Chapter Text
A quiet rumble of thunder is what ultimately draws Jean’s attention from her papers and to her open window. The velvet curtains hang heavy and solemn today as she raises her chin curiously, and after a moment, strangely disturbed, she stands to pull the windows shut.
She has been unable to focus her attentions on her work this day, in a matter quite unlike her. She has been oddly anxious, even without apparent cause.
Out past those heavy drapes, clouds of an almost human appearance gather darkly upon the horizon, roiling restlessly, and as she stands there, transfixed by that uncommon sight, she is able to make out hints of blurred grey falling over the distant hills. Despite their inherent inconvenience, drizzles and light showers of rain are not at all unusual in the nation of wind. These lands, with all their meadowy stretches of vineyards and orchards, would not be nearly as fertile without those falls of rain, but even then, it is not typical to see heavy storms.
On the dim streets below her windowsill, she catches sight of others walking about the city upon their daily errands, yet like her, they also seem disturbed, with tense shoulders and with occasional glances turned up towards the dark sky, filled with open concern. They too, it seems, have noticed those distant stormclouds, churning strangely as if stirred by strong winds, except— and with a chill, Jean realizes what they too must have unconsciously noticed.
The air today is completely still.
It has been still all day, she realizes, and an odd shiver trickles down her spine. As a girl, Jean remembers leaving Mondstadt for the first time. Her mother had been dispatched to Inazuma on a diplomatic mission, and being newly separated, had brought Jean along to care for Jean. She remembers her own disconcertion at what she had felt at the time to be the unnatural stillness of the air, remembers crying, tugging at her mother’s skirts, and poor Frederica Gunnhildr having at some point to explain the natural phenomenon of the calm before the storm to her distraught daughter.
Here in Mondstadt, here in the nation of wind— the wind always sings through the vast rolling hills. Here in the land of freedom, the wind is never still.
Jean is there at the window still, staring out at the sky with a kind of silent, mute horror, when suddenly the curtains begin to billow with odd ferocity. Alarmed, she steps back, flinching instinctively as the heavy velvet whips out towards her, but the gust dies as quickly as it had come. Soon after, she hears the scuff of a shoe behind her, and realising that someone is in the room with her, whips around with her hand already on the hilt of her sword.
“Woah,” Venti the Bard says, raising both hands in surprise.
With a slow sense of relief, she eases. Almost immediately, however, the relief dies within her, because— if Venti is here, then surely something must be terribly, terribly wrong.
“What's the situation?” Jean asks urgently. “What's wrong?”
Venti offers her a reassuring smile, but to Jean’s wary concern, there’s an air of tiredness to his expression, to the tension held at the corners of his eyes and lips. His smile does not quite seem to reach his gaze.
“Is that always your first thought when you see me?” he teases. “That something must be wrong?”
When Jean doesn't immediately reply, his smile fades a little, and he sighs, expression turning vaguely apologetic.
“There's a situation brewing in Stormterror’s Lair,” he says, more seriously. “I need the knights to issue a warning for citizens to stay away from the area until the matter is resolved.”
“You want us to issue a travel advisory,” Jean says, surprised, and then pauses, before continuing, concerned— “Is there an issue with the Dragon of the East again?”
“No,” Venti admits, and smiles with thinly concealed tension. “Dvalin isn't here right now. After the conclusion of the Stormterror Incident, I bade Dvalin to travel for a bit and see the world. I thought it would be good for him.” He sighs, planting a hand on his hip. “In any case, this isn't an issue with Dvalin, it's something else. I'm heading over to investigate and will let you know when the area is safe again.”
“You're going there alone?” Jean questions incredulously. When Venti only looks surprised by her response, she purses her lips, but gentles her voice slightly. “You were only recently injured, Ven— my lord. If there's a situation concerning enough that we need to evacuate the area, I would prefer that you go with back-up. I can rally a squadron.”
