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Time was sitting on a patch of green grass under a tree, the vast foliage casting a shadow on her. The sun was clear, the birds flew freely in the sky. White hair spread out on the ground as words spilled from Time’s mouth:
“Nine hundred eighty-one, nine hundred eighty-two…”
With every new number a small white bundle appeared in her hands. The second it appeared a light breeze gently blew at Time’s face, after which the newly born wind wisp flew away to join the other hundreds of them that were frolicking on the flowery fields.
“Thousand.” Time announced and another wisp materialized in her hands.
A gust of wind blew in her face once again but this one was a little stronger. It even managed to ruffle her hair. Time tilted her head, looking at the little sprite with newfound curiosity. The thousandth wisp looked back at her – something akin to interest glistened in his little white eyes, something that wasn’t there with the others.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Time asked the little sprite. “Fly away, join your siblings. Play around in the wind, bring people hope.”
But even after hearing her words the wisp didn’t move and kept looking at her.
“Interesting.” She muttered and brought her finger to the little head of the wisp.
At that very moment hundreds of images flashed in her mind – fragments of few future centuries, both close and distant, appeared before her. She once again gazed at the wisp.
“What an interesting future.” She whispered, raising up her hands a little to bring the wisp closer to her face. “Many great things await you. And so many sorrows.”
The little wind titled his head, his wings fluttering almost shyly in her hold. She was almost certain that he didn’t understand anything yet. Well, maybe that’s for the better.
“Fly away.” Time said again.
This time the wisp listened. Spreading out his wings, he flew in the direction of the fields, blowing away all the dandelions he met on his path.
Time looked as he flew further and further from her.
“I think that’s enough.” She said, standing up. “A thousand is a good number.”
***
“I wish to help people.”
Time turned around to the voice that was at her ear and saw the little wind on her shoulder. She recognized him right away. She rarely cared for any sort of living being, whether or not they were created by her own hands. But something about this one, the youngest one, made her feel curios. He was different. He didn’t play with the others often. She couldn’t understand why but he was hiding. From his siblings, from people, even from birds and animals. It was as if life itself seemed scary to him. But he liked flowers. She often noticed him in their company. They whispered something to the little wind and he listened to them with exceptional attention. She wasn’t interested in their whispers – rustling of flowers was nothing for Time.
“Which people?” She asked.
“Those that live behind that mountain.” The wind replied. “In the desert of eternal winter. And those under the dome. I hear their prayers and I hear their cries but no one comes for help. I wish to help them.”
“That place is under a rule of the God of Storm. An ancient Wolf of the North wages war against him. Both of them desire one of the seven thrones. It is no place for a tiny wind wisp like you.”
“I don’t care for it.” The wisp said stubbornly. “I wish to help people.”
The determination with which he repeated those words caught the Time’s attention. She looked at him with that same curiosity in her eyes as in the moment he was born.
“If you go there, there will be no going back.” Time said, opening up her hands and allowing the wisp to float on her palms. “Here you have everything. Do you wish to sacrifice the carefree life you have for the people you’ve never even met?”
“I do.” The wisp replied without hesitation.
“If so, I will help you.” Time said. “I see your future and there is a long, grievous path ahead of you. You have to understand that you won’t be able to have your previous life back. You will face such pain and loss that a wind wisp should never know.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Time sighed. This little sprite didn’t even understand what he was asking for. But there was no point in arguing with fate.
“I will give you a part of my power and authority.” She said. “But use it wisely. The power of Time is destructive in the hands of a fool.”
She pressed a finger to his head, feeling her power seep through her fingertips, covering the white wind spirit with bright yellow light. A wind wisp whose purpose in this world was to merely bring joy and hope bound himself with chains of power of his own free will.
What an interesting fate.
***
Time saw a figure in white cloak crouched on the ground, a broken lyre in his hands that were covered in blood. Behind him two magnificent wings drooped on the burned grass, the feathers faded and creased. The battlefield around him was scattered with bodies, swords and shields. The sky was clear and birds were flying up high. Piles of snow were red. The wind was still.
He raised his head and looked at her with teary eyes. She gazed at this face. She had seen it before. But not with those eyes.
