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Chapter Text

The return of his dragonhood was something Neuvillette adjusted to quickly. It had been centuries, in this life and his previous one, but this was part of him. His power, stolen from him by the Heavenly Principles and now returned. The death of Focalors… that took longer. She had helped him get his footing, when he had first been reborn. Helped catch him up on what had happened after his death. Helped him search for his mate.

When the Archon War enlisted the dragons to fight, they went. Some because they wanted to fight for their archon. Some because they wanted to fight, period. And some because they had no choice. Their archons called, so they had to answer.

Neuvillette doesn’t exactly remember why he and his pyro dragon had joined the war. He remembers that they did. The war itself is fragments of memory. Destruction, blood, and pain. And yet, the dragons all shared an unspoken truce: they would not kill each other.

Dragons mate for life, you see. In those days, they would not cross such a line as to tear mates apart. The gods knew this. Not all of them agreed with such thinking.

And then came the Battle of Grief. The Hydro Dragon was shot from the sky and killed. Neuvillette’s next memory was waking up in a human form, floating amidst the waters of his homeland. He remembers learning to function in his new body. Remembers struggling to find his way to his den, shared with his mate. He definitely remembers discovering his den cold and abandoned, empty of the little items and trinkets he and his pyro dragon had cherished. Everything was gone.

While storms raged over Fontaine for days on end, the new hydro archon, Focalors, finally found him.

When you died, the Pyro Dragon’s grief filled the battlefield, she’d said. He roared his pain, and the dragons retreated. All of them.

And then? he’d asked, tucked in a new bed in a new place, so he wouldn’t get a cold. He didn’t know if this new body could get sick. Focalors said just in case. Where is Arcaeos now?

I don’t know. She’d shook her head, and the rains poured harder. The war ended over one and a half millennia ago. I haven’t heard news of the Pyro Dragon in a long time.

So as soon as he was able, Neuvillette went searching. He journeyed across Teyvat, looking for his mate. He found nothing, and almost a century later, he returned to Fontaine, where storms raged once again.

“The Hydro Archon throne has been destroyed.”

The communication array of the Seven Archons was rarely used, but for such matters, it was useful. Mental projections in a dreamspace meant instant communication without the need of waiting for a reply. For this matter, it would work.

As the one to initiate the array this time, Neuvillette was the one to imagine the space itself. A Fontaine-styled dining hall with a large circular table, tall windows and warm sunlight. This was where the archons met.

Morax hummed, melancholy. “And I take it Focalors is gone?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette replied, successfully keeping his voice steady.

“Another archon perished before eternity.” Ei’s voice was pensive and wary. “And seven becomes six. Who will be next? What will be next?”

“She seems to have returned the power she held to its rightful owner, Hydro Dragon Sovereign,” Buer said serenely. “So to answer your question, Ei, I believe six will remain six, unless another archon gives up their power and destroys their throne.”

There was a short silence in the array, six people thinking over what such events may mean for them.

“Thank you for the notice, Sovereign.” Barbatos bowed his head. “If I may draw attention to it though, has anyone else suspected that it may instead be six becomes five? Murata hasn’t shown any sign of hearing us.”

“She may be purposely ignoring us, as Tsaritsa is,” Morax noted. “But there is a point to be made there. The Pyro Archon has been suspiciously quiet, with activity happening in the communication array. Natlan does tend to be more seclusive than the other nations, but such silence is unusual.”

Ei frowned. “How long has it been since anyone has heard news of Murata?”

“I thought she went missing during the Cataclysm,” Barbatos replied, tapping his chin in thought. “Strange for a God of War, but I wasn’t suspicious at the time.”

“The God of War disappearing during an event like the Cataclysm?” Neuvillette hummed. “Strange indeed.”

“Natlan’s Twin Embers and the two Talons are known to me,” Buer said. She released a little dendro swirl, waving it between her fingers as she went on. “The four of them are in charge, taking the orders of whoever rules Natlan now.”

Morax tilted his head and folded his hands. “I’ve heard rumours of these Embers and Talons. The Embers are twin humans, are they not? And the two Talons, pyro dragons that have become prominent in aiding the rule of Natlan.”

“Indeed. Natlan travellers—”

“Oh, well,” Barbatos sang in amusement as a seventh presence entered the array. “Speaking of travellers. Hello, Traveller.”

“Venti?” The Traveller’s mental projection glanced behind themself, walking further into the array. “What is this place? I— Don’t know what happened, I thought I was dreaming, and I heard voices… Am I intruding?”

“How interesting,” Neuvillette hummed. “I don’t believe this to have happened before.”

“Ah, the Traveller’s just a special case,” Barbatos said cheerfully. “Welcome to the Archon Communication Array.”

“So I am asleep, then?”

“Likely, yes.” Neuvillette nodded. “It takes a more conscious effort to enter the array when awake. Though, you might be right on time.”

The Traveller raised a brow, crossing their arms. “You have a job for me? All of you?”

“It seems so.” Morax folded his hands on the table in front of him. “You’ve yet to head to Natlan, correct?”

“Well— Yes. That’s my next destination.”

“If we may trouble you then, Traveller,” Buer hummed, kicking her feet. “The Pyro Archon appears to be missing.”

“Missing?” the Traveller repeated, frowning now. “The Pyro Archon? Are we sure this isn’t another faked death?”

“Quite sure,” Morax replied, ignoring Barbatos’ snicker. “Murata is the God of War. You may imagine the… obnoxiousness that may come with that. Yet she’s remained silent.”

“So you’re worried about her.”

“Worried about what her silence could mean,” Ei countered with a small scoff. “Murata is always so fight-ready. Always so nosy, too. And she hasn’t said a word about Focalors’ death.”

“You want me to find out what’s going on, then.”

Barbatos nodded. “Yes. One of your companions is from Natlan, isn’t he? The fiery-haired one, Zientu, he’s still travelling with you, right?”

“Yeah. He’s…”

“For the wielder of a pyro vision, he’s spending much time in the waters of Fontaine,” Neuvillette intoned, a small hint of amusement in his voice.

The Traveller snorted, quickly covering their mouth to try and hide it. “Yeah. Yeah, he is.” They shook their head. “I was planning to head to Natlan soon enough anyway. Paimon’s already tried making a bet with me if we’ll end up criminals there too.”

Barbatos snickered loudly. “I’d like to get in on that bet. I say yes. Branded Natlan criminals in… two days.”

“You have that little faith in me?”

“How long did it take you to become wanted in Inazuma?” Barbatos countered.

The Traveller grumbled at that, sending the Anemo Archon a glare. “Why don’t you tell Monsieur Neuvillette here about your fake vision, then?”

Caught off guard, Neuvillette failed to hold back a near-silent wheeze of laughter. The other five archons all stared at him, wide-eyed in surprise. The Dragon of Water pressed a gloved hand to his mouth, his own eyes wide. The Traveller snickered, grinning now, and a louder laugh passed Barbatos’ lips. Ei and Buer both smiled while Morax covered his mouth to muffle a chuckle of his own.

“I suppose it is quite ridiculous, isn’t it?” he hummed.

Neuvillette successfully hid his second laugh, keeping his expression impassive. It had been a long time since he last laughed freely. Business or grief or something always held him back. When was he not restrained? It had been centuries. Yet, breaking free wasn’t something he held urgent. Fontaine was his home. Its people were his. Why run from something he loved?

Carefully, Neuvillette composed himself. “About keeping an eye out for the Pyro Archon, Traveller?”

“Of course.” The blond nodded. “I’m on it.”

“Just be careful, Traveller,” Buer warned solemnly. “People disappear into Natlan. Few come back.”

It was the next day when Neuvillette heard a knock on his office door. When he called permission to enter, he wasn’t surprised to see the famous travelling pair.

“Traveller. Paimon. You are ready to depart?”

“Sure are!” Paimon crowed, clapping her hands together. “Paimon is super excited to see Natlan!”

“Zientu already told us the basics.” The Traveller waved a notebook back and forth, tapping it against their palm. “He’s going to stay in Fontaine for a few more days and then use the teleport network to catch up.”

Neuvillette nodded. “He has already informed me of such. Is there something you needed from me?”

The Traveller hesitated, rubbing the back of their neck. “I… wanted to ask you something before we left.”

“Oh?” Neuvillette raised a brow, interest piqued. “Go ahead.”

“You are the Hydro Dragon,” the Traveller started, and Neuvillette could guess where they were going. “I… Stories always mention you alongside the Pyro Dragon.”

The Hydro Dragon took a deep breath, closing his eyes in an effort to suppress the stinging feeling in his eyes. “...Yes, I suppose they do.”

There was a long, apologetic silence before the Traveller asked, “Do you want us to search for him?”

“I…” Neuvillette was silent for a long moment, thinking it over. There had been no whispers of his mate, but the Traveller was offering a chance… Finally, he sighed. “When I was reborn, I searched. I searched for nearly a century before returning here. I found not a whisper of the Pyro Dragon.”

Paimon gasped softly. “Oh… That’s so sad. Two mates, said to have the strongest bond between them, separated and never reunited… Paimon doesn’t like this story. We have to find the Pyro Dragon!”

Neuvillette shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it has been a few centuries. Perhaps it’s time to try again. Maybe you will have more luck than I did.” He produced a small glass vial and gathered some of his power into it. “If you find him, give him this. He will know it’s me.”

The Traveller nodded solemnly, accepting the offered vial. “We won’t let you down.”

“Yeah!” Paimon said determinedly. “We’ll find the Pyro Dragon! …Uh, does he have a name? Paimon thinks it might be polite to know his name.”

“...Arcaeos,” Neuvillette murmured, whispering the name softly like it might still be heard across the nations. “His name is Arcaeos.”

“Arcaeos,” Paimon repeated, considering the name. “Paimon can remember that. Don’t worry, Monsieur Neuvillette, we’ll find the lost Pyro Dragon!”

Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to reply to that. The Traveller and Paimon bid their farewells, and then they were gone. Just before his office door closed, he heard Paimon’s voice:

“Come on! The closest teleport waypoint is still a few days’ journey to reach Natlan! Paimon is excited to see a volcano! Pyro Archon and Pyro Dragon, here we come!”

[Tales of the Dragons, Volume II]

The Hydro Dragon once asked the Pyro Dragon, “Why do you love me? I could put out your fire.”

The Pyro Dragon replied, “That may be true. Would you ever do so?”

“No!” cried the Hydro Dragon, panicked at the idea of hurting his mate. “No, I would never choose to hurt you!”

The Pyro Dragon smiled now. “I trust you. I love you. Even if we are not equal in this matter, my claws are still sharp and my words can still cut. I can hurt you in other ways.”

“And I trust that you won’t.” The Hydro Dragon smiled as well, before returning to his question. “But you still chose me. Why did you not stay far away from me?”

“What good would that do? If we based our relationships on what we could do to each other, where would any of us be? If we judge others based on appearances without looking deeper, we perceive the world poorly and miss out on so much. I chose you, and you chose me in turn. That we love each other is all the reason I need.”

Chapter Text

Night in the desert was always… a different sort of experience. Where the air finally cooled and the starry night sky was all around you. The teapot was a nice place to rest, but sometimes the true night sky was best.

It was their second night of travelling. A large stretch of desert separated Natlan from the closest desert waypoint in the Hypostyle Desert, and the Traveller planned to reach the edge of Natlan the next day. Paimon was just excited to see the land of fire.

They’d set up camp in a large, flat expanse of sand. The Traveller had enough food to last four more days, plus ingredients to cook more. They weren’t worried about that. They were more concerned with what Natlan had in store for them.

“Where do you think we should start when we reach Natlan, Paimon?” they asked, lying on their back and staring up at the night sky above.

Paimon hummed from her place lying next to them. “Well, Paimon thinks we should ask the locals about the Pyro Archon and the Pyro Dragon first. Oh, or maybe we should try and get an audience with… What was it that Zientu called Natlan’s leader?”

“The Guardian. We don’t need an audience with them, we just need to apply for use of elemental power. I would definitely rather have it when in the Nation of War.”

“Mhmm. Why does Natlan’s Guardian suppress Visions anyway? Especially when there’s no criteria for who can apply to get permission to use them. Zientu said they don’t even take the Vision itself, it’s just… deactivated.”

The Traveller shrugged. “I don’t know. To make an even ground for war? To keep track of anyone and everyone who has a Vision in Natlan?”

“It doesn’t sound as bad as the Vision Hunt Decree, at least. Paimon never wants to see another decree like that.”

“Neither do I.” The Traveller was silent for a long moment, tracing constellations in the stars. “The Twin Embers sound alright at least. Stern, but reasonable. Maybe we should have brought a gift or something. Warm them up.”

“But they’re the Nation of Fire. They’re probably already plenty warm.”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon was just kidding! Paimon knows you meant to get in their good graces. We don’t really have anything to give though. Maybe you could cook something?”

“Food isn’t the way to everyone’s soul, Paimon.”

“Well, you never know!” Paimon huffed. “It’s worked before! Winning over the Twin Embers seems like a really good idea. The Talon of Power sounds scary though.”

“Zientu said she’s a Pyro Dragon, and second in command over Natlan. Natlan hasn’t fallen into complete anarchy, so she must be alright.”

“Zientu also said that she has entirely white eyes! No irises or pupils or anything. Scary.”

The Traveller hummed in amusement. “Then what are you going to do when facing the Talon of Justice? His eyes are pure black.”

“He sounds nicer. Zientu said he’s more social, and in charge of civil affairs. The Talon of Power is cold and hard. Paimon’s already nervous at the idea of facing her. And at the idea of being in a nation of constant war. How do they get any sleep? Or any peace? What if you’re relaxing and then bam! You’re attacked!”

“Not ideal,” the Traveller agreed. “But they must be used to it. It’s just how they live.”

“Hmm, Paimon still doesn’t like it. We should get some sleep. Another day of travelling tomorrow.”

Slowly, the desert sand gave way to forest life. It was a gradual change, grass slowly overtaking the sand. The trees appeared young enough, compared to the Sumeru rainforest at least. Still, they were tall and strong, shading the path from the sun.

In the distance, at the center of the nation, Natlan’s largest volcano loomed over everything, a constant stream of dark clouds and ash rising into the sky, a river of bright red lava making its way down one side of the slope.

“Wow,” Paimon gasped, eyes wide. “Paimon’s never seen anything like it.”

“Just you wait till you see an eruption,” the Traveller teased. “Then you can be wowed.”

Paimon hummed in consideration, looking over to where the Traveller was walking towards the teleport waypoint on the side of the road. Once it was added to their network, they continued on.

The air was warm. Not as hot as the desert, but warm. The wildlife wasn’t that different from the rest of Teyvat, and they startled the occasional deer that crossed the path near them.

Not very far into Natlan, just after a second teleport point, the pair reached the first outpost. This outpost was right outside the barrier that suppressed elemental abilities, and was used for the rare diplomatic meetings to avoid the possibility of making the visiting party uncomfortable. You didn’t need to check in to enter Natlan, but because this was the main road, someone was usually guarding the outpost to both welcome outlanders and warn them of what awaited should they venture further.

Today, that someone just so happened to be the Second Twin Ember. The man was tall and muscular, numerous scars twisting up his arms. His hair was long, coloured a fiery red-orange and braided in intricate warrior braids containing a number of golden bands. His thick beard was similarly braided, and his emerald eyes were sharp as he watched them approach.

“Travellers,” he greeted, deep voice rough and welcoming, a light accent hanging off his words. “If you journey forwards, you will enter Natlan, the Nation of War. Is that your destination?”

“Yes,” the Traveller replied. “I’m the Traveller, this is Paimon. We’re friends of Zientu.”

“Ah!” The man perked up now, bright smile overtaking his expression. “Zientu, his letters spoke of you, as do the stories spreading across Teyvat. Is he not with you?”

Paimon shook her head. “He said he’d catch up. He should be here soon.”

The man nodded. “I see, I see. Well, I am Jiazhen, Second Twin Ember of Natlan. Some things for you to know: if you continue on this road, you will eventually reach our main city. It’s in the southwest, on the other side of the Sovereign’s Breath, so it usually takes a full day to get there at a moderate pace.”

“Sovereign’s Breath?” the Traveller asked. “What’s that?”

“Oh, right.” Jiazhen lifted one shoulder in a sheepish shrug. “Sovereign’s Breath is the largest volcano in Natlan, the one at the center of the nation. You’re probably seen it in the distance on the way here.”

“Oh, that one!” Paimon said, nodding along. “Yep, definitely saw that one. Wait, Natlan’s city is on the other side of it?!”

“Yep. We’re northeast of Sovereign’s Breath right now. Haven—that’s our main city—is south of it.”

“Another day of travel?” Paimon whined. “Paimon thought we were almost done.”

“Unfortunately not, apparently,” the Traveller hummed. “What about the war in Natlan? Is it dangerous?”

Jiazhen shrugged. “It’s war. Unless you’re caught in a battle, you’ll be fine. And even if you are, I’ve heard that you’re a skilled fighter. There’s a couple teleport waypoints in Haven, and along the road, so if you catch those on the way by, you won’t have to go by foot again.”

Paimon huffed, but agreed. “At least there’s that.”

“For the most part, I think that’s all you need to know,” Jiazhen hummed. “Any questions?”

The Traveller frowned for a moment, thinking. “Can you tell us about Murata?”

“Murata?” A startled laugh passed Jiazhen’s lips. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“Really?” Paimon asked, frowning. “Why not?”

Jiazhen shrugged one shoulder. “She’s dead. She’s been dead for a long time. Centuries now.”

“What?” the Traveller gaped, wide-eyed. “The Pyro Archon died centuries ago, and none of the other Archons have noticed?”

“No idea.” Jiazhen waved a hand dismissively, but his voice was gentle. “Don’t really care either, honestly. Stories say Murata was cruel. Rather than try to end the war that was destroying her people, she encouraged it.”

“Well, she was the God of War, right?” Paimon asked unsurely. “And don’t the gods rely on belief as a source of their power?”

“Mn. Murata was… only the God of War in name.”

The Traveller frowned when Jiazhen didn’t elaborate further. “What happened to her?”

“You’d have to ask the Guardian that question.” Jiazhen shrugged, crossing his arms. “He’s the one who defeated her.”

“The Guardian of Natlan is the one who killed Murata?” Paimon asked. “He must be pretty powerful then…”

“We would like to meet him,” the Traveller said. “Is that possible?”

Jiazhen shook his head. “Normally, yes. However, the Guardian is currently unavailable. Vision permission requests are still being answered by Qinlin, the Talon of Power, and you may meet with her, but not the Guardian himself.”

“Oh.” The Traveller frowned. “Well—”

There was a flash of light from the nearby teleport point, and then Zientu was there, flaming red hair and all. His long hair was down, out of its usual braided ponytail, and his light coal-grey eyes were bright with their usual spark. The tall male was dressed in his usual attire, an array of blacks and reds, loose sleeves and tight pants. His dark red cloak was thrown over his shoulders as usual, the golden clasp loose against his collarbones.

“Made it right on time,” he said with a satisfied nod, seeing the Traveller and Paimon. “Has Jiazhen kept you entertained?”

“I’ll have you know, I am plenty entertaining,” Jiazhen huffed, crossing his arms.

“He’s told us about how the Guardian is the one who killed Murata,” Paimon said with a shrug, watching as Jiazhen pretended to shake off Zientu’s attempts at a greeting hug.

“Hang on,” the Traveller spoke up. “If Murata is dead, who’s the Pyro Archon? Is it the Guardian?”

“More stories on the road,” Zientu hummed, having finally got his arms around the bigger man and now sauntering towards the road into Natlan. “We have a long way to go. If we depart now, we should reach Haven in the dead of night.”

“The dead of night?” Paimon repeated sullenly. “Paimon’s not going to like this, is she?”

“But yes,” Jiazhen added helpfully, just as the Traveller and Paimon passed him to follow after Zientu. “The Guardian is the Pyro Archon.”

Having Zientu travelling with them again felt like something falling into place. The Traveller hadn’t realized that the man’s absence had left the journey feeling so… off. Zientu had been travelling with them and Paimon ever since they left Mondstadt, having appeared not long before their confrontation with Dvalin. Zientu wasn’t someone to brighten the atmosphere, exactly, but he was a solid, comforting presence, and their friend.

Having Zientu travelling with them, through Natlan specifically, was also nice. He knew what to expect, and in the Nation of War, that was a comfort. Especially since the Traveller couldn’t yet use elemental power within Natlan’s borders.

“Did you have a nice time in Fontaine?” Paimon asked as they followed the road through the trees.

Volcanic activity was an everyday thing in Natlan, but it didn’t reach everywhere. What did was the fighting. Many of the trees had slash marks carved into their trunks, and the ground was littered with holes and loose soil, courtesy of bombing. There were no bodies or bones though. No forgotten weapons or debris either. Only the scars nature bore.

Zientu nodded. “I did. Natlan is full of hot springs, but Fontaine’s waters are cool and refreshing. Amongst that, the local society and technology is fascinating.”

“Fair enough,” Paimon agreed. They crested a tall hill and Paimon gasped suddenly. “Hey, what’s that?”

She pointed to a volcano visible in the distance. It was rather stout, and half of the slope had collapsed, leaving the volcano nothing more than a tall, crescent shaped mountain with a large pool of lava sitting in the new crater. That wasn’t the main attraction though; that would have to be the large skeleton resting partially submerged in the lava. A great skull and tall ribs rose into the air, limbs and tail submerged.

“That?” Zientu’s lips pulled into a thin line. “That is what we call Taega’s Grave. Stories say that she was a mighty pyro dragon, so powerful that just her snores could send a firestorm raging across the land. The only reason she wasn’t the Pyro Sovereign was because she didn’t want to be, so she let the Sovereign surpass her. Still, she laid destruction during the Archon War, until the other factions allied to defeat her during the Battle of Grief. Both her death, and the death of the Hydro Sovereign, prompted the dragons to abandon the war.”

“The dragons abandoned the war because of death?” the Traveller asked, confused.

Zientu nodded as they continued on. “Dragons mate for life, and to tear mates apart is a very steep crime. During the Archon War, all dragons had an agreement: while they would fight for the gods that had summoned them, to kill a dragon was out of the question, even if the dragon was unmated, as Taega was. The gods knew of this agreement between dragons, and they did not understand it. No one loves like dragons do. So when two of theirs were killed, the dragons turned their backs.”

Both the Traveller and Paimon were silent for a long moment, awed. That such an agreement was upheld through the Archon War… It sounded incredibly difficult. To only lose two dragons though, was also incredible.

“What about the Pyro Dragon?” Paimon asked hesitantly. Zientu glanced at her with a frown, and she went on. “His mate was one of the dragons who died. Was… Was he able to heal after the loss?”

Neither traveller missed the way Zientu’s gaze became distant. It was only for a few seconds, but it was unlike him, and they both noticed. Neither asked though, because Zientu’s past was his own, and he shared when he was ready. Just when they’d left Sumeru, he’d told them about his first and only love, a hydro-user who had died a long time ago. Zientu had cried that night, and the Traveller’s heart still ached for their friend.

Quickly, Zientu came back to the present and shrugged one shoulder. “Stories aren’t sure. The dragons all grieved for the loss of their own, and they did what they could for the Pyro Dragon. After the Archon War, no one really knows what happened to him. The dragons in other nations retreated from human society, while the pyro dragons stayed. The Sovereign Dragon of Pyro is said to have disappeared.”

The Traveller frowned, humming. No such luck from stories, if Zientu was to be believed, and he didn’t have any reason to lie. Still, asking the Natlan locals may prove helpful.

The journey to Haven was uneventful. They were lucky to avoid coming across any battles, but they did pass through a recent battlefield. It was an open field, grass covered in blood or scorched by fire. A few spears were lodged into the ground, a few swords lying abandoned and dirtied.

There were no bodies, and the Traveller began to grow suspicious.

Three days after the Traveller and Paimon had left Fontaine, Neuvillette finally found enough free time to do what he wanted to. The rebuilding was well underway and it no longer needed constant guidance. The ruffled feathers were smoothed down once again, and life continued. The river runs forever, and waters will always flow, however interrupted they may become.

This particular river had been interrupted for far too long now, ever since the three travellers had arrived in Fontaine. Neuvillette finally found the time though, and he didn’t hesitate.

His den in Erinnyes wasn’t his home anymore, but Neuvillette hadn’t abandoned it. Not completely.

When he first stumbled his way to it, five centuries ago after just being reborn, it had been empty. No wards protected it from intruders, but none entered anyway. It seemed that the Pyro Dragon’s grief, still heavy in the air, had deterred all who would have made use of the abandoned den. For centuries now though, a ward of Neuvillette’s own hand has protected the den, reclaiming it as his.

All of the items he and the Pyro Dragon had treasured were being protected by their den in Natlan. He knew that because that den was the first place he went to search for his mate. He only found all of their treasures and a fading presence that said the Pyro Dragon had been there, but not in a number of years. Neuvillette had thus taken a few of his favourite items, the ones this form could manage to carry, with him.

Those items were resting on a table near the wall in this den. Neuvillette had also been continuing to leave some of his most treasured items in his den, warded so that only he may enter. Gifts from the Melusines and what few counted themselves amongst his friends. Little trinkets he had created to gift to his mate, should he ever find him again. And letters, his heart poured into words, all telling a story for his Pyro Dragon to read, to get to know him again after all the centuries that have separated them.

Neuvillette wasn’t naive enough to think that his Pyro Dragon would still be the same as he remembered. The grief still lingering in his den was proof enough of that. Dragons mate for life, but things didn’t fall into place seamlessly. It had been centuries, and things changed. Should he ever cross paths with his mate again, it would take time. For the chance to return to his mate’s side, though, Neuvillete would wait for an eternity.

The walk to his den was peaceful. Grey clouds blanketed the sky, and there was a distinct feeling in the air that said rain is coming. Neuvillette hummed an old dragon song to himself as he went. It wasn’t not long before he reached his destination.

The entrance was nestled in a crook at the base of a mountain, hidden by vines and bushes. The short tunnel leading to the main chamber was cool, the air freshened by the breeze that followed him in. The tunnel opened into a grand, spacious main chamber, glowing plants clinging to the high walls, and the large pool on the right side bringing in fresh water from the connected sea.

As soon as he stepped into the main chamber, Neuvillette’s calm demeanor dropped. Quickly, fear replaced it.

All of the items he’d left in his den have been carefully arranged. By now, he knew the exact placements of every possession and every gift he’d entrusted to the safety of this place. He knew the exact scent of the air, the precise weight it carried, and it was wrong.

Alarmed and unnerved, Neuvillette strode forwards, following a foreign scent towards where he’d stored his letters. It was a recent scent, familiar yet not at the same time. Seeing the unusual arrangement of the letters, letters meant for only his mate, Neuvillette’s alarm quickly melted into rage.

He made quick work of placing the letters back into their proper organization, thinking of a stranger reading the words he had written. It took effort to keep from crushing the paper in his fists. That done, Neuvillette moved to check if the intruder had disturbed anything further.

That was when he noticed the most precious gift for his mate was missing. It wasn’t the most precious in terms of market worth, or even effort taken to make it, but Arcaeos had always loved pearls. Neuvillette had taken the most beautiful pearl he’d found in Fontaine’s waters and carved it into the shape of a perfectly curled spiral shell, then folded a tight wire net around it to carry it as the pendant of a necklace.

And it was missing.

He’d kept it placed on a table carefully laid out amidst the rest of his gifts. That place was empty now. Neuvillette was always so careful, so organized; it couldn’t have been misplaced. Still, he tore through the rest of the den, carefully shifting the other trinkets and possessions aside and even checking the bottom of the pool. It wasn’t there; it wasn’t anywhere.

Rage and pain warred within him. This was his safe space. His, but by now, he was certain.

Someone had invaded his den. Someone had stolen his gift.

Chapter Text

Haven was… interesting. Most of the city appeared to be constructed of a pale grey stone. The roads and buildings were both made of it, with the occasional detailing or decoration of wood or other material, but nothing structurally important or load-bearing appeared to be anything but that grey stone. The city was built with multiple levels like Liyue Harbor, tall buildings standing high above them.

