Archive of Our Own

Staring out into the turbulent sea, Kaeya watched the moon’s reflection contort on the surface of the dark waters. The light wavered upon waves making their way towards shore, guided along by the cool night breeze. Below him, they crashed against jagged rocks at the base of the cliff, much like the violent clash of a sword against claymore.

He sat on the edge, legs dangling high above the water. Detachedly, he could sense the wind blowing on his face as tears slowly trailed down his skin; a gentle caress that a sinner like him would never deserve. 

He brought a hand up to lightly brush his fingers against the leather of his eyepatch, smiling bitterly. Kaeya had always known that he didn’t belong in this nation of wine and wind and freedom — someone bearing the sins of the Alberich name never could. The knowledge had always festered in the dark corners of his mind, just waiting for the next quiet moment to shatter his childish delusions of having a place to call home. 

It would rear its head at the most mundane of moments, never letting him forget who he truly was.

Lying down among branches overflowing with ripe grapes on a bright and sunny day, a then-brother giggling by his side. This is not your home.

Dripping wet after getting caught in a storm during a training session, nursing a cup of hot cocoa as Adelinde wrapped him up in a fluffy blanket, scolding him all the while. You don’t deserve any of this.

A father’s gentle smile as he talked him through the wine-making process, a promise of inheritance on his lips. He would hate you if he knew.

Sitting at a bar stool surrounded by his drunken friends, cheerful exclamations barely heard over the din of the other patrons. You do not belong here.

Even a desk stacked with paperwork along with a gentle reminder from Jean, a reminder to eat and sleep and care for his health. You’re a fraud.

Of course, there were also the other moments. Moments that solidified his belief. 

A stranger’s eyes lingering on him for too long, a furrow in their brows. Kids’ snide remarks when passing by. The pelting rain, a half-melted shield of ice, and a Vision in his shaking palm.

Now, he let the thought bloom freely throughout the empty chambers of his heart. He was simply too tired to keep fighting it. What a pathetic existence. Another stray tear dripped off the curve of his jaw.

Out of nowhere, a sharp gust of wind blew against him, forcing him to grip the blades of grass under his palms tighter. A true child of Mondstadt might have believed it was the wind’s deliberate attempt to push them farther from the looming edge; a god’s subtle act of care towards his people. But the renowned Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius was no fool. The gods had long turned their backs on the likes of him, after all.

As the clouds continued their journey across the night sky, they slowly obstructed the luminous moon from the sinner’s eyes, shrouding the world in darkness. And Kaeya couldn’t help but think back to the remains of that underground nation, hidden away from the gaze of the gods by its few survivors. The memories of his homeland were no more than mere hazy flashes now, pushed into the darkest corners of his mind throughout years of life on the surface. 

He remembered the starless darkness he had spent countless long hours staring at, imagining the colors of the sky outside. Birds soaring across the horizon; leaves carried by the wind. He’d asked his father once why they could not go to the surface and see the world, if even for a short while. His father’s eyes — the same as his, icy blue and adorned with pupils the shapes of stars — had hardened, a familiar coldness seeping into his demeanor and locking Kaeya in place.

“We do not walk on the wretched soil of those so-called gods,” he’d spat, venom dripping from every word. “You’ll see what a deplorable place the world really is, when it is time. Rid yourself of such senseless thoughts and focus on your mission.” 

Ashamed, Kaeya had averted his gaze, nodding timidly.

“I trust this won’t need repeating.” 

He had shrunk further under that heavy glare, unconsciously fidgeting with his hands all the while. A rough hand had come down to smack his palms apart before he could have noticed his mistake — a habit he had struggled to break no matter how much he’d been scolded — causing him to flinch. His father had scoffed, a faint mutter of ”weak” leaving his lips as he’d walked past.

As his father’s footsteps had echoed around the quiet chamber, the decrepit ruins of his home had never felt so cold.

He’d had a mother, as well. He could barely make out her face in his memories after all these years, features blurring together into a thick fog obstructing her expression. What he did remember was that her hands had always been gentler than his father’s, yet they had done nothing in the face of his icy anger. All he knew were the sensation of a soft palm on his cheek, a strained smile, and hushed words he could no longer discern.

And then, the rain. His father’s grip on his forearm had been almost bruising as he’d been tugged along the winding forest path towards a nation blessed by the winds. Kaeya had been trying his best to focus on his father’s stern instructions as they traveled — he would have been furious, if he’d known that Kaeya could barely listen to a word he’d said — but been unable to stop his mind from wandering as he’d marveled at all the new sights they passed.

After one too many failed attempts to hide his amazed glances, his father had roughly grasped him by the shoulders and slapped the wonder off his face. Kaeya had spent the rest of the journey with his eyes fixed strictly on the ground below his feet, fighting tears the whole way.

Eventually, they’d stopped by the side of a road. Through the pouring rain, Kaeya had seen the Dawn Winery — as he would later come to learn — standing in the distance. His father had squatted down to his level and uttered the words that would come to haunt him so. 

“The gods of this world have forsaken us.”

“You are our last hope.”

And then he’d been gone, and Kaeya had been left standing there in the rain, soaked through and shivering from much more than the cold.

He felt a similar aching deep within his bones as he gazed down at the bottomless sea.

How long had he been sitting there, watching the perpetual movement of the world around him? He couldn’t tell, what with the way he was barely present. Could have been minutes, maybe even hours. Not like it concerned him either way. Soon enough he’d have no more need for concepts such as time, and the world would continue on its course without him.

It was comforting in a way, he thought, to know that the wind and the waves and the moon would continue their movement as usual even after he’d no longer be there to witness it. The forces that made up this world held no concern for individual lives and their aspirations. Human existence really was fickle, in the grand scheme of the world. Kaeya, too, was just one utterly insignificant fleck in the extensive history of Teyvat. 

Jean would likely be the first to notice his disappearance. She was sure to take note of his failure to show up at the Favonius Headquarters the following day, but she wouldn’t immediately rush to investigate. She had much more pressing matters to attend to than a wayward captain, after all. After there’d be no sign of him all day, she’d make her way to his house to tell him off for slacking, where all she would find was an unlocked door and a short letter written in his neat cursive. By the time the Knights launched a search party for their Cavalry Captain, he would hopefully already have been swept away by the seacurrents and been left rotting away on the ocean floor where he belonged. 