“Just Venti is fine,” Venti says automatically, before smiling more patiently. “And how exactly would you explain the situation to the knights? That one of the city’s bards has announced to the public that Brightcrown Mountain is to be evacuated, and that he will now be leading the squadron to conduct an investigation of the area?”
As Jean falters, realizing the inherent difficulty of explaining Venti's involvement to anyone else, at least without compromising his identity, Venti softens. “I said that a situation was brewing, Jean, not that it's already begun. From what I can sense, even in the event that my worst suspicions are correct, this won't become an issue if I deal with it promptly. It's just a routine inspection. I might have to strengthen some seals, that's all.”
At that, Jean nods determinedly, regaining some of her composure. “In that case, I can accompany you.”
Venti looks first startled, then he sighs. “Jean…”
“Dvalin isn't here right now,” Jean points out, “and Andrius is confined to Wolvendom. Grandmaster Varka is away in Nod Krai. As Acting Grandmaster, I am the only remaining member of the Four Winds who can help you. This is my responsibility, my duty.”
“You're needed here,” Venti says firmly. “I need you to keep everyone away from Brightcrown Mountains.”
“Then I'll have Hertha issue a travel advisory,” Jean says, waving a hand stubbornly. “This is a matter under her purview, after all.”
With that, she picks her quill out of her inkpot, penning a quick letter to Hertha. Usually, she would have included more details, reassurances, and an explanation, but with Venti waiting on her right now, she makes this letter brief. Ignoring the frown growing on Venti's face, she goes to the door once she is done, handing the letter to the knight standing outside.
“Deliver this to Hertha,” she commands shortly, before closing the door again, and turning to face Venti.
“Jean…” he begins once more.
“You said that it was just a routine inspection, right?” she interrupts. “In that case, it should be no issue if I accompany you.” As Venti hesitates for a moment longer, Jean cuts in again, her tone fierce and resolute. “Even though we are only human, we have the right to determine our own fate as well. We, too, have the right to fight for our future— don't we?"
Venti’s eyes widen. For a long moment after, he just stands there, staring at her like he's seen a ghost. He is silent for so long that Jean shifts in place, wondering if she had said anything too strange. After some time, however, he finally seems to shake himself out of whatever reverie he had fallen into. His expression gentles, turning fond, almost wistful.
“Yes,” he agrees quietly, that poignant, yet strangely distant smile still playing about his lips. “Yes, you do.”
As he lowers his eyes, turning away a little, Jean nods briskly, thankful for his sudden capitulation. Determined to take advantage of his agreement before he can change his mind, she turns first for her quill to draft a quick missive to the stables, and then, changing her mind, shakes her head and decides for a different course.
“I will prepare some rations and a horse for the journey," she says, turning back around for the door, intending to take care of the matter herself.
“No need,” Venti says, and holds his hand out to her. After a moment of hesitation, Jean reaches out, taking his hand.
There's a bright flash of teal light, bright enough that she has to close her eyes shut against it, but when she blinks her eyes open again afterwards, she finds them both on a patch of land that — judging by the sheer cliffs within sight, is somewhere upon Brightcrown Mountains. For a moment, Jean just stares up at the sky, silently disconcerted by how the storm seems concentrated above them, disconcerted by how — despite the slow churning of the clouds — there is still no wind.
“Come,” Venti says shortly, turning away.
They begin to walk wordlessly towards the ruins in the valley just beyond, and as they reach the edge of the cliff upon which they are stationed, Jean speaks up once more— “What exactly is the issue that you've sensed here?”
Stepping up onto a nearby boulder, Venti peers down upon the valley below, upon the stone ruins housed within it.
“Just the stirrings of what feels like the resentment of a fallen god,” he says lightly.
“A fallen god,” Jean repeats.
“Mmhm,” Venti confirms.
