Chapter Text
Cracks and Fissures
The mist formed a thick blanket over the Guili Plains. It had formed in the morning over the high slopes of Dragonspine, then rolled down the mountain like an avalanche. Its claws had dug into Yaoguang shoal, leaving the treasure hunters to shiver with the loss of their fires. Around midday it had slowed its march, content to hang like a veil over the plains.
The rain had set in later. It had likely come from Mondstadt overnight, carried by winds holding whispered prayers to the absentee archon.
Zhongli took care to find shelter under the conch lodge’s tree, if only to keep his work uniform tidy. The old woman who lived there, a single treasure horder and a younger woman were also sitting in the lodge, watching the drops of rain fall and nurture the plains. The patter of rain mixed with the soft lull of their voices.
He didn’t pay much attention to their chatter. His gaze followed the hills in the distance, the silhouette of the shoal, almost lost in the mist. Several star conches gleamed on the shore, their blue igniting a flicker of something in his chest.
Childe had collected them, before. As gifts to his siblings.
Zhongli closed his eyes, bemused. Where had that thought come from?
The smell of petrichor permeated the lodge, its thin walls shrieking with the howl of the wind.
‘You hear them Mister, don’t you?’
He opened his eyes again, only to see the young woman staring at him. Her lips were twisted in a smile, and she was close. Her black hair had a slightly dishevelled appearance, and her eyes were dark and dull.
He resisted the urge to take a step back, as that would put him out beyond the shelter of the lodge. ‘I beg your pardon?’
The girl hummed, but made no move to step back. If anything, she shuffled closer.
‘The one you’re missing. You can hear them whisper, can’t you?’
Zhongli blinked, perturbed. All he could hear was the howling of the wind, the patter of rain as it hit the roof of the lodge, the soft splashes as raindrops sunk into the water.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.’ The woman’s smile faded. Then, to Zhongli’s dismay, she took another step forward. Her face was just inches from his now. Perhaps a wet suit would not be so bad a tradeoff for getting away.
‘The one you’re missing! I can see that you’ll meet him again, though, don’t fret. It’ll be quite the memorable reunion!’ She bounced on her feet as she said this and Zhongli could not keep his composure. The ex-god of solid, unmovable rock, took a step back.
Raindrops hit his head, and he suppressed a wince from the cold.
Somehow this girl reminded him strongly of Director Hu.
‘That’s quite enough, don’t you think?’ Lady Chu stepped forward, softly pulling back the girl. ‘But! Surely he knows the legend -‘
‘Excuse the little one, she has no tact,’ said the old woman, beckoning him back in. The young woman frowned, then shrugged and went to sit down on a crate, legs bouncing. He briefly found himself worrying about the pottery stacked next to her.
Then the woman’s eyes found the treasure hunter, who visibly shrunk back.
‘But I do wonder, Sir, do you know of the legend of the conch lodge?’
There was a twinkle to the old woman’s eyes, and he found himself uncomfortably reminded of Madame Ping.
‘I have heard of it before,’ he admitted cautiously.
‘But I have never seen proof that it is more than just a legend.’
She smiled, not seeming to be offended. Soft crinkles formed around her eyes. ‘I thought so too when I was young. My husband died at sea, you see.’
She gazed out into the rain, towards the distant shoal.
‘It is stormy today…’
She shook her head, then met his gaze. ‘They say that if you hold a star conch to your ear, you can hear the sea. But if you’re in the conch lodge-‘
‘You can hear the calls of…the sea of souls,’ Zhongli finished silently.
The woman nodded, the twinkle in her eyes brightening. ‘It is harder over the noise of such a storm of course. But my husband and I have had wonderful conversations since he passed. He frightens easily when it storms, but I do what I can to soothe him.’
A particularly bad gust of wind shook the lodge at her words, and the treasure hunter led out a yelp.
‘Stop telling ghost stories! And tell that freak to get away from me!’
Zhongli frowned at such impoliteness and turned. The younger woman was towering in front of the treasure hunter now, not unlike she had stood in front of him before.
‘Who do you hear?’ She sing-songed. Zhongli silently prayed to Celestia that this girl and Hu Tao would never meet.
She whipped back and forth, swaying almost dangerously. Then she tilted her head to the side, hand cupping her ear. The gesture did not seem to calm the nerves of the other guest, on the contrary.
‘I don’t hear anything!’ The treasure hunter screamed, scrambling back so fast that back hit another crate with a dull thud.
His hands were covering his ears, and his pupils were dilated. Zhongli frowned. The man seemed more distressed than the situation called for.