The city would be shocked for a week or two, sure — marveling at the ‘tragedy’ surrounding one the key figures of the Knights — but before long, life in Mondstadt would resume and the memory of Kaeya Alberich would quickly dissolve into obscurity. Poor Jean may have it rough for a while without her right hand, and though he did feel guilty about saddling her already overworked self with even more responsibilities, he was certain that a replacement for someone like him wouldn’t take too long to locate.

(Even in death, all he did was burden those closest to him. Good riddance.)

With a bitter laugh he realised that if not for his job, his disappearance would likely go unnoticed for a good while. It was his own fault, really, for refusing to let anyone beyond an arm’s length of him — though it was for their own good. It wouldn’t take long for his friends from the Knights as well as his drinking buddies to forget him; in fact, they might even be happy to be rid of such a nuisance. And he was glad for it, really. They deserved much better than a man whose whole existence was built on deceit and cowardice. Though Kaeya was somewhat sad he couldn't watch her grow up, the little Spark Knight in particular would be much better off without such a crooked excuse for a human being as her role model.

And Diluc…

Someone who had once considered him a brother, now a steely-eyed stranger behind the bar. 

Kaeya absentmindedly rubbed at his glove, which for several years had been concealing the gnarly burn tissue hiding underneath. The fateful night that had given him those scars had also severed the last of his ties to the family who so readily took him in when they’d found him shivering in the rain. Selfishly, Kaeya couldn’t help but linger on the memories of a younger Diluc, still sparkly-eyed and outgoing, and all the years they’d shared together glued to each other's side.

It was beyond selfish. Kaeya was the one to shatter that fragile light within him for good, after all.

Oh, how he wished Diluc had finished the job that night. That's what a part of him had been betting on when he’d decided to go to the man, now that Kaeya thought back on it. But no, instead, it was in that moment that the gods had decided to laugh in his face and bestow upon him their so-called blessing. 

And no matter how many times he’d tried to smash it or burn it or throw it off a cliff, the Vision had gained not a scratch. Despite his cursing and screaming and crying, the gods would show him no mercy, satisfied with their cruel joke. Granting a sinner the one thing he’d always yearned for — their recognition — at the worst possible moment. Rather cruel, but maybe it was exactly what I deserved.

These days, it was a wonder Diluc still let him live. After he’d returned from his three-year revenge mission, Kaeya had spent every day waiting for a blade gliding across his neck to finally conclude the conversation from that day. Diluc had always been painstakingly committed to protecting Mondstadt, so eliminating a dangerous impostor would have been in his best interests. Illogically, all Kaeya had received were cold glares and grating words, with the occasional drink begrudgingly served at the tavern. So, obviously, Kaeya always reciprocated by pushing the man’s buttons in all the ways he knew, because what was he if not self-destructive?

When Diluc would get the news, Kaeya imagined he’d be relieved; finally, the traitor was dead, without him having to stain his hands with that tainted blood. Maybe he’d laugh at Kaeya’s actions, the whole thing being so pathetic it was amusing. One thing he was sure of: the Ragnvindr would waste no time on grieving him. Even if nowadays Diluc appeared to tolerate him to some extent, their brotherhood had been long since shattered into millions of tiny pieces and left to wither in the pouring rain. 

Kaeya hummed lightly and cast his eyes down towards the base of the cliff. He blinked a few times to dispel the blurriness caused by his incessant tears, and watched with fascination as the sharp rocks stood solid while the waves crashed into them over and over again. He let his gaze linger on the rhythmic motion, like a siren call beckoning him toward eternal silence. 

This was it, he thought.

The curtain call for the sinner had finally come.

For Kaeya Alberich. The last hope of Khaenri’ah, an utter failure at serving his purpose.

And for Kaeya Ragnvindr. A child of Mondstadt, born shackled to a godless land.

(Even now, his fingers hesitated on the edge of his eyepatch. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t expose his true self to the world, even in death. His father’s cold scoff echoed in his mind.)

And wasn’t it pitiful, how in his last moments, Kaeya prayed to a god that wouldn’t hear his call? He thought, Barbatos, or anyone else who’ll hear me. I’m sorry. Please, grant me just this one mercy and make it quick.

Squeezing his eye shut, Kaeya breathed out a long exhale. He was ready to press his palms flat against the ground and push himself careening toward the dark waters, but just as he was about to do it-

“Kaeya.”

Completely caught off-guard by the sound of his name, he jerked backwards and whirled his head towards the direction it came from.

There, standing behind him under the moonlight, was Venti. He had to do a double-take at that. Why in the world was the bard here — on Starsnatch Cliff of all places — in the middle of the night? And how did Kaeya not notice his approach? 

(In his bewilderment, Kaeya barely even noticed the winds insistently blowing against him, forcing him to adjust his position so that he was sitting farther from the edge.)

“Wh- Venti? What are you…” he started, before being slammed back into reality by the uncharacteristically serious expression on his friend’s face. Fuck.

Kaeya’s eye widened for a fraction of a second — how the hell am I supposed to explain this- — before he turned his face away and furiously scrubbed at the tears still flowing freely across his face. It only took him these meager few seconds to slip back on the familiar mask of smug aloofness, though he was painfully aware that his little display severely undermined his act.

“My friend, what a coincidence to see you on this fine evening- or night, I suppose, at this time,” he channeled his usual confidence, flashing an obviously fake grin. “I do apologize for my… rather unsightly appearance at the moment— allergies really are a pain, am I right?” He expected Venti to respond, either in concern or by means of his usual cheery remarks, but the bard remained unnervingly silent. Kaeya swallowed heavily, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He felt like a cornered animal, forcing himself to stay still under the scrutinizing gaze.

Kaeya coughed awkwardly. “So… whatever could have brought you here at this late hour, if I may inquire?”

Venti just continued staring at him with furrowed brows, and Kaeya knew he was busted. His eye quickly darted back to the water, and he wondered if he could throw himself off quickly enough to-

“Don’t do it, Kaeya. Please,” Venti’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

Well, that’s just unfair. 

Kaeya sighed, turning back to the sea and slumping in resignation. He drew his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, vision growing blurry with tears once more. It was the last thing he’d expected or wanted; someone finding him just as he was about to end his miserable existence for good. Futilely, he hoped that the bard would just leave him be and forget he’d ever seen anything, but realised that wasn’t going to happen. 