“Bring him back.” He said, his voice breaking and new tears falling down his cheeks. “I know you can.”
“I cannot.” Time replied. “Even if I wanted to go against my sister, I wouldn’t be able to bring him back. What he did was too much for a human. He no longer exists in the eyes of Time. He never did.”
Suddenly, the wind around them picked up, making the armor on the ground clatter and fly up a little. Time didn’t pay it any mind.
“Why did you take this form?” She asked him.
“Someone had to remember him.” He said, his voice hoarse from all the tears. Then added, quietly: “Why did you let him do that?”
“I was curious to see the outcome.” She replied curtly.
A chocked sob let his throat and he brought the lyre closer to his chest, hugging it as someone would a dear friend.
Time looked down to where he was kneeling on the ground in front of her. The youngest of her winds – now something else entirely. He looked at her with so much pain, she could almost hear his anguish in the air. It was like the wind cried with him. There was no denying it now.
She held up her hand and a glowing figure appeared on her palm. The wind spirit lifted up his head to the bright light of it.
“What is it?” He asked, almost cautiously.
“This is a gnosis.” Time replied. “It is the item that connects an Archon with Celestia.”
“An Archon…” He repeated, as if tasting a foreign word on his tongue. “Why are you showing it to me? You should be giving it to Andrius. Decarabian is gone, the Wolf won the war.”
“The Wolf does not want it. He chose to leave this place. And Celestia chose you for the throne.”
The wisp shook his head.
“No, that can’t be.” He whispered to himself. “It can’t! I did not fight in the war, I do not need this throne! Get that thing away.”
Time tilted her head. What a curious creature.
“Did you not wish to help the people?”
“I will not be helping them with that thing!” The wisp screamed. “Gods are tyrants, I’ve seen the suffering they bring with my own eyes. I will not become one of them.”
“You can choose what kind of god to be.”
“Power corrupts the soul and puts chains on the heart.” He said as if quoting someone from long ago. “I do not want this. I only want to hear his song again.”
A new fit of sobs broke out of his throat. Time glanced at the gnosis in her hand, its turquoise light glistening on the sun.
“Shall I take this as the final answer?”
The wind around them quieted down. The wisp looked up at her once again. Then he looked around, his eyes scanning the field of the massacre left after the battle.
“What will happen to this land, these people, if I decline.” He asked. “Will it be a land with no Archon?”
“There cannot be a land without an Archon.” Time replied. “Such is the order of Celestia. Without an Archon, the war will continue. There are many gods in Teyvat who would do anything for the throne. I’m sure a couple of them from the neighboring nation, where Rex Lapis is warmongering against them, would be delighted to try their chances on a new land.”
Time could almost see the wind wisp weighing his options. He looked at the lyre in his hands, then again at the remnant of the battlefield. Another stray tear fell down his cheek.
“And more people will die?” He asked.
Time did not reply.
“I wish to help people.” The wisp said that phrase again, yet this time he sounded only tired and sad.
He looked at the gnosis and something in his eyes dimmed.
“I will never be free.” He whispered, a verdict to himself.
“A sacrifice must be made for any kind of wish.” Time said. “You have to choose what is more important for you – your own freedom… Or the freedom of these people.”
He continued looking at the gnosis. Then, a flicker of that same determination appeared in his eyes. He reached out and took the gnosis from Time’s hands. Then he pressed it against his chest.
A flash of bright light flooded the field. The wind wisp screamed, a surge of hot pain stabbed him in the chest, spreading throughout his whole body. It felt like his own being was torn apart, as if his new body would split open that very second. The wind around them picked up once again, getting stronger and stronger with every new scream, creating a hurricane and scattering all the armor and weapons around.
Even through such brutal agony, he remembered to grip the lyre and held it closer to him.
It stopped just as abruptly as it began. The light disappeared and the winged figure in white slumped on the ground, exhausted and panting. The gnosis had ingrained itself into his flesh – he could feel its energy pulsating in his chest. The wind wisp, no, the Anemo Archon, straightened his back and looked down on his body. The body of his beloved friend. It was now marked with glowing patterns on his thigh and chest. The two braids that framed his face were tinted deep blue.