The colours were bright too. Most of the people had hair of varying shades of red, from a bright, brilliant scarlet, to a darker, rich shade of crimson. A number of people also had varying skin tones, a wide range that the Traveller hadn’t yet seen. The clothing all appeared to be tailored with battle movements in mind, tighter around the chest and legs, with outer cloaks or draping skirts to add more volume. The Traveller could see shades of white, red, purple, blue, and black, but also some earthy tones like warm browns or hearty greys.

Then there was how large Haven was. Not just in terms of city size, but in the way it was built. The stone roads were much wider than any other city the Traveller had seen, and doorways and arches were incredibly tall. This was explained by the sight of numerous pyro dragons of various shapes and sizes wandering the city as any other citizen. Many of them had rings, bands or strands of jewels adorning their wings, horns or forearms, bright eyes sharp and talons tapping lightly against stone as they walked.

“Wow…” Paimon murmured, awed.

Zientu hummed, smiling. “Welcome to my home, Paimon, Traveller.”

There was a sudden wind nearby, a burst of warm air, and the Traveller watched as a woman flew upwards, landing on a walkway above them and disappearing over the edge. No one else seemed to pay it any mind. A few seconds later, the Traveller saw it happen again a ways down the road, a man rising up to reach the path above. This time, they saw the dark blue cloak around the man’s shoulders glow faintly, sparks leaving a trail in his wake.

“What the—?!” Paimon said loudly. “How do they do that?!”

“Ah, the spark cloaks?” Zientu hummed. “The flapping of the cloaks’ ‘wings’ releases the energy stored in the thread, propelling the wearer in any direction.”

“Wow,” Paimon hummed, awed. “How did they ever come up with that?”

Zientu shrugged. “Well, with the structure of the city, sometimes it was a pain to get around. I believe something vaguely like Mondstadt’s wind gliders was the first prototype, but they were a hassle to use when starting on the ground, so the cloaks became the standard. Their ability to function was actually somehow inspired by the Pyro Dragon.”

“The Sovereign?” the Traveller asked, interest piqued.

“Mn.” Zientu nodded. “They say that he held so much pyro energy that when he breathed fire, his chest glowed with it like a fire burning bright within him, and when he flapped his wings, he left a trail of sparks in his wake.”

“Oh, Paimon thinks she gets it! The cloaks release sparks when they’re used, which is the release of the energy stored there. But if that energy is released, can the cloak recharge?”

“Yes, by fire.” Zientu held out one wing of his own dark red cloak, letting Paimon run her fingers over the fabric. “The thread used to make them is immune to heat, instead absorbing it and storing it. We’ve simply figured out how to take advantage of it. We can get you a spark cloak later if you’re interested, Traveller.”

The blond nodded. “Absolutely. Using anemo as a boost is useful, but if a situation arises like now where I don’t have elemental power, it would be a good thing to have. Speaking of, where would we find the Talon of Power?”

“The Fireside Estate, most likely,” Zientu replied, pointing to a grand residence overlooking the northern part of the city. “It’s the residence and place of work shared by the Talons, the Twin Embers, and the Guardian. There’s a Statue of Seven in the heart of Haven, so I believe it’s best we head there first, then to the Estate.”

The Traveller nodded again. “Alright.”

The three of them started down the street, following the red-haired native. The Traveller and Paimon both took in as much as they could, architecture, market vendors, and more. No one seemed to think twice about the presence of dragons in the city. There weren’t many of them, but they were there.

“Most of the pyro dragons live around Gehenna,” Zientu hummed, amused at seeing their awe. “That’s a wide expanse of lava fields, mountains, and lava rivers to the west of Sovereign’s Breath. Ah, and it’s full of air that’s toxic to humans. Not a recommended tourist spot.”

Paimon shivered. “We’ll keep that in mind. What about the tribes? Paimon’s heard about Natlan having six major tribes.”

“We do indeed.” Zientu nodded just as the Statue came into view, standing in the center of a large city square. “Each tribe is characterized by a different colour, and each specializes in a different area. The Hedj in white are our scholars and inventors. The red Raudr focus on training and becoming the best fighters they can be, and frequently end up as test subjects for the Hedj’s inventions. The Indigo in purple are our healers. The green Wedjat wander and care for our land. The Kem in black put lingering spirits and ghosts to rest; in the Nation of War, there are enough of them. And the Blar in blue focus on defense plans for all of Haven’s cities and villages.”

“This is amazing, Zientu,” the Traveller said as they linked the Statue with their teleport network. “You never spoke much of Natlan, but I could always tell you loved it.”

“I do.” Zientu hummed, smiling. “I am proud of my nation and of my people. Peace between dragon and human, national security, my people are happy. That is what Natlan strives for.”

“That’s what we have, you mean,” interrupted a new voice, droll and bored.

Paimon yelped as a figure appeared next to Zientu. It was a man, on the lower end of tall, with darker skin and red-brown hair held up in a high ponytail by a silver dragon hair piece. His vibrant, teal green eyes were cold and sharp, and he was dressed in blacks and reds, a palette similar to Zientu’s. A dark grey cloak with a jaguar-spot pattern was resting around his shoulders, clipped on his right side by a silver dragon ornament.

“I didn’t think you’d return for another few years,” the new man said to Zientu, raising a droll brow. “And you picked up traveling companions?”

“Yes, Xbalanque.” Zientu smiled nicely, a closed-eye smile rather than his usual, polite one. “Traveller, Paimon, this is Xbalanque, also known as the One Entombed With Primal Fire.”

“Don’t call me that,” Xbalanque snapped with a sneer. “I never asked to be called something so ridiculous.”

“You never denied such titles, however, so of course, they stuck,” Zientu sniped in reply. “People spectate, Xbalanque. To some, simply refusing to comment is the same as failing to deny.”

“The One Entombed With Primal Fire,” Xbalanque spat, crossing his arms. “Why in Teyvat would I be entombed anywhere, nonetheless with the Primal Fire of the Sovereign. And besides that, I am right here. I am not entombed. This body is my actual body, not a vessel I inhabit while my true body lies dormant under a mountain or something.”

“You’re a dragon in human form,” Zientu said patiently. “What are the people supposed to think?”

“I would prefer it if they don’t think of me at all. I hate the frontlines.” Xbalanque sneered at the ground, then turned to the Traveller and Paimon. “So, you’re the famous Travellers, huh? I’m surprised this fool is with you.”

“And why’s that?” Paimon huffed. “Shouldn’t travellers be able to travel together?”

Xbalanque eyed her, sharp eyes analyzing the girl until she ducked behind the Traveller.

“Xbalanque,” Zientu hummed disapprovingly. “Don’t be rude.”

The man turned to Zientu then and sneered. “What the fuck are you still doing here? You should be going to find your family and letting them know you’re back. Get out of here. I’ll show your new friends where they need to go.”

“Xbalanque—”

“Go. Goodbye.”

Xbalanque grabbed the Traveller by the arm and dragged them off. Paimon was left to decide whether to stay with Zientu or follow after the Traveller. With a quick goodbye to Zientu, she came flying after the blond. The Traveller glanced over their shoulder to see Zientu worriedly watching them go before the redhead turned and disappeared through the crowd.

“You’re pretty rude, you know,” Paimon huffed when Xbalanque released the Traveller but didn’t stop walking.

“It keeps people from wasting my time,” Xbalanque replied curtly, moving quickly down the road. “I’ll show you to an inn, then take you to Qinlin, the Talon of Power. I assume you would like to submit a Vision permission request?”

“Uh, yeah.” The Traveller nodded as they and Paimon trailed after the man. “If you don’t like wasting time, why are you showing us around Haven? Why not Zientu?”

“Zientu, huh?” Xbalanque hummed to himself, before his sneer returned. “Who said this is a waste of my time? As I said, Zientu needs to talk to his family. Besides, it gets him out of the way so I can do this.”

“Do what?” Paimon asked nervously.

Xbalanque stopped suddenly and turned to face the pair, a glare on his face as he jabbed a finger into the Traveller’s chest. “If you plan to harm Natlan or its citizens, leave now. Get out and do not come back. I do not have mercy for those who come with ill intentions or carelessness. Zientu may trust you, but I do not, so watch your step.”

Wide-eyed, the Traveller nodded. “Got it. We don’t mean any harm. I’m just here looking for information regarding my sibling.”

They met Xbalanque’s hard stare for a long moment before the other man relented and stepped back. “Fine.” He gestured to the building they had stopped in front of. “This is the Malon, Haven’s best inn. Remember the way here, I’m dragging you off to find Qinlin and I won’t show you the way back.”

“What?” Paimon huffed as Xbalanque started off again. “Paimon is really starting to hate this guy. Paimon’s gonna start calling him Flameweed Brain.”

“You won’t if you value your life,” Xbalanque called over his shoulder.

Paimon scowled. “Fine then. The One Entombed With Primal Fire it is.”

The Traveller could practically hear Xbalanque’s gritting teeth, but the pyro user said nothing of it.

This time, they were led towards the Fireside Estate Zientu had pointed out earlier. They got a number of curious stares from market goers as they went, furrowed brows or confused frowns. No one approached them though.

“Ignore them,” Xbalanque huffed, glared fixed firmly in place. “It’s because you’re with me.”

“You really aren’t a people person, are you?” the Traveller hummed. “Why are you in human form?”

Predictably, there was no answer. There was a sudden heat trailing after the man though, and flames flickering from his clenched fists. The Traveller shared a look with Paimon, and they both silently agreed that questioning the man would get them nowhere except maybe murdered.

They reached the Fireside Estate soon enough anyway. It was an incredibly tall compound, surrounded by a high stone wall. There was no one guarding the gate though, and Xbalanque marched them right through the dragon-sized door. This led them into a large courtyard filled with plants, flowers and a stone path. The main building stood tall at the other end of the courtyard, and while the space was enclosed, it was homey. Fires burnt in ornate silver braziers around the edges of the space, and the sky was open above them. It was nice.

What wasn’t nice was the scarlet-scaled dragon currently walking across the courtyard towards them, eyes of pure white focused in on them.

“Xbalanque,” the dragon said in greeting, though her voice was stern, with a constant air of regality. “I was just on my way to find you and the two I heard were meant to be with you. I see you did not abandon them to find their own way.”

“I told Zientu I would show them where they needed to go,” Xbalanque replied, crossing his arms. “And I’ve just finished with that, so I will be leaving now and returning to my duties.”

And then he turned and left. Just like that.

Paimon huffed, stomping her foot. “Is he always so rude? Paimon’s met birds with more manners than him.”

The Talon of Power nodded. “That is just how Xbalanque is. I will never understand the… mutual agreement that has fallen between him and the Guardian. Now, I was told of the famous travellers’ presence in Natlan. You are here to request usage of elemental power, yes?”

The Traveller nodded. “Yes. Though I have no Vision, so…?”

“It will work just the same. Before your request is granted, however, you both must swear an unbreakable vow.”

“An unbreakable vow?!” Paimon gasped. “The kind that causes you a lot of pain if you even think of trying to cross it?! What for?!”

Qinlin’s white eyes were cold, her tail swishing behind her. “A promise that Natlan’s secrets will remain here. With permission of elemental power comes one of Natlan’s biggest secrets. We use this chance to have a vow sworn so that we may be assured that our secrets will never leave our nation.”

“Sounds reasonable,” the Traveller hummed. “An unbreakable vow that we will never tell Natlan’s secrets to anyone outside of the nation?”

“Worded slightly differently to close as many loopholes as possible, but yes. There is also a second vow to never use your power to bring harm to the innocent while on Natlan soil. Do you accept these terms?”

The Traveller considered it, and then nodded. Paimon agreed as well, and Qinlin held out one massive talon. Together, the two travellers placed one of their hands in hers, feeling the dragon’s pyro energy swirl around them.

The Talon of Power hissed lowly. “Do you, Traveller, Paimon, swear that nothing of what you know or may suspect to be a secret of Natlan’s will ever, in any way, shape, or form, be communicated knowingly or neglectfully to a party who you know or believe to be unaware?”

“I swear.”

“Paimon swears.”

“And do you, Traveller, swear that, unprovoked, you will bring no harm to the innocent, in any way, shape, or form, while in the nation of Natlan?”

“I swear.”

The Traveller’s vision blacked out. They blinked at the sudden darkness, but felt the unbreakable vow settle into place, an eternal oath bound to them. They felt Qinlin retract her talon, and they could sense Paimon hovering next to them. Their eyes were open, but they were blind.

“This loss of vision is not permanent, Traveller,” Qinlin said. “It will only last as long as it takes for me to restore your access to your power.”

“Uh, alright… And how long will that take?”

“You are used to using elemental sight, correct? Try using it now.”

The Traveller frowned, but did as told. Rather than seeing nothing as they expected, they suddenly saw an image of a small, glowing red chess piece. The Pyro Gnosis.

They gasped. “I see…”

“Good,” Qinlin hummed. “Reach out and touch it.”

Again, the Traveller did as told. They’d barely brushed their fingers against the gnosis when it disappeared and their sight was restored. Not only that, but their ability to use elemental power was restored as well. A wisp of red fire twisted up from their outstretched hand.

“Traveller?” Paimon asked worriedly.

“I’m okay,” the Traveller said, shaking off the faint dizziness that lingered. “What… what was that?”

Qinlin raised a brow. “What do you think it was?”

“I…” The Traveller lifted a hand, watching small wisps of the various elements spark from their fingertips. “The Pyro Gnosis is what maintains the ‘net’ over Natlan. By touching it, it… recognized me or something, and allowed my elemental signature to slip through.”

The dark scarlet dragon nodded. “Essentially, yes. You are free to journey Natlan as you desire. Just remember your vows, and, for your own safety, avoid Gehenna.”

“Hang on,” Paimon cried suddenly. “You said that with permission for elemental power came one of Natlan’s biggest secrets.”

“So I did…” Qinlin hummed. “What I am about to say will, of course, trigger the unbreakable vow. This is not to be repeated.”

“I understand,” the Traveller said.

The Talon of Power chuckled lowly. “Well… the war across Natlan is a game.”

It was silent for a long moment before Paimon shrieked, “What?! A game?!’

“Indeed.” Qinlin was definitely smirking now, the tip of her tail swishing back and forth. “Meant to give the other nations the illusion of a true war, as well as provide entertainment. There are a number of strict rules that must be followed, but yes. The Hunt is an unending, nation-wide game of turf war.”

The Traveller frowned. “But… why? What’s its purpose?”

Qinlin sat down now, white eyes sharp and piercing. “In truth, Traveller, Natlan is a sanctuary. We are the Nation of War. You see war as battles fought and blood spilt. What about the lives uprooted or the safety destroyed? What about the people leaving their families to join your armies? What about the innocent blood shed amongst your plans? That is war. You fight to destroy, and war always ends up destroying what has done nothing wrong. The battlefield suffers long after the armies trampling it have moved on.

“We are also the Nation of Fire. Fire is life. A spark to keep you warm as you venture the cold. A bonfire to bring shelter, warmth, and community. Have you never shared a bonfire, travellers? You gather around it together, and something within you settles. Fire is the way of life. Even wild forest fires make way for new growth. Here, we do not embrace the harm that war brings. We invite those struck by it to share in our fireside. Given that they are not true criminals fleeing what they’ve done, and that they come in peace, Natlan will shelter anyone who comes seeking refuge.”

The Traveller’s eyes were wide. “A sanctuary…?”

Qinlin’s eyes were sharp. “Nation of War, God of War. It is not what the world thinks it is. Natlan’s Guardian, the Guardian of Refuge, has created this place. A safe haven for all.”

“This is a Nation of Dragons as well, dear sister,” interrupted a new voice. It was a tall woman with fiery red hair, half-shaved and done in elaborate warrior braids decorated with golden beads. A dark scar twisted its way across her right cheek and upper lip, bright yellow eyes sharp as she approached. “You and yours are a part of Natlan. A part of its strength, truth, justice, and safety. Here, we are proud to be the Nation of War.”

“Indeed.” Qinlin nodded. “Traveller, Paimon, meet Suvroa, the First Twin Ember and head of the Natlan guard.”

Suvroa’s gaze turned to the Traveller. “Ah. You are the famous Traveller we’ve been hearing of. Father said to expect you.”

“...He did?” Paimon asked.

“Yes. We’ve heard how you have been making your way across the nations. It is just Snezhnaya you’ve left to travel to, correct?”

The Traveller nodded. “Yeah. Uh, what sort of things have you heard?”

“Grand tales.” Suvroa smiled, waving a hand in the air. “I believe there’s a game amongst the children to reenact some of your adventures. But anyways, Traveller, Paimon. Welcome to the Nation of Pyro.”

[Xbalanque | The One Entombed With Primal Fire | Story]

I hatched after the Archon War, when Murata was still in power. I had a brother, Hunahpu… We did everything together. He was the favourite, I always knew it. He was easy to get along with. Adventurous. Great at anything he put his mind to.

For some reason, when we were a number of centuries old, he got it in his head to try life in human form. He somehow managed to convince me of the same. I admit, I was curious of human life myself. When we approached Murata, she gave us human form.

Now, Murata… She promoted dragon-human unity. Much of Natlan was destroyed during the Archon War, and the tribes were fighting each other. She was good at keeping the peace when she wanted to be, but she loved fighting too much to ever think of it.

Another thing about her… She was happy to let her people live however they wanted, but when she called, everyone was to be ready to fight for her without hesitation. Once, she wanted to start a war with Sumeru. She called her people and the dragons to fight for her. Hunahpu and I, and the other pyro dragons living alongside humanity, all refused.

My brother and I were some of the most vehement. Having lived truly amongst humans for years at that point, we knew not only the dragons’ refusal, but what a call to war would do to the humans we had befriended as well. Murata would have none of this. She shredded my wings, and when Hunahpu tried to interfere, she ended up killing him. I never trusted or obeyed her again.

Not long after that, the Guardian appeared and Murata challenged him to a duel. She lost, and just like that, Natlan had a new leader. I expected him to make no changes. Oh, how wrong I was. Right away, this new leader started changing Natlan. For the better, I suppose. It was easy to see that this was someone who would benefit the nation. He was old, much older than me, and he knew everything there was to know about the Nation of Pyro.

I had never seen him before. But that’s not my story to tell.

Now, Natlan is much better off. The Guardian created this sanctuary, and we will protect it. There hasn’t been an attempt at rebellion in centuries now, and if there is, I will squash it before the Guardian even gets the chance to notice.

Hmm? Why do I stay in human form? This is what Hunahpu and I wanted: to try living as humans. Besides, my wings will always be destroyed. Like this, no one sees. Thus, no one questions.

Chapter Text

“The three-meat stew was so good! And the banana pudding… Oh, we should have come to Natlan a long time ago, Traveller!”

The Traveller smiled in amusement and nodded, running their fingers over the silk material of the pale gold spark cloak resting on their shoulders. It wasn’t difficult to master, given how skilled they were with Mondstadt’s wind glider, but it was different. The weight and the balance points would take time to get used to, as would learning to recognize and just knowing how much farther the cloak could propel before needing to recharge.

Together, the pair continued down Haven’s main street, taking in everything they could. The Natlan branch of the Adventurer’s Guild was smaller than the other branches, but commissions were always a good place to start in getting used to a new nation. The Traveller had already decided to take on a few of them later to help get a feel for Natlan’s forests and lava fields, but that came after they were satisfied with exploring Haven.

“How do you think Zientu is doing?” the Traveller hummed, curiously eyeing what appeared to be a bookstore as they walked past.

“Mm, he did kinda just disappear.” Paimon nodded. “Paimon guesses it has been a long enough time since Mondstadt; his family probably missed him enough. He also… didn’t really mention a family… It’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

The Traveller nodded. “He didn’t seem to even think about a family until Xbalanque mentioned it.”

“Well, Zientu isn’t really the type to share things about himself… You think he’s hiding something, Traveller?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a seemingly-normal friend we’ve met has turned out to be the Archon.”

Paimon hummed. “Paimon supposes you’re right. But why would he spend so long travelling with us? It’s hard to imagine that— hey!”

Paimon yelped as a dark-skinned, redheaded girl in green ran past, ducking under her floating feet.

“Sorry, gotta run!” the girl called cheerfully, twisting out of the way as a bolt of electro shot towards her, almost hitting Paimon as it passed.

The Traveller watched as a burst of anemo propelled the running girl in a high leap over another group of citizens, where she then turned and disappeared down an alleyway. Before Paimon could open her mouth to say something, someone else went running past. It was a short man dressed in black, violet sparks crackling from his fingertips as he raced after the girl.

The pair of adventurers watched him go, brows furrowed. Paimon huffed, crossing her arms. The Traveller hummed in consideration. From the other side of the street came a light laugh. When the pair looked over, the Second Twin Ember was already making his way towards them.

“Was that normal?” Paimon asked, still irritated.

Jiazhen shrugged. “That was Katla of the Wedjat and Menes of the Kem. It’s not exactly abnormal to see them at each other’s throats when they cross paths. Ever since Katla earned her Vision, it’s gotten more chaotic, but that’s also just our way of life.”

“We’re starting to see that,” the Traveller hummed.

A booming laugh left Jiazhen’s lips. “It will take some getting used to, yes. People who come to Natlan seeking shelter often find our normal to be rather intimidating.”

“Paimon believes that.” The girl nodded and tilted her head. “Anyway, where’re you off to?”

“The Haven courthouse,” Jiazhen replied easily, gesturing vaguely towards the south part of the city. “I need to find Dairet.”

“He’s the Chief Justice, isn’t he?” the Traveller asked curiously.

Jiazhen nodded and started leading them down the street. “The Talon of Justice, yes. ‘Chief Justice’ is Fontaine’s thing, and we do law differently. Natlan has many judges to oversee trials. If someone believes that one of them has made an error in law, the case is brought to Dairet.”

“Error in law?” Paimon repeated.

“Yes. Whether the judge is thought to have incorrectly interpreted the law, given a wrongful judgement, or imposed too harsh a sentence, if the case is brought to Dairet, he has the final say in the judgement. Either he will agree with the original outcome, or he will overrule it. Everyone makes mistakes, even in the justice system. This rule allows us a chance to correct them.”

Paimon frowned. “Does this rule get invoked often?”

“Sovereigns, no.” Jiazhen shook his head. “No, most of the current judges are very good at giving appropriate judgements and sentences. It’s rare for a case to be brought to Dairet after the conclusion of the trial. That’s why he has enough time to manage most of Natlan’s civil affairs and projects.”

“Hmm.” The Traveller tilted their head. “Zientu mentioned that you handle diplomatic matters and festival planning.”

Jiazhen brightened. “That’s why I need to find Dairet. The Dracarys Games will be happening in a few months, and I need his input on the stadium improvements he was wanting.”

“Games sound exciting,” Paimon said cheerfully. “What kind of events take place?”

“The main event is basically a large-scale sparring match,” Jiazhen replied, grinning when Paimon huffed at the idea of more war as sport. “That’s remained the big one ever since the Games started, back when Murata was Archon. Over time, we’ve added javelin or boulder throw, pankration, and a few races. If you’re still in Natlan by then, I highly suggest going to watch. The Games only happen every four years.”

“And they are our biggest spectacle,” added a new voice.

When the Traveller turned, they saw that a golden-scaled dragon had caught up to them. Solid black eyes glanced over them, and they knew that this must be the Talon of Justice. The dragon appeared to be slightly smaller than Qinlin, but the top of his horns still reached twice as tall as Jiazhen, and Jiazhen was tall. He had four wings, both pairs connected at his shoulders, and his golden scales were patterned with black diamonds. Also decorating the dragon were dark metal rings piercing his ears, and metal bands along the arms of his wings.

“Jiazhen.” Dairet bowed his head in greeting, his tone pleasant and friendly. “Qinlin said you were looking for me.”

“Indeed, my friend,” Jiazhen replied. “I was just heading to the courthouse.”

“I don’t recommend such.” Dairet huffed slightly, shaking his head. “The Wedjat and the Kem are engaged in a brawl just outside the main entrance.”

Jiazhen laughed. “So that’s why we saw Katla and Menes earlier.”

“Mn, likely, yes. This fight has also managed to interrupt the Blar’s preparation to fix the road to the west that the Hedj’s experiment destroyed.”

“I’m sure Father was impressed with that.”

“The experiment destroying the road, or the brawl postponing its repair?”

“Either. Both.” Jiazhen winced slightly, then shook it off. “Dairet, this is the Traveller and Paimon.”

Dairet turned to the pair, dark eyes curious. “I had heard about your arrival in Natlan. It is an honour to meet the famous travelling pair who have become partners to our Zientu.”

The Traveller gave a bow of their head. “It’s nice to meet you as well. Zientu told us a bit about you.”

“All good things, I should hope,” Dairet replied, tone pleasant and teasing.

“Of course. Actually, I would like to ask you a few things.”

“Oh?” Dairet hummed, now interested. “Go ahead.”

“I’m looking for my sibling. They likely passed through Natlan a long time ago. Is there anything you know that may help me find them?”

Dairet’s expression became grave, his wings pulling tighter against his body. “I do remember them, Traveller. They explored our home and learnt our history, and then they moved on. I do not recall anything that hints at where they may be now. I am sorry.”

“It’s alright,” the Traveller sighed, disappointed. “One other thing, for you too, Jiazhen. Do either of you know anything about the Pyro Dragon?”

The Second Twin Ember tilted his head in confusion. “The pyro dragon? You’re going to have to be more specific; Natlan is full of pyro dragons.”

“I mean the Pyro Dragon. The Sovereign.”

Dairet frowned now, brows furrowing. “Why are you asking? No one cares about the Sovereigns anymore. Not since the gods ruled the nations.”

The Traveller hummed, thinking of the vial of hydro in their bag. “Let’s just say I promised a friend that I would search.”

“I see…” Dairet studied them for a long moment before he released a soft huff. “Well, the Sovereign Dragon of Fire disappeared maybe five hundred years after the Archon War. After that… I’m not sure. He was a good friend of mine. I don’t believe he’s dead, however; we would be able to feel it if he were dead.”

“You would?” Paimon asked. “But if you don’t know where he is… how would you know?”

“Mmm… When the Sovereign Dragon of Water was shot from the sky, the hydro energy across Teyvat… shifted, for lack of a better word. It lost some of its luster, the feel of it changed. Such will be the case upon the death of any of the Dragon Sovereigns. Though none of the elements have been renewed for centuries now…”

“Renewed?”

“Yes. I realize that this may be a lot to understand… But you seek answers, do you not? So, I will share.” Dairet ducked his head, ignoring the look Jiazhen shot him. “If you know of the Sovereigns, then you must know how they were the original rulers and caretakers of this world. Every century, they would gather together and sing to the land and to the primordial sea, asking that they flourish and be generous with their gifts to each element, and to all life. Such world renewal ritual hasn’t been held for eons now, without the Sovereigns, and the elements have slowly lost power. They are still very strong, of course, but this is not the true height of their abilities.”

“Wow…” Paimon gaped. “So all of the elemental powers across Teyvat are slowly fading away because they aren’t being renewed by the Dragon Sovereigns…? The Dendro Dragon is secluded in the desert. The Hydro Dragon was killed during the Archon War but is now reborn. The Pyro Dragon is missing. What happened to the others?”

“They disappeared.” Dairet shook his head. “By the end of the Archon War, the Anemo, Geo, Electro, and Cryo Dragons had all disappeared, yet none of them have passed, for there hasn’t been a new Sovereign. Without all the Sovereigns together, our world can’t be renewed—”

A tall plume of fire from the north cut Dairet off. The dragon lifted his head to look at it, then frowned.

“It seems we are being called to the Estate,” Jiazhen noted, also staring at the flame.

“Indeed.” Dairet lowered his head again. “Apologies, Traveller, Paimon, but we must be departing.”

The Traveller nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll see you around,” Jiazhen said with a wave, then turned to Dairet. “Race you there.”

Dairet didn’t move as Jiazhen took off running. Instead, the golden dragon watched him disappear between the people, a pleasant smile on his lips.

Paimon tilted her head. “Should you be going?”

A smug gleam sparked in the dragon’s eyes. “I’m letting him get a head start.”

A second later, Dairet carefully spread his wings and lifted into the air. He waved a cheerful goodbye and gave a playful wink, and then he was gone.

“Well…” the Traveller hummed. “That was a lot. I don’t think even the Archons know such a thing about the world.”

“Wait, really?” Paimon asked, surprised.