Kaeya heard the approach of light footsteps, stopping just short of his form. 

“May I sit with you?”

Resigned, he nodded, and the bard sat down next to him. 

For a while, they just sat there in silence. From the corner of his eye, Kaeya could see the bard idly swinging his legs far above the turbulent waves. He avoided fully looking in Venti’s direction, afraid of seeing his expression and also rather dumbfounded by the situation he'd found himself in. First, Venti suddenly showed up in such a remote location in the middle of the night for no discernible reason — with the most terrible timing, mind you — and now he was simply sitting there, letting the silence stretch on despite the obvious elephant in the room. The strangest part of it all was that Kaeya had not once before seen the bard so serious or silent before. He always had an airy energy about him, spewing poetry and songs whenever he could and possessing a boundless cheer that livened up any room. Kaeya felt like he should’ve been feeling significantly more on edge than he was in that moment, but… there was just something inexplicably calming about Venti’s presence, despite his demeanor having been flipped on its head. Like a gentle spring breeze, carrying with it the fragrance of newly blooming greenery.

Eventually, once his heart rate had somewhat calmed, Kaeya chanced a proper look toward his companion. Venti was staring out into the distance with an unreadable expression, a slight bit of tension evident in his posture. He was leaning back on his palms, mirroring Kaeya’s earlier position. Somehow, Kaeya knew there was no point in trying to keep up a facade.

“How did you know to come here?” he asked.

Venti hummed and tilted his head up toward the sky. “It seems the winds have a way of leading me where I’m needed most,” he lightly replied. The answer did little to explain the situation, but Kaeya supposed he should’ve expected it.

“Sounds like the Anemo Archon has taken a liking to you then, what with your natural affinity for Mondstadt’s winds.”

Venti smiled, “Perhaps.”

Silence descended on them once more. It was almost peaceful, sitting there and watching the moonlight ripple on the surface of the water. Kaeya knew that he’d have to explain himself eventually, so for a short while he chose to simply indulge in the moment. His dark and rampant thoughts still vied for attention, but they felt muffled, in a way, now that he had the steady comfort of another person’s presence next to him. 

After what felt like hours, but was probably mere minutes, Venti spoke up once more.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Kaeya considered it for a moment, gaze lingering on the moon’s reflection. “And if I say no?”

Venti glanced over at him. “Then so be it,” he answered, like it was as simple as that. “Though I must confess I hope you’ll choose not to keep it all to yourself, even if it is not me you wish to confide in.”

The honesty in his answer felt refreshing, even if it was the last thing someone who’d built his identity on an intricate web of lies deserved. Kaeya’s mood soured as the thought reminded him of his past. How was he supposed to go about explaining his reasons for being here to Venti, his casual drinking buddy who knew nothing of his roots?

He sighed, trying to summon the words to explain his thoughts. “It’s… difficult to explain, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’ve got all the time in the world,” Venti replied and looked over at him.

Kaeya hesitated, his old habit of smothering his true feelings clashing with his desperate vulnerability in that moment. “I’m-” he started, but the words refused to leave his throat. It took all of his willpower to prevent the tears from falling as he gripped his hair in frustration. The bard didn’t comment on it or pressure him into speaking, simply sitting there in silent support. Kaeya squeezed his eye shut and a single stray tear broke free its confines.

“I’ve never belonged here,” he ground out, voice wavering.

He felt Venti shift towards him, no doubt wearing a quizzical expression. Kaeya pushed on before he could be interrupted.

“My life, everything- it’s all just a big lie. I’m not- I’m not who everyone thinks I am,” he rushed out. “I’m a danger to the entirety of this nation, Venti. A sinner,” his voice broke. A lump had formed in his throat and the tears were streaming freely down his face, but he could barely feel them. Kaeya thought back to when he first arrived in Mondstadt, and the words kept spilling out: “Master Crepus should have never taken me in, back then, and instead just left me by the side of the road. I should have never come to Mond, and rotted away back in- in the place I was born… along with the rest of them. I don’t deserve to be here, in the land of freedom of all places. I’ve never been free, not really.”

“In fact… I should have died long ago,” he concluded in a small voice.

In the ensuing silence, it was with a quickly dawning horror that Kaeya realised he should have just kept his mouth shut. He.. did not mean to say all of that. With a swallow, Kaeya prepared himself for worried questions and accusations from his poor friend who understood nothing of what he'd just said, but instead-

Instead, he felt two hands come up and gently pry his fingers out of the deathly grip on his hair. Dazed, he turned to look at Venti, whose face was contorted in something akin to sorrow. The bard carefully brought down Kaeya’s hands, still held in his own, between their bodies. He kept his gaze there, thumbs tracing soothing circles across the backs of the captain’s hands.

“Mondstadt wouldn’t be the same without you, you know,” he finally said. “The nation of freedom does not discriminate between its inhabitants, no matter where they were born or what lies in their past. The winds welcome all who wish to make a home within their domain.”

Despite the reassuring words and accompanying breeze, Kaeya felt a cold pang in his chest. He wouldn’t say that, if he knew what I was. He pulled his hands away a bit too harshly to appear casual and avoided Venti’s eyes. 

“You say that now, but know nothing of my past,” Kaeya laughed bitterly. The bard just watched him, in his eyes a hint of something far exceeding his youthful appearance. Kaeya felt like he was being dissected under that heavy gaze. 

Venti gave him a melancholic smile before shattering his composure. “You were born to a nation that no longer exists, were you not?”

Kaeya froze. He’d spoken it with such lightness, like he hadn't just voiced one of Kaeya’s most closely guarded secrets into the night. Kaeya felt his fingers curl into the blades of grass, the beating of his heart seeming impossibly loud in the aftermath of the revelation.

“How did you-”

“Your eye,” Venti clarified, before Kaeya could completely lose himself to panic.

“...You recognize it?” Kaeya asked in a small voice, reeling. No one else in Mondstadt had ever before identified his origins — with such casualness no less — since his Khaenri'ahn traits had never been all that prominent. To think that Venti, his somewhat eccentric and wholly unserious drinking buddy (who looked not a day over sixteen, mind you) would be the only one to figure it out..?

The bard hummed and vaguely gestured towards his face. “As a bard, I've heard a myriad of tales and legends from all across the lands… including the long-gone Khaenri'ah. The shape of your pupil,” he paused, looking deep into Kaeya’s eye, “it's faint, but recognizable to a trained eye.” Venti must've seen the way his brows scrunched up at the wording, since he amended with a small grin, “Or ear, I suppose.”