He looked at his hands. It felt like they were vibrating from the amount of power. He opened his mouth but couldn’t say anything, as if a lump was stuck in his throat. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his head. It was stroking his hair – a gesture that he’s seen among humans that was used for comforting. But this one didn’t feel like it. It was cold.
“Anemo Archon.” Time said, her voice solemn. “You now possess the absolute power and authority over the wind. You shall be named Barbatos.”
Barbatos.
He did not like this name. It felt heavy, stern, powerful. Everything he never was. But there was no strength in him to argue.
Time’s touch left him and he raised his head to see her turning away.
“Wait!” He exclaimed suddenly.
She turned around, looking at him expectantly.
“What is your name?” He asked. “Everything deserves to have a name. Even Time itself. So, what’s yours?”
Her yellow eyes looked at him as if they pierced through his soul. Barbatos thought that maybe at this very moment she was looking at all the possibilities of his future.
“Istaroth.” She said.
And then she was gone.
Barbatos didn’t know how long he spent sitting on that cursed field, still gripping that battered lyre as if his life depended on it. Finally, he heard footsteps. He turned around and saw Gunnhildr standing next to him.
She held a laurel crown in her hands.
“My lord.” She said, kneeling next to him and putting the crown on his head.
He heard of this tradition from his songs. Humans of this land would put crowns of laurel leaves on the head of the victor. Barbatos wanted to scream.
He did not feel like a victor.
***
Istaroth watched him from afar.
Barbatos started by cleaning off all the snow and changing the climate. The winds that blew on this land now were nurturing, allowing the ground to replenish fast. He cut off mountains to make the land more habitable, to make more room for town and villages.
The people moved the city and he helped building, as much as he could. The people seemed to love him. They built him a church and a statue. They started worshipping him. That upset him, for some reason. But he couldn’t tell him to stop, for it was their free choice to do so.
Istaroth really couldn’t understand him. Nor could she understand that undying love for people. A deity should be ever above mortals. It’s mortals who should be listening to the god, not the other way around. But for Barbatos, the mortals were everything. Everything he did was in their sake. Every one of their wishes he tried to fulfill. He lowered themselves to their level, learning from their way of life.
His melancholy started to disappear, too. As time went by, he became more joyful. He found friends among people, although most of his time he spent with that blonde woman. Istaroth didn’t bother to learn her name. But Barbatos seemed to cherish her a lot.
He started preaching about freedom and soon gained another title. People called him the God of Freedom. Then he started to become interested in music and appeared to have some talent for it. He almost never let go of his lyre, his words more often came out in a form of poetry rather than plain sentences. Soon, he became God of Song and Poetry.
Life in Mondstadt was peaceful and Barbatos seemed to be… content.
Until he wasn’t.
Istaroth found him perched on top of a mountain, his wings wrapped protectively around him. He was looking down at the remnants of a forest – fallen trees, scattered branches, squeals of frightened animals.
It looked like a hurricane rampaged here.
“I almost killed them.” Barbatos whispered, sensing her presence. “I barely managed to redirect my winds to the forest. I couldn’t stop it. If I was just a second late, a whole village would’ve died.”
“But no one ended up dying. So why do you grief still?” She asked.
“What about all those animals?” He said. “I made them lose their home. I will help them recover, of course. But it is still my fault.”
Istaroth didn’t say anything to that. They sat together on the mountain, listening to the howling of the winds around them. Eventually, Barbatos unwrapped himself from the protective cocoon of his own wings and stared at his hands.
“Take them away.” He said. “They’re too strong, too dangerous. I used them to help my people. Now my job is done, so I don’t need them anymore.”
“You might still need them. What if Mondstadt gets attacked? How would you protect them without your power?” Istaroth asked. “And still, I cannot take away your powers. They’re yours now and only yours.”
Barbatos buried his face in his hands, his wings drooping in despair. Istaroth sighed. She really couldn’t understand this creature.
“Other gods strive to gain more power, doing anything for it.” She said. “But you wish to discard it.”
