring the wood floors.
She can only pray now that her letter reaches Zhongli in time.
Zhongli is upset.
He is not angry, not yet, but when he receives the letter from Verr Goldet, Hu Tao barely hears him say he needs some days off before the archon is out the door and gone.
Hu Tao, to her credit, lets him go and doesn't chase after him.
Zhongli barely gets out of the city before he starts bending the earth to his will, making his steps faster and quicker across the plains and mountains. He's never been able to figure out another smaller flying form and until he has the time to roam around in his dragon form to figure out how to change his scales again, flying is out of the question, even if it would be faster.
It nearly kills his patience when he hits the main through fair to Wangshu Inn and he's forced to slow down to a mortal sprint.
Verr Goldet admittedly jumps and almost sends one of the inn cats flying through the air when Zhongli comes storming in, the energy around him screaming not human.
"Where is he?" Zhongli demands.
"I don't know," Verr Goldet says, hand fluttering briefly over her chest where her heart was threatening to beat out of it before she takes a deep breath to calm it down. "He's been gone for weeks. I only saw bloody footsteps a couple days ago for the first time and the letter I left had been opened, so I assume he read it-"
Zhongli's eyes flare and Verr Goldet feels the sudden pressure of a power far greater and older in the air.
She doesn't budge. Xiao's been a scary enough prescense at her inn that she can handle most temper tantrums of the deities.
"I will find him," Zhongli growls, teeth lengthening slightly into something a little less human.
"Bring him home," Verr Goldet says, eyes flashing with understanding and urgency. "Bring him home."
The rain has been a steady drizzle all day, Xiao is covered head-to-toe in blood, mud, and monster remains, and he does not care.
His grip on his karma and powers has been slipping a little bit, the mask remaining either on his face or propped up on his forehead if he isn't using it, instead of hooked on his belt where it usually resides.
Every one of his joints feels like it's on fire and the weather isn't helping.
Sleep has become foreign, distant, and nightmare ridden if his body forces him to rest a few minutes.
He can't even think about food and trying to eat.
The monster camp underneath the overhang of rock Xiao is perched on has slowly been gathering its occupants for the night, something he is impatiently waiting for. A trail of completely destroyed camps are littered in the violent wake that Xiao has left behind as he goes through the marshes with a vengeance, monsters dead and decaying, left to turn to dust or rot for the crows.
Exhaustion has been leaving the edges of his vision constantly ringed in black, spots dancing here and there, but he keeps pushing forward. It doesn't matter anymore and he has been through worser, longer campaigns than this personal vendetta.
When he deems that enough monsters have returned back for the night, chittering and arguing amongst themselves, he drops from the rock and into the camp like a dark creature of the night, and the carnage begins.
Once Zhongli picked up on Xiao's trail, it was easy to follow. Camp after camp destroyed. It almost looks like a scene from the war again with the destruction, where he'd set his soldiers and yaksha on the warpath to clear out dissent, a rival, or someone who thought they were good enough to rule over the people of Liyue with no mercy. Remains of monsters whose bodies weren't quick enough to turn to dust are picked over by crows and Zhongli begins to see more and more threads of miasma trailing along the ground until it starts pooling, like the dark blood of some monster bleeding out as it staggers along.
There had been, once, shortly after Xiao had been rescued and joined the yakshas, that he had run away. Zhongli had had Guizhong then. And then was not now. A reality he was beginning to wish was now, because the further he follows Xiao's trail, the worse it gets, and the worse it gets, the worse Zhongli's worry starts to get.
You did this, a little voice whispers in his head.
Zhongli shakes his head and quickens his pace, letting a little more of his feigned mortality shed the further he goes. Out in the wilderness like this, there are few humans around, few enough that he can let go of the edges of his form without worrying too much.
The rain has been a steady drizzle all day that gradually increases to a steady pitter-patter as darkness falls. Zhongli's night vision guides him as he breaks out into a run as the misama turns into a steady river all flowing from a single point around a nearing curve of the mountain. His ears pick up the sounds of fighting and as he finally reaches the hilichurl camp, his heart almost stops when he sees the rapidly turning battle.
Dark smoke of decay and miasma rises from the ground, pockets dancing in the air from where Xiao is teleporting around, faint traces of anemo quickly being swallowed up by the darkness. The yaksha is trying to fend off a fully armoured lawachurl while the smaller hilichurls are heckling him, taking stabs at him with swords and spears when Xiao gets into range, ones that he is slower to dodge than usual, exhaustion clear in the lines of his body.