“Then you must know that I will never belong to a world ruled by the Seven,” the captain muttered, the ever-searing anger he’d inherited from his father making itself known in the bottom of his stomach. “The entirety of Teyvat is familiar with the story of Khaenri’ah’s destruction. The people were condemned to death, their whole nation reduced to ruins.” Kaeya looked straight at his friend then, his gaze burning with indignation. “Tell me, do you really think the gods of this world would welcome a sinner like me amongst their people? I am nothing but a threat to their nations, a poisonous snake ready to strike at any moment. I bet any one of them would love to finish the job and rid this world of such pollution,” he spat.

Kaeya’s rambling was cut off by Venti’s shuddering sigh. Only then did he realize just how pained the bard’s expression had become. His eyebrows were pinched together just above his closed lids, the corners of his mouth pulled down into a tight-lipped frown. Kaeya could never have imagined such an expression on his ever-animated face. Suddenly, he felt a pang of guilt — it was unfair of him to dump all of this on his young friend, whether he asked for him to or not.

“There's no denying the gods’ involvement in that disaster,” Venti said into the quiet, his tone somber. Kaeya almost believed he saw a flash of guilt in those eyes of his, but quickly dismissed the nonsensical thought. “The Heavens never approved of the Khaenri'ahns’ delving into abyssal power, but even still…” Venti glanced toward the sky, where the distant island of Celestia hung far above the mortal realm. After a brief pause, he continued, “It was far too harsh a punishment.”

Kaeya felt his anger fizzle out into resignation, slumping where he sat. “Even if that's true, it changes nothing. The opinions of lowly mortals mean nothing to gods. They have no reason to sympathize with a godless people, if true emotion is something they're even capable of in the first place,” he continued with a small and bitter laugh, his eyes drawn to the sky. “The point is, after destroying an entire people, do you really think the Seven would take kindly to someone who slipped through the cracks of their divine punishment?”

Venti was listening intently, it seemed. Kaeya looked back and saw him gazing into the distance, wearing a complicated expression once more. The whole scenario was extremely jarring; if someone had told Kaeya a few days ago that he'd be discussing his Khaenri'ahn roots with Venti, who had cracked not a single joke or lighthearted comment over the course of the conversation, he would have laughed in their face. He wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t already been submerged in the water, and that this wasn't some fever dream his consciousness had conjured up in his last moments.

“You've lived in the nation watched over by the Anemo Archon for most of your life, now. Based on everything you've heard about him and his ideals of freedom, does he seem like the type of god to cast you aside — or even worse, eliminate you — just because of your roots?”

Kaeya was somewhat caught off-guard by the direct question. It was true that he’d become very familiar with depictions of the Anemo Archon throughout his years in Mondstadt, but he’d always been reluctant to accept the church’s word as truth. Especially back when he’d only just arrived in Mondstadt. His biological father’s spiteful words would echo throughout his mind at every mention of the Archon, contradicting everything he was hearing from his new family and home. Considering the earnestly devout nature of both the Ragnvindr family and the nation as a whole, it was no surprise that Kaeya had heard countless legends with reference to the god, Barbatos, throughout his childhood. Most of them depicted him as a caring god who’d granted his people the freedom to forge their own path forward, yet continued to watch over and aid them in their hours of need. He was known to be a kind and gentle being who had always preferred to solve conflict through peaceful means, only resorting to violence when it was inevitable.

The most well-known tale must have been that of Vennessa’s rebellion, from back when Mondstadt was ruled by a corrupt aristocracy. A Muratan slave had stood up to the elite’s exploitation of the people with the Anemo Archon’s support, eventually overthrowing the ruling Lawrence clan and establishing the Knights of Favonius who kept order in Mondstadt to this day. The story had instantly stuck with young Kaeya, who’d hoped that he too could make a home in this land, even as an outsider. 

Kaeya gradually had come to accept that the hateful views his father had implanted in him may not have all been true, and that the gods should not be viewed through a black-and-white lens. He never became truly devoted like most other citizens of Mondstadt, but could to some extent understand their worship. Generally, he would avoid contemplating questions regarding faith.

(And sometimes, in the quiet of night, he would foolishly clasp his hands together and mutter a prayer, hoping against all belief that he would be heard.)

Still, one question had always remained in the back of Kaeya’s mind.

How could Barbatos, the supposedly benevolent and peaceful deity who valued freedom above all, participate in the brutal annihilation of a nation full of innocent men, women, and children? Did the Anemo Archon deem them all unworthy of life, just because of the actions of few? If so, the freedom he represented lost all its meaning.

Or maybe Kaeya truly was rotten, just like the rest of that blasphemous nation. Besides… 

“Even if he is as compassionate a god as they say, Barbatos is said to have always protected his nation from harm. And if he knew what I was- why I really came to Mond… he would not hesitate,” Kaeya muttered, his voice wavering as he spoke. Despite the words sitting on his tongue, he couldn’t tell Venti about his mission. He’d already let way too much slip, but revealing his biggest secret would guarantee the end of his life in Mondstadt as he knew it. Though he wasn’t exactly planning on returning to the city, selfishly, he didn’t want his friends’ perceptions of him to be tainted by the truth. Venti included. 

The bard in question took a moment to consider his words. “I doubt that,” he replied. “Barbatos has always-”

“Just- stop,” Kaeya interrupted him in frustration. “I do appreciate the intent behind your words, but you don’t get it. You know nothing of my past or the circumstances surrounding my arrival. You cannot speak for a god who has not been seen for a thousand years, even if you are an ardent believer. Can’t you just- let me finish what I came here for?!” he cried out, frustration quickly turning into anger. He knew his friend must have meant well, but Kaeya had long moved past such wishful thinking.

The silence stretched once more and Kaeya thought he’d finally managed to push the bard away for good. Refusing to look at him, Kaeya waited for him to get up and walk away from the mess that is the Cavalry Captain and forget this ever happened. Venti must have finally realised that he was not something worth fighting for.

Kaeya could feel Venti’s intent gaze piercing through the side of his head. “I think you’ll find I know a great deal more about both you and Barbatos than you assume.”