“The renewal ritual sounds ancient, and Dairet made it sound like only the Sovereigns could perform it. I don’t think they would share such a thing with the ones who stole their power from them.”

“But that ritual takes care of Teyvat,” Paimon countered hesitantly. “If it was the only way to care for their home…”

“Mm.” The Traveller nodded in agreement. “The only way to know is to ask one of the Sovereigns—”

“Psst! Hey, you two!”

The Traveller looked over the hissed whisper to see a young girl, maybe five or six years old, waving at them from a nearby alleyway. They shared a confused look with Paimon, and then wandered closer. The girl had pale strawberry hair done in two short pigtails, bright green eyes sharp and curious as she looked them over. She was dressed in dull green trousers and a light grey top, a matching short, grey cloak hanging on her shoulders.

“You were asking about the Pyro Dragon,” the girl said, a smirk on her lips like she knew something they didn’t.

“Uh, yeah.” Paimon studied the girl. “Who are you?”

“Nakaio. No tribe.” The girl grinned, eyes wide. “You’re the famous travellers I’ve heard stories about! Did you really fight the Anemo Dragon?”

The Traveller’s brows furrowed. “Well, it was an anemo dragon, but not the Sovereign.”

“Are you going to fight our Sovereign now?”

“No.” The Traveller shook their head sharply. “No, I’m just looking for him. For a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Uh… The Hydro Sovereign…?”

The girl’s eyes blew even wider in awe as she whispered, “Like the ancient stories.”

“Yep, just like the stories.” Paimon laughed nervously. “Uh, do you know something about the Pyro Sovereign? Hey, how do you even know about the Sovereigns?”

“Everyone knows about the Sovereigns,” Nakaio chirped happily. “There’s an old legend that Papo used to tell me. If you wanna know, you gotta do something for me first.”

She grinned mischievously, but she was also young, so the Traveller could guess that it wouldn’t be a huge ask. They agreed easily, and Nakaio’s grin widened.

She pointed to one of the food stalls across the street. “You gotta get me one of Ada’s chocolate butterflies. A red one.”

The girl smiled nicely, waiting for the Traveller’s response. They shared a look with Paimon, shrugged, and then left the alley. Paimon stayed behind, looking Nakaio up and down.

“Were you spying on us, talking with Jiazhen and Dairet?” she asked.

Nakaio smiled shamelessly. “Yeah. They always agree to buy me treats, but then they left, and you’re new here, so you probably don’t know the legend, so it’s like a deal. Traveller gets me a treat, and I tell you the story.”

“But if it’s a common story, we could’ve just asked someone else…”

“Nuh uh! No one tells it like my Papo did! They don’t have the details right!”

The Traveller returned then, holding three of the requested treats and offering one to Nakaio. “One red chocolate butterfly,” they said with a smile. They then turned to Paimon, offering her the second one. “And I got a white one for you, Paimon.”

Paimon took it happily. “You’re the best, Traveller! Paimon’s best friend!”

Nakaio devoured her butterfly quickly, closely followed by Paimon. The Traveller ate theirs at a more leisurely pace, content to enjoy the sweet treat slowly.

“You said you would tell us what you know about the Pyro Dragon, Nakaio?” the Traveller hummed.

“Yep!” The girl grinned, licking chocolate off her fingers. “Come on, the story only works when you’re in front of the wall!”

“‘The wall?’” Paimon repeated, but Nakaio was already running out of the alley. “Hey, get back here!”

There was no choice but to go after her, weaving between the crowd as they ran down the street. Nakaio led them down streets and alleys towards the southern part of the city until they reached a large, open courtyard. The ground was patterned with the same dark stone as the rest of the streets, and there were small flower beds near each of the courtyard’s corners. In the center of the space was a curved, freestanding wall that stood almost as tall as the surrounding buildings, its entire face covered with a beautiful, brightly coloured mural.

“You see?” Nakaio said, standing in front of the inner side of the wall. “The legend only works with the wall.”

The Traveller let their eyes wander over the image. It looked like a battle arena on an active lava field. There were only two fighters: a powerful, armour-clad woman wielding a glowing red claymore, and a giant pyro dragon with iridescent red scales and fire glowing in its chest, its four wings spread wide across the sky. The mural depicted three scenes of battle: one with both fighters posed in powerful attacks, one with the woman’s claymore sunk into the dragon’s back, and one in which the dragon towered over the woman as she kneeled.

The Traveller reached out to touch the third image of the woman. “Is that Murata?”

Nakaio nodded with a grin, her voice hushed with theatrics. “Papo’s story says that five hundred years ago, the Sovereign Dragon of Pyro appeared again after not being seen for a thousand years. Right away, Murata challenged him to a duel, and they fought on the lava fields south of Haven, where the battle raged for weeks. Dark smoke and flashes on the horizon, everyone was waiting to see who would come back as the winner! And then, after three months of fighting, the Pyro Dragon flew over Haven, dripping burning blood to the ground and leaving sparks in his wake. No one ever saw Murata or the Pyro Dragon again, but after that, something about Natlan’s fires changed.”

“Changed?” Paimon repeated. “Changed how?”

“Not really sure.” Nakaio shrugged. “Fire has always been this way, to me. The story just says something changed.”

The Traveller hummed quietly. “Like the elements do when their Sovereign dies… Nakaio, where did Natlan’s Guardian come from?”

“No one really knows,” the girl replied easily. “He appeared after the Archon disappeared and took her place. Qinlin and Dairet and Suvroa and Jiazhen came with him, and they’ve been there ever since! Qinlin is a little scary, but they all care about Natlan! The Guardian always smiles at me, he’s so nice and everyone likes him! That’s not all though, you have to see the other side!”

Nakaio grabbed the Traveller’s hand and pulled them around the wall to the other side. This side was painted with a mural depicting seven large dragons, each of a different element, each the size of a mountain, and all standing in the shallows of what appeared to be the glittering waters of the primordial sea. All around them, the waters rippled gently, forming a grand hall deep beneath the surface.

Paimon had started to speak—probably a comment on the beautiful detail in the mural—but the Traveller had gotten distracted by a group of four kids and two dragonets playing nearby. Two of the kids were holding either end of a long rope and swinging it in a circle, while the two dragonets jumped over it every time it reached their talons. As the Traveller watched, the last two kids ran in and started jumping too, and they all began singing, taking turns ducking in and out of the game.

“Seven dragon Sovereigns, rulers of the land.
Seven dragon Sovereigns, please take me by the hand.
Seven dragon Sovereigns, soar high in the sky.
Seven dragon Sovereigns, do dragons ever cry?

Dragon number one nurtures spirit in the land.
Dragon number two puts fire in your hand.
Dragon number three, use the winds as your shield.
Dragon number four, spark rebellion, never yield.
Dragon number five, it’s hope you plant as seeds.
Dragon number six, love, your frozen heart does bleed.

Dragon number seven once did stand as king.
Now in the castle’s empty caverns, no one ever sings.
The waters of life are lonely now, deep beneath the tides.
Seven dragon Sovereigns, we stand by your side.”

“Traveller?” Paimon’s voice pulled the Traveller’s attention back. Paimon hummed, following their gaze to the children. “Natlan’s people really do know the Seven Sovereigns, huh?”

The Traveller nodded, still watching the kids. They’d started singing the rhyme again when the rope caught on one of the dragonet’s talons and they had to start over. The dragonet—a small, emerald-scaled creature with bright amber eyes—swapped with one of the kids holding the rope, and the game began again.

Hearing the song again, the Traveller hummed in consideration.

“Oh, you’ve figured something out!” Paimon said in delight. “Come on, don’t keep Paimon in suspense! What is it?!”

The Traveller smiled slightly at their companion. “That song says that one of the Dragon Sovereigns gives you fire. Yesterday, Qinlin said that in Natlan, fire equates to safety, a reality that the Guardian created. And Jiazhen said that the Guardian is the one who defeated Murata.”

“Mmm, Paimon gets it.” The girl nodded along, thumb under her chin as she thought. “The Guardian must be the Pyro Dragon Sovereign… Nakaio said that the Pyro Dragon hasn’t been seen since that battle against Murata, but Natlan’s people seem like they really know the Guardian. Wouldn’t someone recognize him?”

“We don’t know what the Guardian looks like.” The Traveller shrugged. “We don’t even know if they’re human or dragon.”

“Could the Pyro Sovereign be hiding his identity? But… why?”

The Traveller shrugged again. “I don’t know. Nakaio—” They paused, noticing that the girl had disappeared. “Where’d she go?”

“What?” Paimon flew around in a circle, frowning as she saw no sign of the girl. “That’s weird. She was just here… Paimon’s getting a weird feeling about Natlan, Traveller.”

“Lucky for you, we’re pretty good at figuring out problems.” The Traveller grinned with a chuckle. “What’s another nation’s issue to add to the pile?”

Paimon laughed. “Well, when you put it like that, then there’s only one thing to do.”

When Neuvillette answered the Traveller’s summons and entered the communication array, he expected to see something of Natlan. He wasn’t quite prepared for a courtyard with a mural of the Sovereigns in the center. The Traveller was standing in front of it, eyes roaming over the many fine details.

“This is… very exquisitely done,” Neuvillette noted as he moved closer to study the mural for himself. “Is it truly there in reality?”

The Traveller nodded and asked, “Is it accurate?”

Neuvillette reached out, gently tracing his fingers over the Pyro Dragon’s horns. “To my knowledge and incomplete memory, yes. This appears to be the primordial sea… Some sort of ritual…?”

“Do you not remember the ritual to renew the elements?” the Traveller asked with a concerned frown. Neuvillette shook his head faintly, a distraught look growing on his face. “The Talon of Justice told me about it earlier. The Seven Sovereigns would gather every hundred years and sing to the primordial sea.”

Blurred memories flashed in Neuvillette’s mind. The rich waters swirling around his talons, glowing ripples creating a sparkling web beneath him. The presence of the other Sovereigns at his side as they once again returned to the waters that had borne them. A gentle, cresting song that made the sea dance because it loved the life it created.

It was the same song that the sea had been singing to him now, ever since he had regained his Authority. Neuvillette hadn’t understood it, but even without remembering why, that song had felt like warm honey and sweet lavender. The primordial sea loved what it created. No wonder those waters felt so lonely when they called to him now.

“About the job you and the Archons asked me about,” the Traveller said, “I found out what happened to Murata. But I wanted to talk to you first, before calling the Archons.”

Neuvillette tilted his head slightly, confused. “Yes?”

The Traveller gave him a small smile. “I think I know what happened to the Pyro Dragon. In the past five hundred years, anyway.”

Neuvillette’s breath caught in his throat. His heart leap in anticipation, hope fluttering wildly in his chest. The Traveller was merciful, not waiting before they went on.

“I think Natlan’s Guardian is the Sovereign. I’m not sure yet, but it makes sense if the stories I’ve heard are true. The Second Twin Ember told me that the Guardian is the one who defeated Murata, and it looks like there’s a common legend here that Murata challenged Arcaeos to a duel five hundred years ago. That was the last time anyone saw her, and Arcaeos disappeared again right after.”

“I see… Natlan was in chaos when I visited. It was directly after the destruction of the godless nation, and I had assumed that the Pyro Archon was not present due to such circumstances…”

The Traveller shook their head. “From what I was told when I asked around, the Guardian appeared some time after the duel and became Natlan’s leader. The Pyro Dragon hasn’t been seen since, and before the duel, he’d been absent for a thousand years. The other Sovereigns all disappeared by the end of the Archon War, but the Talon of Justice says none of them are dead.”

Neuvillette hummed in interest, mind racing with everything being shared. A duel between the Pyro Dragon and the Pyro Archon, a leader with unclear origins, the other Sovereigns… It was so little, but it felt like so much. This was everything Neuvillette had missed, things he’d failed to find, friends he didn’t think he would know again.

“It’s not a lot.” The Traveller shrugged sheepishly. “And I’m not certain about the Guardian, but—”

“Truthfully, Traveller,” Neuvillette cut in, shaking his head gently, “Even that is more than I hoped to learn. My mate is still here. My friends are still alive. Truly, thank you.”

The Traveller paused, gazing at him for a long moment before a true smile warmed their expression. “Of course. I will do my best to find out where the Pyro Dragon is now.”

“Mn…” Neuvillette pursed his lips in consideration, then went on. “When I went to Natlan centuries ago, I met a pyro dragon given a human form, Xbalanque. He helped me search.”

The Traveller nodded with a hum. “I met him. He’s… interesting. I’ll see if he’s willing to help me. I’m going to call the Archons now, to fill them in on Murata.”

Neuvillette nodded and turned back to observing the mural. It truly was beautifully crafted. The fiery glow of the Pyro Dragon’s scales, the sparks crackling along the spikes running down the Electro Dragon’s spine, the branches and vines planted on the Dendro Dragon’s serpentine form. The mural even managed to capture the glittering iridescence of the Anemo Dragon’s wings and the faint wisps of the spirits that liked to cling to the Geo Dragon. And standing in the center was the creature he once was, the Hydro Dragon.

That life seemed so very far away now. He had a different life now, and different responsibilities. Sometimes, he wasn’t quite sure where his duties lied.

One by one, the Archons entered the communication array. As before, the Cryo Archon was absent, but she hadn’t been called this time, and this wasn’t the Archons’ usual array. This was the Traveller’s.

“Interesting,” Barbatos hummed, looking around the courtyard and the buildings surrounding it. “I haven’t been to Natlan in eons. Maybe I should visit, Murata isn’t cruel to me like a certain someone else is.”

“I would not be ‘cruel’ if you were not purposely infuriating,” Morax countered, not even looking at the Anemo Archon. Instead, he was studying the mural. “This is wonderful talent, and it chooses realism over a more stylistic approach. The artist must be very proud of such a piece.”

Barbatos rolled his eyes and muttered to Buer. “I wouldn’t be infuriating if he wasn’t so boring.”

Buer held back a giggle, but she failed to suppress a small smile. Instead of addressing it, she turned to the Traveller.

“Do you have news?” she asked curiously.

The Traveller nodded and led them around to the other side of the wall. Seeing the mural there, Neuvillette’s eyes widened. It was just as exquisitely done as the outer side, but the battle it depicted certainly told a story. A powerful duel that could topple mountains, ending with an Archon kneeling before a Sovereign.

“Murata challenged the Sovereign Dragon of Fire to a duel,” the Traveller said. “It was either during the Cataclysm or not long after, and neither of them have been seen since.”

“A Natlanean duel…?” Morax hummed, interested. “Intriguing…”

Barbatos barked a laugh. “Murata’s duels always had some sort of agreed terms should either party win or lose. Almost like you and your contracts, Morax.”

“Murata is likely deceased then,” Ei said, hand under her chin as she eyed the final image of the mural. “She disappeared during the duel?”

The Traveller nodded. “It happened to the south of here. The duel lasted three months, and then the Pyro Dragon was seen flying over the city injured. From what I’ve learnt, no one has seen him since.”

“Perhaps Murata died of injury, then,” Buer hummed thoughtfully.

Morax shook his head. “Murata preferred her contracts in duels, so that winning would guarantee the victor earned something from the defeated, be that a material object or a favour. Duels to the death were not her preference, and she most enjoyed dueling those who could give her something she desired when she won.”

“She chose to challenge the Dragon of Fire,” Neuvillette said with the slightest sneer. “There is much she could have gained, and much she could have lost.”

“That’s a duel I’d’ve paid to see,” Barbatos chirped, far too cheerful for Neuvillette’s taste. “Three months. It must have been quite the show.”

“Is there still a Pyro Archon?” Ei frowned. “Surely we would have noticed…?”

“We didn’t fully notice the destruction of the Hydro Throne until the Dragon of Water chose to inform us,” Buer argued. “In the wake of an event like the Cataclysm, the destruction of one of the thrones likely would have gone unnoticed. It’s entirely possible that there is no longer a Pyro Archon. I believe that rests on the nature of this Guardian of Natlan’s.”

“Sounds to me like the Dragon of Fire has taken back his power,” Barbatos hummed, folding his hands behind his head. “If Murata lost the duel, why wouldn’t he use the opportunity? Though he is missing… Eh, what do I know?”

Neuvillette hummed dubiously, side-eyeing the Anemo Archon. “Traveller, you said the duel occurred to the south, and then the Pyro Dragon was seen flying over Haven?”

“You think you know where he went?” the Traveller asked, tiling their head curiously.

“Indeed.” Neuvillette cast a wary glance over the Archons before turning back to the Traveller and murmuring, “The den we made in Natlan rests within Sovereign’s Breath, north of here. The only way in is to fly into the mouth of the volcano. Perhaps that is where Arcaeos returned.”

The Traveller nodded, pursing their lips. “Then, with your permission, that’s where I’ll look.”

Suvroa entered the room quietly, aware that its occupant was likely busy. The window shutters were open, letting in a gentle breeze and a view of Sovereign’s Breath.

“Father,” she called softly. Bright, fiery eyes rose to meet hers, warm with affection, and she smiled. “How was the desert?”

“Sandy, as always.” He set down the papers he was looking over and turned fully to her. “Apep sends her regards. One day, she may visit so as to finally meet you and Jiazhen.”

“You weren’t gone for long.”

“No. I met with her not that long ago. She is no longer ill, after millennia.”

“That’s wonderful news.”

“Indeed.”

Suvroa cast a quick glance at the papers on the desk—plans for rebuilding the main road—and noticed a necklace sitting delicately in the corner. Her Father followed her gaze, a strange sort of smile crossing his expression.

“I visited my den in Fontaine before returning home,” he explained, gently picking the necklace up and holding it out for her. It was a beautiful, light blue pearl carved into a spiral shell and held securely in a cage of silver wire, then attached to a delicate silver chain. “It seems that the Hydro Dragon was reborn a few centuries ago. He’s… he remembers enough.”

Suvroa inhaled sharply, then breathed a slow sigh. “But you haven’t done anything.”

“...No.”

“Why not? Father, you have told Jiazhen and I countless stories of the Sovereigns. We know you love him, and if he remembers enough to presumably leave such treasures, then why haven’t you done anything?”

“...I don’t know, Suvroa. Perhaps I am scared. Scared of the path forwards, scared of the path I’ve chosen to walk, scared of everything that could change. It’s been centuries.”

Suvroa frowned now, walking around the desk to stand before her Father. “You are still bound to him, though. How can anything bad come from being reunited? He must understand and expect that you both would have changed, after so long.”

The faintest of smiles crossed his expression, and it disappeared just as quickly. “We are likely about to face the Tsaritsa’s gnosis-collecting efforts. I refuse to allow harm to my Nation, Suvroa. I do not yet know what to do. I cannot be so distracted.”

“Jiazhen said the Traveller is searching for you on behalf of a friend, Father. Who do you think that friend is?” Suvroa didn’t miss the hope that flashed quickly across red eyes. Again, it disappeared quickly, and Suvroa scowled. “You’re purposely dragging yourself down.”

“I don’t know what to do…” He ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. “Let the Traveller investigate. Don’t be harsh if they dig around. Hopefully, it will take them a few days to figure it out. They are smart though… I don’t know what to do. This, and the two harbingers, and the other Sovereigns…”

“We’ll figure it out, Father. You have Jiazhen and I, and Qinlin and Dairet.”

A slow sigh passed his lips. “I know, darling daughter. I know.”

Chapter Text

Much of Natlan’s scenery seemed to be towering forests, mixed with wide expanses of mossy and active lava fields. Sovereign’s Breath was the largest volcano, but it certainly wasn’t the only one. Many smaller volcanoes were spread across the nation, some dormant, others not so much.

The Traveller made their way northwest from Haven, heading for a lakeside village standing on piers known as Lake Elfr. They could easily have taken the boat line that travelled River Elfr as one of the best supply lines in Natlan, but they’d spent the past two days getting to know Haven and Natlan culture; now, they wanted to explore.

The two commissions they’d taken were simple enough. A request to deliver some supplies to a dye shop in Lake Elfr, and a bounty on a large bear that had been getting brave and approaching the village more often. Nothing they hadn’t done before, though Paimon was worried exactly how large the bear was.

Paimon was humming a Natlanean folk song—called something like “The Spark Meets the Sea”—to herself as she followed along behind the Traveller. They climbed over a fallen tree, stopping to pick a few handfuls of redberries from a wild bush on the other side before continuing on. They passed some of the berries to Paimon, who cheered gleefully, only to yelp loudly when the Traveller suddenly pushed her back.

An arrow flew between them, a streak of teal anemo energy trailing behind it. Wide eyed, the Traveller watched as the arrow curved between the trees, circling back to shoot at them again. They took off running, trusting Paimon to disappear into the pocket dimension she occupied when they fought. The arrow followed them, always coming back when they dodged and surviving any elemental attacks they threw at it.

The Traveller vaulted over another fallen tree, trying to think of how to counter the arrow when they noticed a clearing to their right. There appeared to be a few figures dressed in white standing there, arguing voices becoming audible as the Traveller changed their course and headed towards them.

“Nikoti, what the hell?! That was nowhere near its weak point!”

“I can see that, Kalixi. It’s tracking something though. It must be a calibration error—”

“Think of what went wrong after we defeat the ruin guard!”

Bursting into the clearing, the Traveller was quick to take everything in. Two men dressed in the Hedj’s white robes, turning to face an advancing ruin guard, anemo energy collecting around one of them. The Traveller wasted no time in running towards the ruin guard, summoning their sword and using anemo to boost a high leap over the machine.

They spun in the air and landed a short distance behind the ruin guard. As they guessed, the tracking arrow after them had decided to change targets, and it was now embedded in the automation’s weak point. The machine faltered heavily, easily giving enough time for the Traveller to subdue it, tying it up in dendro vines as the men distracted it.

“Hold on, don’t destroy it!” one of the Hedj yelped. “We still need it for testing!”

The Traveller paused, sword raised, and turned to the man with their arms crossed. Paimon burst into existence beside them, huffing in irritation.

“Mind explaining…?” the Traveller asked bluntly.

The first man, the one with the vision, rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, Kalixi, and he’s Nikoti. It’s an experiment. Uh, you seem to have found our homing arrow… It’s supposed to target automation weak spots, but it… uh… didn’t.”

“Not at first, anyway,” Nikoti said, thumb to his chin in thought. “When they leapt over the guard, the arrow changed targets… Perhaps it got confused at first…”

“In what way do I resemble a machine weak point?” the Traveller huffed.

Both men shrugged weakly, offering genuine apologies but clearly still thinking about their experiment. The Traveller rolled their eyes, also noticing that Paimon had managed to save her handful of berries from earlier and was now snacking on them.

They watched as Kalixi moved forwards to pull the arrow from the ruin guard’s head. Now that they could see it, the arrow shaft was made of a dark metal, with an elongated bulb near the back end slightly wider than the rest of the shaft. The thin metal fletching surrounded this bulb, and the stone arrowhead looked wickedly sharp.

“It’s undamaged,” Kalixi said. “Though we should probably try a practice arrowhead for the tests. No need for another malfunction to end in death or serious injury.”

Nikoti smiled sheepishly. “Uh, good idea. But as for what went wrong, I think I got it—”

The Traveller rolled their eyes and walked away.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Traveller?”

“‘Large bear.’” The Traveller stretched their arms above their head, Haven’s wide streets letting them easily move through the people. “That wasn’t just a large bear, that was a large, hungry, vicious bear.”

“Uh, yeah, it was.” Paimon nodded, floating along behind the Traveller. “But on the bright side, we got paid a lot of mora!”

The Traveller hummed. “There is that.” They looked up, noting the dark clouds filling the sky. “It looks like a storm is rolling in. A big one—”

They’re interrupted by a cheerful shout of, “Cap! Hey, Cap, I’m back!”

Further ahead in the middle of the street, they see a ginger head stopping next to a tall, imposing figure, face hidden by a black helmet. The man is further dressed in dark grey Natlanean robes, a deep red spark cloak over his shoulders. The Traveller freezes in place, eyes wide. Paimon ducks behind them, hands pressed to her mouth to cover her yelp.

“Mn?” Il Capitano turns slowly, head tilting as he looks at the ginger. “Ah, Tartaglia. I trust your commission was done properly?”

“Of course! I— Traveller?!”

“Oh fuck.” The Traveller, having tried to subtlety back away, briefly debated making a run for it, but Childe was already walking over, followed by Capitano. In the end, they just sighed heavily and crossed their arms. “Why do you keep following me?”

“I arrived in Natlan first,” Childe huffed, crossing his own arms in return. “I arrived first in Fontaine too, and Liyue. If anything, you’re following me.”

“Hmph. Well, aren’t you supposed to be recovering in Snezhnaya?” Paimon asked accusingly.

A scowl crossed Childe’s expression. “As if I would want to be recovering anywhere near the other harbingers. No thank you. I’m on recovery leave.”

“There’s another harbinger right next to you,” the Traveller deadpanned, raising a brow.

“I am not here as a harbinger,” Capitano intoned stoically. “I am here as a Natlanean, a native in my home nation, as well as an athlete preparing for the Dracarys Games. The only part of my harbinger status I am wielding now is as Tartaglia’s superior to keep him within the acceptable limits while in Natlan. Which— Report, Tartaglia.”

Childe snapped to attention, hands clasped behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his heels, a proud grin on his face. “I delivered the supplies to the Sanctuary as instructed. Ran into a jaguar on the way back and scared it off with no injury to it. Oh, and I ran into Zientu at the Sanctuary. He was visiting a shrine.”

“You ran into who?”

“Zientu. The Traveller’s second companion. I asked him who he was visiting; he said it was his son.”

“...I see.”

“Zientu has kids?” Paimon asked in surprise.

“Apparently.” Childe shrugged before turning back to Capitano and adding, “He also asked me about Columbina. Apparently, she’s been making trips here for negotiation. Some of Sandrone’s replica-ruin machines are with her.”

“Excuse me?” The Traveller couldn’t see Capitano’s face, but they could feel the sharpness in his voice. “Pierro promised no other harbinger would encroach on Natlan. I am the sole harbinger overseeing Natlan-related affairs.”

Childe shrugged sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh… Not anymore, it seems?”

Capitano’s disdain and anger were clear in his tone. “I will be speaking to Pierro about this.”

“Well…” Childe fidgeted a bit, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Not to criticize, Cap, but is there anything you’re doing to obtain the Pyro Gnosis?”

For his trouble, Childe was leveled with a stony glare. At least, the Traveller could assume that that was the expression Capitano was making. Childe ducked his head.

“...Any attempts to locate the gnosis have proven fruitless,” Capitano said slowly. “Do not think I have not searched, Tartaglia.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Cap!” Childe chirped, bouncing right back from his previous hesitance now that he was sure he wasn’t going to get scolded. He tilted his head. “Look, I know about the Guardian being the Dragon Sovereign… Is the gnosis not with him?”

“Are you really talking about Fatui business in front of me?” the Traveller asked with crossed arms.

Childe blinked at them. “It’s not like you aren’t familiar with it by now.”

The Traveller merely sighed heavily in response, wiping a hand down their face.

Capitano tilted his head, nodding once. “Tartaglia makes a fair point. Regardless, I cannot stay and talk. I am just on my way to take care of a blood vine, preferably before this coming storm arrives. You are both welcome to join me.”

“Take care of a what?” The Traveller’s brows furrowed in confusion.

The harbinger seemed amused, bluntly offering, “A tree with a thirst for blood.”

Childe blinked. “…A what now?”

Capitano was definitely amused now, and it carried in his tone. “Kind of like a Snezhnayan cryo bear, if the bear were stuck in place, and had many limbs and a very long reach. Blood vines are rare. Good experience. You will both come along.”

And apparently that was that, as Capitano turned and strode off, leaving no room for argument. The Traveller looked over at Childe, who shrugged.

“Well, it does sound like fun.”

The Traveller raised an unimpressed brow. “Haven’t we established that your sense of what’s fun is invalid?”

Childe shrugged again and started after Capitano, calling over his shoulder, “Your loss!”

The Traveller blinked. They glanced at Paimon, who shrugged, then sighed heavily and started after the two harbingers.

“It probably would be a good opportunity,” Paimon hummed in consideration, following along. “But what if it’s a trap? Paimon knows you’re a good fighter, Traveller, but two harbingers together?”

“Neuvillette said Capitano is known for being a fair fighter. Two against one goes against that.” Paimon made a noise of tentative agreement, and the Traveller went on with a huff. “I can’t believe we’re following a harbinger. If it keeps us on his good side and off his ‘duel on sight’ list, I suppose.”