The lawachurl is relentless, fresher than Xiao is and gaining the upper hand slowly but steadily as Xiao struggles to break the elemental shield guarding it and dodge its powerful swings.
Then, Zhongli watches an electric bolt zap through the air at far too close of a range for it to miss its mark as Xiao appears in the air, just behind the lawachurl's head, spear raised to strike, the crossbow bolt hitting Xiao in the shoulder and bodily flinging him off his intended course.
The adeptus lands into the mud with a splash, a cry of pain ripped from his mouth as the electricity reacts to the rain with an overloading shock, body seizing up before he collapses to the ground, unmoving.
The monsters descend upon Xiao without a second of hesitation and Zhongli steps in.
"Enough."
His voice booms through the camp as he pulls the earth and yanks the ground underneath Xiao away from the nearing monsters and to safety before he moves the earth again, causing it to rise up and sweep over the monsters like a wave, dragging them deep underground as it swallows them whole, silencing their screeches and cries as they vanish.
The sound of rain and the smoking remains of a campfire is all that is left in the resounding quiet.
Zhongli doesn't waste any time running over to Xiao, the yaksha still unconcious as he approaches, sliding on his knees in the mud, hands hovering briefly over Xiao before he carefully turns him over.
The crossbow bolt is still in Xiao's shoulder, aftershocks jolting through him as the power wans. Zhongli sets his jaw grimly at the sight of his last yaksha, clothes torn, bloodied, and muddied beyond recognition, cuts, scrapes, and bruisies covering almost every square inch of his being. There's an old but still open stab wound on Xiao's torso and Zhongli can't immediately tell if its bleeding from the amount of mud and remains Xiao is covered in.
Zhongli makes quick work of the crossbow bolt, making a temporary bandage with a strip of cloth torn off of his coat. He's reaching underneath Xiao to pick him up to take him by the campfire so he can light it again and see better what the situation is when Xiao lurches awake without warning, screaming and clawing at Zhongli.
"Xiao, be still!"
But Xiao is desparate, somewhere else entirely, possibly not even in this present reality, as he fights against Zhongli's hold like an injured animal that has been cornered.
Zhongli changes his hold on Xiao, grappling with him for a moment until he has the yaksha held against his chest with one arm, his other hand covering Xiao's eyes and effectively blinding him.
Immediately, Xiao stops struggling, breathing raggedly and heavily, slumping against Zhongli.
Guizhong had figured this out. She had had a theory that it had to do with Xiao's anemo vision, the wings that had been torn from him at a young age, that cutting off his sight was much like how merchants kept the exotic birds of Sumeru they were transporting quiet for the trip. When Xiao had been smaller, so much smaller, and new to Zhongli's household and freedom, he had been Guizhong's constant shadow for months. Even though Xiao had sworn himself as a yaksha to Zhongli, then Morax, Zhongli would almost bet that Guizhong had known more about the adeptus than even he did now.
"Xiao," Zhongli says quietly, internally wincing when Xiao stiffens again. "I'm going to slowly remove my hand. Then, if you are able, we are going to go to the river that is nearby so I can clean your wounds and see how badly injured you are."
Xiao doesn't respond, so Zhongli counts to ten before he slowly removes his hand, ready to put it back in position if Xiao lashes out again.
But Xiao doesn't move. He simply stays in place, still breathing heavily, most of his body leaning against Zhongli for support.
"Okay." Zhongli breathes out. "Let's go."
Zhongli hadn't realized how late it was in the night until the rain begins to slow and the sky turns grey at the edges while he wrangles Xiao into the shallows of the river. Treating the yaksha's wounds and cleaning the mud and blood off of him had taken the better part of a couple hours to deal with. By the time a sliver of the orange dawn just seen above the horizon in the slowly disappearing clouds, Xiao is clean, bandaged, and bundled up next to a fire against one of the big trees with its roots dipped into the stream, a stone structure Zhongli had quickly summoned to keep off the worst of the rain arching overhead.
Xiao blinks at him briefly when he sits down next to the fire with the fish Zhongli had caught and gutted, eyes returning to the fire as Zhongli spits the fish and puts them over the fire.
Sitting in the grey dawnlight, Zhongli is reminded of darker, bloodier days, on the war trail, when times were, arguably, more difficult, and life on the edge of many god-sharpened knives.