His first reaction was to scoff at his friend’s gall — The Anemo Archon himself? What a claim! — but the lack of humor in his words gave Kaeya pause. Suddenly, he felt a stronger gust of wind blow through his hair and he tensed. An inexplicable apprehension filled his body and he slowly turned to look at the bard.

Kaeya’s breath caught in his throat at the sight.

There is no way.

Venti’s eyes, as well as the tips of his braids, were glowing a soft teal color. His cape was fluttering behind him as cool wind surrounded his slender figure from all sides. His eyes were gentle yet sharp, reflecting within them something truly ancient. In the darkness of night, he looked otherworldly. 

Divine, his mind supplied.

Kaeya wasn’t sure how long he stared at the bard (Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, the last of the original Seven-), frozen in place. His rapidly beating heart drowned out all other noise as he watched the winds settle around the god, the glow of concentrated anemo energy fading away and leaving only the moon to illuminate the night. Venti- no, Barbatos shifted where he sat and Kaeya jerked away from him, eye blown wide with fear. “Don’t touch me-!”

Barbatos frowned in what looked like concern and stayed still, allowing Kaeya his space. Kaeya, meanwhile, was desperately trying to calm his frantic breathing. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Venti, the foolish drunkard bard with whom he’d shared countless drinks at the tavern with was none other than the archon of Mondstadt. To whom he’d just spilled all of his grievances and doubts about his heritage, and who heard him question the anemo god. Whom he practically told to shut up just now. Dread coiled in his stomach and Kaeya shivered under the knowing gaze of the archon. 

The gods are not to be trusted, his father whispered in his ear. They never have and never will see us as worthy of life.

Distantly, Kaeya thought he would really have preferred the ocean floor right about now.

Once he managed to somewhat calm his erratic mind, he looked back to the god, whose patient expression had not wavered still. Kaeya couldn’t help tensing, the knowledge that he was facing a being of unimaginable power overriding the comfort of a familiar face.

“You… All this time, you’ve been-” Kaeya started, but was unable to finish the sentence. Saying the incomprehensible truth out loud would solidify it as fact, and he was still reeling from the revelation, struggling to accept what he’d seen. The bard must have noticed the conflict painted on his face, since he gave him a bittersweet smile before nodding.

Kaeya regarded him for a moment and tried to consolidate his memories of the drunken bard with the Anemo Archon. It was… eerie, knowing that he’d been in the presence of a god all along — and one of the oldest ones, at that. It did explain Venti’s cryptic ramblings and the way he seemed to vanish into thin air at times, he supposed. But then, if Venti had known of his origins for an indeterminable amount of time already, then…

“Why have you let me live for so long?”

Barbatos breathed a heavy sigh. “Kaeya, I-”

“You- you know why I was sent to Mondstadt, don't you?” Kaeya interrupted, voice shaking with apprehension. The god’s pinched expression told him everything he needed to know.

“Of course. Of course you do. I was foolish to think I could hide the truth from the gods, especially in the nation of winds” he laughed in a self-deprecating way. “But then… I don't understand,” he whispered, looking straight into the bard’s eyes. “Is this some kind of- game to you? Let's see how long it takes for the impostor to crack, is that it!? You’ve had so many opportunities to get rid of me and ensure the safety of Mondstadt, and yet here you are listening to my sob story,” Kaeya rambled on, his words borne by the fear he’d carried with him since his earliest years. “Maybe you wanted to hear the confession fall from my own lips before striking me down. Well, here it is: I am the descendant of Clothar Alberich, the man responsible for establishing the Abyss Order. I was sent here as a Khaenri’ahn spy all those years ago, and have been a danger to your nation ever since. There. Now will you end my pitiful existence, o Lord Barbatos?”

Another salty tear dripped down his chin. Had he been crying this whole time? What a shameful display, in front of a god no less. Kaeya had never thought of himself as particularly strong, but this must have been the most humiliating night of his life. 

“Do you really think I would do that, to a close friend no less?” Barbatos asked with a complicated yet sorrowful expression. Kaeya remained silent. The reminder that the god in front of him was also Venti, the young bard who had only a week or so ago thrown an arm over his shoulders and toasted to ‘Sir Kaeya, the most diligent of the Knights’ after a long day of work, was jarring to say the least.

“I know an archon’s word may not mean much to you, but I promise I would never hurt you, Kaeya,” Barbatos said earnestly. “Though you hail from Khaenri’ah, I have never thought of you as anything but my own,” he continued with an intense look in his eyes. 

Kaeya’s breath hitched at the words and he brought a hand up to his mouth lest he let out some pathetic sound. Though his first instinct was to deny Barbatos’ sentiment, a childishly hopeful part of him desperately clung to the warmth radiating off of it. Kaeya was well acquainted with liars and those who withheld the truth, having spent many evenings carefully fishing for information over a pint, so he knew what signs to look out for. However, there was no tension hiding in the god’s demeanor, only an inviting sincerity and a trace of sadness. Though he did appear honest, this was no ordinary human he was looking at, Kaeya reminded himself.

Bitterness crept up Kaeya’s throat at the stories he’d heard of the cataclysm; at the way the gods banded together under a burning sky and relished in the ashes of their destruction. And here in front of him sat Barbatos, smiling in that painfully gentle way of his like Kaeya wasn’t merely a stain on the bottom of his shoe.

“But you were there. When my nation was cast aside and reduced to rubble, you were there,” he said with a shaking voice, the accusation hanging heavy between them.

Barbatos’ features contorted into a pained expression. “Yes, I was,” he admitted quietly. The god looked away, as if ashamed. “As mandated by the Heavens,” he gazed out into the distance.

“You must be thinking, why didn’t I just refuse?” the god guessed. “Barbatos has never been known for violence, and his involvement in Khaenri’ah goes against all his values of freedom, yes,” he said, bitterness in his tone. “But you must understand that gods, too, are powerless in face of the Heavenly Principles. I could have refused… but what would have become of Mondstadt?”

The bard paused, letting Kaeya come to his own conclusions in the lingering quiet. After a moment, he continued with a heavy sigh. “The Heavens are not exactly known for their goodwill… as you well know. Besides, I was but one of many. Even if each of the Seven had ignored their call, the punishment would have been carried out all the same — however, a similar fate could also have befallen the archons and their nations,” Barbatos explained regretfully.

“If I had a choice..” he started, but let the sentence fade into the wind with a look toward Celestia. He turned to the captain with a tired expression that carried his unspoken words.

