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“Take flight and soar across the pure sky,”
Golden hues fluttered open.
A sweet lullaby was carried by the winds. Despite the raging sound of storms and rain, the voice that sang to him rang sweet and clear. It calmed his weary soul, like a warm embrace against his body which was slowly turning numb from the writhing agony. It whispers into his mind, chasing the madness and voices away, if only for a moment.
“Like a bird that sought for freedom,”
Xiao’s vision was blurry and he could taste metal in his mouth.
It didn’t take him a second longer to realise that it was blood. With his eyes half-lidded, his gaze fell on the luminescent colour of jade reflecting against his eyes of melted gold. The primordial jade spear created by Rex Lapis to vanquish demons, his own weapon, was impaled through the centre of his body. He tried to move his jaw to speak, but realised that his body was no longer the same as it had been. His gloves were gone and so was the imitation vision on it. Halfway down his limbs were dusted with jet-black specks that seemed to be creeping up his body. His nails had grown sharp, tainted with blood and his teeth were replaced by sharp fangs.
The adeptus realised then, that he had taken the same appearance as his fellow departed yakshas.
Xiao too had fallen into madness, his vessel now corrupted beyond repair.
In the distance, Lumine brought his mask, which had shattered into two pieces, close to her chest. The traveller seemed to be ridden with cuts and injuries from a dire fight. Yet, he could tell that she had tried her best, perhaps to prevent his eventual end. Even his revered lord Morax was present. Rex Lapis’ brows furrowed as he stood, steady as a rock in his mortal vessel. The Yuheng Keqing barely stood her ground with a bloodied blade, the strength that she’d placed in gripping her weapon made her arm tremble. Ganyu was supporting her whilst her eyes were turned away from the scene, unable to look Xiao in the eyes. The other adepti—still they gazed at him with utmost respect, as one adeptus would to another.
While Xiao lay in a pool of his own blood, they lowered their heads to the Conqueror of Demons.
Alatus felt a pair of gentle hands cupping his cheeks and he realised then, that he was laying his head on a being enveloped with the scent of Cecilias. Droplets of water gathered to the tips of Venti’s locks, down his face and dripped onto Xiao’s cheek. They were cold but carries with them fleeting hints of warmness. Venti’s lips pursed into a thin line as his fingers caressed the Yaksha’s skin, speckled with fractured, dark tints of karmic debt.
The bard’s voice faltered as he sang.
“To the heavens may you fly–”
Alatus gazed at those pools of green hues. He imagined himself being lost in them instead of the chilling darkness looming close. His eyes softened at the sight of the archon.
“Ven..ti…”
The yaksha croaked out through a raspy breath.
That is his name, right…?
Venti’s lips had stopped moving, the tune of his song hung in the air as he looked to Xiao, giving him all of his attention. The bard mustered his best smile, but he couldn’t get as much as a giggle out in this situation. Xiao had seen him play the flute boisterously and he’d heard tales of what Barbatos is like from the traveller.
Somehow, it felt wrong to see him looking so glum.
Xiao’s fingers curled, his nails digging into the soil. His breaths stifled, shook, as he struggled to stay awake. Since the archon first saved him with the Dilhua flute, he wanted to at least breathe out a word of thanks. He had waited for far too long.
But what was Barbatos doing holding him so close with his head on his lap?
He is dangerous.
His lips trembled, brows knitted weakly. Right now, he wanted to tell his saviour to get as far away from him as possible.
‘Get away from me.’
‘Please, don’t involve yourself with me.’
‘I’m already too far gone–’
He wanted to tell Venti but the only noises which left his lips were that of a wounded creature, choking croaks and growls as he couldn’t form words. Death is a selfish indulgence, an escape from the eternal dance of demon conquering; those were the words that the yakshas lived by. Even on his deathbed, the perfected yaksha is concerned with the effects of his karmic debt and how simply being near him could end up hurting the lives of the innocent. But the bard lifted a hand to sweep the green locks away from Xiao's forehead, the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the adeptus’ skin.
“That’s enough,” Barbatos’ voice resounded. There was a short pause as Venti caught the words stuck in the back of his throat. Seeing the yaksha that he’d silently hoped to meet, now dying in his arms. Oh how his lips trembled. “Please...you’ve done enough, Alatus.”
And that was it.
The golden winged king felt the strain leaving his shoulders, his arms lay by his side as he lost the will to struggle.
Perhaps those were the words that he’d long to hear all this time.
And his voice–oh, his heavenly and gentle voice that strums him to his core.
How could he ignore his plea?
Alatus was growing cold. He could feel the adeptal energy dispersing from his body, like fragments falling apart from thousands of years of pressure. Many times, he had to put those broken pieces together. Because if not him, then whom? Who will protect Liyue from the lingering wrath of the fallen gods? Who will take on all the karma that the city has to bear? With each inhale, Xiao felt every ounce of breath stabbing his lungs, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass. His body weakened considerably as he felt his energy slipping past his fingers like sand that he could no longer catch. The yaksha’s eyelids grew heavy. But is this truly the end?
A shadow loomed over Xiao and he felt soft lips brushed against his forehead. As Venti pulled back, a painful strain on the bard's abdomen caused him to bite down on his bottom lip. There was a wound where Xiao had pierced through his body like paper. It ached and it tore his body apart.
But he doesn't need to know.
“Sleep. I won’t let you hurt anyone, I promise,” Blood trailed down Venti's skin under his outfit and still, he mustered a smile.
Xiao’s golden hues wavered as he looked to the archon.
‘Ah…’
There was a hint of a smile but eyes of golden hues sees nothing but a blur of what he had seen. Warm liquid formed in his eyes and slipped past the sides of his face. The yaksha realised then, that they were tears that he'd refuse to let slip. It crushed him to not even be able to make out the face of the bard who held him.
‘I longed to see you.’
The thought crossed his mind as he was finally granted rest. In his last moments, he wanted to burn Venti’s hazy visage into his memory. How long had he spent silently yearning to see Venti again, only to bury the budding curiosity deep within his heart, fearing, knowing that it may lead to something more. If only he had come to see the archon a little earlier.
Just a little bit of time is fine; he’d stretch even a minute to be worth it’s time in hours.
How long after would it take him to realise his longing if he did? And how much more time would pass before he’d accept that it was far too late, that he already loves the bard so. With all that being mere what ifs, Xiao would never know.
‘You, whose hands are holding me even when I've lost myself.’
There was a small sob, a choked cry as the wind wisp wiped the trail of tears on Xiao’s face. His quivering fingers attempted to rub them away, even as his own eyes were filled to the brim with hot tears. The yaksha parted his lips with a mutter that was barely audible.
“I’m…s..orry.”
‘You, whose tears spilled for one so undeserving.’
In the end, he couldn’t repay Venti for once saving him from the depths of hell. Xiao's last exhale left his worn body.
He had succumbed to the madness.
He had finally succumbed to rest.
In the midst of the storm that had raged in the Guyun Stone Forest, where many gods and corrupted souls lie, the last yaksha had fallen. But if Celestia above could grant him a second chance, he’ll pick Cecilias until Venti’s hands are full of them. Then maybe the bard would grin brightly and let out a little, melodious laugh his way.
That would be all that he would ever want.
‘And I’ll come to you hoping to put a smile on your face,’
‘I’ll make all your wishes come true, no matter how small and silly they may be,’
Like a shooting star.