"Are you real?"
Zhongli averts his eyes from the fire and darker memories at the sound of Xiao's hoarse voice to the dim golden light of Xiao's eyes staring blankly into the fire. "Yes."
"You fell from the sky."
"I…yes."
Xiao's eyes flicker up to meet his briefly before returning to the fire.
Zhongli opens his mouth, hesitates when something tells him to wait, and closes his mouth.
The fire crackles.
He flips the fish over before it burns, steam rising.
"I don't…assume to understand my lord's plans," Xiao starts, voice cracking over the words. "But I was caught unaware by your…absence…"
Xiao trails off, looking away from Zhongli entirely, and if he had not spent thousands of years fighting and living alongside Xiao, he would not be able to see the faint lines of grief around Xiao's eyes, the way his jaw was set, how the words the adeptus carefully chooses are as close as he is going to get to a confession of grief-filled emotions. That he is hurt.
Zhongli flips over the fish over again and lets out a deep sigh, leaning back to rest against the stone.
"I am truly sorry, Xiao. I should have made sure myself that you were informed of the plan and I failed. You're one of the few that remain after so many years and to have assumed this wouldn't have affected you on some level was an aggregious error on my part."
"I don't need to be coddled."
The words are waspish, defensive, and Zhongli would almost laugh if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation. "No, you don't and I am not saying that to coddle you. I should have told you, as an…old friend."
Xiao finally looks back up at Zhongli, eyes hard and searching.
Zhongli holds his gaze, patiently waiting until Xiao seems to find what he is looking for, breaking their eye contact with a huff.
"I accept your apology."
Immediately, some of the tension that had been on Zhongli's shoulders disappears. He doesn't sag, it's a near thing, but he smiles at Xiao, looking away when he smells scales burning and he has to flip the fish again.
After a moment, in a rush of anemo and miasma, Xiao suddenly appears next to Zhongli on the long he's sitting on, oh so close, and carefully, carefully, he leans some of his weight against the archon.Maybe, in another universe, in a different set of circumstances, son would've been closer than friend to what Zhongli feels for Xiao. The swoosh of pride and heartache in his chest when he sees Xiao now, that the small broken child he had pulled from the rubble of a cruel goddess' destroyed ambitions has made it this far, is undeniable.
Zhongli does his best to not stiffen, knowing that Xiao would immediately misunderstand it as discomfort instead of his trying to be careful and not disturb Xiao. Xiao doesn't seek out physical contact very much, always shying away from it. Moments like these only happen every hundred years or so, he feels.
"Do you want to try some of the fish?" Zhongli offers even though he's sure what the answer will be, pulling it out of the fire and poking at it with a claw to see if it was done enough. Guizhong had, somehow, managed to beat the wild side out of him that used to eat fish raw and wriggling, fresh from the stream. It's rare these days he engages in raw meat dishes, sushi aside.
Xiao shakes his head, Zhongli feeling the motion more than seeing it.
"Okay. Once I eat, we'll head back to Wangshu Inn. Try to get some rest."
Verr Goldet nearly has a heart attack when Zhongli comes up the road later that evening right when the sun is setting, Xiao on his back.
For a moment, it seems that Xiao is dead, unmoving and pale as he is, but then he lifts his head when he hears Verr Goldet running down the road, gold eyes piercing as they usually are, but exhaustion weighing them down.
Verr Goldet heaves a heavy sigh of relief as she skips the last step and her shoes hit the dirt, feet quickly leading her to the pair. "You brought him home," she says, hands coming to rest on her hips.
Zhongli smiles, faintly. "Yes."
Xiao drops his head back down onto Zhongli's shoulder once he seems to deem Verr Goldet not a threat. "I can teleport back up to my room, you don't have to carry me."
"You most certaintly will not be exerting yourself any further. May I remind you why you collapsed on the way back?"
Verr Goldet covers her mouth with a hand to hide the smile breaking across her face at the grumbling sound Xiao lets out, a sound she certainly has not heard or thought she ever would hear from the yaksha that lurks around her inn, and follows Zhongli up the road to the stairs.
Eventually, Zhongli will talk with Xiao fully about the future of Liyue.
Inevitably, the grief of dead family and friends will come to the surface.
Ultimately, it will result in a visit to Guizhong's grave and those of the other yaksha they were able to bury.
But for now, Zhongli is carrying Xiao up the stairs, the world momentarily at peace.