No matter how much Kaeya wanted to refute the god’s claims, somehow he knew that Barbatos was telling the truth. Hearing his words was simultaneously relieving yet strange, contradicting the earliest things he’d been told about the gods of Teyvat. And as for his confession, well... The god of freedom, shackled into submission by the rules of the Heavenly Principles. How ridiculously ironic.

Barbatos watched Kaeya debate his words in his mind, an attentive tilt to his head. As if sensing the captain’s hesitance, he made a thoughtful sound and continued speaking. 

“You must have heard of Gold, one of the Five Sinners?” Kaeya was caught off-guard by the somewhat unrelated question, but nodded. He didn’t know too much about the Sinners of Khaenri’ah, just that they’d absorbed a large amount of abyssal energy and thus gained unbelievable power, and that they’d abandoned their nation when they were needed most. 

“Then you must have heard of her fascination with creating life through alchemy. Well, not many know that one of her creations has actually lived here in Mondstadt,” he casually revealed. “They decided to settle down and make a life here, which I have never had any qualms about. The same applies to you. I do admit to being initially intrigued both in your cases — it’s not every day you see those with close links to Khaenri’ah arrive at your doorstep — but I have always approached such cases with curiosity, not suspicion,” Barbatos explained, a twinkle in his eyes.

“One of her creations… As in- an artificial human?” Kaeya questioned in bewilderment. “Do they still live in Mond now?”

Barbatos smiled softly before giving a small shrug. “Who’s to say? I won’t be elaborating in order to protect their identity, as it is not my story to tell,” he said with a light tone, “but I figured the knowledge of their existence may be of help to you.” Kaeya was still curious, but understood he wouldn't be getting an answer. Still, it was as the archon said — knowing that he had accepted such a person under his wing, despite their dubious background, was surprisingly reassuring.

“What I will divulge is that they have harbored similar fears to yours, Kaeya. They too worried that they would endanger this nation by their presence, but in the end they were just that: fears. Actually, both you and they have made significant contributions to the protection of Mondstadt; a fact I am exceptionally thankful for,” he said earnestly. The god’s knowing eyes seemed to pierce through his very soul, unearthing his deepest fears with just a glance. Kaeya felt like he’d been laid bare in front of him.

“Though they can be immensely difficult to let go of, your roots do not define you. You are free to decide for yourself who you wish to become,” Barbatos concluded.

Kaeya faltered, recalling his father’s cold eyes as he stated, “you are our last hope”.

“But- still, I am nothing but a danger to this nation. Even if I couldn’t bring myself to carry out my- my mission, what if they come back for me?” he questioned, eyes blown wide with fear. “They must be keeping tabs on my progress. What will they do once they realise I’m a failure? That I was too weak; that I finally doomed our nation? If the day comes that I must stand up to them- to my father… I’m- I’m not sure I could,” he whispered, breath stuttering as he spoke.

Barbatos looked at him for a long while, his eyes swimming with a profound sadness. He carefully set his hand on Kaeya’s forearm, watching the captain’s reaction for any sign of unease. Kaeya valiantly resisted the urge to flinch.

The god’s gentle palm provided a comforting presence that helped ground him into the present. It was also at that moment Kaeya realised how desperately he missed the steady weight of another person’s touch, struggling not to lean into it with his whole being.

“Oh, Kaeya,” Barbatos murmured sadly. “No one person should be expected to shoulder the legacy of an entire nation, least of all a child. I hope you understand that it was not something you on your own could have ever achieved, and what they were expecting from you was nothing short of the impossible,” he firmly stated, as if attempting to cement the truth into Kaeya’s mind.

“And if they do come back for you…” Barbatos started, staring intently into his eye with a burning gaze. “I promise you, I won’t let them lay a finger on you.” The god’s eyes flashed teal and Kaeya knew he was telling the truth.

Kaeya felt a lump grow in his throat, his eye welling with tears once more. It was the most care he’d been shown in a long while and he was barely keeping himself together. To think that the Anemo Archon, someone he’d always assumed the worst of, was not only showing him such compassion, but would also be willing to personally protect him if he was in danger…

Barbatos gently cupped his face in both of his palms, wiping off the tears that kept cascading down his face.

“I mean it when I say that anyone is welcome here, regardless of background,” the archon smiled, nothing but kindness in his expression. Slowly, he pressed his forehead against Kaeya’s and a warm breeze surrounded the two. 

The wind around them picked up in strength, but it wasn’t harsh in a way a stormy evening was. The feeling was more akin to a warm yet firm embrace, enveloping him like a protective shield. Closing his eye, Kaeya relished in the feeling.

In the breeze he heard voices long forgotten to time: children’s laughter as they chased each other around winery grounds, cheery promises to stay together forever; the cheering of the Knights and a gruff good job amidst the bustling of a tavern; a little girl’s giggle as she spoke of her adventures with an unrivaled enthusiasm; an adoptive father’s murmured I love you and the feeling of lips on his forehead. Kaeya heard everyone he’d ever held dear, their voices full of affection and joy and light. The voices swirled around him, filling his chest with warmth as his breathing slowly settled into its usual rhythm. These were the people he'd built his life around. This was his home.

Another voice, spoken out loud yet carried by the winds all the same: “Mondstadt will always have a place for you, if only you’ll accept it, Kaeya Alberich Ragnvindr.”

Yes, Kaeya thought, this is where I belong. 

In the midst of it all, the calming fragrance of cecilias made itself known upon the wind and he felt a serene quiet replace his turbulent thoughts. Kaeya let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting the tension bleed out of his body in that bubble of comfort. 

After a moment the winds began dissipating, the voices of his loved one fading along with it. For the first time in months, Kaeya felt truly alive, his chest filled with a contentment comparable to the first rays of light peeking through clouds on a warm spring day.

The bard’s hands never left his face, and opening his eyes had Kaeya realising that he’d at some point begun holding on to Barbatos’ wrists with both hands. The god in question still had his eyes closed, a tranquil smile on his face. Normally Kaeya would have felt incredibly awkward in such a situation — his face still damp and eye puffy after spilling his deepest fears, holding onto another person as if he was about to fall apart —  but the god’s presence was so soothing he found that he didn’t mind all that much. He’d always felt strangely calm in Venti’s company, even despite his usual liveliness, but had never spared any thought to it. It all made sense now, he supposed.