For a moment, Jean just watches him. Venti isn't looking back at her, nor does he name the god in question, but Jean knows that there is only one god known to have fallen in these ruins. Finally, Venti turns, smiling reassuringly at her in her apprehensive silence. “As I said, it won't become an issue if I resolve this promptly. These god remnants have been sealed here for a long time without issue. I just need to strengthen the seals again.”
He's acting relatively calm, but as Jean continues to watch him, she can't help but suspect that he must surely be downplaying the matter— especially since he had been worried enough to ask the knights to issue a travel advisory.
“When was the last time you strengthened the seals?” she asks.
Venti does not immediately reply.
“Venti?” Jean calls, her voice emerging much smaller than she had intended.
Finally, he turns to smile at her, but again, the smile does not reach his eyes. “I have not had to strengthen them since they were first laid.”
With that, he turns back to survey the ruins again. He does not say more, but Jean understands his meaning. This is the first time something like this has happened, ever. She had initially wondered why he had not teleported them directly into the ruins, but with this information in mind, it is perhaps wiser to approach with caution rather than charging directly in. After all, what could possibly be causing the dormant remnants of a dead god to stir for the first time in two thousand years?
It makes her uneasy to think about.
When they finally turn the corner and catch sight their first glimpse of the ruins, Jean is surprised to see that the wind barrier that Venti had dispelled the last time is back. When Venti does not say anything, not act to dispel it, however, Jean turns to him questioningly. He's looking up at the wind barrier with an inscrutable look in his eye, not even noticing her attention.
“Venti?” Jean asks.
He seems to come back a little to himself then, because he offers her another reassuring smile. “Sorry, I was just a little lost in thought.”
The last time they were here, she remembers him bringing out his lyre to play a song, making a small show out of it, but this time, he just waves his hand. The wind barrier dissolves without ceremony.
“Come,” he says again.
As they cross the bridge towards the tower, Jean can see that there's another barrier around the tower now, but this one is so strong, so much more opaque than the one that had been in place before, that they can barely see through it. Approaching in complete silence, Jean can't help but feel a little discomforted, remembering the last time they were here.
Venti had not been like this the last time. She remembers his cheeky little quips and his reassuring winks, the way he had strived to keep the mood light with his casual jokes and gentle teasing, seemingly not wishing for them to be overly worried. Right now, however, he's expressionless and entirely silent. He seems troubled, yet not like he's anticipating immediate danger— since his gaze is directed at the floor in front of them, vacant and unseeing, like he's lost somewhere deep in thought.
“Venti—” Jean begins impulsively, and then hesitates, continuing only when he turns to her, surprised. “You said so yourself, it's going to be alright.”
At that, Venti finally smiles, a hint of his usual teasing demeanor coming back. “Of course it is. Why have you begun reassuring me? Do I look that troubled?”
When Jean doesn't respond, he sighs, before his patient smile returns. “This situation is just bringing back some complicated memories. Worry not, dear Jean, we are not in danger.”
He turns back towards that stormy tower, that same oddly calm smile still on his face. Despite his teasing words, he's clearly troubled, and all of a sudden, Jean feels a strange instinct to put her arm around him. If it had been Klee by her side, she would perhaps have done it, but despite his young appearance, it feels presumptuous to comfort him like a frightened child and not a god— her god, one that is more than a hundred times older than her, and one who has likely seen greater horrors that she can even imagine.
And so, in the end, she says nothing at all, but it seems Venti must have sensed some of her internal conflict, because he laughs, before continuing in a much lighter tone— “The last time we were here, I promised to tell the story of these ruins if the chance arose, didn't I?”
She does not speak, but he does not seem to have required an answer, because after a moment, he continues, expression somewhat far away.
“It was about twenty-six hundred years ago,” he begins, “before the world had come under the rule of The Seven. At that time, Old Mondstadt was ruled by a tyrant, one who sealed off the city's perimeter with a ferocious hurricane. Even the birds couldn't get in or out. It was a sorry state." He pauses for a moment, then turns to flash her another smile. "That tyrant who once ruled from that tower was named Decarabian, God of Storms.”