“This element… It’s destructive. Much more than any other. The wind cannot be contained nor controlled, not even by a god.” Barbatos replied, his voice strained with unshed tears. “I am afraid. Of losing control. What if one day I won’t be able to stop it? What if I end up destroying Mondstadt? I do not wish to harm people. Ever.”
Istaroth listened to the mournful wail of the wind.
She never cared for anyone. Living beings meant nothing for Time. Yet this creature, her own creation, made her feel something she never felt before. Something she never thought she could. She looked at the way his shoulders shook, at the wings that he used to comfort himself and those eyes that already had so much sadness. She never felt sympathy for anyone before. But seeing this little wind being in so much distress made something in her move.
“You cannot throw away your powers. They’re a part of you.” She repeated. “But you could seal a part of them away. Leave a small amount you feel would be enough to protect your nation and yourself and seal the rest. You can reclaim it once you need it.”
Barbatos lifted his head and looked at her with glistening eyes.
“I don’t know how.” He said.
“I will help.” Time replied.
***
Venti was sitting on the Starsnatch Cliff, his legs hanging from the precipice as wind played with his emerald cloak. The faint movement of fabric behind his back reminded him of his wings.
Venti.
That was what he was called now. That was the name he chose for himself. Wind. That was the meaning of it. That was all he ever was. All he ever wanted to be.
His conscious that didn’t manage to fully recover from a centuries long sleep couldn’t fully grasp the situation yet. But his heart, or whatever it was the gods had instead of it, was aching from the memories of what his saw in his beloved city. The horrors that tormented the people as he slept.
“I don’t understand.” He said into the night air. He wasn’t sure if she could hear him but he liked to hope that she did. “When I left everything was perfect. The people were free, they were happy. I thought my work here was done.”
How naïve, he thought to himself, feeling a treacherous lump in his throat. Anger boiled up inside of him but he couldn’t quite figure out to whom it was directed to. The people or himself? Maybe at her. The wind responded to his anger, whirling up around the cliff and spinning into small hurricanes.
“Today, when I saw what happened to Mondstadt during my absence, I thought that some god dared to invade the territory of freedom. But this…” His voice broke with emotion. “People did this. Why? With their own hands they put chains around the others. They rape, they murder, they enslave… I just don’t get it.”
He sighed, inhaling the scent of Cecilias and night air. It reminded Venti of him. It was comforting.
“Where did I go wrong? What mistakes did I make? I know… knew people. I only ever saw such cruelty from the gods. But these people… They use their own freedom to take away someone else’s. Are people also prone to desire power? If so, what am I supposed to do? I only ever wanted to help people. To abolish tyranny. But what am I supposed to do when the tyranny is led by the people themselves?”
Venti fell silent, waiting for an answer. But Time didn’t respond. She hadn’t responded in a long, long time. Still, somehow, Venti could feel her presence. It was distant and faint but it was there. Or maybe it was just the part of her powers in him. Maybe it was his wishful thinking. But he took the silence for the answer he was waiting for.
“You’re right.” He said, getting up. “I have to fix it on my own. In accepting this role, I swore to always protect this land and its people. I took responsibility for these children. My children. Who can protect them, if not me?”
Feeling some weird, newly acquired determination, Venti headed towards the city. No more moping around, pitying yourself.
He had to free a certain someone from jail and teach the Lawrence clan a lesson they will remember.
***
Khaenri’ah turned into a bloodbath.
Venti had long lost count of the abyssal monsters he slayed. And it still didn’t seem like their numbers were going down.
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Morax’s meteors, endlessly falling onto the hoards of monsters and shaking the ground. Lightning shot out through the sky – somewhere out there Makoto was fighting. On his right he could see a giant field of ashes – a few moments ago Mavuika unleashed her flames.
The wind roared, bringing terrifying sounds from all sides of the cursed region. Death was hanging above the godless nation – Venti could hear the cries of the undead souls. His vision went dark, and his legs gave way. Was it from the exhaustion or from the terror, Venti didn’t know.
He needed to catch his breath. On shaking legs, he trudged to some half-destroyed house and sat on the ground in the shadow. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But when he opened them back, he wasn’t in the ruins of Khaenri’ah.