Against his instinct to forever remain in that hold, Kaeya pulled away. The god leaned back as well, a satisfied little hum leaving his mouth in the process. He looked at him with an overwhelming warmth which Kaeya could not handle, choosing to turn away to watch the sea once more. He felt Barbatos’ gaze linger on him for a few seconds longer before he, too, turned toward the horizon.

The two sat there in companionable silence as Kaeya let himself digest everything that had just transpired. It was difficult to cling onto his dark thoughts after hearing his loved ones’ cheerful voices, not to mention the god’s words themselves. Seems like whatever Barbatos just did with the winds solidified his decision not to go through with his plan. Kaeya wasn’t entirely sure if he should feel disappointed or relieved.

Despite his mind feeling significantly lighter now, though, hearing Diluc’s younger voice — not full of cold anger, venom dripping from every syllable and spoken like a knife driven into his chest, but carefree and full of love — had made a hot pit settle in the bottom of his stomach. Oh, how badly he missed his brother. He was loathe to admit it, but not a single day went by when he didn’t think of a world in which he still had someone to call family. 

Still, he knew there was no going back now. Diluc barely tolerated him these days — which was already more than he could’ve asked for — and he wasn’t going to ruin whatever facsimile of a truce they had going on. He’d already resigned to the reality that the extent of their relationship would forever remain at most as acquaintances who pretended not to have shared years worth of memories together and spoke only tense words of argument. At least Diluc was back in Mondstadt now so he could pretend they were a part of each other’s lives again, even if not in the way he desired.

(During those three years away, Diluc’s abandoned Vision had made a permanent residence in Kaeya’s pocket where it sat pulsing with warmth at all times of day. The constant weight on his person served as a reminder that his brother (or someone who he used to call his brother, anyway) would one day return; that he was still somewhere out there among the blizzards of Snezhnaya. There were also times when the constant heat would suddenly fade, the pyro symbol retaining only the slightest bit of color, and, well… Kaeya didn’t like to dwell on those times.)

Kaeya sighed, closing his eye for a moment. He really had destroyed their family, hadn’t he?

“There is still something on your mind, it seems,” the bard’s voice suddenly rang out. He must’ve noticed Kaeya’s change in countenance. The words he spoke held no question or expectation to speak, carrying only an invitation: “I am here, if you wish to share your burden.”

Kaeya hesitated. He tended to avoid speaking of his past as a Ragnvindr, too ashamed to refer to them as family, but since he’d already said so much…

“It’s just… Despite everything you’ve said, I’m not a good person. I lied to the people who so generously took me into their home for years and fath- Master Crepus never even got to learn the truth,” Kaeya explained in a level voice, feeling numb. “And then, on the night he died… When I saw his body disintegrating in Diluc’s arms, do you know what my first reaction was? I was relieved and smiled,” he barked out a hollow laugh. “I thought, ‘wow, seems like I’m not the only one keeping secrets in this family’. Would any respectable person react in such a way to the death of the man who had taken them in and raised them as one of his own?”

One of the biggest sources of Kaeya’s shame, out in the open. Surely the archon would change his tune now that he knew what a truly depraved person he was speaking to.

“Your reaction does not represent your morality nor the quality of your character,” Barbatos simply replied.

Kaeya’s eye widened and he whirled on the god, exclaiming, “What?” in bewilderment.

The god did not so much as flinch, holding his gaze with those terribly compassionate eyes of his. “When you first arrived in Mondstadt, you were but a scared child who’d been burdened with a colossal secret, desperately clinging to any source of comfort you could find. It must have been unbelievably difficult to keep up that facade for all those years, unable to tell the truth to those you’d come to view as family,” he spoke, his tone tinged with sadness. Kaeya’s breath caught in his throat at how easily the god was able to see through the countless walls he’d tried to build up over the years, unraveling every unsaid word from the depths of his heart.

“It’s no wonder you felt relief at the knowledge that your father had harbored dark secrets of his own. It must have eased the crushing guilt you’d been carrying, in some way,” Barbatos continued. "Torn between your birthland and the nation you grew to consider your home, feeling as if you were betraying both your families by never committing to just one nation… It must have taken you incredible strength, not to speak of it all sooner," he tilted his head in sympathy. Kaeya turned away, hoping to hide the way his expression was starting to crack. It was everything he’d greedily always wanted to hear: an acknowledgement of his struggle, and an understanding that he’d never wished to hurt his family.

“Besides, one who feels such heavy guilt over their perceived foulness cannot possibly be all that bad, now can they?” Barbatos reasoned with a smile that Kaeya couldn’t return.

“As for the late Master Crepus… Do you really think a lost child’s acting could have truly fooled him?” the bard asked, causing Kaeya to blink in shock. The captain met his eyes, a mixture of feelings — dread? relief? — bubbling underneath his skin and a burning question in his gaze. Barbatos merely shrugged and said, “Just something to consider. I wouldn’t know.”

Kaeya didn’t know what to think of the possibility that Crepus had known of his background all along yet continued to love him all the same. It had been a long and emotionally charged night and he wanted nothing more than to stop brewing in his unending questions and revelations, so he pushed the thought down to be examined at some other time. For a moment he returned his gaze to the sea, which had stilled considerably over the time he’d been sitting there. The atmosphere, much like his mind, had calmed, the jagged rocks beneath him no longer seeming as alluring. The quiet of the night around him suddenly made Kaeya realise how exhausted he felt, and he tried to suppress his yawn to no avail.

“Ah, I reckon that was plenty of Barbatos for one night,” the bard sighed out of nowhere, the usual lightness once again present in his tone. After a bit of rustling, Kaeya looked over at his companion who had stood up and was offering him his hand. 

“It’s high time we returned to the city, don’t you think, my dearest Captain?” he easily smiled.

It was like a switch had been flipped, the revered Anemo Archon turning into Venti the bard once more. It was relieving to see his friend back to his usual self, even if the captain's perception of him had been irrevocably changed over the course of the night. If Kaeya had more energy, he might have contemplated whether the cheery airiness was simply a put-on front similar to his own smug indifference, but he let the thought go for now.

Grabbing Venti’s hand, he answered, “I couldn’t agree more.”

The journey back to the city was spent in companionable silence, Venti humming some tune every once in a while. He seemed to have regained the lightness in his posture, walking through the woods like he was a part of them — and in a way he must have been, Kaeya realised. A constant gentle breeze seemed to follow them as they made their way forward, and Kaeya tried his best to simply enjoy the scenery around them.