His gaze rises slowly to the barrier before them, to the tower rising high into the stormy skies beyond it. There's a smile upon his face still, but there's an unseeing quality to his distant eyes now, as if fixed upon a time in the faraway past, as opposed to the present moment.
“Back then,” he continues, almost absently, “I was but a wisp among the thousand winds. I wasn't a god of anything — I didn't even have a human form. I was just a tiny elemental being who lived in the wind, a gentle breeze bringing subtle changes for the better, or tiny seeds of hope.”
“And protection,” Jean cuts in before she can stop herself. At that, Venti finally turns to her, looking surprised, and Jean swallows awkwardly, before adding with some embarrassment: “The Biography of Gunnhildr is required reading for everyone in my clan.”
Venti's expression softens further.
“Yes,” he says quietly, but fondly. “You're one of hers, after all. You’re a lot like her, you know? You even look like her.”
Jean coughs, embarrassed, but Venti just laughs, looking back ahead as he continues the story.
“Yes, it was the earnest faith of a young girl that first gave me form," he says, "and in return, I wove her and her people a small shelter out of the blistering winds. She grew up strong and hale, and as she did, so did she grow out of the tiny pocket of peace I had created for her. She found company with others who wished to see the sky, and when the time came, she led her people alongside them in rebellion against the tyrant god.”
“And when the battle was won and Lord Barbatos had ascended in his place,” Jean dutifully finishes the story, unable to help the delighted smile rising to her lips, “it was she who decorated her newborn god with laurels.”
Venti looks pleasantly surprised at first, then his expression gentles, a quiet laugh bubbling from his lips. “Her biography mentions that too?” He turns to look at the tower again, but instead of looking troubled now, he instead looks fond, immeasurably so.
“She carried me from this very tower in the aftermath,” he says quietly, “swaddled in her arms like a babe.”
At Jean’s quiet choking noise, at her visible surprise when he turns to her, Venti bursts into laughter. “I'm guessing the biography didn't include that part!”
“No,” Jean admits, which only draws more laughter and a wink.
“Well,” Venti says cheekily, “it turns out that the human form does not, in fact, come naturally with clothes.”
Jean feels her mouth drop open as she realizes why exactly Venti had to be carried from the tower by another person.
“No,” she gasps.
If Venti had not been laughing for real before, he certainly is now. “Humans and animals alike are all born naked. Why wouldn't gods be the same way?”
She puts a hand over her eyes. “Oh, Lord,” she says, very faintly.
Her own mother has a painting in one of the parlors of Barbatos’ ascension, a solemn and majestic scene no doubt, of their archon with wings extended and pale hands crossed over his heart. She's never going to be able to look at it the same way ever again.
Venti is still laughing as they finally pass through the storm barrier, but they freeze abruptly as, just beyond that sheer membrane of wind, they come immediately face-to-face with a sort of abyssal creature Jean has never seen before. With armoured shoulders and an angular head protected by what looks like natural armour, it is hard to read the monster’s expression, and yet it seems to give off an air of surprise too. After a moment, however, it lunges forward with a set of spinning circular blades.
“Woah!” Venti cries, leaping back.
“What in Tevyat is that?!” Jean shouts, also jumping back, drawing her blade instantaneously.
“It's an Abyss Lector!” Venti yells. “Stand back!”
He looses an arrow towards it, which explodes into a void, a black mass that only seems to suck everything else around it into its orbit. Even the Abyss Lector, formidable as it had first seemed, is pulled into its center, and as it struggles to free itself, Venti grabs Jean’s elbow, yanking her along with him in a sprint. With a last backward glance at that strange creature, she obediently follows, allowing Venti to pull her behind a crumbling wall some distance away. Reacting quickly, he murmurs something she cannot make out, and immediately, the wind begins to weave itself around them. Noise fades slowly away, and in the ensuing quiet, Venti speaks.