Around him was total darkness. Venti stood it the sea of black and immediately understood where he was – somewhere outside of Time and Space.
Which is why he wasn’t even surprised when he heard a familiar voice behind him. For the first time in centuries.
“You are needed elsewhere.”
Venti turned around. In front of him stood Istaroth herself.
“What do you mean? Celestia sent me here.”
Istaroth shook her head.
“The situation has changed. The same way the Dendro Archon was needed at the Irminsul, Celestia needs you elsewhere.”
Venti tensed.
“Did something happen to Mondstadt?” He asked, even though he heard nothing from the wind.
“No.” Istaroth replied. “You have to head to Mare Jivari.”
“Mare Jivari? But that’s in Natlan. What does it have to do with me? Send Mavuika.”
“The Pyro Archon is already on her way back to Natlan. Their nation was struck by another attack of the Abyss. But the threat of Mare Jivari is of a different kind. The Pyro Archon will not manage.”
“She won’t manage but somehow I will?” Venti scoffed. “What even is that threat? Who will I have to fight?”
“You will not fight it. That would be pointless.” Istaroth replied. “You will understand once you see it. Now go, don’t waste your time. Every second is crucial. The fate of Teyvat depends on it.”
With those final words Time disappeared and the darkness along with her. Venti found himself back in Khaenri’ah. Nothing has changed – the horrible battle continued, it seemed infinite. In some selfish way Venti was happy to leave.
Istaroth was right.
Venti understood the second he saw it.
Floating above the wastelands of Mare Jivari, he watched as a giant, appalling monster destroyed and devoured everything around him.
It really would be pointless to try and fight it. Venti knew that he would never survive, let alone win.
A threat that only I can deal with? Well, Istaroth, I got the hint.
It there was no way of defeating this monster, then there had to be another way to stop it. Venti has never done it before. He wasn’t even sure if he had enough strength – a part of his powers was still sealed somewhere far away. But if he didn’t try, this monster would devour the whole of Teyvat.
He had to blow Mare Jivari off the timeline.
Venti flew up higher. He stretched out his hands in front of himself, gathering up all of his powers – both of wind and of time. His whole body vibrated with strain, there was a ringing in his ears. A yellow light flashed before his eyes, followed by a turquoise one. The wind picked up and wailed, creating a dome around the whole of Mare Jivari. Time stopped – not even grass moved with the wind.
Venti felt the power overwhelming him. It hurt. He thought he was screaming but he couldn’t hear his voice. He couldn’t hear anything. It was like he fell into the void. Power rose up and tensed, like a taut bowstring. He just had to let go.
And he did. Bright light spilled all over the land. Even from up high Venti felt how the ground shook. He wanted to look down but his vision darkened. He still couldn’t hear anything. For just a second, he got scared that he deafened himself until he remembered that he was a god. He blinked, feeling exhaustion overpowering him.
A second before he lost his conscious, he realized that he was falling.
Venti woke up, feeling pain all over his body.
He strained to open his eyes and saw a tent roof above him, decorated with interesting ornaments. It took him a few moments to recognize them.
“You’re awake?”
Venti sat up abruptly and turned his head to the side.
“Mavuika…” He muttered, his voice hoarse because of his terribly parched throat.
As if reading his mind, Mavuika handed him a glass of water which he finished in one gulp. The Pyro Archon looked at him with a silent expectation. She was waiting for an explanation.
“Mare Jivari…” Venti started.
“Is dealt with.” Mavuika said, yet there was no relief in her voice. “But that’s impossible… What did you do?”
Venti opened his mouth to respond but at that moment a strong gust of wind blew into the tent. Venti’s eyes widened and he jumped on his feet, breaking the glass.
“What happened?” Mavuika startled. “Did you hear something? Is it the Abyss-?”
“Mondstadt is in danger.” Was all Venti said before he spread his wings and soared up into the sky.
Mavuika could only watch as he flew away.
Venti remembered that he was falling.
Again.