Paimon nodded hurriedly at that. The Traveller fell into step alongside Childe, a couple strides behind Capitano. Childe grinned knowingly at them, keeping any comments to himself upon seeing the Traveller’s glare. Capitano led them out of the north gate of the city and into the surrounding rainforest, stepping off the road and starting a path of his own. He didn’t say anything as they started north, nor did he seem to care if they kept up.

“Did you know Zientu has kids?” Childe asked eventually, apparently tired of the silence.

The Traveller rolled their eyes but responded. “He never really spoke of his family. If he has a son that’s passed, then I guess I can see why.”

“He made it sound like he has some other kids,” Childe hummed, pensive. “Said he and his remaining children will always miss—”

Childe cut off with a yelp as he was smacked in the face by a thin branch Capitano had pushed from his way. Paimon snickered quietly to herself, making the harbinger send her an indignant glare. That glare turned into a snicker of his own when Paimon was hit by another branch, ensuring the two of them would have matching red marks across their foreheads. Silently, the Traveller slowed their pace a bit to let Capitano get further ahead, hopefully far enough to be out of branch-smacking range. Paimon did the same, but Childe didn’t, seemingly content with following along behind Capitano like a duckling.

“Wow, Childe.” Paimon smirked. “Paimon’s never seen you so starry eyed.”

Childe didn’t even look ashamed as he looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Hey, Cap’s one of the best warriors I’ve ever known. And he spars against me without holding back. Only like, three times a year, but that just makes it better! He gives me tips too.” The Traveller shared a dry, droll look with their companion, unnoticed by the ginger as he went on. “Actually, out of the harbingers, he’s probably the most trustworthy to be around when injured. If he wanted me dead, I at least trust him to stab me in the front rather than the back, if not wait until I’m fully recovered to challenge me to a proper duel.”

“Mhmm?” the Traveller hummed, raising a brow. “What about the Sanctuary? I haven’t been there yet.”

“It’s a pyramid.” Childe went with the change in topic easily, making a triangle with his hands. “Kind of like the ones in the desert, but the sides are more giant steps than flat faces, and it’s like the top point has been cut off, leaving a flat platform. There’s a shelter up there for offerings—there are steps up to the top—and the entire thing is made of the same stone as the rest of Haven.”

“That stone is a defense structure in of itself,” Capitano finally spoke. He didn’t look back at them, but his low voice carried easily. “It is very hard to damage, tougher than iron and steel, and resistant to a majority of explosions. It is why Hunt battles are allowed within the city without fear of destruction, barring the residential district.”

The Traveller hummed thoughtfully. “Qinlin mentioned there are a few strict rules to the Hunt, but she never said what they are.”

“Mm, that would be because no visitors are ever interested in participating.”

Childe raised his hand. “I’m interested.”

“As expected, Tartaglia.” Capitano nodded in acknowledgement, climbing around a pile of boulders. “It doesn’t particularly matter which tribe you choose to side with. You could also move between them, something like a mercenary of sorts. The rules, however, are absolute. A mistake could mean being banned from ever participating in the Hunt again.”

“Sounds like some serious stuff,” Paimon hummed. “Are the rules meant for safety? Well, as safe as you can get in war as a game, anyway.”

“Indeed.” Capitano stopped and turned to face them. “The biggest rule is do not aim to kill. Bow-users must use paralyzing arrows—arrows with blunt wooden tips—and everyone must be careful. Criminal neglect in the Hunt is thankfully very rare.

“Besides that, other rules stipulate that the grounds of the Sanctuary, the resource storage of Haven, and the area around all residences across the nation are neutral ground where fighting is forbidden; while brawls and minor fights are allowed within cities and villages, large-scale battles are not; do not attack non-participants, such as travellers and those belonging to no tribe; and always be aware of children nearby.”

Childe nodded along, listening intently. The Traveller kind of thought he looked a little too eager, weight shifting from foot to foot as he bounced. Capitano seemed to think so too, judging by the stare being levelled at the ginger. Childe didn’t flinch as he was studied, and the silence stretched for a long moment. Not-so-distantly, a roll of thunder echoed in the sky.

“…Where is your Vision, Tartaglia?” the older harbinger asked eventually.

“The Traveller has it.”

Childe shot them a grin, and they were suddenly very thankful that Zientu had talked them out of giving the Vision to Arlecchino. Do not trust the relationships between the harbingers, he’d said. The Knave wanted to save Fontaine, so she worked alongside us. She is not on our side. Not indefinitely.

Capitano seemed confused. “…Why?”

“It was being finicky for me in Fontaine. I didn’t want it faltering in the middle of a fight when I was relying on it, so I gave it to them for safekeeping.”

The older harbinger seemed to blink slowly behind his visor. “…Visions do not get finicky, Tartaglia. Whatever was happening with your Vision, I hope you are not taking it lightly.”

“Not at all, Cap.” The Traveller idly wondered if Childe had noticed he’d fallen into a perfect parade rest, gloved hands clasped at the small of his back “Actually, I think it should be good now. No more surprises. I’m not feeling off like I was, not since that little abyss trip I was thrown into anyway, so—”

Childe shrugged. The Traveller dug the Vision out from their interdimensional bag, handing it over when the harbinger held a hand out. It glowed a brilliant blue and Childe inhaled sharply, clutching it to his chest as though in pain. He stumbled for a moment before his knees buckled, sending him heavily to the dirt. The Traveller quickly kneeled next to him, just reaching out a concerned hand when the harbinger’s tension eased and he started laughing.

“Uh oh,” Paimon hummed. “Paimon thinks he’s finally lost it.”

“Not quite.” Childe’s eyes opened, gleeful as he looked down at his Vision. “Something’s different. It feels better. Stronger, somehow. And I’m not in pain anymore.”

“You were in pain before?” the Traveller asked, raising a brow and shoving aside any thought of the Hydro Sovereign’s Authority.

“Lot of internal damage. Result of using my Foul Legacy for so long.” Childe waved a hand dismissively. His grin was wide as he clipped the Vision to his belt. “My Vision’s never healed me like this though. It felt like burning for a second, but now I feel better than I have in ages. Cap, Cap, will you spar against me now?”

“Perhaps, Tartaglia,” Capitano intoned, ignoring Childe’s resulting cheer and continuing. “The blood vine is just up ahead. Both of you will work together to destroy it. I will watch and step in if needed.”

The Traveller huffed in annoyance. “Really? Isn’t it dangerous?”

Capitano looked at them. “Of course, but I have heard you are a strong fighter, and I know Tartaglia’s skill. This should be only moderately challenging. Just don’t bleed, or you will excite it.”

“Uh, up ahead is an active lava field,” Paimon said hesitantly, peering through the trees. “How is there a tree out there? There aren’t any nutrients for it…”

“Indeed, there is not. Why do you think it has developed a taste for blood?”

Paimon paled a little. Another roll of thunder boomed lowly. The Traveller just sighed heavily, briefly wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.

In contrast, Childe merely shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “Whatever it takes to survive, right? How do we kill it?”

“Stab it in the heart. Enclosed in the trunk and usually located near the base of the tree.”

The Traveller sighed again. “The tree has a heart. Of course it does. Is it too late to back out?”

“Yes. Go. Watch out for the branches. And potentially lightning, the storm is getting closer.”

Childe didn’t need to be told twice. He took off in a sprint, summoning his bow as he went. Paimon gave the Traveller a wish of good luck before disappearing, leaving them to start after Childe.

Not far ahead, the trees gave away to a wide expanse of black lava rock and glowing red lava streams. Across the lava field stood Sovereign's Breath, belching a thin, steady stream of smoke into the air. Halfway across was the tree, tall, twisting, and surrounded by bones. It had no leaves, easily revealing its ash-grey bark and its many finger-like, whip-thin branches. Those branches moved quickly, reaching for Childe as he dodged and weaved around the tree.

“Oh, what the hell,” the Traveller mumbled.

Nonetheless, they continued forwards, leaving Capitano at the edge of the lava field. The blood vine seemed to sense their approach, as it sent some of its branches whipping towards them. They ran forwards, ducking under the first of the branches and swinging at more with their sword. The blade did little more than chip the branches, hardened wood against steel.

Childe was still using his bow, firing at a few red sacs hanging exposed high on the trunk. One of them burst open, spraying blood onto the ground beneath, as well as onto Childe himself. The tree seemed to falter, pulling some of its branches from lashing out to instead soaking up the large puddle.

“This is one of the weirdest things I’ve ever fought,” Childe laughed, dodging more branches and splitting another blood sac open.

The Traveller said nothing in reply. They leapt over the next several attacks and infused their sword with a rush of hydro energy. When it made contact with the next branch, it managed to cut deeper, and the entire tree seemed to shudder. The branch retreated, trailing limply across the ground.

“Unbelievable,” the Traveller huffed. “A tree is weak to water.”

“Good news for us,” Childe called in response, dismissing his bow and summoning twin hydro daggers. “You think this thing has ever even seen water before?”

“It doesn’t have eyes, Childe,” the Traveller yelled back as they both started attacking the branches in earnest.

From there, it got easier. More and more branches retreated when slashed, curling up near the trunk of the tree. They recovered after a few moments though, and the more they attacked, the quicker the branches began to recover.

“We need to kill this thing,” the Traveller snarled, slashing an arc of hydro in front of them.

“Couldn’t agree more, Traveller.” Childe grunted as he blocked one of the branches with a conjured hydro shield. “You cut it down, I’ll handle the branches.”

The Traveller nodded and dove towards the trunk. They pushed more hydro into their blade and used all their strength in a harsh slash against the base of the blood vine. The entire tree shuddered violently. In their peripheral vision, the Traveller saw Childe deflecting the branches heading for them, trading his twin daggers for a double-ended spear.

Panting, the Traveller kept working at the tree, cutting away the trunk until the weight of the tree became too much and it came crashing down. As soon as it did, the attacking branches fell lifelessly to the ground, blood bubbling from the many slashes exposing red insides. In the center of the stump, a little lower than the Traveller had cut, was nestled a pulsing red… thing. More blood sluggishly seeped from the exposed top of the stump, trickling down the sides and running rivulets down the bark.

“Creepy,” Childe hummed, observing what must be the blood vine’s heart. “I think I’m glad we don’t have these in Snezhnaya. Cap was right though, it’s a good experience.”

“I don’t ever want to see another one of these things,” the Traveller mumbled in response, raising their sword and plunging it into the heart.

Just as they did, there was a booming clap of thunder and rain came pouring down. The droplets were heavy, pelting down in hard sheets with no further warning.

Paimon burst into existence in a shower of stars, grimacing as she looked at the stump. “Ew. Paimon’s glad she wasn’t around to see how that fight went.”

“At least the rain will wash us off,” Childe hummed happily, giving himself a once-over as said rain began clearing the blood covering him. “No clean up needed. Nice. Cap, how’d we do?”

The Traveller turned to see that Capitano had made his way over. He examined the stump of the tree where the heart had stopped pulsing and the fallen tree had lost all signs of life.

“Very good, considering neither of you know anything about blood vines. No injury and a decent time. Yes, very good. A question, then: if the tree had been immune to hydro, how would you have proceeded?”

The Traveller hummed, tilting their head and deciding to humour the harbinger. “Try other elemental energies to see the result?”

“Pummel it until it dies?” Childe added. “Bursting those blood sacs had a pretty good effect.”

Capitano nodded. “Both answers are good. Though Tartaglia’s way would take a lot of energy, it is also the only option for every single-person team besides the Traveller. That is why, if you are not confident in your physical prowess, you bring a team. Blood vines are not all weak to hydro. This one was because it was not used to water. It likely would have been immune to pyro because it grew on a lava field. Understand?”

“You can’t perfectly prepare to deal with a blood vine because different ones have different weaknesses,” the Traveller hummed. “You can only guess what elements to use, and bring a big blade.”

“Correct. I have decided.” Capitano nodded to himself, looking from the Traveller to Childe and back again. “I will train both of you personally. Both of you are new to Natlan, there is much to learn and much to challenge yourself with. Your final test will be a two-against-one spar against me in the stadium of the Dracarys Games in three month’s time.”

Predictably, Childe brightened eagerly, eyes bright with excitement. “Really? You’re not joking, are you, Cap?”

“I am not, Tartaglia. My condition for you is that you sever your connection to the abyss, or at least lessen it. That parasite will kill you eventually, and I rather like you alive.”

Childe’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth only for nothing to come out. He seemed torn now, pursing his lips with a huff.

“I have to think about it,” he finally grumbled. “Foul Legacy has saved me enough times that I need to weigh the pros and cons.”

“I understand. Traveller?”

The Traveller squinted suspiciously. “Why would you offer to train your enemy? What’s my condition? I join the Fatui?”

“Again, I am not here as a harbinger,” Capitano responded drolly. “In addition, I prefer my fights to be challenging. So, if we ever engage in true combat, I will at least know I will get a real thrill.”

A huff passed the Traveller’s lips, and they crossed their arms. If Capitano was being truthful and held no ulterior motive, then it would be a very good opportunity. It came with a high risk, but it had a high reward.

“...Fine. Paimon, you’ll have to avenge me if I end up murdered.”

Paimon’s eyes widened, looking between the Traveller and Capitano. “Uh, Paimon can try, but she doesn’t like her chances at all.”

“There is no use in dedicating some of my time to training you if I plan to murder you later,” Capitano said plainly. “Come find me when you are ready to begin. In the meantime, I believe we should be returning to Haven to escape this downpour.”

As if emphasizing his point, a bolt of blinding lightning chose that moment to strike across the sky, followed closely by a crack of thunder.

“Actually,” the Traveller hummed evasively, “I haven’t been out this way yet. I’m going to explore a bit.”

“In the storm?” Childe asked, tilting his head in concern.

Capitano merely looked at them. “Very well, if you trust your skill. Be warned, there are no teleport points around here. You will have to walk back to Haven.”

The Traveller nodded. “Understood.”

Capitano nodded once in return and then he was walking away. Childe threw a quick “be careful” at the Traveller and then followed after the older harbinger without a backwards glance, already chattering away. The Traveller watched them disappear into the rainforest before they turned towards Sovereign’s Breath.

“Are we going to look for the Pyro Dragon’s den?” Paimon asked as they started off. “Didn’t Neuvillette say we could ask Xbalanque for help?”

The Traveller hummed, grimacing slightly. “I don’t mean to ignore Neuvillette’s advice, but there’s something about Xbalanque that I don’t trust.”

“Mn, Paimon can agree with that. And he’s rude. Is there something else on your mind, Traveller?”

“Only all the weird little things we’ve noticed since being here.” The Traveller pushed their wet hair from their face. “Remember I mentioned the possibility of Zientu being the Archon the other day?”

Paimon nodded, then frowned. “You really think Zientu’s been lying about who he is?”

“Not maliciously, at least, but there are some things that don’t fully make sense.”

Up close, Sovereign’s Breath towered over them. It was massive, standing high above everything in sight. The Traveller looked up at it and hummed in consideration. Trying to find a way to avoid climbing all the way to the top, they tried looking with elemental sight, tilting their head curiously when a faint trail of hydro appeared, coming from their bag. When they reached inside, they found that it was coming from a small glass vial.

“Is that Neuvillette’s vial?” Paimon asked, floating closer. “What do you see, Traveller?”

“There’s… something attracting it.”

The Traveller held up the vial, looking at the trail it emitted like a compass pointing them east. They shared a look with their companion, shrugged, and started off in the indicated direction. Not far away, nestled at the base of the volcano and hidden behind a sharp rock outcropping, was a small, cramped tunnel blocked by a pyro barrier.

It was solid beneath their hand when they pushed against it. The Traveller hummed, then held the vial of Hydro Authority closer. The entire barrier rippled and thinned, falling away beneath the Traveller’s hand. They smiled triumphantly and stepped through, Paimon following them with a cheer. When they took the vial away, the barrier condensed again.

“This must be the place,” Paimon said, peering down the twisting tunnel before them. “It’s hot in here.”

“This is an active volcano, Paimon.”

“What if it erupts while we’re in here?”

“This lava tunnel seems old. I don’t sense any pyro energy here, so I don’t think we’ll be in trouble. If I’m wrong, we run.”

Paimon laughed weakly as they started walking. “Uh, how about you tell Paimon about what you noticed with Zientu?”

The Traveller shrugged. “When we were walking to Haven, Zientu said the Pyro Dragon disappeared. He didn’t mention the legend about the duel against Murata.”

“That story is common too.” Paimon nodded. “Everyone in Natlan seems to have at least heard of it. Zientu didn’t mention his family, that’s part of your suspicions too, isn’t it?

“Mhmm.” The tunnel sloped upwards, snaking its way through the volcano. “Just that isn’t incriminating, but Xbalanque used family to get rid of him quickly. We haven’t seen Zientu since, but it’s more Xbalanque’s actions that are weird. He seems to hate people, so why would he interfere when Zientu was perfectly happy to accompany us?”

“Huh. Paimon isn’t sure. He did seem to have some respect for Zientu too, and the Talon of Power said there was some mutual agreement between Xbalanque and the Guardian.”

The Traveller nodded in agreement. “And the most interesting thing: remember how Zientu told us in Sumeru about his love?”

“The one with the Hydro Vision who died a long time ago? Paimon remembers that. Paimon still feels sad for Zientu. Losing someone you love isn’t easy.”

“Isn’t not. But did Zientu ever say they used a Vision? Or how long ago they died?”

Paimon paused, her eyes widening. “Oh, Paimon gets it! If Zientu’s lost love was the Hydro Dragon, then that means he’s really Arcaeos!”

Paimon’s raised voice echoed down the tunnel. The pair rounded a turn and came to a fork where the path split left and right. The Traveller looked down both paths but with the twisting path, they couldn’t see where they led. In the end, they turned down the left tunnel and continued onwards.

“Do we confront him?” Paimon asked. She frowned suddenly. “But if Zientu is the Pyro Dragon… We were just in Fontaine. Neuvillette has no idea where the Pyro Dragon is. Why didn’t he say anything?”

The Traveller shook their head. “I don’t know. It could be any number of reasons— Oh, wow.”

The tunnel opened into a large, spacious cavern. A thin lava stream fell from the right wall into a simmering pool below, casting a gentle red glow and warming the air. Along the left side was a collection of items, large and small. A giant hydro-constructed statue of two intertwined dragons was the most notable, sitting alone in a space cleared for it. Nearby was a human-sized bookshelf and a writing desk, surface covered in what appeared to be letters.

The feeling in the air made the Traveller step back. It was thick with silence and heavy with a lingering grief. It didn’t feel like anyone had been to the den in years, but the air hadn’t changed.

“We should go,” the Traveller said softly. “This isn’t our place.” They pointed to a large tunnel opening across the den. “That must lead to the main lava chamber and the mouth of the volcano. Let’s go back and see what’s down the other tunnel.”

Paimon nodded, casting one last hesitant look around the den. “Yeah. Paimon doesn’t like the air here. Poor Pyro Dragon…”

The pair retreat from the den, going back to the fork in the tunnel. The right path led deeper down into Sovereign’s Breath. The air grew hotter, causing a thin sheen of sweat to form on the Traveller’s skin. They kept pushing forwards regardless. The tunnel was long, but it soon opened into another huge cavern within the volcano.

There appeared to be no ceiling, and from somewhere high above poured a wide, steady stream of lava that filled a moat circling the edges of the cave. There was only one thing here: the massive body of a pyro dragon—the Pyro Dragon, it must be—floating suspended and unmoving in the center of the room.

The dragon’s scales appeared iridescent and red, sharp horns on his head and a row of spikes down his back. He had four wings, one pair connected at his shoulders and a smaller, minor pair rooted further down his spine. They were spread slightly, letting the Traveller see the line of lighter-red, malformed scales that cut through both wings on the right side, as well as the minor wing and part of the major wing’s webbing on the left side. Other scars littered the dragon’s body, long-since healed but leaving behind twisted lines of pale scales.

Pyro energy filled the cavern. The dragon’s eyes were closed as though merely sleeping, yet the absence of breath said otherwise. There was no sign of life in the Pyro Dragon.

“Well,” the Traveller mumbled, “I was not expecting this.”

Thunder boomed over the Fireside Estate. Rain fell heavily on the roof and lightning flashed. The clouds almost seemed to glow green. Jiazhen knew almost everyone in Haven would be hidden away in their homes, in a storm as bad as this. Almost everyone, because he knew one person who would not be.

He found his father on the lounge balcony, sitting cross-legged under the wrath of the storm, his eyes closed and his head tilted upwards. He was absolutely soaked, water dripping from his hair and his clothes.

“Father,” Jiazhen called from just inside the balcony doors, “You will catch a cold if you stay out anymore. Pyro energy can only do so much.”

“I know, Jiazhen,” his father hummed in response. “Just a little longer.”

“Mn.”

Jiazhen looked up at the pouring rain, sighing quietly to himself and removing his cloak from his shoulders, draping it over a nearby armchair. He took one last glance at the flickering fire pit in the center of the lounge before he stepped outside and moved to sit next to the Guardian, leaning into his side. He smiled as his father said nothing of it, a faint smile crossing the other’s lips as well. The hissing steam rising from the Guardian’s skin didn’t bother him. He was used to it, the way the rain clashed with his father’s energy when he so chose.

“Does the rain bring you any stories today?” Jiazhen asked.

Instead of replying, his father wrapped an arm around his shoulders, extending his power and letting Jiazhen feel for himself the emotion the water carried. The droplets against his skin turned to steam, the pyro energy transforming the hydro into something his father—and by extension, Jiazhen himself—could understand.

He felt… joy. Sadness. Peace. A contentment that surrounded him. A soft hum of oh, it’s storming heavily now, good thing I didn’t hang out the laundry. The rain shared its memories gently, cool fingers on the edge of Jiazhen’s senses.

His father hummed. “The rain tells me about the people of our home. It tells me that they are happy. It brings me stories from across our world, memories carried gently from the far corners of Inazuma, Snezhnaya, Fontaine, and everywhere in between.”

Jiazhen leaned closer against his father, content to sit under the storm with him. Jiazhen had always been taller and bulkier than the body next to him, but his father’s care and presence always managed to make him feel smaller somehow. Protected. Safe.

Even in the pouring rain, his father was warm.

After a long moment, the Guardian opened his eyes, turning a fiery red gaze to the second ember. “Could you explain something to me, Jiazhen, beloved son?”

“Anything I know, Father.”

“Why is the Eleventh Harbinger in our nation?”

“Ah. Him.” A strange sort of smile crossed Jiazhen’s lips. Amused, yet hesitant. “Well… He first arrived when stories of your journey to the land of lightning first began circling. He claimed to be wanting to meet with Capitano. He accepted the vows, so Qinlin granted him Vision usage and the truth of the Hunt. He met with the Captain, and then he was asking Suvroa and I to spar with him. He seems to enjoy being here.”

“I would imagine so, especially after the trouble in Fontaine.”

“Mn.” Jiazhen sighed peacefully as warm fingers pulled him in to rest his head on his father’s shoulder. “He arrived here the second time a couple weeks before you came home, Father. This time, he asked to be trained by the Pyro Sovereign, and by other dragons. If we try, we may be able to persuade him from the Cryo Archon, and from the abyssal touch that lingers on him.”

“I see… That could be very powerful. However, he would not abandon his family in Snezhnaya. For all his eagerness in fighting, Childe’s first priority is his family.”

“Yet it seems as though the Rooster is ready to hold them hostage if needed to control Childe,” Jiazhen pointed out. “I can think of a number of Wedjat that would enjoy the thrill of sneaking into the nation of ice.”

“Indeed… I will think about it.”

“Have you thought about the Hydro Dragon?”

The Guardian sighed. “Of course, Suvroa told you about that.” Jiazhen hummed in response, and his father went on. “I have mulled it over. I have not reached an answer, but I also cannot help but feel that it will soon be taken out of my control. The Traveller is determined.”

“Letting the Traveller decide for you will not prepare you for what may come, Father. Columbina will not stop pushing, and she brings more and more of Sandrone’s machines with her each time. The tension is building. The Hydro Dragon could help. I would love to see you have your mate back.”

Jiazhen was left with no response. He didn’t really expect one. The Guardian closed his eyes again, turning his face skywards. The rain continued pouring, the steady sound of it interspersed with rolling thunder. The balcony was slick with water, and in the distance, trees swayed with the wind.

While messy, this was peaceful.

Jiazhen looked up when the pattering rain against his skin suddenly stopped. A scarlet-scaled wing was extended over their heads, making the Guardian hum in disappointment.

“Come inside, both of you.” Qinlin’s voice was quiet, but it was an order all the same. She cared deeply, but she was never exactly soft. “You will both be sick in the morning otherwise. Dairet is making soup and Suvroa is stoking the fire.”

His father sighed. Together, he and Jiazhen heaved themselves up and out of the rain. Jiazhen was soaked to the bone, but his father easily fixed that, skillfully using his power to dry and warm them both. With a final, tight hug, the Guardian parted from him to move and greet Qinlin and Suvroa. Dairet arrived a moment later, carrying a basket of bowls and a soup pot.

Jiazhen smiled as he took in the room. Yes, this was peaceful.

The rain over Fontaine was gentle. A natural shower not caused by the Hydro Dragon’s sadness. It fell lightly against Neuvillette’s skin as he stood on his private balcony, taking in the stories it held. Deep beneath the waves, the primordial sea sang to him, a lulling song that Neuvillette found himself echoing.

The setting sun was visible despite the rain, casting a blinding marigold on the horizon. A faint rainbow hung delicately in the sky, the perfect, picturesque, Fontainean evening.

It was beautiful and peaceful, and Neuvillette loathed to spend the evening alone. He wanted to hope that soon, he would not be so alone any longer. Even without definite confirmation of the identity of Natlan’s Guardian, he was tempted to visit the nation. It had been five hundred years since he’d last made the trip. Furina had been saying that he deserved a vacation.

“A real one,” she’d said. “Not half a day. No one calls that a vacation.”

“I need to take care of Fontaine,” he had argued over their weekly tea.

He hadn’t wanted to impose on her. Not when she was finally getting her own life. But he’d left her a letter saying she could come to him for anything at all, and her immediate request was that they continue those weekly lunches over tea. She’d said it was something she didn’t want to change, and Neuvillette didn’t know if it was for her benefit, or if she was worried about him.

“Maybe so,” Furina had replied. “But Fontaine is not going to fall if its leader takes a week off. I’m sure even Dragon Sovereigns need breaks.”

Neuvillette wasn’t quite sure how to argue that. He wasn’t sure about a lot, in his personal life. Perhaps that was why he invested everything into his work.

He sighed softly, turning his head upwards and feeling the rain fall lightly against his cheeks.

“Water holds memories,” he mused to himself. He waved a hand, and drops of water pulled themselves from the gentle downpour, hovering in the air and forming the shapes of swimming fish. “That’s what brings it the flavour it holds. Maybe one day, it will tell me the story of you, my heart. Where have you gone? Are you even still here? And if you are… Do you still remember?”

Neuvillette had hope cradled gently in his hands. A soft, flickering flame, an old bond faded in the depths of his soul.

He was so tired of being alone.

Chapter Text

It appeared that a storm had just ended in Natlan when Neuvillette teleported to the Haven Statue of the Seven. The stone courtyard was slick with water and the first rays of moonlight were poking through the fading clouds. Neuvillette breathed in the last scent of the rain, taking in the feeling of being in Natlan for the first time in five hundred years.

It was early in the night, and people were starting to emerge from waiting out the storm. Nearby, the Traveller hopped up from where they had been sitting on a bench nearby. The Iudex made his way over quickly, urgency rushing in his blood.

“Traveller, Paimon,” he greeted, ever polite despite his racing heart. He had forgone his usual judge’s robes for a deep blue cloak instead. He didn’t wear it often, but the material was soft and silky, and he needed some kind of weight on his shoulders to steady himself. “Traveller, you said you’d found…?”

The Traveller nodded, speaking quietly just in case someone happened to be close enough to overhear. “In the volcano.”

Neuvillette’s eyes flickered over to the tall shape of Sovereign’s Breath in the distance. “The net over Natlan is suppressing my power. It will not hold forever, and it would not hold if I pushed, but… Will you take me there?”

“Of course.”