“The wind will hide us from their senses for a bit.”
He peers carefully out from behind the wall. Jean does the same and is stunned to see that the entire tower is teeming with other kinds of abyssal creatures— mitachurls, lawachurls, mages, and more of those creatures that look like the ones Venti had called Abyss Lectors, along with similar ones carrying heavy blades as opposed to catalysts. Beside her, Venti is looking quite grim.
“What are those things?” Jean whispers.
“High-ranking commanders of the Abyss Order,” Venti murmurs, “but I've not seen so many of them in the same place since—” He cuts himself off then, and after a moment, sighs. “In any case, that there are so many here is a bad sign. The Abyss Order is doing something here, something big.”
“They are trying to break the seal,” Jean says, with realization.
“That seems likely. The wind barrier— It was masking their presence from me.”
“You… can't sense past the wind barrier?” Jean asks, surprised.
“Not this one,” Venti says, and then pauses. “These winds… do not belong to me.”
Even though his voice remains calm, there's a kind of seriousness on his face that Jean has not seen before. She can't help the unease it strikes in her heart. They sit there for a moment longer as Jean slowly digests his words, slowly digests the situation at hand.
“If he is able to summon a wind barrier like this...” she finally begins.
“He’s still sealed,” Venti immediately says, before admitting— “but we don't have a lot of time.”
Jean stands at once, resolute. “Then we need to get up there as quickly as we can.”
Venti smiles, expression strangely fond. “I'll summon a wind current. Use your glider to get up there. I'll cover you while you're in the air.”
Jean nods. Venti summons a wind current, and she immediately engages her glider and steers for the tower. As she soars up within sight of the highest floor of that tower, a number of Abyss Lectors turn towards her, but before they can attack, a barrage of anemo arrows hold them at bay. The moment she lands upon the terrace, she notices the seal on the ground that she remembers seeing the last time as well, drawing her sword just as Venti lands lightly beside her. Unlike her, however, he did not seem to have needed a glider to ascend the tower. As Venti covers her with a shower of anemo arrows, she takes the front, engaging the Abyss Lectors with everything she has. Venti, on the other hand, winces visibly as his first arrow takes out a portion of the far wall, before reducing the power of his strikes thereafter.
The Lectors are quickly driven back by the combination of Jean's bladework and Venti’s arrows. Yet, as finally Jean steps off the seal onto the stone terrace surrounding it, driven back by a seemingly desperate lunge of the Lector before her, that same Lector suddenly teleports away. She whips around, trying to trace its whereabouts, and immediately sees that they've corralled Venti onto the center of the seal for some reason or another. He seems to reach the same realization immediately because he quickly summons a breeze about himself, looking as if he's about to teleport off the seal, but just as the wind gathers around him— he is grazed by some kind of thrown blade, wickedly curved and dark in color. He cries out, putting a hand over his arm, looking down with shock as his hand comes away wet, stained with a strange glowing teal liquid.
Blood, Jean realizes with some horror. That's his blood.
He stares blankly at his bloodstained hand for a moment, before suddenly, his eyes widen with some sort of realization. He looks down towards his feet, where some of the blood has dripped onto the seal, then immediately throws himself forward towards her.
Suddenly, they are airborne.
The winds around the tower explode into a ferocious hurricane mere moments later. The storm seems to be scoring vicious cuts even through the strange armor of the Abyss Lectors, and they very quickly teleport away before they can be ripped apart by the winds.
“Shit,” Venti curses.
They land on the stone bridge leading out of the tower.
“I need to go back and reinforce the seal,” Venti says firmly, eyes still fixed on the tower, even as he sets her down on her own two feet. “Stay here.”
“I'm coming with you,” Jean insists.