He could see Dvalin falling right next to him, his giant wings flapping helplessly. Venti stretched out his hand but couldn’t summon a single gust of wind. The fight took all of his strength. He felt his mind slipping away again. He fought to keep his eyes open. He had to help Dvalin. He had to make sure Mondstadt wasn’t in danger. And what about the other dragon? That scared child…
But no matter how hard he tried, darkness crept on from the corners of his eyes. He heard the sound of the air rustling his feathers. A few meters before he hid the ground, his mind went blank.
A hand stroking his hair was what made him come back to his senses.
Venti cracked his eyes open and saw a perfectly clear sky. Not a cloud in sight, just endless blue. The sun shone brightly and birds flew freely, undisturbed by all the horrors of the recent days. He could write a song about it…
Suddenly, a flash of pain shot through his body. Venti gasped, tasting iron on his tongue. It felt like his whole right side was on fire.
“Shh…” He heard a gentle voice above him, a warm hand still in his hair. “It’s over, you’re safe now.”
Venti tried to focus his eyes. Platinum blonde hair, a shiny golden halo and a pair of pale-yellow eyes. He must be dreaming or dead because she never spoke to him in that way.
He tried to sit up but the pain was too much. He glanced down and saw deep claw marks on his side. Some weird, pink liquid was oozing from the injury.
“You have an Abyssal poisoning.” Istaroth said.
“Abyssal poisoning…” Venti repeated absentmindedly. “Am I dying?”
“You’re a god. You will not die that easily.”
Venti took a ragged breath.
“Egeria is dead. Rukkhadevata is dead. And Makoto…” Venti took a ragged breath. “They’re all gone. I heard their final moments in the wind.”
Istaroth was quite for a few moments. She continued to stroke Venti’s hair, his head resting on her lap. It felt weird, unnatural. Yet strangely comforting.
“That they are. But not you. You just have to rest.” She finally said. “Sleep will stop it from spreading further.”
There was a loud, pained groan. It wasn’t his own. Venti turned his head to the side. Right next to them, wrapped in his wings and tail like a big ball of blue lay Dvalin. Three big cuts on his wing were oozing that same pink liquid. Venti’s heart began to beat faster, he stretched out his hand towards him but it flopped uselessly on the ground.
“Dvalin…” He called out weakly.
“He will also sleep.” Istaroth said soothingly. “You both will be fine. Just give it a few centuries.”
“Centuries?” Venti said incredulously. His heart trembled with terror at the memories of his last prolonged sleep. “But Mondstadt…”
“Mondstadt is safe now. You did well.”
Was Istaroth praising him? Celestia, he really must be dying.
“What of the dragon?”
“No longer a threat.” Istaroth replied. “Dvalin managed to do the final blow. His body now rests at the snowy peak.”
“Poor child…” Venti muttered, interrupted by a coughing fit.
He licked his lips, catching drops of blood on his tongue.
He felt his body giving out, spending all of its strength on holding back the poison. Istaroth was right – he had to be put to slumber to not let it spread. His eyelids started to droop and the image of Istaroth above him began to blur.
“Mondstadt…” He managed to whisper.
“Will be fine.” Istaroth said, putting a hand on his forehead. “I’ll keep an eye on it until you come back.”
Venti reached out his hand and took her free palm into his own.
“Promise?” He said, his lips already barely moving as his mind started to fall into nothingness.
He heard her voice but he couldn’t figure out what she was saying anymore.
He believed her.
***
Venti sat under the Windrise Tree, his chest still aching.
He thought receiving the gnosis was painful but having it ripped out of him was ten times worse.
Which is why he came here. This place always gave him comfort. It reminded him of good times, when he and Vennessa would meet under its shadow to talk about nothing and sing their favorite songs. The tree itself didn’t do much – it was the memories of old that soothed the pain.
“What was that about?” He heard a familiar voice.
When he was a wind wisp, that voice sent a sense of awe into him. Later, it only brought up anxiety and anger. Now, he just felt tired.
“What are you talking about?” Venti sighed, not even bothering to look at her.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Istaroth walked up to him, standing in front of him. “You let go of your gnosis.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be the omniscient one?” He scoffed. “How come you missed how I was attacked and insulted beyond measure-”
“You want me to believe that that woman really managed to overpower the Anemo Archon?” Istaroth narrowed her eyes. “Tell me, child, do you think I’m stupid?”