Together, they started down the street. Neuvillette’s eyes were wide with wonder as he took in everything he could, all the changes that the city had gone through. He hadn’t been there in a long time, but Natlan was once his home just as Fontaine was. The air was different than he remembered it being, back when he had just been reborn. It was… peaceful.

“I should warn you,” the Traveller said carefully, “I’m not entirely sure what we found.”

Neuvillette looked at them, brows furrowed slightly. “What did you see?”

“A pyro dragon, suspended in the air. Eyes closed, no breath… And I have suspicions that Zientu… The tunnel connects your den and the chamber where the dragon is, though, and we needed your elemental signature to get in… It makes sense.”

“I see…” Neuvillette hummed. “It’s a reasonable presumption given the evidence at hand. About Zientu?”

The Traveller shrugged weakly. “There’re some pieces that point to him being the Pyro Dragon.”

Neuvillette suddenly felt cold. That his mate may have been so close and he hadn’t known… But if it was true, why hadn’t the Pyro Dragon told him…?

Running footsteps pulled his attention away from the thought. There was a cheerful shout of, “Traveller!” and then small arms were thrown around the Traveller’s waist from behind. A young girl peered up at them, pale green eyes bright and light pink hair a mess. Her light grey outer robe was damp with rain, but she didn’t seem bothered at all.

“Nakaio,” the Traveller greeted when the young girl released them. “We haven’t seen you since you ran off the first time.”

“Miss Cualli asked me to help her with the flower beds around the orphanage.” The girl grinned, raising her arms above her head. “I’m gonna grow the biggest aconite ever! Madam Cualli said so!”

“You live in the orphanage?” Paimon asked slowly, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say your Papo told the best version of that Natlanean legend?”

Nakaio nodded, her cheeks puffing out with a pout. “He did! Before he disappeared, Papo told the best stories! No one can tell a story better than Papo. Madam Cualli’s are good, and Miss Cualli does really good voices, but only Papo’s stories are number one.”

“Oh,” Paimon hummed, looking unsure of how to proceed.

“We can’t stay and talk, Nakaio.” The Traveller stepped in with an apologetic smile. “Our friend is here visiting, we’re going to show him around the rainforest.”

Nakaio’s gaze drifted to Neuvillette then, her eyes going wide. “You’re really pretty. And blue.”

“I…” Neuvillette faltered, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Yes, I suppose so…”

The girl giggled gleefully. “Blue like the river! Like the ancient sea!”

“Uh, Nakaio.” The Traveller cut in again, taking pity on the flustered dragon. “Shouldn’t you get home before someone gets worried?”

Nakaio tilted her head and hummed. “It is getting late...” Her cheeks puffed out as she thought. “Fine. Madam Cualli gets worried when it gets late and I’m not back. But will you come play with me later, Traveller?”

“Sure.”

That seemed to be enough to satisfy the young girl. She cheered happily and skipped off, singing a nursery rhyme to herself as she went. Innocent as her voice was, something about it sent a faint chill down Neuvillette’s spine.

“Sink down beneath the waters
O come with me, my love
I’ll steal the breath from your lungs
Forget the land above
The waters deep will sing to you
Lull you here to sleep
Reach the surface ne’er again
The water’s now to keep”

The Traveller seemed to sense it too, as they watched Nakaio go with a slight frown. “That was… weird, somehow.”

“Really?” Paimon asked, confused. “Nakaio’s just a kid.”

“...Aconite is a poisonous plant,” Neuvillette hummed lowly. “Fair to look at, but dangerous within reach of anyone who doesn’t know its nature. Especially a child…”

The Traveller’s frown deepened. “...I’ll find her later and investigate. For now…”

They tilted their head towards the volcano looming in the distance. Neuvillette nodded, and the three of them continued onwards.

Neuvillette’s boots made a rhythmic tapping against the road as he walked. A number of people glanced curiously after him as the trio passed, but no one asked. Haven had grown, the Hydro Sovereign noted idly. Of course it had. It had been centuries since he’d last seen it, and progress was the way of the world.

The rainforest was the same. Gigantic, towering trees and thickly humid air. The Traveller led him through the underbrush on their own path, the thick canopy overhead blocking out any light they may have gotten from the moon.

“You said you’d met Xbalanque?” Neuvillette asked. “How is he?”

“He seems to be doing just fine.” The Traveller glanced back at him, something of a wince crossing their expression. “There’s something about him that I don’t trust though.”

“Oh?”

“He’s rude,” Paimon added. “Protective of his nation, but rude.”

Neuvillette tilted his head. “Indeed. I suspect he always has had a poor attitude. He helped me search for my mate when I was first reborn, shortly after the fall of Khaenri’ah. I admit we did not remain in contact after I left Natlan.”

“You both were probably really busy,” Paimon hummed. “Though Paimon’s not really sure what Xbalanque does…”

“From what I’ve heard, he prefers to remain in the shadows,” Neuvillette replied. “He is very skilled with a rope dart, and in summoning flaming pyro constructs. I imagine that the Eleventh Harbinger would very much enjoy a duel against him, should they ever cross paths.”

The forest fell away into an open lava field. The sky was dark above them, and the stars that could be seen between clouds were clear and sparkling. Heat simmered in the air, causing Neuvillette to suppress a slight wince. He could handle heat, but it often made him think of dryness, and that was a different story.

No one said anything as they crossed. Each was lost in their own thoughts. Puzzles, suspicions, a hopeful longing, and a what will I do when this is over? If this didn’t go the way Neuvillette hoped it would… He had gotten used to spending the years alone. He would very much love if he didn’t have to any longer.

But Zientu had avoided him in Fontaine—

The pyro barrier blocking the tunnel opened when Neuvillette stepped near. As the Traveller had said, it was attuned to his elemental signature, and that made something warm flutter through his chest. He hadn’t been here in centuries, and yet the barrier protecting his den knew to let him in. Perhaps someone was waiting for him to come, and that… Neuvillette wasn’t sure what to do with that.

The tunnel air carried a faint scent. The dry air said no one visited this place often, but the faint scent of another dragon walking through was recent. Very recent. It turned down the right path when the tunnel split. Neuvillette said as much to the Traveller, watching their eyes widen in alarm.

“The right tunnel leads to the body,” they said, already rushing towards it. “The left side leads to your den.”

Neuvillette’s eyes widened and he hurried after the Traveller. No one came here often. Was it just a coincidence that someone had now?

The Hydro Dragon’s eyes widened even further when the tunnel opened into a cave and he saw the dragon suspended in the air. Memories came in like waves against the shore, like bonfires bursting into life, like seeing someone who’s face had faded in your memory now standing before you.

The Dragon of Fire. The Dragon of Water. The Dragon of Safety. The Dragon of Life. Two souls intertwined for as long as they lived and onwards. The old world was gone, and yet they remained. Hushed whispers in the dark of night, sweet song under the bright sky, everlasting waves, ever-burning fire. Two places and one soul to call home, to always return to. The thought of family.

Like crashing waves, like bursting fire, the memories came back. It wasn’t everything, certainly not everything, but he remembered more of his relationship with the Pyro Dragon. More of the life they shared, all those eons ago before that world was lost. It wasn’t everything, but it was enough.

“Arcaeos,” he whispered, quietly as though the slightest noise would cause his mate to disappear.

“Xbalanque,” the Traveller said, sounding surprised and suspicious.

Neuvillette’s gaze lowered from the gigantic form of the Pyro Sovereign to where the dragon in human form stood ahead of them, back facing them.

“So,” Xbalanque hummed, head tilted back as he looked up at the body. “This is where you’ve been sleeping… How laughable.”

“How did you get in here?” Paimon asked, voice sharp.

Xbalanque turned to face them, his expression wry and cynical. “Same way as you did.”

He held up a small vial, pinched carelessly between two fingers. Glowing blue hydro energy swirled within, all too familiar. That was Neuvillette’s signature.

“What—” The Traveller patted their pocket, their eyes wide. “How did you get that?”

“That’s not for you to know,” Xbalanque replied crisply. Still, he carelessly tossed the vial to the Traveller. “I have no need of it anymore.”

The Traveller caught the vial easily, silently offering it to Neuvillette. He uncapped it without a word, taking the energy inside back into himself and pocketing the empty vial.

“Xbalanque,” Neuvillette started. He remembered the Traveller’s distrust and hesitated slightly. “Did you follow us here?”

“I followed the Traveller the first time,” the pyro dragon responded boredly. “I’m surprised you came back to Natlan at all, Hydro Dragon.”

“Xbalanque—”

“You knew,” the Traveller cut in suddenly, voice cold with anger and realization. “The Pyro Dragon is Natlan’s Guardian who killed Murata during the Cataclysm. Monsieur Neuvillette came to Natlan not long afterwards. You knew where the Pyro Dragon was, and you lied to him saying you didn’t.”

Xbalanque blinked, then shrugged carelessly and sneered. “Yeah, I did. So?”

Cold fury crashed over the Hydro Dragon. His hands clenched into fists, a growl clawing its way past his lips. Such a deception. Such a betrayal of trust.

“Why?” he hissed past clenched teeth. “You agreed to help me search, Xbalanque. I trusted you to help me.”

“And you think I trusted you?” Xbalanque crossed his arms, lips curling in a sneer. “Teyvat had just come out of the Cataclysm, Natlan was struggling with adjustment to a new leader, and a newly born hydro dragon—claiming to be the Sovereign reborn yet hardly able to remember anything—comes stumbling in? Arcaeos was weak and injured, and the Talons and Embers had their talons full. We didn’t need more outlander problems. For all I knew, you were just another hydro dragon using the Sovereign’s identity to try and take advantage of Natlan’s turmoil.”

“So you kept me from ever finding my mate.” Neuvillette knew some of his Authority was seeping from his skin, filling the air around him. He barely put an effort into restraining it, choosing instead to hiss, “Meeting him could have proven who I am.”

Xbalanque didn’t look affected in the least as he bared his teeth. “Arcaeos was practically dead, Hydro Dragon. Every bit of power he had was going into healing his body of the damage Murata had inflicted. Even that human vessel he crafted was barely functioning. For the first few months, the Talons and I kept that vessel alive with our elemental power. Focusing on Natlan was already taking up too much of his energy. Adding you to his plate—impostor or not—would have been too much.”

“And later, when he was healed?”

“Ha!” A sharp bark of laughter passed Xbalanque’s lips. “I kept you from him for a reason, Hydro Dragon. He doesn’t need you. He’s known about your rebirth for centuries, and he never sought you out. You aren’t wanted. You mean nothing. And you’re not going to come waltzing in now.”

Xbalanque moved quicker than anything, lunging forwards towards Neuvillette and giving him no time to recover from the piercing wave of hurt that washed over him. It wasn’t the first time such thoughts had crossed his mind— That he would be rejected by the Pyro Dragon— Zientu had avoided him in Fontaine— To have the idea thrown in his face so cruelly like that—

Xbalanque’s attack was blocked by the Traveller’s sword. The dragon leapt back again and the Traveller took an offensive stance, Paimon disappearing in a small shower of stars. Xbalanque summoned his rope dart, spinning it around himself and making it hard for the Traveller to get close.

Neuvillette shook himself out of his worries, shaking his head firmly. It wasn’t the first time he had had such thoughts and he returned to the same decision he always had: he would find and ask the Pyro Dragon directly for his choice. There was no use in worrying of potential negative outcomes and running away, not when there was always the possibility of a happy ending.

The pair before him fought in a whirlwind, pyro against any element the Traveller threw in an attempt to break past the dragon’s rope dart. They moved around the cave and kicked into the air, weaving around the suspended body of the Pyro Dragon, though Neuvillette noticed that both were careful to avoid striking it. Their cloaks whirled around them, pale gold and dark grey. Xbalanque’s cloak did little to hinder his movements, his bare arms further preventing the rope dart from interference. Neuvillette watched from the sidelines, reaching for his power through the Natlan barrier. In the meantime, he analyzed Xbalanque’s fighting style. The pyro dragon was old and skilled, but so was the Traveller.

A sharp offensive attack had the rope dart cutting into the Traveller’s cheek, but they broke past Xbalanque’s guard with a swing of their sword, catching him in the wrist. The Traveller had clearly expected the dragon to stumble or drop his weapon, so their eyes widened when red-orange scales blossomed across Xbalanque’s skin just before impact, blocking the attack. They recovered from the surprise quickly and whirled away, managing to dodge Xbalanque’s stab with a pyro-constructed dagger. Just as quickly as they had appeared, Xbalanque’s scales faded back beneath his skin.

“You can summon your scales,” Neuvillette said, genuinely interested in the dragon’s form.

“I was born a dragon,” Xbalanque hissed back as though it were obvious. “This form is a choice, not a prison. Of course I can summon my draconic traits.”

Further proving this point, as the Traveller made another lunge forwards, Xbalanque spat a column of fire directly in their face. The Traveller incited a crystallize reaction a split second later, shield covering them as they leapt back, escaping with minor burns and a frustrated curse.

At this point, Xbalanque had done away with his rope dart and turned to a pyro-constructed polearm. He also summoned several dragon talons made of fire, each shooting through the air and attacking in turn. The Traveller leapt and dodged the first round of attacks, blocking the last with their sword. Another lunge forward had said sword locked against Xbalanque’s polearm, and Neuvillette took this chance to step in.

“Careful—” the Traveller yelled to him, only to cut themselves off when Neuvillette released a powerful torrent of hydro at Xbalanque, catching the dragon off guard and sending him sprawling. The Traveller huffed. “You said you didn’t have your power.”

“I didn’t when I first arrived,” Neuvillette said, already charging up another attack. “The barrier over Natlan cannot suppress the power of a Sovereign indefinitely. Given time, I am able to slip through the net.”

Xbalanque recovered in time to just barely dodge the second attack, laughing loudly and wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “Well well. I didn’t think it was true. Focalors offed herself. Hilarious.” Neuvillette growled, launching another attack. Xbalanque dodged gracefully, calling, “Thanks for the laugh. I may not be able to defeat a Sovereign, but know that if you put Natlan in peril, I will do everything I can to destroy you.”

Neuvillette knew what he was going to do, but he was still a moment too late to douse Xbalanque’s flames. The pyro dragon engulfed himself in fire and was gone.

“What…” The Traveller’s brows furrowed as Paimon popped back into existence, hand to her head as though she’d been thrown around. “What was that? Where did he go?”

The Hydro Dragon’s lips curled in frustration, gloved hands clenching into fists. Still, there was a lingering wisp of hurt and betrayal, beneath the rage. He had thought of Xbalanque as a friend.

“Pyro dragons can use fire as a method of teleportation,” he said, cool and factual. “Most elemental dragons can use their element in such a manner, as can some powerful Vision-holders, though their range is much shorter than a dragon’s.”

“So he’s gone,” the Traveller said, dismissing their sword and wincing slightly as they wiped at the cut on their cheek.

Neuvillette nodded. “Indeed. As he said, he isn’t strong enough to defeat me, so he fled. You put up a very admirable fight.”

“Thanks. Now what?”

“Well…”

Neuvillette’s gaze turned upwards, lavender eyes taking in every detail he could of the Pyro Dragon. He summoned his Authority and let it carry him off the ground, rising high enough to hover next to the Pyro Dragon’s head. When he reached out, the dragon’s scales were warm, not with life but a reflection of the heat in the chamber.

“Oh, my heart,” Neuvillette murmured, gently stroking what scales he could reach with a human arm span. “I have searched all of Teyvat for you. I thought you were gone. I may not remember everything of my past life, but… I have missed you so much.” He took in the scars littering the Pyro Dragon, the remnants of pain, and his voice became cold and concerned. “What have they done to you? Such scars… And your wings. Someone tried to ground you… Why are you here, asleep? If the perpetrator has escaped you, they will not escape me… Yet… Traveller, you said Natlan’s Guardian is the Pyro Dragon Sovereign, and that he was known and well-liked by his people?”

From below, the Traveller’s confused voice drifted up. “Yes?”

Neuvillette hummed in thought. “But while this body is alive, I can’t sense any presence in it. As though Arcaeos is in a deep slumber and hasn’t woken in centuries… Like his body is alive yet his soul is not.”

“Then how could Natlan’s people…?”

“Uh,” Paimon hummed unsurely as Neuvillette came back down. “Paimon’s not entirely sure, but Flameweed Brain said something about Arcaeos and a human vessel.”

The Traveller blinked owlishly. “Paimon, you’re a genius.”

“Uh… really?”

“Maybe not, but you’re a good listener.”

“Eh, Paimon’ll take it. What do we do now?”

Neuvillette tilted his head. “I want to see my den, and then I suppose we go find Zientu.”

The Traveller nodded, so with a last long glance at the Pyro Dragon’s body, Neuvillette followed them out of the cave and back through the tunnel.

His den was… Neuvillette wasn’t sure what to say. He had been here when we first went searching for his mate. Much was still the same as it was back then. The air was still so… heavy. It told a story. It hurt to think of what his mate had to go through without him. Because of him.

The bookshelf and writing desk were new. Neuvillette made his way over, moving slowly in an attempt to avoid disturbing the air of the place and the weight it carried. Distantly he noted that the Traveller and their companion remained by the tunnel entrance.

Some of the books appeared to be centuries old, worn but well-cared for. Others appeared to be more recent. There were a few international titles that Neuvillette recognized, and some that must have only been published within Natlan. He would have to have a closer look later. For now, he paid the bookshelf no mind and turned to the writing desk covered in small trinkets and carefully-organized letters.

With a faint smile, Neuvillette realized that he and his mate had the same organizational system.

The older of the letters was written in draconic script, something Neuvillette found that he could recognize but no longer read. At some point in time, Arcaeos had shifted to writing in common tongue. There were enough of these letters that no matter how much Neuvillette wanted to read through them all, he decided that that would be a later endeavour. He wanted to speak to Zientu.

For now, Neuvillette satisfied himself with the most recent letter, gloved hands carefully unfolding the paper.

It has been many years, hasn’t it, Leviathan? How many years is enough to grieve? I am doing much better these days. I suspect some part of me will always be grieving, but that part has gotten easier and easier to carry. I do not often write of such pains anymore, but with this coming journey, perhaps I felt the need to reflect.

I will be leaving Natlan for a while. It has been many centuries, and the other nations will have changed. I intend to see these changes for myself, as well as for the other Sovereigns. It is my duty to ensure their lands are well taken care of, in their absence. I will see your homeland as well, my heart. I hope some of it is still familiar. Familiar to me, and perhaps, still familiar with you. That Fontaine’s people may have forgotten you is

I do not know when I will return. This journey may take years. I intend to learn and understand the culture of each nation, as well as explore the land.

Hydro Dragon, Dragon of Life. Geo Dragon, Dragon of Spirit and the Land. Anemo Dragon, Dragon of Protection. Electro Dragon, Dragon of Rebellion and Freedom. Dendro Dragon, Dragon of Hope. Cryo Dragon, Dragon of Love. And myself, the Pyro Dragon, the Dragon of Safety.

I hope that the nations are still recognizable as the land we once knew. Who still remembers us? The waters you so loved? The whistling wind that blows? Does the lightning that streaks across the sky call for the dragons’ return? That world was lost a long time ago. This trip to see what had come in its place will be interesting.

I will write when the journey is over.

Neuvillette pressed a hand to his mouth, hoping to keep his sob in. Seeing the body of the Pyro Dragon was one thing, but this was proof that his mate was alive. That he had lived, all these years, and that he was okay. That was enough. All that was left was to hope there was still room in the Pyro Dragon’s life for him.

A soft sigh passed Neuvillette’s lips. He looked around the den again, feeling the grief still lingering in the air and the absence of anyone having been there in a long time. His eyes skimmed over the other items on the desk, coming to rest on a beautiful, ornate goblet. It was of Natlanean design, gold and carved with complex imagery and symbolism. There were also a few inlaid gemstones, polished and shiny. It was beautifully crafted, and appeared to be well-taken care of, sitting amongst the Pyro Dragon’s letters and other trinkets.

Carefully, Neuvillette lifted the goblet from its place, admiring the details and the craftsmanship. It was truly beautiful. If he’d seen it in a store, he most certainly would have purchased it without a second thought. And here it was, sitting alone in the den. No one had been to the den in years… Surely, no one would…?

Neuvillette hesitated, then sighed softly. He gave a silent apology to his mate as he returned to the tunnel entrance, taking the goblet and the letter with him.

“Woah,” Paimon breathed. “That’s beautiful.”

“Indeed,” Neuvillette said softly, admiring the goblet one last time before tucking it into his primordial pocket, right next to his other favourite goblet. He held up the folded letter. “Traveller, this is dated to just before you claim to have saved Mondstadt. Arcaeos planned to leave Natlan and journey through the other nations.”

The Traveller’s head tilted as they hummed in consideration. “When we first met, Zientu said he was travelling through the nations. It’s partly why he decided to stay with me; we both had the same plan, so why not travel together?”

“Yep!” Paimon chirped. “The more the merrier! And Zientu’s been a big help, the journey probably would have been harder without him.”

Neuvillette hummed. He could imagine the difference having another companion would have on the Traveller’s journey. Zientu had proven to be capable and smart, as well as incredibly knowledgeable in the world around him. He was also very protective, and he had the power to follow through with that intent. A valuable companion indeed.

And very similar to a certain pyro dragon Neuvillette once knew.

“Are you ready to head back to Haven and find Zientu?” the Traveller asked.

The Hydro Dragon nodded. Whatever would come, he was ready.

[Excerpt from the Welcome to Natlan: New Residency Pamphlet]

You may have wondered why the dragons of Natlan stayed. Why would they care to live alongside humans when the rest of their kind have retreated away from us? The gods are said to have broken the dragons’ agreement in the Archon War, so why would any of them choose to stay?

Murata is the only one of the Seven who purposely worked to welcome the dragons into her nation. The Goddess of War didn’t care for the danger they posed. Still, the dragons were hesitant. They allowed their presence in the nation to be known, but they refrained from interacting with human societies.

It’s said that our very own Talons of Power and Justice were some of the first dragons to visit Haven. Following them came more dragons, until the Natlan you see today settled into place. Dragons walk alongside us, brothers and sisters in arms.

Why did the Pyro Archon desire dragons amongst her people? As weapons to fight for her? As guards to protect her nation? Simply as friends who deserve to be acknowledged? We may only speculate.

We end with a quote from our Guardian himself:

“Murata wasn’t a villain. She cared for her people. Though she didn’t have to, she cared for the dragons as well. She loved all life around her. Her love of war is what made her an antagonist. I can never allow such a threat to my home and those under my protection, while Murata went looking for it. We would never see eye to eye, and that was that. The rest is history.”

Chapter Text

The Traveller and Neuvillette arrived at the gates of the Fireside Estate at the same time as the First Twin Ember. Suvroa was dressed in stony grey: short sleeves, tight pants, and tall boots that had small spikes on the toe for a reason the Traveller could only guess. A dark red cloak with a dragon scale pattern covered one shoulder, a golden clasp matching the golden beads in her half-shaved, warrior-braided hair. The scar across her right cheek twisted as she smiled politely, seeing them.

“Traveller, Paimon,” Suvroa greeted. “Who is— Hydro Dragon?”

“Indeed.” Neuvillette nodded slowly, looking almost hesitant. “I go by Neuvillette, though Hydro Dragon is acceptable in current company.”

“I see.” Suvroa appeared to scrutinize him before addressing the three of them. “You’re here because you’ve figured Zientu out.”

Despite it being said as a statement, the Traveller nodded. “He’s the Guardian and the Pyro Dragon, isn’t he?”

Suvroa was silent for a long moment, studying the three of them. Piercing yellow eyes looked them up and down. Paimon fidgeted uncomfortably. Neuvillette met the stare head on, while the Traveller averted their gaze. Eventually, the First Twin Ember nodded decisively.

“Yes,” she said, her tone warmer than her previous stare. “The Pyro Dragon, the Guardian of Natlan, Arcaeos, Zientu; are all one in the same.”

“Is he here?” Neuvillette asked, a hint of desperation slipping through.

The Traveller thought nothing of it. They understood. The dragon was so incredibly close to what he wanted. The Traveller couldn’t blame him for being eager.

“Yes,” Suvroa said again, though she seemed wary. “Let me warn you, Hydr— …Neuvillette. He and Jiazhen were just out meeting with the Damslette, and I was just called to come to the Estate. There’s likely business that will come before a moment to talk with him.”

Neuvillette nodded in acceptance. “I have waited five hundred years to see my mate again. With a guarantee that the time will indeed come, I could wait forever more.”

Suvroa studied him again, eying him up and down. “You still love him.”

“Of course.” The Hydro Dragon appeared to take offence to that. “Our souls are bound together, and even if they weren’t, I would still love him. Arcaeos is my mate.”

“Good.” Suvroa nodded firmly. “Another warning then: do not expect to resume your relationship where it ended previously. I know for certain that he still loves you, but it’s been a very long time for him. He didn’t think you would come back.”

No one missed the pain that crossed Neuvillette’s eyes. He looked guilty, as though the time of his rebirth was something he could have controlled. Without the heavy robes he usually wore, he looked small. The cloak around his shoulders helped somewhat, but it didn’t provide that same distant, professional air that the judge usually had around him. Now, he was just Neuvillette.

“I understand,” he said, with only the slightest waver in his voice.

“Mn.”

Suvroa nodded again, and then led them through the gates. Like their first visit to the Estate, the Traveller was greeted with the sight of the Talon of Power making her way across the courtyard towards them. She appeared to be angry, white eyes narrowed and scaly red tail swishing menacingly behind her.

“Qinlin,” Suvroa greeted cautiously. The four of them stepped aside, giving the dragon a clear path out of the Estate. “What’s happened?”

Qinlin growled lowly, smoke curling from between her bared fangs. “Xbalanque has pulled a Xbalanque. He and Arcaeos are arguing in the main courtyard. I am leaving before I skewer that spineless worm’s head on a pike. If I am needed, you may find me screaming at the bottom of a lava pool.”

With that, the dragon stalked away, muttering darkly under her breath as she went. The Traveller watched her leave, tilting their head curiously.

Suvroa sighed heavily, already looking irritated. “What has he done now?”

“He lied about the Pyro Dragon being missing when Neuvillette was here centuries ago,” Paimon offered, a little too eager to get anyone she could on the ‘hate Xbalanque’ team.

The First Twin Ember turned sharply to stare at her, then looked to Neuvillette. When the Hydro Dragon only nodded solemnly, Suvroa cursed and wiped a tired hand down her face. Without a word, she beckoned them to follow her and walked further into the Estate. They entered a long hallway, warmly decorated and kept cool by the stone walls. Suvroa led them through the building and then out into a courtyard larger than the entrance one. Tall trees and plants filled the space, a stone walkway carving a path through it. In the center was an open square of grass, lit warmly by the first rays of dawn.

As the group stepped outside, raised voices became clear. One was Zientu. The other was Xbalanque, though he sounded much calmer than Zientu did. The pair of them were in the center of the courtyard facing each other, Xbalanque with his arms crossed uncaringly and flames licking at the ends of Zientu’s long hair.

Jiazhen was sitting crossed-legged under a tree some ways away, watching them. This was where Suvroa led them. She threw herself down in the grass next to the man, huffing angrily. The Traveller sat down as well, Neuvillette copying them.

“Father is truly furious, this time,” Jiazhen said in lieu of greeting. “I don’t know how long this will last.”

Suvroa let out a wordless groan. The Traveller almost snickered if they didn’t feel bad for her. Xbalanque has pulled a Xbalanque, Qinlin had said. It mustn’t be fun having to deal with whatever it was Xbalanque did, apparently so often.

“You are Arcaeos’ children?” Neuvillette asked curiously. He did well to hide his hurt, but the Traveller still saw the way it washed over him as he went on. “May I ask who your other parent is?”

“We don’t have a second parent, Neuvillette,” Suvroa replied curtly.

“Though,” Jiazhen added with a knowing grin, “You would be the closest thing we’ve had to a second parent; Father has always told us stories about you. And we weren’t born of conception. Father created us in the depths of Sovereign’s Breath, forming together pure pyro energy, as well as what steam he could gather.”

Hearing that, Neuvillette looked over the Twin Embers again, lavender eyes taking in every detail possible. There was a strange look in his eyes now, something hopeful, longing, unsure, and hesitant. He didn’t look like he knew what to say, something that was further evidenced by the way he silently looked away, shoulders hunching.