‘Perhaps, it would be good to give him some space.’
The woman sighed, but obediently stepped back. She halted and cocked her head to the side again.
‘I know, I think so too!’ A slight sway on her feet accompanied those words,. ‘But if you say he’s always been that way…’
The treasure hunter shivered, eyes widening further. The crate behind him shook as he did, and Lady Chu eyed her nearby pottery with worry.
‘Who are you talking to??’ the man shouted, his voice growing hoarse.
The woman’s smile split her whole face. ‘The pale lady! Her spirit was laid to rest on these plains, you see…’
Zhongli felt a shiver run down his spine. He clenched his fists, suddenly feeling like the air had gotten colder. ‘She said that her friend visits her every year, and that he brings her wild blooming glaz-‘
‘SHUT UP!’ The treasure hunter whined, pounding the ground with his fists. A cup trembled and rolled over the crate, chipping as it hit the ground. ‘Young man!,’ Lady Chu exclaimed, but her words were lost in the treasure hunter’s shouts. ‘Shut up! Shut UP! Stop making up these stories!’
‘It’s not a story! You can’t just say the pale lady isn’t real, she is, and she is wise -’ The woman exclaimed, getting angry as well. Her cheeks were puffing out and she had her arms on her hips. It seemed a rather childish display.
Zhongli took a step back, glancing out into the rain. It had not abated, but perhaps braving it would be worth it. He suddenly longed for the warmth of Liyue harbour. His favourite blend of tea, ready to be steeped. The book waiting on his nightstand in the small apartment above the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, next to the grate in which he could light a fire.
He could almost hear Childe laughing at his wanting to escape the situation. The Fatui rascal would surely claim he was afraid of ghosts and dare him to stay. Zhongli shook his head, trying to clear it of its wayward thoughts.
He must have been lost in his thoughts for longer than he noticed. The treasure hunter was standing now, his face red and fists shaking. ‘I will kill you! Shut up now! Do you even know who I work for?’
The young woman seemed unimpressed, if put out. ‘The lady says that actions speak louder than words, and are certainly worth more than titles.’ The woman’s face was pinched in concentration, as if reciting from memory. ‘And granny Chu says we must all get lost in the sea of souls someday-‘
‘Arrrgh!’ The man lunged, fist aimed straight for the girl’s face. Before it could connect, Zhongli had moved. He caught the man’s fist with ease and held on, meeting the youth’s eyes. ‘You will behave. Or you will leave. Those are your choices.’
The hunter snarled and tried to snatch his fist away. Zhongli held on, his grip unyielding. ‘Which do you choose?’
His voice was deceptively calm. Outside, the wind howled. Rain kept falling. His fingers itched to summon his polearm. He was not one to go looking for fights, not anymore, but something about today, about the words of the woman, made an old restlessness spark through his veins.
The treasure hunter raised his hands, sneer on his face. ‘I’ll leave.’
Zhongli let go and stepped back. The treasure hunter barrelled past him, knocking into his shoulders as he went. He didn’t react to the provocation. The man stepped out into the rain, and soon his figure was swallowed by the mist.
Silence reigned for a few minutes. Zhongli awkwardly cleared his throat.
‘I fear I have imposed long enough. Thank you for the shelter.’
‘Are you sure you need to go? You’re welcome to stay. You have my thanks for dealing with that man,’ the old woman said pleasantly. The young woman shot him an odd gaze. ‘Some people are frightened by the spirits.’ To his ears it almost sounded accusing.
Zhongli turned to leave. ‘Thank you again.’
‘Wait!’ The woman called out. Her expression was uncharacteristically serious.
‘She says…’ she faltered, glanced at her grandmother, then back. ‘She says she’s sorry she can’t prevent what’s to come. And to…’
a confused frown as she listened intently, ‘to not misplace yourself.’
Zhongli tried to ignore the shiver those words sent down his spine.
‘I will keep it in mind,’ he said earnestly. The woman nodded. Granny Chu smiled.
He stepped out into the rain, welcoming the sensation now. It chilled the newly rekindled fire in his bones, helped him gather himself.
He tread along the shoreline, careful not to damage any conches by stepping on them.
Zhongli did not pay much mind to his surroundings. His feet had wandered these paths for millennia, and his mind had familiarised itself with the plains every year, when a certain time came closer. In a way the rain was fitting. The land ought to weep for the beautiful goddess it had lost, the wisdom he could only ever reflect a shade of.
He had not gotten as far as he had hoped. The rain was no hindrance, having faded to a continuous icy drizzle. Neither was the mist, for his eyes were keener than those of any human. Any hillichurl camps he encountered he made short work of with his pole-arm, though he took care not to attack unprovoked.