“I’m not a child.” Venti muttered through his teeth, barely audible. “I am weak now. Centuries of sleep left me lacking-”
“You can lie and fool anyone, Barbatos, with that sweet voice of yours. But not me. Never me.”
Venti pursed his lips in annoyance.
“You never wanted the gnosis.” Istaroth continued. “So, you grasped the first opportunity to get rid of it.”
“Alright, you got me there!” Venti threw up his hands in fake triumph. “Happy now? Can I now have back my peace?”
“You gave the Cryo Archon your gnosis willingly.” Istaroth said, relentless. “So you must know what she’s planning?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did, really. But she won’t talk to me.”
Istaroth stared at him with those cold, yellow eyes. Venti sighed.
“Look, I’m not lying. I didn’t fight the Fatui because… Because if I did, I might’ve endangered Mondstadt. And well… I did it for myself, too, I guess. I’m tired of fighting.”
Istaroth took a deep breath, as if Venti was really testing her patience. If so, then Venti was glad.
“You will have to fight eventually.” She said, finally. “A war is coming. Celestia needs to know who remains loyal to us.”
Venti didn’t respond, keeping his eyes fixed on a dandelion that was swinging with the wind next to him.
“In case of war,” Istaroth continued. “Whose side will you take?”
For a few moments they both fell silent. Only the rustling of the leaves could be heard. Finally, Venti looked back at her and said, his voice firm:
“Mondstadt’s side.”
Istaroth didn’t look surprised. She just sighed and weakly nodded her head, as if confirming something she told herself. Then she looked at him once more, yet something in her eyes has shifted. Venti didn’t want to believe that it was gentleness or care.
“I can’t protect you forever.” She said, her voice tired.
Venti sighed and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes.
“I never asked you to.”
***
Istaroth wondered why he so often came here to talk to her. He didn’t have to, really. She could hear him from everywhere.
Yet, the little wind insisted on coming to sundial near the Temple of the Wolf whenever he wanted to bother her. Sometimes, he came to the Thousand Winds Temple or to the Island for a change. But this one seemed to be his favorite. Deep down, she knew that those visits weren’t as annoying to her as she would like them be.
“What do you need now, God of Wind?” She asked, not bothering to appear in her real form. The sundial would do just fine.
“Oh, you know…” Barbatos started, drawing out his words in his usual playful manner. It seemed like he was in a rather good mood. Or maybe not. It was difficult to discern his moods these days. And it wasn’t often that he talked to her like that. She didn’t quite know how to respond when he did. “There have been some situations with the abyss recently. And this whole thing with the Tsaritsa…”
“What do you want from me, Barbatos?” She cut him off.
“Always so mindful of your time.” Venti giggled, seemingly pleased with his own joke. Istaroth didn’t get what was so funny. “Fine, I will just say it. I want to reclaim my powers.”
“Your powers?” Istaroth repeated, at first not understanding what he was talking about. “Oh, the one you have sealed away?”
“Precisely!” Venti clapped his hands as if she just answered correctly to a quiz.
“Barbatos, you know you don’t need to ask me to get them back.” Istaroth said. “I’ve told you before. Those are yours and only yours.”
“Oh, I’m not asking for permission.” Barbatos said with a smirk. “I know they’re mine. I was just sharing with you, that’s all.”
He fell silent, and a timid expression suddenly flashed across his face. Then he said, now a little more quietly:
“After all, is it really so wrong for someone to want to talk to their mother.”
Mother.
Never once in his three thousand years of existence had he called her that. She herself never thought of herself as one. Never has she been called a mother before. And now this little creature of hers, who for a long time now was no longer little nor hers, had reached out his hand to her. In hopes that they still had something to talk about after all those centuries. As mother and child.
“No.” Istaroth said. For the first time, her voice wasn’t indifferently even. “I suppose it’s not.”
And, for the first time ever, this creature smiled at her. Genuinely and happily, in a way only he could.
No, she thought to herself, I will forever protect him.