As Venti used the wind to propel himself over a fallen tree, Kaeya couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Venti looked back at him with a bright smile and an inquisitive tilt of his head.

“Don’t mind me, I was just thinking… could you imagine the expressions on the sisters’ faces  if they found out that the local drunkard was actually the archon they revered all along?” he mused.

The bard laughed, the sound chiming on the wind. “Actually, I did try to tell them once!”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yep!” Venti affirmed. After a short pause he continued with a shrug, “They threw me out of the cathedral.”

A surprised bark of laughter escaped Kaeya. Poor Barbara would throw a fit if she found out about this.

“Oh, that is absolute gold,” Kaeya chuckled. “I'm curious though, why would the famously absent Anemo Archon suddenly announce his presence in the first place? Dissatisfied with the people's worship?” he teased.

“Nothing of the sort, I assure you!” Venti frowned playfully, waving his hands in front of his chest for emphasis. “This was back when Dvalin was still corrupted. I’d wished to simply borrow the Holy Lyre in an attempt to save my dear old friend, but had to resort to revealing myself after my humble request was so coldly denied. And they didn't even believe me!” he whined. “In the end, I persuaded the Traveler to sneak in and get it for me, but then the Fatui just had to get involved and-!”

“Wait,” Kaeya interrupted the bard’s ranting. “You mean… you made the Traveler steal the Holy Lyre der Himmel from the Church for you?” The arrest warrant for a blonde thief, which he remembered hearing about around that time, suddenly made a lot more sense.

Venti waved his hand dismissively. “It’s not stealing if the Lyre was mine in the first place! Just reclaiming an old trinket, ehe!” he winked. “Anyway, it were the Fatui who actually stole it in the end.”

The captain frowned. “The Fatui stole a religious relic from the Church of Favonius? Jean has never mentioned such a thing to me.”

“Ah, don’t you worry! It was merely a passing breeze. The traveler, together with Master Diluc, got it back in no time!” the bard explained, and something clicked in Kaeya’s mind. “The condition in which it was eventually returned to the Church, of course, is a whole separate matter-”

“Does that mean… Diluc knows?” Kaeya asked apprehensively.

Venti turned back to look at him, his eyes narrowed in mischief with a smirk to match. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? It’s high time you two talked, anyway — now there’s a conversation starter for you!” he exclaimed and continued bounding forward.

Kaeya stumbled at the suggestion before catching up with the carefree bard. “Well, that’s one new way to get kicked out of the Angel’s Share,” he commented lightly. The rest of Venti’s words went deliberately unacknowledged. 

As they continued their trek through the Whispering Woods, Kaeya’s mind had gotten caught on the god’s suggestion. Trying to talk to Diluc about their past and subsequent conflict would end in nothing but more pain. He’d considered it, of course, but could never stop himself from steering the conversation back to hurled insults and heated glares. It was so much easier to simply remain in that cycle of push and pull, hurt and be hurt, and not have to face the regrets of his past. It’s not like they had a great track record with difficult conversations, after all.

His expression wavered as he recalled the blazing sword being swung right at him in the pouring rain with nothing to defend himself against the attack, his arms instinctively braced in front of him in a poor attempt at self-preservation and the inferno of fury in his brother’s eyes-

Kaeya let out a shuddering sigh as he repressed the image that flashed in his mind. Breaking the quiet, he finally responded to the suggestion hanging heavy in the air between them. “Anyhow, I highly doubt that Master Diluc would ever entertain that kind of conversation with me. You’ve seen how our chats usually go.”

Venti gave him a small smile. “You’d be surprised.”

Before Kaeya could react, he realised that they’d made it to the edge of the woods, with Mondstadt City right up ahead. He felt a pang of… something in his chest at the thought that he’d planned not to return here ever again. The sky was painted in vibrant hues of orange, the color reflecting on the still surface of Cider Lake. The early morning dew glittered on the grass and the wind hummed a gentle tune as it passed through low-hanging branches. After a short pause of basking in the start of a new day, Kaeya continued toward the city gates. However, after only a few steps he registered the absence of another person by his side. He turned around to see the bard leisurely leaning against a tree, his usual smile playing on his lips.

Venti must have sensed his confusion, since he playfully remarked, “I’ll have to part ways with you here, but I assume you’ll be able to finish the arduous trek on your own.”

“I suppose I will,” Kaeya weakly smiled. He hoped that the god could recognize the immense gratefulness he felt despite not speaking it aloud. By the way Venti’s expression seemed to soften as they held each other’s gaze, he must have.

“I hope you'll truly consider my words, Kaeya. It is not yet your time,” he said, and Kaeya saw another glimpse of the divine archon hiding behind the carefree demeanor of a common bard. He swallowed heavily and nodded.

“Well, then. See you around, Sir Kaeya,” he bid farewell with a tip of his hat. "May the winds protect you."

Kaeya blinked, just about to open his mouth to respond — but when he opened his eye once more, Venti was gone without a trace.

He was left standing there with an arm halfway up to wave goodbye, staring at the empty spot the bard had just occupied.

Suddenly, Kaeya felt a gust of wind rush by him, the breeze gently caressing his face like a loving parent’s steady hold. The winds carefully swept aside his air and he gasped as he felt something akin to a soft kiss on his temple, the sensation filling his mind with calm. The breeze dissipated as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind only the lingering warmth in his chest. Just as the captain steadied himself, one last gust of wind blew right beside his ear, carrying the earnest voice of a younger Diluc Ragnvindr.

“We’re brothers now, so we’ll be together forever! Even if we fight sometimes, I’ll still love you. Nothing can change that!”

Kaeya’s eye widened at the sentiment long lost to time, a searing pain piercing through his ribcage. He took a few deep breaths to dispel the tears that immediately threatened to cloud his vision and rolled the words around in his head. The image of a little redhead’s radiant smile forced itself into the forefront of Kaeya’s mind. Of course, what he’d just heard was but an ignorant child’s naive belief, but maybe…

Maybe he should make a visit to the Angel’s Share sometime soon.

He looked towards the city gates, where he could see the distant figures of Swan and Lawrence dutifully standing guard on each side of the entrance. The captain took a step forward, and then another, and all the while the sun kept slowly rising on the horizon.

It's a new day, Kaeya thought, as he made his way home.