“No, Jean,” Venti immediately says. “No, the winds can't hurt me the way it'll hurt you.” He turns back to the tower, bracing himself. “If the storm does not calm and I do not come back, I want you to run as fast as you can. Don't look back. Make for Wangshu Inn in Liyue and call for the adeptus who lives there. He’ll know what to do.”
Without another word, he launches himself up, soaring back into the midst of the storm.
“Venti!” Jean shouts, but it's too late. He’s already gone.
She stands there for a long moment, truthfully unsure how to react. When she eventually startles out of her inaction, however, sprinting towards the tower, she realizes that Venti is right. The wind barrier has turned almost violent in fervor, pushing her insistently back as she attempts to fight her way forward through the gale, slicing at her painfully as she gets too close. Eventually, she has no choice but to unwillingly retreat, knowing that Venti was right. Although he was able to fly through the barrier without any apparent discomfort, she is only human. It'll slice her to ribbons before she's even halfway through.
She takes to pacing the bridge for a lack of anything to do. Here and there, she casts helpless looks back up at the tower. There’s a flickering teal glow through the barrier that renders her uneasy. Is that Venti? She does not like how it's flickering. He had only been so recently attacked, so recently wounded by that harbinger— Jean should have been there— she had been mere paces away, on the other side of a door from him—
She paces the stone bridge for a bit longer after that, still occasionally looking up at the tower at the flickers of teal light, at times strong and at times weak. She is truthfully at her wits end, yet she knows that she's completely helpless. It's up to Venti now, and she hates now more than any other time before that she is only human, that she cannot be of further aid. Finally, she turns to look across the bridge, wondering if she should make a run for Liyue. Maybe the adeptus Venti had spoken of will arrive in time to help him— but no, on foot, even sprinting, it'll take her at least five hours to reach Wangshu from here, and no matter how fit she is, she cannot sprint non-stop for five hours; she will have to rest intermittently.
Desperate, she turns back to the tower again, just in time to see that flickering teal light strengthen, growing steadily, until it seems to almost explode outwards… shearing out so brightly that she has to momentarily shield her eyes. When she finally recovers from the brightness of that final blast, however, she looks back up to see that the wind barrier has disappeared.
She stands there for a moment, and then, almost senselessly, begins to sprint numbly for the tower.
With the barrier gone, she can go straight through the crumbling stone gate into the ruins, despite having to navigate fallen pillars and broken walls to get to her destination, despite having to climb over what seems like the collapsed bodies of hilichurls and lesser beasts. As she approaches the base of the tower, she begins to calculate her path, trying to figure out the quickest route to the top, where the seal lies. Before, there had always been strong winds around the tower which she could use to ascend to the top, but there's no wind at all now. She’ll have to scale the building.
As she prepares to do just that, a hint of something white catches her eye between the crumbling pillars. Inside the tower, there’s a heap of something on the floor in the center that she quickly realises are feathers— wings in fact, large and white.
Her heart skips a beat, and she breaks into a run.
There, at the very base of the tower, she spots a crumpled form, unconscious, covered by a distinctive set of wings. As she draws closer to that crumpled form, she looks up, catching sight of the seal through the circular gap in the center of the ruin. There are large cracks in it, but those cracks seem to have been sealed over with some sort of glowing teal energy. It must have been broken at some point, but Venti had apparently repaired it. He must have fallen through the broken seal in the aftermath, landing down here.
Frantic, she immediately crouches, carefully grasping those wings — wings, a part of her is still marveling — and lifting them carefully away. They do not move unnaturally, nor does Venti's form beneath seem to betray any signs of pain, of broken bones. He's not bleeding and there are no bruises or any other visible injuries. She's shocked, however, to see that he seems to be bare beneath the cover of feathers.
Shedding her coat, she quickly lays it around him to preserve his modesty. As she does so, he finally stirs. When he next opens his eyes, looking at her, his eyes immediately widen. Then, in a too-small, too-uncertain voice, raspy and shaky, he whispers—
“Gunnhildr?”