Hoping to give Neuvillette a moment to collect his thoughts, the Traveller hummed, “You’re being more forthcoming than I would have expected. Considering that Zientu spent years hiding who he was…”

“Ah.” Jiazhen shrugged carelessly and waved a hand. “Father knew you would figure him out soon enough when in Natlan. He said not to worry if you dug around. You will get your explanation, Traveller, don’t fret.”

A burst of burning heat pulled the Traveller’s attention from replying. Zientu was truly flaming now. Most of his hair had become overtaken by fire, more flames burning from his clenched fists. The Traveller hadn’t seen him burn so intensely since discovering Dvalin was tainted by the Abyss. They hadn’t been sure if that was just a usual pyro-wielder thing, back then.

“—And you never thought to tell me after I became stable?” Zientu hissed furiously, grey eyes now glowing a fiery red. “I didn’t know my mate was ever here, Xbalanque.”

Xbalanque scoffed, rolling his eyes. “When would have been a good time, Arcaeos? ‘Oh, I just handled another group of people plotting incite more war. By the way, a decade ago this little dragonet came by—’ No. His aid gave me an easier time of getting some of the war-mongering tribes to change their tune, but that didn’t mean I owed him; I never needed his help. Besides, when he left, I didn’t think he’d come back. After a few decades, I didn’t think he even truly cared.” Xbalanque sneered. “Distant, untouchable Iudex of Fontaine… No, I didn’t think Natlan needed that.”

Zientu roared in rage. Suvroa shot to her feet and sprinted towards Xbalanque. She aimed to kick him—the Traveller winced, remembering the spikes on her boots. Barely seeming interested, Xbalanque dodged Zientu’s grab and Suvroa’s kick before fire-teleporting away and disappearing.

“Malaka!” Suvroa cursed loudly, her own fire igniting from the ends of her hair.

“He always does that,” Jiazhen grumbled, heaving himself up and walking over to the pair.

The Traveller shared a look with Neuvillette, both unsure of what to do. Paimon was looking between the three pyro-wielders with a frown. Zientu stood in the grass, a sour scowl on his face and his fists clenched at his sides. Still, his fire died down slowly as Jiazhen approached. Suvroa glared at the place where Xbalanque had disappeared from, her flames still burning brightly. Hesitantly, the Traveller stood and began making their way over to the three. Paimon and Neuvillette followed silently, all of them wary of the rage still simmering in the air.

“He’s right.” Zientu hissed out a harsh sigh when they got closer. He didn’t look, but it was clear he was speaking to them. “I ignored the condition of this vessel in favour of my homeland. I didn’t have any energy or attention to spare. No matter how much I wanted my mate back, a sudden return wouldn’t have been good for me right then. Still, that damned little shit could have said something once I and Natlan were back on our feet.”

Paimon hummed. “Zientu— Uh, Arcaeos? …Paimon doesn’t know what to call you.”

With another harsh sigh, the Pyro Dragon’s fire faded completely, and he gathered himself into his usual calm demeanour. “Either is fine. You know me by Zientu, but my people know me as Arcaeos. I will answer to either.”

“Arcaeos, then, if it was only with us,” Paimon said, crossing her arms. “Why was that, anyway? You lied the entire time we’ve known you.”

“I did,” Arcaeos said softly, bowing his head apologetically. “Only about things relating to who I am. I apologize for not telling you. In the beginning, it was because I was wary of how you would react. After our adventures in Sumeru, however, I decided that you would not care if I were dragon, human, or god. I stopped actively trying to hide it then.”

The Traveller hummed, murmuring, “I’ve always suspected you weren’t just the usual Vision-holder, and after the power you displayed to protect the people of Fontaine from the narwhal in the Opera Epiclese… I didn’t expect you to be the Sovereign Dragon of Pyro though.”

“Hang on,” Paimon said accusingly, “If you decided you didn’t care if we knew, why not just outright tell us?”

“Well…” Arcaeos shrugged sheepishly, looking away. Idly, the Traveller noted the pearl necklace around his neck, clearly of Fontainean make, and wondered when he had come across it. “After the ways in which we met Morax and Lesser Lord Kusanali, I admit I wanted to see when and how you would figure me out. I didn’t expect it to be like this. Monsieur Neuvillette?”

It was then that the Traveller realized the Hydro Dragon had been silent thus far. When they looked, Neuvillette’s lavender eyes were locked on the Pyro Dragon, lips pursed ever so slightly. The morning sunlight from behind him cast his face in shadows, his hands in fists at his sides.

“Neuvillette?” the Traveller asked gently. “Are you okay?”

Instead of replying, the Hydro Dragon addressed his mate. “You took it. The necklace.”

Arcaeos’ eyes widened, hand coming up to cover a pendant around his neck. He looked away hurriedly but nodded.

“I visited our den,” he said quietly, unsure. “I— It’s beautiful, and I just— Do you want it back?”

“I made it for you,” Neuvillette replied rather curtly, then sighed softly and summoned the golden goblet he’d taken from his den. “I suppose I have done the same.”

Arcaeos looked at the goblet, then back at the Hydro Dragon, something incredibly soft growing in his gaze.

That soft look flattered when Neuvillette dismissed the goblet and accused, “You made every effort to avoid me in Fontaine.”

His voice was short and sharp, trying to hide the pain that lingered just beneath his skin. The Traveller could still see it though, because the dragon’s cool exterior only ever faltered when he felt too much. Arcaeos clearly saw it too, if the sorrow that crossed his face meant anything.

“Mn…” The Pyro Dragon glanced back at his children behind him, both of whom raised an expectant brow at him in return. Arcaeos narrowed his eyes at them and turned back with a soft sigh. “When you told us you were the Hydro Sovereign reborn, I wasn’t sure how much you remembered. I did not want to impose on this life, if you remembered nothing, and when I realized you did remember… It was already time to leave Fontaine, and Natlan is now pushing on the edge of danger. I did not know how to proceed, how to handle everything. I still don’t. I am sorry, my heart.”

Arcaeos held out empty hands, the only offering being his own grief and his own regret. He was truly sincere though, eyes sad and apologetic.

In turn, some of Neuvillette’s guard melted away, more of his hurt and inner turmoil becoming visible as he whispered, “Xbalanque said you knew that I’d been reborn and that you chose to never seek me out. He said you didn’t need nor want me.”

Paimon yelped when Arcaeos burst into flames again with a low growl. The Traveller winced slightly, stepping back from the wave of sudden, intense heat.

“That manipulative little wretch,” Arcaeos hissed. From behind him, both Suvroa and Jiazhen uttered something sharp and draconian. Whatever they said, Neuvillette choked in surprise and Arcaeos whipped around to face them, eyes narrowed. “Who taught you— Apep is no longer allowed to see you, if she teaches you such language.”

“It’s true though,” Jiazhen huffed.

Arcaeos had no answer for that. He glared at the Twin Embers for a second longer, fire still burning from the ends of his hair, before he turned back to Neuvillette.

“Those were all lies,” he explained tightly, a faint sneer on his lips. “I did not know about your rebirth until I met you in Fontaine. At that point, I decided that you would appreciate having all your attention available to focus on the coming prophecy while I offered what help I could without revealing who I am, and, as I said, I did not think you remembered…”

Neuvillette seemed to think that was enough. Something like a wordless, pleading trill passed his lips and he stumbled forwards, falling into the Pyro Dragon’s arms. As he did, the flames around Arcaeos vanished. He seemed to freeze up though, eyes wide and muscles tense. He had caught the Hydro Dragon, but he seemed unsure of what to do now.

Perhaps sensing this, Neuvillette pulled back slightly, another sad trill escaping him as he cupped Arcaeos’ face in his hands. Arcaeos stared at him for a long moment, eyes distant and looking right through the other. It lasted long enough that Neuvillette made to pull away, but as he did, a soft, panicked cry passed Arcaeos’ lips and he hugged Neuvillette tightly. Neuvillette went easily, hugging him back. Both dragons buried their faces in the other’s shoulder, holding each other close as whispered murmurs passed between them.

“Oh, my Pyro Dragon, don’t cry,” Neuvillette murmured, brushing away silent tears. “I understand your reasoning for staying away. I am here now. I wish to be by your side again.”

“I never thought you would come back,” Arcaeos tearfully whispered in return. “I missed you.”

The Traveller turned to the Twin Embers, hoping to give the two some privacy, and asked, “Why did Xbalanque lie so harshly?”

Suvroa’s lips twisted into a snarl and Jiazhen huffed before answering, “Xbalanque is an independent agent. He gives Father reports, but he does not take orders from anyone, nor does he show respect. He does whatever he sees fit in order to protect Natlan.”

“So, he’s on the good side, he’s just an asshole,” Paimon huffed, nodding firmly.

The Traveller eyed the girl before looking back at the Embers. “We’ve heard Arcaeos has a mutual understanding with him.”

“Yes,” Arcaeos cut in before Jiazhen could answer. He and Neuvillette had separated, though they still stood shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand. Arcaeos’ eyes were still a little wet, but he pursed his lips with a scowl. “I trust him to always be loyal to the nation, and to work in the shadows to keep our security. He trusts me to protect us in the light. He stays out of my way, and I stay out of his. Still, that unfeeling cretin… I need to find Dairet.”

Suvroa snapped her fingers, suddenly remembering. “What did you summon me for, Father?”

“Ah, yes.” Arcaeos also seemed to remember, perking up slightly and scowling. “The Damslette still presses negotiations for the Pyro Gnosis.”

“And you held her off again,” Suvroa guessed.

Arcaeos nodded. “Indeed. However, this will not sway her for long. The Marionette’s automations are not hindered by the net over Natlan, and I believe that more will be secretly sent into the nation. I have cast a barrier around Natlan to prevent this, but that will not stop any machines already within our borders. Suvroa, would you please speak to the Captain and Childe about recognizing these machines and how to defeat them?”

“Of course, Father,” Suvroa said with a bow of her head.

“Wonderful. Jiazhen, I need you to warn everyone who takes shifts at the gate to be wary of the Damslette, and tell the Wedjat and the Kem to be careful in their wanderings. The automations that the Damslette has brought with her so far all closely resemble ruin machines from the godless nation, but they are far more dangerous. I also need you to check on the progress that the Hedj have made with the seeking arrows.”

Jiazhen nodded. “I understand.”

“Seeking arrows?” the Traveller asked. “Like, arrows that fly on their own and target a machine weak point?”

Arcaeos looked at them in mild surprise. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Paimon hummed. “We saw them testing that. The Traveller almost got skewered.”

The Traveller huffed, crossing their arms. “It confused me with the weak point.”

“Interesting.” Suvroa tapped her chin in thought. “Ruin machines have an energy that is different from all other energies, and you’re not from this world, Traveller. A calibration error?”

Paimon shrugged. “That’s what Nikoti and Kalixi thought.”

“At least they’ve made progress.” Arcaeos shook his head with a soft sigh. “Children, you’re dismissed. Traveller, Paimon, Neuvillette, I wish to speak briefly with Dairet, and then I will offer an explanation and answer your questions.”

The Traveller pursed their lips but nodded, accepting that. Together, the six of them turned back to the courtyard entrance. The sun had risen by now, brightening the sky and beginning to erase the traces of the previous evening’s storm. The air was still cool, but the humidity still felt thick. Arcaeos led the group back inside. Neuvillette stuck close to him, the two of them walking side by side.

“I understand that you’re likely mad at me, Traveller, Paimon,” Arcaeos hummed apologetically.

The Traveller shared a long look with Paimon before replying, “I think I’m going to wait and learn your side before deciding how mad I am.”

Arcaeos nodded, accepting that. “I see. I will do my best to answer any questions you may have.”

“Paimon has one,” Paimon said with a wave of her hand, just as they reached the entrance courtyard of the Estate. “Childe said he ran into you at the Sanctuary, visiting a shrine. …Who was it?”

The Pyro Dragon faltered at that. So did the Twin Embers. Arcaeos had stopped walking, and now pressed a hand against his heart, bowing his head. Neuvillette hesitated next to him, unsure of himself but wanting to comfort his mate. He took Arcaeos’ free hand in his and squeezed tightly. Arcaeos gave him a weak smile, and Neuvillette’s tension eased.

“Paimon didn’t mean to be rude,” the girl rushed in panic. “Paimon was just curious.”

Arcaeos breathed a long, quiet sigh. “It’s alright, Paimon. I understand curiosity; I didn’t speak of my family to you. Well… Jiazhen told you how he and Suvroa were created, yes? They weren’t my first. They had an older brother. I had to be certain I could successfully complete such complex creation.”

“And now he’s gone?” Paimon asked sympathetically, looking distraught.

Jiazhen nodded solemnly. “About a century ago, our brother left Natlan with the intent of exploring the other nations. He disappeared, and later, we discovered his body.”

“Oh… Oh, that makes Paimon so sad.” Paimon sniffled, looking dejected and apologetic. “Paimon didn’t mean to—”

“Ah, Dairet,” Arcaeos cut her off, seeing the golden dragon appear from a nearby hallway. Still, something in his tone said he wanted to abandon the topic. “Could you do something quick for me?”

Dairet’s black eyes scanned over the group of them, clearly sensing the heavy atmosphere that was now dissipating in the air. Still, he didn’t comment on it, and only bowed his head with an agreeable hum.

“Of course.”

“Tell the children of Cualli Orphanage to start spreading the nastiest rumours they can think of about Xbalanque.”

Arcaeos’ smile was pleasant and nice, but the golden dragon’s answering smirk was wicked.

“It would be my pleasure,” Dairet said, forked tongue flicking out of his mouth in a way that felt almost menacing.

“I can’t wait to see what they can come up with,” Suvroa muttered viciously.

“Cualli Orphanage?” the Traveller asked, suddenly suspicious. “The same orphanage where Nakaio lives?”

Arcaeos looked over at them, confusion quickly melting into sympathy. “Nakaio’s played you, hasn’t she? Perhaps I should have warned you about that… But I didn’t expect Xbalanque to interfere so heavily…”

“What is it with Nakaio though?” Paimon asked in confusion. “She seems like just a normal kid.”

“For the most part, she is.” Arcaeos nodded and huffed slightly. “Xbalanque uses the children as a spy network of sorts. He trains them to use their youthful innocence to their advantage and buys them treats in exchange for their help. Nakaio is one of the best.”

The Traveller cursed softly, realizing, “She pickpocketed me. That’s how Xbalanque got a hold of the vial.”

Paimon’s eyes widened, and she crossed her arms. “Paimon’s not gonna be trusting kids in Natlan anymore. You just let him corrupt the children like that?”

“They think it’s fun.” Arcaeos shrugged weakly. “Xbalanque would never put them in a dangerous situation, and it gives them a beginning in training if they want to choose a tribe later on.”

“Not to mention they like you better than Xbalanque, so they would answer to you over him,” Dairet added with a smile. Then his expression turned mischievous, glancing at the Traveller before looking back at Arcaeos. “After visiting the orphanage, I’ll be going to tell the Blar to begin festival preparations.”

“Festival?” Arcaeos asked. He clearly didn’t miss the way the Embers’ expression became suspiciously innocent, his eyes narrowing. “There is no special event coming up besides the Dracarys Games. What do you have planned, Dairet?”

“Just a little thing,” the golden dragon answers sweetly. “Natlan has missed you, after all, Arcaeos. Why not have a little celebration with your return home?”

The Traveller watched, caught between amusement and bitterness—they really weren’t sure about how they felt about Zientu yet—as Arcaeos blinked dumbly.

“Aw, Father,” Jiazhen laughed loudly, his booming voice echoing in the courtyard. “You must have expected this. You must have heard about it; it’s been a poorly kept secret plan throughout the nation for months now, even more so since you arrived home. The citizens are excited, it’s too late to call it off.”

Arcaeos pursed his lips. “You’ve purposely done this in such a way that I can’t call it off. I wouldn’t call merely coming home an occasion that needs a festival.”

“Any reason to have a celebration,” Suvroa sang cheerfully. “Let your friends and your mate see Haven all done up, Father. The lights are beautiful.”

“With all the preparation that is already done, we could have the festival tonight,” Dairet added with a grin. “With the rising tension in the nation, why not have some fun?”

The Pyro Dragon huffed, crossing his arms. “You say that like you need to convince me. If Natlan is excited, who am I to disappoint them? I’m leaving all the preparation to you, however, Dairet. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

Dairet laughed in return, wings fluttered at his sides. “Of course, Arcaeos. I would not have allowed you to take over anyways. Suvroa, Jiazhen, come along. There’s much to do now.”

With quick goodbyes, the Twin Embers followed the Talon of Justice out of the Estate, tall gate doors closing behind them.

“Your people must care about you,” Neuvillette hummed, watching them go.

“They do indeed.” Arcaeos nodded with a small sigh. “Still, a festival?”

“Paimon likes festivals.” Paimon shrugged and crossed her arms. “Something to look forward to after someone explains themselves.”

The Traveller hid a smile at their companion’s pointed scowl.

Arcaeos merely sighed again. “Of course. Let’s take this to the lounge, and then we may talk.”

Chapter Text

The lounge was comfortable. A circular fireplace burned brightly in the center, cushions and low tables settled around the room. There were a few potted plants as well, adding greenery to the space. It was cozy, like warm amber and honey on a nice autumn night.

The Traveller settled on a plush, velvet red divan, Paimon settling next to them. Across from them, separated by a low, rectangular table, Neuvillette settled on a matching divan, folding his hands in his lap, his posture perfect and straight. Arcaeos had walked over to the corner of the room where there was a kettle.

“Tea?” he called. “Or perhaps wine or something similar? There is also water sourced from Lake Elfr.”

“That sounds delightful.”

“Tea for me, please.”

“And for Paimon.”

It didn’t take long. Like he had always done on their travels, Arcaeos used his control over pyro to heat the kettle. He brought the tea over to the table where they were sitting to let it steep, the delicate aroma of it filling the air. Arcaeos also brought a clear glass bottle of cool water, offering it to Neuvillette, while he himself had his own mug of tea.

“Shall we just get straight to the point?” Arcaeos hummed, settling next to the Hydro Dragon.

“I don’t see a point in idle talk.” Neuvillette nodded. He had poured the water into that golden goblet and was now swirling it gently, watching the way it moved. “You said you would answer our questions, though I sense you wish to say something first.”

“Indeed.” Arcaeos turned to face the Traveller, hands folded in his lap. “I have lied to you for a few years now about who I am. I would like to make something clear though, in case you thought otherwise: this vessel is not something I created simply to travel Teyvat. It is not something I used to lie to you. I have used it ever since Murata’s duel.”

The Traveller nodded slowly, understanding. “Why change your eyes? Your eyes were grey before.”

“Yes. That was to hide what I am. Look at me now and tell me you would not have suspected something.”

The Traveller did as asked, studying the man closely. Nothing about him had really changed. He wore his hair differently—down with a few small, intricate braids and gold beads—and his clothes were more telling of his status, but his face and posture were the same. His eyes, though, were fiery. While Zientu’s had been a vibrant grey, Arcaeos’ shone a brilliant red, flickering with orange and gold as though a fire burned within. Just looking at him, the Traveller could feel the finely-controlled pyro energy beneath his skin.

“You have a point,” the Traveller conceded.

“Mn,” Arcaeos hummed with a nod. “I am a good liar, but a bad actor. I cannot pretend to feel nothing in the face of those I love. I knew that as soon as you saw me with my nation, or with my children especially, who I am would be obvious. Still, I did not mean to just disappear on you, Traveller. I have found myself far busier than expected these past few days.”

The Traveller pursed their lips slightly. That made sense: if the leader of a nation had returned after a few years of travel, there would likely be some work that needed their attention.

“Why lie about who you are?” they asked, sipping their tea. “You said you were hesitant about how I would react. Is that all?”

Arcaeos lowered his gaze, a soft sigh passing his lips. “I did not want to advertise my identity across the nations. Hardly anyone outside of Natlan is aware of Murata’s death. I did not want to pull curiosity to my nation. This is a nation of safety, where those needing to escape their lives or their situations can find refuge. The Hunt keeps up an illusion that deters tourism. I am not certain how knowledge of me may damage that, so I kept my Authority suppressed and my identity hidden.”

“So you do have your power back,” Paimon said, while the Traveller pondered over the dragon’s words. “But Paimon still doesn’t understand why you created a human vessel in the first place. Why not stay in your own body?

“I…” Arcaeos hesitated, looking like he didn’t know how to answer that. After a long moment of thinking, he sighed quietly. “...Xbalanque said you’d found my real body, so you’ve seen what Murata did to me.”

The Traveller blinked in mild surprise. “Murata did that?”

“She did.” Arcaeos nodded softly, a faint look of both irritation and fondness in his gaze. “She was a ferocious fighter, and she used dirty tricks to win when necessary.”

Neuvillette hissed angrily, hydro energy permeating the air around him. “She tried to ground you. Your wings… You can’t fly without suffering, can you?”

“I don’t know,” Arcaeos said quietly with a small, unsure shrug. “She cut off three of my wings, almost all four. After the duel, I managed to reconnect them and fly back to our den, and since then, my body has been in stasis. There is nothing left to heal, but… I don’t know how it feels now.”

Paimon frowned in confusion. “But… why don’t you know?”

“Well, how to explain this…” The dragon hesitated, hand under his chin as he thought. “Murata challenged me to a duel, you know this. You don’t know that I had been asleep for over a thousand years before that. Grief drove me away from the world, but anger kept me tied to it. The war of the godless nation had already been going on for a long while before I finally woke up and discovered how Murata had been ruling my homeland. I wanted to do something about it. We each wanted something from each other, so she challenged me to a duel.”

Hesitantly, the Traveller asked, “What did you both want?”

A bitter smile crossed Arcaeos’ lips. “If Murata won, I would become her tool and weapon of war. If I won, she would destroy her throne and return the power that the Heavenly Principles stole from me. Thus, I accepted the duel.”

Something like a strangled noise of pain passed Neuvillette’s lips. “And you won, but not without suffering grievous injury.”

“Mn.” Arcaeos nodded once, carefully sipping his tea. “My body needed to heal, but Natlan was still at war. I couldn’t afford to retreat, so I created this vessel, and my children to aid me. While my true body slept and healed beneath Sovereign’s Breath, we and the Talons reshaped Natlan. That is why this vessel exists. I have used it ever since.”

“But your true body has healed, Arcaeos,” Neuvillette said, somewhat distressed. “I don’t understand—”

“Why I haven’t returned to it?” Arcaeos smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was… pained. Grieving. “Because it’s easier in this body. This body doesn’t know the shape of another lying with them. Like this, I don’t know what it’s like to feel another’s touch, so I don’t know how to miss it. If I return to my true body… If I don’t open those eyes, I don’t have to face a reality without my mate. Not again.”

“Not anymore, my heart.” Neuvillette’s lavender eyes bore into Arcaeos’ scarlet, pain clear in his expression as he grasped Arcaeos’ hands in his. “Please, I am here. I don’t remember all of history, but I remember who we were. I miss you.”

Arcaeos met his eyes with a soft, distant smile, like he was pondering a ghost. Slowly, he reached up to cup Neuvillette’s cheek. Neuvillette leaned into it instantly, and rain fell heavily on the roof. The harsh sound of it made the Traveller glance upwards for a moment before they returned to their tea.

They were a little irritated and a little bitter, but they didn’t feel that angry. They understood why Arcaeos had lied to them. Perhaps they had just grown used to befriending the powerful figures of this world. Though, Arcaeos wasn’t bound to Celestia like the Archons were…

“—has been singing to me,” Neuvillette was murmuring when the Traveller shook themselves from their thoughts, his hands still grasping Arcaeos’. “Ever since I regained my Authority, I’ve heard it.”

“The primordial sea can sing?” Paimon asked, curious and awed.

Arcaeos nodded with a soft smile. “The sea loves the life it gives. It danced for the Sovereigns’ song, and it was beautiful. I admit I haven’t returned in a long time.” Arcaeos hummed pensively, thumbs rubbing over the back of Neuvillette’s hands. “If it sings you the song of renewal, Dragon of Water, it is trying to renew you. To support you, and remind you that you are not alone.”

A soft, awed smile grew on Neuvillette’s lips at that. The heavy rain against the roof lessened, harsh pattering becoming gentle. Arcaeos smiled at that, giving the Hydro Dragon’s hands a gentle squeeze before pulling away and turning to the Traveller.

“You look like you have something to ask,” he said urgingly.

“I… Do you know anything about my sibling?” the Traveller asked softly, trying not to hope.

“Ah… I’m sorry, but I don’t.” Arcaeos spoke gently, and the Traveller could only sigh in disappointment. “I would not lie to you about that. Even in Mondstadt when we first met, had I known anything, I would have told you.” The dragon shook his head with a regretful hum. “I was asleep when the war against the godless nation began. Murata challenged me almost as soon as I emerged and got my bearings. After that, I spent years healing and taking care of Natlan. I do not know any details about Khaenri’ah’s fall. When your sibling came to the Natlan chapter of their journey… I was something of a recluse, utterly focused on my work. I didn’t make time to know my people back then, and it was Xbalanque who interacted with your sibling the most.”

“Oh, great,” Paimon huffed, crossing her arms in displeasure. Neuvillette hummed in agreement, lips pursed sourly at hearing the name again. “It’s always Flameweed Brain.”

Something of a dry, amused smile crossed Arcaeos’ lips, though it quickly melted into something gentle. Something in his eyes sent a thrill of hope down the Traveller’s spine. Please, oh please—

“Being home again has made me realize how truly knowing someone may allow you to understand them,” Arcaeos started, speaking slowly like he wasn’t sure his help would be welcome. “I do not know your sibling, Traveller. I do not know how to read them as I’m sure you do. As such, I have asked the Talons, my Embers, and Xbalanque to compile their memories of your sibling— Actually, Xbalanque agreed to this far too easily… Perhaps it was his way of offering some form of apology for… No matter. This book contains those memories, as well as my own. Perhaps it will give you a lead.”

Arcaeos summoned a simple-looking book from his pocket dimension and slid it across the table for the Traveller to take. It was a decent thickness, the cover a deep blue detailed with a single star in the center. They opened it to a random page, only to find it full of ancient runes. A confused frown crossed their lips, but as they stared at the page, the world seemed to spin, and something seemed to tug at the edge of their mind.

In brief flashes, images of their sibling crossed their mind. Hiking through the Natlan rainforest, Haven much smaller than it was today, six tribes trying to settle after years at war with each other, a shared bonfire and warmth and safety.

The dizziness made it hard to focus, and just as soon as it came, it and the memories were gone. Disoriented, the Traveller blinked slowly, trying to regain their sense of balance. They closed the book and held it tightly, hope sending adrenaline racing in their blood.

“This is…” Their eyes were wide, a breathless smile curving their lips. “Arcaeos, this is incredible. I— Thank you.”

“It was no problem at all, Traveller.” The Pyro Dragon smiled widely, clearly happy at his gift being well-received. “Though I would like to make something clear. I am sorry for having lied to both you and Paimon about who I am. That book is not meant as an apology. It is because I see you as a close friend, and I want to help you. I was hoping you would accept a proper tour of Natlan, as well as a promise of no more lies between us, as an apology.”

The Traveller hummed, sending the book to their interdimensional pocket and sharing a look with Paimon. “What do you think?”

Paimon crossed her arms and turned her nose up with a playful huff. “The tour better include the best meals and treats Natlan has to offer.”

Arcaeos nodded seriously. “Of course. Though I plan to show you the rainforest and other locations further from residential areas, I believe this festival Dairet is planning will cover that. We may spend the day adventuring, and then return to Haven for the evening.”

“Sounds like a decent plan.” The Traveller nodded. “Though, I have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“You were there when Monsieur Neuvillette said he’d given the Hydro Gnosis to the Knave, and now you’re facing the Damslette. Why not just hand over the Pyro Gnosis?”

Neuvillette perked up in interest. “I was wondering the same thing. To keep a hold of such an item—?”

“Oh dear,” Arcaeos cut in, quickly getting to his feet. “I suddenly remembered something urgent that I must ask of Qinlin. I will return as soon as possible, please wait here.”

“Hey,” Paimon snapped accusingly as Arcaeos made to leave. “What happened to answering all of our questions?”