He found himself stopping at places, his gaze catching on a piece of rubble, or the remnants of a ruin. The memories rose to his mind unbidden, and he lost many a minute in thought. He didn’t know which hurt more. The memory of the flourishing assembly this place had been, or the memory of its end - dust clouding the air, suffocating him even in his grief. He moved on, steps halting and slow, as the sun sunk lower. It was when he was roughly at the height of Guyun Stone Forest, that he heard it. A wet, squelching sound, followed by wheezing. Zhongli summoned his pole-arm, ice forming in his veins. He knew the noises of a battle lost. He stepped forward carefully, noticing that the mist had become thicker. Too thick even for Adepti eyes to see much.
A wet gasp, followed by coughing. Then silence. He didn’t hasten his steps, knowing what these sounds meant. For whoever had made them, it was too late.
Zhongli looked through the mist, summoning a jade shield. A flicker of blue at his side was his only warning. He whirled around, jutting out his pole-arm. An abyss mage cackled, the sound ugly and distorted. With a soft ‘whee’ it blinked from it’s spot, only to reappear behind him.
Zhongli kicked out his spear. It followed the blue mage, hitting his shield and making it waver. He summoned his weapon, ready to chase after the mage, when flames hit his shield from behind. He was content to ignore them for now. His defense would hold. He summoned a geo pillar to hit the hydro mage. It’s shield broke with a satisfying crunch, but not before his jade shield got hit with a splash of water. He was about to turn to the pyro mage, when the smell of ozone filled the air. Static build up and purple sparks hit where the water had. Zhongli frowned as his defense wavered, but he reinforced it instantly. He threw his pole-arm, piercing the hydro mage’s head. The thing bubbled and hissed, before it disintegrated.
Red and purple danced at the corner of his vision. Then, behind them, a blink of blue. Another hydro mage? Just then, there was the shimmer of a purple shield, hidden by the mist, becoming clearer as the mage came closer. He had counted four more mages so far, but a deep unease told him there were more. The air had a cloying scent to it and the cold wetness made his clothes cling uncomfortably to his skin. He felt a slight burning in his lungs, at the back of his throat. His chest felt cold, clammy. The skin of his hands was prickling.
Zhongli wondered if this was similar to what Childe felt when using his delusion. He had seen it only once, briefly, as its bearer had clearly wanted to hide the effects. But the numerous pinpricks across Childe’s arms told a story of unequal exchange, power that should never belong to humans.
He shook his mind of the thoughts, finding his mind slow to respond. Zhongli summoned his weapon. His pole-arm obediently returned to his hand and he spun, badgering the shields in front of him. He broke through the pyro mage first. With a merciless strike he tore through its chest. The mage died with an inhuman shriek.
Its fellow monsters seemed to think this was the right moment to attack. He could sense three forms coming at him, electro and hydro swirling. A spike of fear, clammy and foreign seized the hollow in his chest.
‘I will have order!’ He extended his palm, calling on the element of geo to his bidding.
When the meteor formed above him, he concentrated on holding his shield. The rock crashed down with a thunderous noise, pushing away the mist. The violent shrieks of the mages in their final moments ringing in his ears, Zhongli staggered forward.
His lungs felt filled with ice. Every breath sent a small spike of pain through him. He subconsciously placed a hand on his chest. He gazed to the sky, a faint frown marring his features. Surely a meteor had been too much? Then why…
The geo construct dissolved around him, leaving only rubble. His eyes trailed the ground, searching. A little further, beyond the main area of impact, he found his quarry. The bodies had been jolted by the destruction his meteor had wrought. He winced as he saw one of them buried by softly pulsing pieces of geo. Zhongli forced his feet to move forward, past the black stains of dead abyss mages, to where the victims of both the abyss and now his power lay.
The sight, even for a funeral consultant, was a gruesome one. Several young men, in their twenties or thirties if he was to hazard a guess. Their bodies were torn apart. The meteor had not helped, scattering the remains further than the abundant red stains on the ground suggested. But their was no question about what had caused their demise. The men had been scorched, burned with electro, hydro and pyro till their skin had blackened and blistered. Zhongli felt his eyes water. The stench hit him all at once and he held a hand to his stomach, willing his insides to calm. He had seen much worse - done much worse - and yet.
He marched through the scene, noting the dead bodies of hilichurls in between. They were not scorched in the same way, yet similarly battered by both the men, and then the meteor. The cluster of bodies suggested that it had been a bitter fight, but the mages and hilichurls had easily overwhelmed the men. Zhongli looked around, then stopped. At the far corner of the battlefield, at the hight of the meteor’s area of impact, lay a single body, slumped by the side of the cliff.