“Regretfully, this cannot wait. Perhaps some old legends and folktales will keep you entertained.”

The dragon produced a slim, worn-looking book. He placed it on the table between them, and then he swept out of the room, ignoring any further protests. The Traveller frowned. Neuvillette’s brows were furrowed the slightest bit, but he was looking at the book rather than the door the Pyro Dragon had just disappeared through.

“Well, that was rude,” Paimon huffed, crossing her arms.

Neuvillette hummed, nodding slowly. “Indeed. Though I believe these stories will be a very insightful read. If we could look at them together, Traveller, Paimon.”

Sensing an underlying intent, the Traveller nodded. They leaned forwards as Neuvillette opened the book to the first page, revealing an elegant, looping script. Their eyes drifted over the words, and almost instantly, the room blacked out. Colours rippled around them, changing and reforming until they found themselves surrounded by the shimmering waters of the primordial sea.

“Just as I thought,” Neuvillette mused from next to them. “This book contains a memory.”

“But… why?” Paimon asked, confused. “Why show us this and not just tell us?”

“To avoid the eyes of Celestia,” the Traveller guessed.

“Likely, yes.” Neuvillette looked around the grand room created by the sea. Tall pillars and hanging banners of glittering water surrounded them. It felt ancient. “The Heavenly Principles can’t see places such as this. Arcaeos doesn’t want them to be aware of his reasons.”

Before the Traveller could reply, six dragons materialized in the memory and swept into the large hall, each radiating power and rage. They towered over the three of them, sharp talons and glittering scales. The Sovereigns settled around the hall, a few of them pacing while others sat still and quiet.

“We won’t just lie down and accept this,” the Cryo Dragon hissed, footsteps echoing in the hall. “We let it go for this long, and now these gods destroy the land and two of our own. They disrespect our love. It’s time we fight for it.”

“What can we do though?” rumbled the Anemo Dragon. “We’ve lost the Dragon of Life. Now Safety’s fire is dying, and Hope is ill with tainted knowledge.”

“I will live, and so will Safety,” the Dendro Dragon growled. “Besides that, I have an idea.”

“Oh?” The Electro Dragon tilted her head, tail swishing furiously from the coils she rested in. “Then do share, Hope.”

The Dragon of Hope bared sharp fangs in a hateful snarl. “The Usurper King came from beyond our world, but they came from somewhere. With the gods’ focus on this civil war, who’s to notice if we slip away?”

The Cryo Dragon paused in her pacing, grinning maliciously. “You suggest we do to the Usurper as they did to us?”

“If we attack, we will likely draw the Usurpers’ attention,” the Geo Dragon hummed. “They will likely rush to defend their origins. Can we fight the Usurper on a land where they have the upper hand?”

“An all-out war didn’t work the first time,” the Dragon of Fire hissed. The fire in his eyes flickered weakly as he sneered. “What will change this time? How do we know we won’t be charging towards an even stronger foe?”

“We don’t,” the Dendro Dragon rumbled lowly. “But if we begin with a quiet attack and destroy as much as we can before the Usurper King is alerted, we may have a chance.”

“And what if they find out and take it out on our land?” the Anemo Dragon asked. “Some of us should stay back, just in case. We need someone to protect our home.”

The other Sovereigns agreed, looking between each other for a long moment before the Pyro Dragon bit out a sharp laugh.

“Well, we all know I am in no condition to wage war, silent as it may be. I will stay. Hope, you should as well. Two of us to protect our home, while the rest of you go.”

The Dendro Dragon growled unhappily, but acquiesced. “Very well. I will stay with you, Safety. This illness may get worse anyway.”

“Then we will go, and we will come back victorious.” The Electro Dragon sneered, sparks crackling between her fangs. “No matter how long it takes. An attack on the Usurper King’s homeworld. A fitting vengeance.”

The memory came to an end and the Sovereigns faded away, leaving only a faint growl echoing in the hall. The Traveller’s eyes were wide, their mind racing. The Sovereigns’ plan… How risky. All the worlds the Traveller has seen, finding the right one would be a challenge. And to avoid alerting the Heavenly Principles as they destroyed it? So many things could go wrong.

It had been two thousand years since the Archon War. Somewhere beyond the Teyvat, something was happening. Dairet said none of the Sovereigns had passed. Did that mean they were successful so far?

“That’s where they’ve been all these centuries,” Neuvillette murmured. His expression was calm, but the way his fists were clenched betrayed his turmoil. “Such a plan… I don’t know if I support this or not. Should the Usurper King decide to retaliate by hurting this world… Another war like the first would destroy everything.”

The Traveller’s lips pursed. All of the places they’d visited in Teyvat. They couldn’t imagine them all being wiped out.

A ripple shifted the sea around them into the desert underground, one memory ending and another beginning. Neuvillette grimaced at the dry desert air that surrounded them. The Dendro Dragon and the Pyro Dragon were both there, sand clinging to their scales. The fire in the Pyro Dragon’s eyes had dimmed even more and his scales seemed to have lost their luster. He seemed so sad. Seeing that, a choked, pained sigh passed Neuvillette’s lips.

“Five centuries, and every time we meet, you seem to wither even more, Safety.” The Dendro Dragon nosed at the Pyro Dragon’s cheek worriedly. “I grow more and more concerned each year. This cannot continue.”

“And what do you suggest I do?” the Pyro Dragon asked miserably. “I have tried. I don’t know how to make this pain lessen.”

“It won’t. You will learn to live with it, one day. Now though, you have nothing to distract you, so I suggest you enter a dreamless sleep. Perhaps the future will provide you with something to do. I believe I too will slumber. There is nothing for us to do but avoid alarming the gods.”

“But—”

“Sleep, Safety. The sea will call for us if we are needed.”

“Huh,” Paimon mused as the scene rippled with a new memory. “Paimon never thought the Dendro Dragon could be so nice. She seemed constantly grumpy when we met her earlier with Nahida.”

Just as Paimon finished speaking, Nahida’s form materialized in front of them. So did the forms of the Traveller, Paimon, and Zientu. The Traveller hummed, recognizing the aftermath of restoring the Dendro Dragon’s oasis. The conversation between the dragon and Nahida was a low hum, and over top of that was a new conversation, one that the Traveller hadn’t heard the first time.

“I would not have recognized you, had I not seen you when you visited me decades earlier, Safety,” the Dendro Dragon’s voice hissed. She sounded disdainful. “And you still keep such a vessel…”

“It has helped, Hope.”

Zientu didn’t open his mouth, but his voice echoed in the memory. A telepathic conversation, then. That would explain why the Traveller hadn’t heard it in the moment.

“I suppose it has,” the Dendro Dragon hummed lowly. “And what of this little group you’ve found yourself? Don’t tell me you’ve grown a fondness of the Archons?”

“The Archons are pawns,” Zientu replied. “I have spent the last couple of years journeying across the nations. What I have learnt makes me think they should be judged separately from the Heavenly Principles.”

“I see…” The Dendro Dragon huffed unhappily. “I will hear your case alongside the other Sovereigns when the time comes. The Usurper King has been absent for many years now, Safety, leaving the weaker of his Principles in charge. Once the other Sovereigns have finished the job across the stars and they return home, we are free to launch the final attack on Celestia. The age of the gods is coming to an end. Don’t back out now.”

“I’m not, Hope. I will still see the Heavenly Principles destroyed. It is solely the prisoners they keep that I am hesitant about.”

“Prisoners, hmm? An interesting perspective… I hear the Cryo Archon is gathering the pieces of the Third Descender. Do not let her gain the piece you hold.”

“She will not. I know as well as you do that her plan will force the hand of the cowardly Principles, and we are not enough to protect from the ruin that will bring. She needs all seven of the pieces, however. There are still two remaining.”

“There’s no telling what the Hydro Archon will do. Plan for the worst, and visit soon.”

“Ha. If anyone should visit, Hope, you should visit Natlan. You should meet my children face to face, rather than the dreams you are so fond of.”

The Dendro Dragon rumbled in consideration, and then the memory disappeared. The Estate lounge settled back into place around them, and the book on the table before them flipped itself closed. The Traveller pressed a hand to the side of their head, willing the slight dizziness to fade.

“That was…” Paimon trailed off, hand to her temple as she blinked slowly. “That was interesting.”

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and then Arcaeos was back, glancing between them curiously. The faint scent of rain followed him as he returned to his place next to the Hydro Dragon, his hair and his cloak damp. Though he didn’t say anything, there was an affectionate, loving look in Neuvillette’s eyes as he lifted a hand and easily pulled the water from his mate’s person, collecting it in a ball that he then dropped into one of the plant pots nearby.

Arcaeos hummed, gently knocking his head against Neuvillette’s in thanks. “I found Qinlin,” he said with a hum. “I hope you all stayed entertained while I was gone?”

“Quite entertained,” the Traveller replied, shaking off the last of the dizziness.

Neuvillette nodded, hands once again grasping his mate’s. “It was a very interesting tale. We found it very insightful.”

Arcaeos nodded sagely, a pleased smile on his lips. “Excellent. Now, I believe we should begin that Natlan tour now, if we want to make it back in time for Dairet’s festival.”

Chapter Text

The rain had stopped. The clouds faded quickly, leaving the sun to dry the damage. As the Traveller walked with Paimon and the two Sovereigns, they noticed that the birds were starting to emerge from their shelters in the hollows and crevices of the rainforest around them. Arcaeos led them towards the northern border of the nation, sharing old stories and anecdotes as they walked.

“You don’t want to see a Sovereign truly furious,” he said with a hum. “Even without our Authority, we are some of the most ancient and powerful beings of this world, the ones most attuned to our elements. The same breeze that rustles your hair in the summer can become a powerful tornado destroying anything in its path. The earth that quakes, the lightning that rages, the sea that pulls everything deep beneath its surface. Leviathan was the most powerful of us, the guardian of the ancient waters. After our Authority was ripped away, he suffered the most.”

“Because of the loss of power?” the Traveller asked.

They shivered slightly, remembering the feeling of their severed wings and power destroyed. Sometimes they still felt the phantom pains. Even after the time that had passed, they still found themselves trying to use their wings in the direst situations, when the memory of their loss slipped away.

Arcaeos hummed. “Partially, at least. It is… an adjustment, having a part of your very being ripped away, but Leviathan also lost his connection with the primordial sea. You always hear it now, don’t you, beloved?”

“Yes.” Neuvillette nodded, delighting in the endearment if the soft look in his eyes meant anything. “Its presence is with me, in the back of my mind. It is… comforting.”

“Mn. You were the only one of the Sovereigns to always be connected to the sea, as the Dragon of Water. All the Sovereigns were connected to our elements, but none of them were alive the way the sea is. When that connection was torn away… Leviathan was near comatose for months. Slowly, we learnt to rebuild our connections with the elements around us, but Hydro Dragon’s connection to the primordial sea was lost.”

The Traveller hummed. They could see how hard of a blow that would be. They’d lost their connection to the stars beyond, when their power was stripped from them. They understood that pain. They’d learnt to take comfort in the faint presence they could feel from the stars now, when the night sky was clear. It was nothing like it was before, but it was something.

“Your sense of pyro energy is essential to Natlan’s safety, isn’t it?” Neuvillette asked. His brows were furrowed as he tried to remember. “I vaguely recall it being necessary to siphon the energy from the volcanoes.”

“Indeed.” Arcaeos nodded. “Volcanoes are formed by a buildup of pyro energy deep underground. Sovereign’s Breath in particular has an incredibly large amount of energy, enough that an eruption could pose serious risk to the nation in terms of lava and ash. To prevent this, I—and sometimes the other pyro dragons—siphon energy from the volcano and take it into my own form while more of it flows as lava through cracks in the volcano’s slope.”

“Huh,” Paimon mused. “Is that why the Pyro Dragon is said to have so much pyro energy?”

“Partially. I am the Sovereign Dragon of Fire, so of course I have an abundance of pyro energy.”

“Hang on,” the Traveller said, lips curling upwards in a smirk. “There’s one thing I forgot to ask about.”

Arcaeos’ eyes narrowed suspiciously, seeing it. “Yes?”

“The Vision you carried before, attached to your cloak clasp. That was a fake, wasn’t it?”

“No, actually.” Arcaeos relaxed now, shooting Neuvillette a playful glare when the Hydro Dragon muffled a snicker. “It was a real Vision I’d made for myself, to restrain myself from showing more power than I should while pretending to be human. It also helped keep the Archons from suspecting anything.”

“Smart,” Paimon hummed. “Where is it now?”

A loud crash—nearby yet distant at the same time—cut off Arcaeos’ reply. Somewhere in the rainforest to the left of them, the Traveller heard the sound of explosions and yelling. A battle. Their eyes widened, as did Neuvillette’s, but Arcaeos looked unbothered. He continued walking down the road, the rest of them hesitantly following.

“That’s a Hunt battle,” the Pyro Dragon explained. “The Indigo control this region of turf for now, and I heard the Raudr were planning to launch a siege. It’s no cause for alarm.”

“So that’s what all the rustling and footsteps was,” Neuvillette murmured. “I was wondering what that was.”

“You could hear them from here?” Paimon asked in surprise.

“Indeed. For a dragon’s senses, when I pay attention, they are easily within my hearing range. Though you showed no signs of hearing them, my heart, so I was unsure what it was.”

Arcaeos smiled sheepishly. “I couldn’t hear them.” At Neuvillette’s confused frown, he went on. “This vessel is completely human. I have none of my draconic abilities or senses.”

Neuvillette’s frown deepened at that, confusion etched in his tone. “None? Why not?”

“To live amongst mortals, it’s best to have a mortal form. It helps in understanding them.”

“I see…” Neuvillette hummed in a way that said he clearly didn’t.

Arcaeos didn’t explain further. He merely turned back to the path forwards and continued leading them.

The Traveller ducked under the leaf of a large fern, beyond which the rainforest ended, trees and underbrush giving away to dirt and volcanic rock. They were standing at the top of a small, two-story high cliff that ran left to right as far as the Traveller could see, and beyond that on the ground below, the rock met the desert sand. There was a strange weight in the air, ancient and solemn.

Arcaeos led them closer to the cliff edge, and a sudden twist of unnatural shifted in the air like a bolt of lightning. It was cold fingers on the edge of the Traveller’s senses, something just out of the corner of their eye but never there in the first place. A shiver ran down the Traveller’s spine, their eyes widening as they searched for the source.

Movement from the corner of their eye had the Traveller leaping back just in time to dodge the swipe of a clawed hand. It was an enraged woman, and she didn’t hesitate to attack again. One of Neuvillette’s barriers appeared between them, blocking the woman and giving the Traveller time to see what they were facing.

The woman’s dark skin appeared to be sickly pale, her eyes a milky white, and strange black veins crawling up her neck and cheeks. She wore sleeveless golden battle robes, her nails inhumanly sharp and expression twisted in a snarl.

The Traveller summoned their sword.

“No, wait!” Arcaeos cried urgently, blocking the Traveller’s move to lunge forwards. “Don’t attack!”

“But she’s attacking us!” Paimon yelped from where she was hovering nervously behind the Hydro Dragon.

“It’s not her fault!” Arcaeos called in reply, fire burning in his hands as he stepped around Neuvillette’s shield. “Let me face her!”

The woman’s attention turned to him as soon as he came within range. It didn’t appear to be a difficult fight for the dragon. He dodged the woman’s frenzied attacks easily and gracefully, not attacking in turn and instead merely looking for an opening. When he found it, Arcaeos leapt forwards to grab the woman’s head, his fingertips splayed over her temples and the sides of her face.

His fire burned brightly, and the woman went limp, falling to her knees. Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide and staring at nothing. The fire seemed to burn through her whole body, lighting her up from within, but she made no sound. She was silent as she burned, bones becoming a shadow beneath her skin. Her body gradually turned to sparkling ash, gently blowing away on the breeze, yet fading from existence before it got too far.

At the same time, a gentle murmur passed Arcaeos’ lips. “May your soul find rest through the heat of the flames, and enter the cycle of rebirth to someday walk these lands again.”

The strange, unnatural chill in the air dissipated quickly once the woman was gone. There was nothing left to show she was ever there, and as Arcaeos’ fire died down, a solemn expression settled on his face. He closed his eyes briefly, a steadying sigh passing his lips before he opened his eyes again. Neuvillette dismissed the hydro barrier and tilted his head.

“That was a ghost, correct?” he asked.

“A spirit.” Arcaeos corrected softly, something sad in his expression. “I did not expect merely approaching this place to stir one of the many still lingering here…”

“Still lingering?” Paimon asked, echoing the Pyro Dragon’s quiet tone. “What is this place?”

In response, Arcaeos moved to stand at the edge of the cliff. The Traveller followed him, looking down when the dragon gestured to do so. Their eyes widened; the bottom half of the cliff face was covered in skulls. Stacked on top of each other, packed and embedded into the rock. They appeared ancient and weathered, numbering what must be thousands of empty eyes staring out into the desert.

“Natlaneans believe in cremation as the way to release the spirit from the mortal body in order for it to reach the afterlife, and potentially, reincarnation,” Arcaeos said quietly. “This is Tzompantli, something Murata built as a way to defend the nation.”

“A defence?” the Traveller echoed, pursing their lips. “I get it… These bodies weren’t cremated, and their spirits weren’t sent on. If they’re disturbed, the agitated spirit wakes up.”

“Mn.” Arcaeos nodded solemnly. “Sending these spirits—and others who are not at peace—to rest is what the Kem do. However, there is no predicting when or where a spirit of this wall may appear. Here, when someone’s walks through, or across the nation in a place that meant something to them. There are thousands of souls trapped here; I hope that one day, there will be no more.”

“Can’t you just… burn the wall?” Paimon asked hopefully.

Arcaeos shook his head. “I have tried. Murata spelled this wall to be unbreakable, for what good is a defence easy to dismantle?”

“Spirits are very fierce opponents,” Neuvillette mused, thumb under his chin in thought. “From an objective standpoint, such a defence would be hard to break through, and requires no cost to sustain as living armies do. However, to violate her own people in this way… how heartless.”

“Most skulls aren’t Natlanean,” Arcaeos said softly, but that didn’t make anything better. “Some are prisoners captured during international war. Others… I believe many are from the godless nation. This is a piece of Natlan’s history that we are still working to make better.”

The Traveller said nothing to that. They weren’t sure what they could say, so they spent a long moment in solemn silence. Eventually, Arcaeos bowed his head and turned away from the cliff.

“Come along,” he said softly. “There’s still much to see before the evening’s festival.”

With a silent wish that the trapped souls find peace, the Traveller turned and followed the Pyro Dragon back into the rainforest.

They made it back to Haven just as the sun was turning orange on the horizon. Arcaeos had taken them around the nation, to villages and other landmarks that he deemed important or meaningful in some way. The largest hot spring, the edge of Gehenna, the Sanctuary. The destroyed battleground where he fought Murata, still littered with destruction and scars; the coliseum of the Dracarys Games, a large plateau ringed by deep canyons and waterfalls; the ocean that bordered the western side of Natlan and the river of lava that flowed into it; and Kairio Village, a farming community east of Taega’s Grave.

It was a lot to see, but it was wonderful to experience. Arcaeos was proud of his nation, and the Traveller could see why. It wasn’t perfect, but it was beautiful all the same. The trip seemed to help the two dragons settle as well; the time together made it easier for Arcaeos to remember that this was something he could have, and Neuvillette became more confident in himself when pressing little affections to the Pyro Dragon. Little touches became less hesitant, and they smiled so easily.

It was sweet, but the Traveller was getting tired of chaperoning the two of them. Not that they were constantly caught up in each other, but as the day went on, the Traveller could tell the itch to have the long conversation they needed to have was getting stronger. But that wasn’t their business, so they said nothing of it.

Haven’s main street and the open square it led to were decorated and lively when they returned, everything turned bright and golden by the sun lowering on the horizon. Lights were strung up between the buildings, and the wide street was lined with market vendors selling food and toys and handcrafted trinkets. A band played on a stage in the center of the square, a merry tune that filled the air and moved the dancing crowd that surrounded them.

Together, the group of them floated between numerous food stalls for dinner. It was a variety of Natlanean street food, delicious meats and seasonings different from any of the other nations. After their first sample, Neuvillette began requesting less spice on his dishes, a faint redness to his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears. The Traveller shared an amused smile with Paimon and Arcaeos at that, though Arcaeos did recommend his mate some of the lighter dishes after that.

The only other interesting event during their dinner was with one of the vendors they went to. It was a tall, tanned woman with long, vibrant red hair, the ends of which faded into orange and yellow, and styled like a messy wildfire. Her eyes were fiery like Arcaeos were, flames flickering within as she cheerfully worked her stall. She served dragon-only meat buns—something about different palate preferences that deferred humans from enjoying them—and as she moved, the Traveller noticed the edge of a large, jagged scar on her left collarbone that disappeared down her chest beneath her clothes.

“Ah, Arcaeos!” she said brightly when she noticed the dragon. “You’re back, you scaly old ass! I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to step up again!”

Arcaeos laughed lightly. “Not that I doubt your leadership skills, Nakon, but you’re eleventh in line to inherit Natlan.”

“Good good. I hate leadership jobs.” She paused to poke at the coals keeping her tray of meat buns warm, the Pyro Vision at her side glowing gently as she did. Then she turned back to them with a grin. “You’re here for the best buns in Natlan? One for your hydro friend too?”

Neuvillette, the Traveller noticed, had been delicately sniffing the air, a curious, hungry note to his expression. Something more draconic had entered his eyes, slitted pupils somehow appearing more reptilian.

“What is that?” he asked. He sounded perfectly composed as usual, at least. “It’s… enticingly aromatic.”

The Traveller hummed, curious. The meat buns did smell good, but there was a faint underlying scent to them that made the Traveller want to keep them away. A dragon-preferred scent then.

Nakon laughed, waving a hand. “That would be my famous meat buns! It’s my best attempt at human food for the draconic palate. Here, try one! Traveller, little fairy, you can try one too if you want. The thick flavour is an acquired taste.”

“Paimon’s name is Paimon,” the girl huffed, crossing her arms as Neuvillette delicately took the offered bun.

Arcaeos had already eaten half of his, a greatly pleased smile on his lips. Nakon’s wide, satisfied grin never wavered. In fact, it only grew when Neuvillette took a small bite of his meat bun, only to perk up and take a larger bite a second later. The Traveller found a smile growing on their lips as they watched the scene, and they chuckled lightly when Nakon winked knowingly at them.

“Alright, now shoo,” she said cheerfully, waving them away. “I have a stall to run, and your scaly tails are blocking traffic. I’ll come find you when I’m sold out, Arc.”

“See that you do,” Arcaeos replied sagely, finishing his meat bun and licking his lips in satisfaction.

Nakon tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly at the reply. She said nothing of it however, merely turning to her next customers as the group of them walked away to the next stall. Paimon asked to try the roasted corn cobs, and as the Traveller fondly obliged, they kept an ear to the conversation between the two Sovereigns.

“That was exquisite,” Neuvillette said, sounding both satisfied and confused at the same time. “A meat bun with the draconic palate in mind…?”

“Indeed.” There was a clear smile in Arcaeos’ voice. “They’re delicious. I have no idea how she does it.”

“You’re familiar with her?”

“Yes. Nakon is a friend.”

“I see. I don’t believe I’ve ever had anything with such a palate in mind… Human food is just as delightful, but that was indeed delicious.”

“Mn. Perhaps I should ask Qinlin or Dairet to show you around Gehenna—?”

“Oh, this is good!” Paimon unintentionally cut in, cheeks full of corn and satisfaction on her face as they moved at the edge of the crowd. “What should we do next, Traveller?”

Before the Traveller could reply, a boisterous cry of “Guardian!” reached their ears. It was a tall man making his way through the crowd towards them, closely followed by five others, all of them dressed in a different tribe colour. This man was wearing a red cloak over his broad shoulders, the sunlight glinting off several carved, golden bands in his long, braided, red hair, just beginning to grey. His eyes were a vibrant emerald colour, and there was a black tribal symbol painted on his right cheek, a pair of twin battle axes resting at his hips. His grin was wide, almost obscured by his thick beard.

Arcaeos turned, a smile gracing his lips. “Chief Metzti.”

“You’re hard to find!” the chief said loudly, teasing. “We almost thought you’d run off and hidden away!”

The others with him must have been the other tribe leaders, a group of varying appearances and impressions. They all carried a sense of power though.

“Is this late?” Arcaeos asked apologetically.

“No.” The Chieftess of the Blar smiled sweetly, dark grey eyes glittering with delight. Her dark skin shone in the sunlight, and her head was half shaved, long dark hair done in tight braids to keep in over her left shoulder. Likewise, her cloak was also over her left shoulder, while on her other side, her short sleeves showed off her muscle and the sword at her side. “Metzti is just exaggerating. You’re right on time, Guardian.”

“Good.” Arcaeos nodded, pleased. “Traveller, Paimon, Neuvillette, meet the good chieftains of Natlan’s six tribes.”

“Ah, the famed Traveller, their companion, and the Iudex of Fontaine!” the Raudr chief exclaimed brightly. He tapped a fist to his heart and gave a bow of his head. “I am Metzti, Chief of the Raudr.”

“Safiya, Chieftess of the Blar. Welcome to Natlan.”

“Kianto of the Indigo. I’d be very interested in hearing your tales, if you’re willing to share.”

The Chief of the Indigo was tall and pale. His long white hair was held back in a careful braid that kept it from getting in his way, decorated by a vibrant purple ribbon and a silver hairpiece. There was a curious, studying look in his pale blue eyes, and a jagged scar across the right side of his jaw. While he carried a sword, it was strapped to his back and appeared to have little wear.

The woman in green gave them a warm wave. “My name is Nenetl.”

The Wedjat Chieftess appeared to be the oldest of the chieftains. Her long, wavy hair may have once been an auburn red, but it had mostly given away to silvery grey. She wore a headband to keep it from her face, the kind smile on her wrinkled face reflected in her grey eyes. She was thin and lithe, built for nimbleness and agility rather than brute strength, and the worn bow on her back spoke of many years of usage and care.

The next man gave a perfect bow at the waist, hands clasped in front of him. “Hapikern, Chief of the Kem.”

Opposite to Nenetl, the Chief of the Kem appeared to be the youngest. His dark face spoke of youth, yet the serious look in his heterochromatic eyes—one black and the other white—said he was just as grown as the rest of them. There was a thin scar across his white eye, his short, curled hair leaving it clearly visible, but he didn’t look bothered by that at all. The Cryo Vision clipped to his waist chilled the air around him, and if he noticed, he didn’t show any sign of caring.

“Anka.”

The Chieftess of the Hedj kept her snowy white hood over her head, covering her dark skin and short, dark hair. Her white eyes were lowered, not out of shyness but disinterest. Her short frame was mostly hidden under her white cloak, an Electro Vision just visible and clipped to her hip. That explained the faint static in the air around her at least.

The Traveller swept their gaze over each of them in turn. These men and women were skilled and experienced, people who had what it took to lead their people and do their jobs.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the Traveller said, and they meant it.

“A pleasure indeed.” Neuvillette gave a bow of his head.

“Justice in Fontaine,” Kianto started with a curious hum and a tilt of his head. “I’ve heard it’s different there.”

“Ah, before you get into your story hunting,” Safiya cut in before Neuvillette could reply. “Guardian. You asked us to report any time our people encounter one of the harbinger’s machines.”

Arcaeos’ eyes sharpened, a frown crossing his lips. “I did, yes. Where? What was it?”

“A ruin grader, east of Sovereign’s Breath, near the main road. It stumbled upon a Hunt battle between us and the Hedj. It’s been defeated and dragged to the Hedj’s laboratory for dangerous experiments for them to study.”

“The homing arrows work,” Anka added, her eyes briefly meeting Arcaeos before flitting back to stare at one of the nearby buildings. “I will have a lot of fun dissecting that machine.”

“And I will have a lot of fun drafting plans to fix the craters in the road,” Safiya huffed, crossing her arms with a scowl.

Suddenly, a short, teenage girl in green appeared next to Nenetl. Her dark skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, blood red hair held in a tight bun behind her right ear. Her pale amber eyes were wide, zipping back and forth, the Anemo Vision at her thigh glittering with an energy that gathered around the bow clenched in her fist.