The geo shards sticking out of the body formed a stark contrast to his blue clothing and pale skin. He was unburned. Zhongli’s heart beat faster as he moved towards the fallen man. It was clear from his attire that he was a treasure hunter. When he came closer to the body, close enough to note his features, Zhongli faltered. His knees weakened and he clenched a fist.
It was clear from this distance that the treasure hunter had been drowned, then let go. Ice crystals and burns covered his stomach, enough to have given him a slow, painful death. It was the most recent kill, long after the others, the man who had died right before Zhongli’s arrival. He was also the frightened man Zhongli had banished from the lodge. His hands shook as he moved closer, kneeling down next to the dead man.
He had been afraid of the sea of souls, of speaking to ghosts. The irony was not lost on him.
Zhongli closed his eyes, allowing himself the time to take a deep breath. He reached out and closed the man’s eyes. It was a rather clumsy motion, and he found that his arm was trembling. He stood, letting his gaze wander once more over the carnage.
The fog had retreated from the battle field, but it still lingered further up the path. Most of the plains was still fogged, Yet something about the silver cluster before him felt unnatural. He approached cautiously, all his senses restless. The wet, clawing thing in his chest was back, widening the hollow left there. He persisted through the fog, relying on his Adeptus vision not to stumble.
No sound seemed to be around him, and yet he felt like he could hear distant whispers. The voices were garbled, distorted. The language was one he refused to recognise.
He extended his senses into the land, feeling for the layers of the earth. The claws inside his chest dug deeper, till he almost faltered. Zhongli pressed on. He stumbled, his eyes focusing on the remains of a broken row boat. The more he focused, the better he could make out his surroundings through the mist. Cliffs caged him on both sides, as well as above. The path before him was free, but he did not see the shoreline as he expected. Instead, he saw deep gauges in the earth, running all the way into the water. The crater extended to the cliff walls, forming deep fissures tearing through the rock.
Where the chasm touched the ocean, the waves seemed to change color, darkening and slowing, like oil was spilling into their depths. ‘What…’ he managed to say, before a sharp pain in his chest had him sinking to the ground. Something cold and wet spread through his chest, tearing into him with claws deeper than any he had felt before. His mind felt clouded, like a thick fog had permeated it.
‘I didn’t know if this would work again. It’s so diluted, after all.’
Zhongli looked up, his eyes burning.
‘It won’t trap you for long of course, but this…yes, this can work.’
A girl stood in front of him. She had jumped of the sid of the cliff, and yet he could have sworn he was alone before.
‘We went to all this trouble to set a trap for the vigilant yaksha…’
He felt a stab of fear, an icy blast beneath the claws gripping his non-existent heart.
The whisperings were louder, a chorus in his head imploring him to ignore the feeling. To rest. It was cold, he should sleep. This wasn’t his duty. Sleep would heal him. His duties were finished…
‘A pity, but maybe this can be good fortune. How far do you think your little friends would go to rescue you? Where would they follow?’
The girl came closer, her white dress waving in the wind. She leaned down and grabbed his coat. A strand of blond hair dangled in front of his face. It reminded him of something. Someone? ‘Not important’, whispered the voices.
Her grip was surprisingly strong. Zhongli felt himself get dragged over the ground, his body protesting weakly as stones tore small gashes into his legs. It was lost beneath the ice in his chest and the chorus in his head.
‘What do you think, Morax? Would they follow you here?’ She gripped his hair, pulling back sharply. He made no sound. It would be too much trouble. The voices agreed. He needed to save his energy. Sleep was near, they whispered. Rest. His duties were finished. He had earned his rest.
The grip on his hair tightened and the girl pushed his head forward, forcing him to look into the crack.
What he saw pierced through the ice. The claws in his chest tightened, but he flailed. His hands came to grab the arm holding him, clawing at it senselessly. He wanted to call out, but his voice was lost to him. His nails dug into skin, yet the grip on him did not yield.
The girl clicked her tongue. ‘Enough.’
With a shove, she pushed him. Zhongli’s hands failed to find purchase. His body tipped forward, then down. He felt his connection to the ground vanish, and with it, the last tether to his element. The ice in his chest spiked. A scream, the first sound he had made since following the mist, tore itself out of his mouth. Above him, on the edge of the abyssal tear, its princess laughed.
Far away, past the borders of Liyue, an adeptus clutched his chest, and a bard dropped his drink.