“Hang on!” Paimon shrieked loudly, barely noticed in the sounds of the festival nearby. “You’re the one who almost ran into us the other day!”

“Huh?” The girl’s eyes looked over towards her, scanning the floating pixie slowly. “Oh! Right, I ran past you. Sorry about that, not my best first impression. I’m Katla.”

“Mn, what problems have you gotten into now?” Nenetl asked, gentle and expecting. The other chieftains smiled in amusement. “Even with your Vision, in a large crowd like this…”

“I can see well enough, Chieftess,” Katla huffed, crossing her arms. The Traveller frowned slightly, noticing the slight grey fog in her pupils. “And I haven’t started anything. Nothing like a brawl anyway. That ginger harbinger was following you, so I distracted him.”

“You mean you shot him,” Metzti said, laughter building in his voice.

The Traveller’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Not many would have the guts to start something with Childe. This girl—

“There you are.”

Speaking of Childe. The harbinger appeared from the crowd next to the Traveller, a pleasant smile on his face as he looked at Katla. He seemed more impressed than irritated, but the Traveller knew how that could change in an instant. They also knew that Arcaeos would step in if the harbinger was truly angry.

“You’re a good shot, kid,” Childe commented. “And slippery too, I had fun tracking you down.”

“Why were you following the Chieftess?” Katla demanded, crossing her arms and pursing her lips.

The Traveller had to appreciate her bravery. Or foolishness, but she seemed sharp, so perhaps such wittiness was just part of who she was.

Childe shrugged carelessly. “I was hoping she and the other chieftains would lead me to the Guardian. There’s a lot of people here, and I wasn’t sure if there was a difference between Zientu and the Guardian.” He turned to the Pyro Dragon now, blue eyes bright. “Would you train me?”

“Would you abandon the Tsaritsa and your abyssal master, and swear loyalty to Natlan if I could bring your family to live here without threat?”

Arcaeos replied quickly and easily. He wasn’t surprised that Childe had asked, which meant he wasn’t surprised that Childe knew who he was. The Traveller wondered when he had figured it out. Was it during his first trip to Natlan? Or when Zientu had dove into the abyssal portal chasing after the narwhal and Foul Legacy? And when had Arcaeos realized Childe knew?

The harbinger laughed loudly, a note of cruelty in his tone. “You drive a hard bargain. You want me as your pawn? What’s in it for me?”

Arcaeos hummed. He dismissed the tribe chieftains with a quiet murmur that they would speak later, and then led them a street away from the festival. It was just himself, Childe, the Traveller, Paimon, and Neuvillette, alone on the edge of the celebration and shrouded in shadow.

“I am one of the oldest beings alive,” Arcaeos started, and he pushed his years into his tone. There was weight in his voice that only eons could give. “I can teach you many tactics and skills in war that have been lost over the millennia, things the Cryo Archon and the Abyss Dweller could never dream of. I would be willing to teach you such techniques, but you are part of a different nation and one day may use such tactics against my people.”

“I swore an unbreakable oath,” Childe pointed out. The usual carefree note to his posture and tone had disappeared. He meant business now, dead eyes trained on the Pyro Dragon. “I will not harm innocents on Natlan soil.”

“Harm can be subjective,” Arcaeos replied shortly.

Childe pursed his lips, fists clenching at his sides. The Traveller shared a look with Paimon and Neuvillette, all three of them clearly wondering where this conversation would take them. They said nothing though, content to watch on the sidelines as the scene played out before them.

“Why even ask?” Childe’s eyes were narrowed, studying the Pyro Dragon suspiciously. “Why do you want my loyalty?”

“You know you are a pawn to your archon, but you must know what a valuable pawn you are, Childe,” Arcaeos said, and there was something almost gentle in his voice that made it rather easy for the Traveller to imagine him having said ‘child’ instead. “You are skilled and ruthless, fueled by a determination that burns hotter than bubbling magma. Anyone could use that.”

“Ha.” Childe crossed his arms. “You know a lot about me. I don’t even know your name.”

“But you know who I am, and you have combed through every source you could find for anything and everything about me. The ball is in your court, Ajax of Morepesok.” Childe faltered heavily, hearing that name. His eyes widened in surprise, breath just barely catching in his throat. Arcaeos must have noticed, but he went on as if he hadn’t, his smile too gentle for his biting words. “Betray your Tsaritsa and abandon your abyssal master, swear an unbreakable loyalty to Natlan, and I will teach you everything I can in the way of war.”

The Traveller shared a wide-eyed look with Paimon. Neither of them had ever heard the dragon sound so… cold. As the difference between Venti and Barbatos, Zhongli and Morax, so too was the difference between Arcaeos and the Pyro Dragon.

The Traveller looked back and forth between the harbinger and the dragon, like they were invested in a thrilling, tense game of chess. Each opponent thought out their moves carefully, making plans to counter every step the competition made. A duel, where both sides wanted something from the other.

Something like a broken, hysterical laugh paused Childe’s lips. “You,” he started, his grin edging on wild. “You’re quite the dragon. You play the benevolent leader so well; one might think that’s all there is. Yet really, you’re just as ruthless as you say I am. I guess human skin can’t dull your fangs.”

Neuvillette’s fists clenched around his summoned cane, a faint, displeased growl rumbling in his chest. The Traveller looked between them all, deciding that having a plan of escape wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

Arcaeos merely smiled, lacking his usual warmth. “I look forward to hearing your decision.”

And with that, he made to walk back to the festivities. It felt more for dramatics than any other purpose, a way to push the harbinger into making an impulsive decision, but while Childe was brash and wild, the Traveller knew he always thought things through. Still, Arcaeos didn’t make it very far before Childe’s voice called out behind him.

“…Can you guarantee that my family will be safe and happy for as long as they live?”

The Pyro Dragon stopped, calmly turning his head to look over his shoulder at him. “I can.”

“Then I have to see if they’d be willing to move. Their whole lives are in Snezhnaya.”

Arcaeos fully turned back, tilting his head. “You are aware that the Rooster is ready to hold your family hostage to keep you in line, correct?”

“What?” Childe frowned. Arcaeos frowned back but Childe went on. “No, he’s just taking care— Oh, fuck. I never thought of that; betraying the Fatui has never crossed my mind.”

“That seems to be the only part of this deal crossing your mind,” Arcaeos hummed pointedly. “Do not forget about the Abyss.”

“I already agreed to sever my Abyssal connection for Capitano,” Childe replied curtly. “That part of this deal holds much less weight than my connection to Her Majesty. As you said, I’m a pawn to her. However, this pawn has his own goals: do anything to get stronger. There isn’t anything better than being trained by a dragon sovereign. The Archons must be children in comparison.”

“Less,” Arcaeos commented idly.

“My biggest priority is the safety of my family. I imagine that if word got back that I was even considering betraying Her Majesty, things wouldn’t be pretty. And even if it didn’t, I know Pulcinella. There’s no way I want my family in his grasp. You better hold strong and deliver on that part about their safety. With Pulcinella ready to act… Maybe I’ll have to force them here.”

“Don’t fret over how to safely bring them here.” Arcaeos waved a dismissive hand. “I have many exceptional assassin and stealth units who would delight in the chance to sneak into Snezhnaya.”

“That’s concerning,” Childe replied without pause, “But it’s also not my problem if I’m going through with this.”

Arcaeos’ answering grin was sharp and snarly. “Scared, harbinger? Well, that’s just part of the thrill when you jump off the cliff.”

“Arcaeos,” Neuvillette reprimanded firmly, apparently thinking the Pyro Dragon was getting too wild. However, he didn’t seem surprised or perturbed at his mate’s attitude, merely finishing, “Do not let this get out of hand.”

Unfortunately for him, Childe’s grin was just as sharp. “All this talk about my side of this deal. I want to see some of what you have to offer.”

“Then let me tell you the first lost secret: what is called an unbreakable vow is not truly unbreakable.”

“There’s a way to break an unbreakable vow?” Paimon spoke up, eyes wide.

“Indeed.” Arcaeos clasped his hands together, fiery eyes pinned on the harbinger. “Which is why, Ajax, this vow of loyalty will be sworn in a truly unbreakable way. You will swear loyalty to Natlan in blood before the ancient waters of the primordial sea.”

The Traveller didn’t miss the way Neuvillette’s eyes widened. Childe didn’t either, but he didn’t comment on it.

Instead, he crossed his arms and hummed. “You keep saying loyalty to Natlan, not to you.”

“That is not a mistake on my part. I will not have you betray this nation. Betray me if you wish, but what a foolish wish that would be.”

“Because you’d make me regret it?” Childe asked with a wry smile.

Arcaeos looked affronted. “I am not cruel. No, betraying me would leave you with nothing, having thrown away the very reason you have agreed to betray the Cryo Archon. A traitor to the Fatui would not be welcomed back.”

Childe’s lips pursed at the thought. He didn’t argue the point though, because what could he say? It was true. The Fatui were not a forgiving group.

“In any case,” Arcaeos went on, “Let me set one of your goals now. Anyone with a Vision has the potential to ascend to Celestia. However, you are the wielder of a Hydro Vision.”

Childe’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “So?”

Neuvillette hummed now, apparently picking up on Arcaeos’ point. His hands rested on the handle of his cane, an image staging the conversation as though it were a trial to be judged.

“The throne of hydro has been destroyed,” the Iudex intoned, his tone firm. “I am the closest thing to an archon that hydro has now. And I am no god.”

“...You’re saying I could become a dragon.”

Arcaeos smirked. “In body, at least. You would not be a full-blooded dragon. But if a dragon can fit into a human body, why not the reverse?”

“I had suspicions that my Authority would impact Hydro Vision holders,” Neuvillette hummed, lips pulled into a thin line. “I had asked Sigewinne if she noticed any changes in her Vision, but as a melusine, I couldn’t be sure how humans would be affected.”

“Hey, I’ll take it.” Childe grinned widely, eyes wild. “Sounds exciting.”

“As for a second goal…” Arcaeos trailed off with a hum. As he hesitated, the Dragon of Fire seemed to slip away and Natlan’s Guardian settled back into place, his edges becoming softer, fangs hidden away beneath human skin. “Neuvillette, beloved, by now there should be someone spying on us. Where is she?”

Neuvillette tilted his head, curious. “I have been hearing a heartbeat on the walkway above.”

“Good.” Arcaeos clapped his hands together, a smile growing on his lips. “Ajax, your second goal will be to best her in battle.”

“On it.”

Childe summoned his hydro daggers and—not hearing Arcaeos protest to wait—leapt upwards, kicking off a nearby building to vault himself up and over the railing of Haven’s second level. Arcaeos sighed, but he didn’t look alarmed. He looked like he’d just adopted a problem child and was questioning why.

Well. The Traveller wasn’t going to help him with that.

The four of them listened to the sounds of a scuffle on the walkway above them, rapid attacks and light feet. It was over quickly, ending with the heavy thud of someone falling and being pinned down.

“Woah!” came a female voice from above. “You’re quick, I like you! Arc, is this my new enrichment?!”

There was a grunt, something heavy being heaved up, and then Childe was thrown over the balcony railing above. He spun in the air, managing to twist around and land crouched on his feet near the Traveller. He straightened easily and rolled his shoulder, a confused look on his face like he didn’t quite know what just happened.

Someone else vaulted over the railing, landing lightly next to Arcaeos and running a hand through their long, vibrant red hair. Matching pairs of eyes, flickering like fire, settled on the harbinger. Childe looked between them, head tilted and a grin growing on his lips as his brain recognized a challenge to overcome.

“Sup, kid.” Nakon stood with one hand on her hip, the other hand giving a lazy salute that matched her grin. “I’m Nakon, current farmer from Kairio Village and former Pyro Archon.”

Childe wasn’t the only one who sputtered in shock. The Traveller’s eyes widened, scanning over the woman again. She looked human, her Pyro Vision genuine and no hint of otherwise in the energy around her.

Next to them, Neuvillette’s hands tightened on his cane, lavender eyes growing sharp. A low growl rumbled low in his throat, jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

“Uh, you’re what now?” Paimon asked dumbly.

Arcaeos smiled a closed-eye smile. “Meet the soul that, in her first life, became the God of War, Murata.”

[Nakon | The Lady of Fire | Story]

I woke up on the banks of River Elfr. I didn’t remember much, but I knew that my family were farmers in a small village, and that I needed to find them.

I stumbled through the rainforest for a week, hunting for food and fighting off any monsters that tried to hunt me. I didn’t have my Vision, and I didn’t know where I’d lost it. That week awakened something in me, and I remembered the adrenaline of a battle. I loved it. I also remembered what it felt like to have no choice but to fight if I wanted to survive. That feeling was… very familiar, but I didn’t know why.

When I reached the village, nothing was like it was in my memory. The people were different, the buildings were different, and my family was nowhere to be found. I tried to find them. Maybe they’d just moved somewhere else? But… they were gone. It had been millennia since they died. Millennia since the time I thought it was.

Someone contacted Arcaeos. He came to the village to see me. He recognized me, and explained what he could. I’d ascended and become a god. The Archon of Pyro. What a title. He told me about the duel I’d challenged him to. Hearing that… I don’t know why he was so kind to me, but hearing that helped me remember some more.

It wasn’t Celestia that saved me. They wouldn’t give two shits if one of their pawns fell. They don’t care about us. The Archons are the wardens of the nations, and prisoners themselves. No, it was the ancient sea that saved me. I remember the glittering water, and a lulling song. It was warm. Safe.

I only have flashes of my time as a god. I guess that part of me was destroyed when I destroyed the throne. I don’t regret it. I’m not made to lead people. I can’t rouse a crowd or inspire anyone. I can’t balance happiness and safety and the needs of the people. All I can do is offer my help. All I have are memories of my first human life.

I thought Arcaeos would imprison me. Use me as a soldier or kill me. I remembered enough about how to fight that I could be valuable. But he didn’t. He just had me pledge my loyalty to the nation, and then let me go. Said that if the sea thought to give me another chance, it wasn’t his place to decide my path.

It wasn’t hard to decide to become a farmer. That was all I really remembered, and I loved doing it, so why not? I take up commissions and work with the Adventurer’s Guild whenever the itch under my skin gets too intense. I protect my village from monsters, and I help the people whenever they ask. It’s a good life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Sometimes, I wish the other Archons could have their human lives back. I don’t really remember what life as Murata was like, but all the fragments I have are lonely and desolate. Mm? The Anemo and Geo Archons have taken on human lives? …Well, I guess it’s a start.

Chapter Text

Suvroa ended up going to Snezhnaya. She kicked up a fuss about it, stating that she was needed in Natlan with the rising tension, but two days later, after numerous arguments with Arcaeos, she and some of the Natlan stealth units were off to Childe’s home village to smuggle his family out. The Traveller preferred not to think about that.

That same day, Neuvillette had, unhappily, returned to Fontaine. He hadn’t made plans to be in Natlan for long, and Fontaine wasn’t used to functioning without him. He was trying to make it a brief trip, settling everything up so that the nation could last without the Iudex for an extended period of time. He’d had that much needed conversation with Arcaeos, and after figuring out how their relationship stood, he appeared to loathe being away from the Pyro Dragon for too long.

Jiazhen, with Neuvillette’s invitation, had also gone to Fontaine, interested in seeing the nation of hydro and potential international events. He’d been cheery as they left, but an underlying worry filled his expression every time Arcaeos wasn’t looking.

It didn’t seem odd. Suvroa was the head of the Natlan guard and Jiazhen planned public events. But the Traveller had known Arcaeos for years now and they knew that wasn’t all, so they cornered the dragon that evening, a concerned frown on their face.

“You sent the Twin Embers and Neuvillette out of Natlan at the same time,” they said, arms crossed. “Things with Columbina are coming to a head, aren’t they? You don’t want them here in danger.”

Arcaeos pursed his lips, but he didn’t try to fight. “I have already lost my mate once. I have already lost one of my children. I will do everything in my power to avoid losing anyone else. If that means sending them away from here, then so be it. If I could, I would take this outside of the nation, away from my people. I would send you and Paimon away too.”

“No way,” the Traveller said firmly. “I’m not one to run away from a fight.”

“The Damslette is one of the strongest harbingers, Traveller.” Arcaeos shook his head. “I do not want to risk it.”

The Traveller huffed, crossing their arms. “I’ve been training with Capitano. He’s told me about her moves. I can fight, Arcaeos. You’re my friend, and I want to help. You’re not invincible, dragon sovereign or not.”

Arcaeos pursed his lips. He looked the Traveller up and down before finally nodding in acquiesce. “Then here is what I wish you do.”

The voice came from behind them. “Traveller. Hydro Dragon.”

Paimon turned, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Flameweed Brain.”

“What do you want, Xbalanque?” the Traveller asked, arms crossed, before the dragon could do much more than sneer at the girl.

Xbalanque scowled, looking heartily displeased. “I’m sure you know Natlan is under pressure from Columbina.”

“Arcaeos has a plan,” Neuvillette replied curtly.

No one was around them. This was a quiet platform of Haven’s second level, overlooking the southwestern rainforest, not busy at this time of day. That meant that the pyro dragon must have deliberately sought them out.

Xbalanque looked unimpressed. “And did he tell you that he would try and stall the harbinger’s demands until you returned from Fontaine so you could face her together like star-crossed lovers?”

The Hydro Dragon didn’t reply, but the tight line of his lips answered for him. Xbalanque barked a mocking laugh, crossing his arms. His dark red hair moved as he shook his head, sunlight glinting off of the silver hairpiece holding his ponytail up.

“What a joke,” he said, a cruel sort of amusement in his tone. “Don’t tell me you actually believed that.”

“Arcaeos wouldn’t lie to Neuvillette,” Paimon huffed, crossing her arms and turning her nose up.

“Yes, he would.” Xbalanque’s vibrant teal eyes were sharp, just as cutting as his tone. “Do you really think that the Dragon of Safety would put his mate—the same mate that he lost and just now found—in the path of one of the most dangerous harbingers? No, he just wants you out of the nation before provoking Columbina into the final attack. I know that asshole, and he’ll find a way to send the Embers away too. You won’t hear of the danger he puts himself in until it’s already over, Hydro Dragon. That wound your death left him with has never fully healed.”

Neuvillette’s sour look soured even further. He seemed to decide that Xbalanque’s words made sense, no matter how much he disliked the dragon, as he didn’t immediately turn away and dismiss him.

“That doesn’t explain why you’ve come to us,” Neuvillette said, displeasure clear in his voice.

A smirk curled the corner of Xbalanque’s lips. “Well, Arcaeos has his plan, and I have mine.”

“For being the Dragon of Safety, Arcaeos doesn’t seem very confident in his own abilities,” Paimon said hesitantly as they made their way through the rainforest towards the nation border.

The Traveller shrugged. “The best safety may not always be at his side, especially if he’s on the front lines himself. He must think the safest place for the Twin Embers is away from Natlan. Columbina probably isn’t above using the people he cares most about to get to him.”

Paimon hummed and nodded her hesitant agreement. “Still… Why not just have them stay here where he can keep an eye on them?”

The Traveller shrugged again and didn’t answer.

They were getting closer to the border. Closer to the outpost where they had first met Jiazhen. Arcaeos should be speaking with Columbina and her envoy there. The Traveller was to stealthily approach and act as a surprise backup should things escalate.

The Traveller crept quietly, doing well to conceal their bright hair and pale cloak. They found a good hiding spot, nestled in the thick rainforest undergrowth, and were just about to settle into eavesdropping, when they noticed there was nothing to eavesdrop on. Instead of diplomatic conversation and politicking that the Traveller could not bring themself to try understanding, there was silence. Complete silence, and that never bode well in the wild.

Sharing a concerned look with Paimon, the Traveller moved forwards towards the edge of the small clearing, staying as hidden as they could. Upon creeping closer, they could smell blood. There were bodies strewn around the clearing, one Natlanean and the rest Fatui. The Traveller didn’t sense anyone else around. Neither Arcaoes nor Columbina were there.

With pursed lips, the Traveller began to investigate.

—“Arcaeos wants to make the first move, but he won’t get the chance. Columbina will bring the Hydro Gnosis to their next meeting. A Gnosis has enough power to temporarily subdue a Sovereign.”

“And how do you know she’ll bring it?”

“An informant.”—

Carefully, the Traveller stepped around the bodies, gently closing any open eyes and murmuring what words of departure they knew. The Natlanean had had their neck broken, and there were bloodied marks on their cheeks where sharp nails had broken skin. The Fatui were all burned and blackened, severe burns covering them. Near a particularly bad scorch in the grass was what appeared to be the partially-melted remains of an electro vanguard’s hammer, as well as the dead vanguard himself.

“Wow,” Paimon said nervously, sticking close to the Traveller as they investigated. “Arcaeos really did a number on them… Uh, Paimon didn’t know his fire was hot enough to melt iron, or whatever it is Fatui weapons are made of.”

“They probably killed the Natlanean suddenly,” the Traveller hummed, eyes scanning over the scene. “Arcaeos couldn’t react in time. Then he retaliated.”

“Uh huh.” Paimon held a hand to her head, a nervous laugh passing her lips. “What now, Traveller?”

“Now, we find Arcaeos.”

—“She’ll drag him somewhere else. Somewhere they’ll be hard to find, but Columbina seems the type to have a flair for dramatics, so try the peak of Sovereign’s Breath first. Or look for the power of the Hydro Gnosis. Natlan is the nation of fire; it’s too poetic for her to not try drowning us.”

“Why the Hydro Gnosis?”

“Besides the fact that hydro works best against pyro? Well, everyone knows the Sovereign story. As I said: it’s poetic.”—

The Traveller had reached the teleport waypoint halfway up the slope of Sovereign’s Breath the previous day for this plan.

Just as they were getting ready to teleport, Paimon yelped in alarm. She said nothing, but pointed to where a bright red flare was rising into the sky. Alarmed, the Traveller used their spark cloak to rise to a higher vantage point in a nearby tree. Just as they did, a second flare rose from further south, and then another from the east. Across the nation, flares were going up, glowing red in the sky.

“Oh no,” Paimon said worriedly, her eyes wide. “All those villages are being attacked. And all at once. Do you really think Qinlin can handle it?”

—“Xbalanque is absolutely infuriating, but we agree on this. Arcaeos is an idiot trying to protect what he loves. He won’t take the most logical path. Xbalanque already explained his plan and his knowledge to me. I and Natlan’s people will do our part.”—

“She’s the Talon of Power, not to mention how old she is. And Natlan’s people are strong. Their whole thing is fighting for shits and giggles; if they can’t handle a genuine attack—”

“Okay, okay, Paimon gets it!” The girl waved her hands in front of her. “You’re right, Traveller. Paimon just hopes Columbina is too distracted to join in…”

“Mn.” The Traveller nodded in agreement and jumped back down to the ground next to the nearby waypoint. “Let’s go. Monsieur Neuvillette will be waiting.”

—“Arcaeos has another meeting with Columbina two days from now. That’s when it’ll happen.”

“I return to Fontaine tomorrow... Still, I will be there.”—

Paimon floated over, and the Traveller teleported the two of them to Sovereign’s Breath.

The volcano was massive enough that even halfway up the slope stood above the impossibly high rainforest canopy. Smoke rose steadily from the mouth, while lava leaked slowly from a number of relatively small cracks in the slope. It was warm despite the clouded grey sky, humidity thin in the air.

Neuvillette was indeed waiting when they arrived. He’d once again forgone the heavy robe he wore in Fontaine, that blue cloak fastened around his shoulders instead. Both of his hands rested on the head of his cane, his expression grim as he looked at the disappearing smoke trails from the flares.

“Columbina has launched her attack,” he said tightly. “We need to find them.”

“Can you sense Arcaeos?” Paimon asked curiously as they started walking up the slope. “Uh, since you’re mates and all…?”

“Regretfully, I can not.” Neuvillette’s lips pursed bitterly. “Our bond is still too weak. I can’t sense his Authority either; it seems his power is indeed being suppressed by the Hydro Gnosis.”

“Hey, don’t sound guilty,” Paimon scolded firmly. “Even if it’s the Hydro Gnosis and you’re the Hydro Dragon, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known something like this would happen when you gave it to Arlecchino.”

Neuvillette’s expression pinched briefly, then smoothed into something neutral and blank, yet the Traveller knew he wanted to argue. He said nothing though, merely turning his face away and continuing forwards.

“How can we find them?” the Traveller asked, nicely changing the subject as they followed after the Hydro Dragon. “I can’t see anything with my elemental sight.”

“Arcaoes’ vessel is human,” Neuvillette replied. His response was simple. While he put attention into his answer, most of his focus was elsewhere. “His blood isn’t elemental like a Sovereign’s is.”

“Uh, his what now?” the Traveller asked blankly, their brows furrowed.

Neuvillette paused, looking back to blink at them. “His blood…? Oh. I suppose I assumed the scent was strong enough that you could smell it. I’ve been following a blood trail.”

“Blood?!” Paimon yelped, her eyes wide. Neuvillette wordlessly used his cane to point out a smear of red on one of the rocks nearby and Paimon’s expression grew worried. “Arcaeos was bleeding? Did Columbina hurt him? But wouldn’t he be hard to injure?”

“I’m not certain.” Neuvillette continued on, his voice tight with concern. He navigated the slope easily, white hair swaying with his movements. “He is incredibly skilled, but so is the Damslette. Given Arcaeos’ human vessel—”

“Even a raging forest fire can’t stand against the ocean’s flood.” Columbina’s voice suddenly rang out from somewhere up ahead, carrying a note of grandeur as though she were the star performer in a grand stage act. Her voice was musical, her tone sweet. “A spark floating on never-ending waves has no choice but to burn out. Obey me, Dragon of Fire, or watch the spark of Natlan be swept away.”

“Natlan has always bordered the sea.” Arcaeos sounded unamused, almost droll, but there was a faint note of pain caught between his teeth. “We have tsunami prevention.”

There was no response. The Traveller could sense an air of frustration in the silence, and they knew Arcaeos was being purposely irritating.

—“He’ll want this over quickly and painlessly. The easiest way for this is a Natlanean duel, but Columbina needs to be the one to initiate it. She needs to think she can beat him, or she needs to get careless.”—

The silence stretched for a long moment. The Traveller shared a look with Paimon and Neuvillette, wondering if they should step in now. The group of Fatui and the Pyro Dragon sounded like they were just over the ridge, where the Traveller knew was a large, open expanse of volcanic rock and lava pools that looked out over Natlan.

They peeked over the ridge. Arcaeos stood facing Columbina and the Fatui squadron behind her. The Pyro Dragon was cradling his right arm, blood dripping from the gash on his shoulder. His jaw was clenched, and several of the Fatui kept casting unsure or smug glances at the injury. Columbina herself stood tall before her people, shoulders straight and the wings around her head flared in a posture of power and intimidation. The Hydro Gnosis was cradled before her, floating between her cupped hands.

Before the Traveller could make a decision—interfere or wait—Columbina hissed a sigh through clenched teeth. “Would the Dragon of Fire sing for me?” she asked, her own tone a song just barely hiding her frustration. “I’ve heard very few things about the song once sung for the primordial sea; it would be wonderful to hear it.”

“Never,” Arcaeos hissed, lips curling distastefully. “The song for the sea is a sacred melody never to be heard nor sung elsewhere.”

The Damslette pouted, the wings around her head drooping. “Pity. But I won’t push. Surely you can sing something else for me? Sing me a mournful song, Pyro Dragon.”

Arcaeos’ lips pursed in irritation. “I am not someone who performs on demand. Unlike you and the rest of your people.”

Columbina appeared pout further. She sighed dramatically as the Fatui behind her tittered in anger. The Traveller made to step forwards now, choosing the moment to make their appearance, when Neuvillette placed a gloved hand on their shoulder to keep them in place, lavender eyes staring behind them.

The Traveller didn’t get a chance to turn before a tall figure swept past them. Capitano wasn’t wearing the dark red cloak that the Traveller had grown used to seeing him with. His dark grey battle robes and broad shoulders were exposed without it, but his helmet was still firmly in place, hiding his face.

He didn’t look at them, nor did he pause before cresting the ridge and walking into the scene. Neuvillette released the Traveller, and together, they followed after the harbinger, staying a fair distance behind him. Paimon stayed a fair distance behind them.

“You seem too confident,” Capitano intoned loudly, “For facing us alone, injured, and powerless, Guardian of Natlan. Though I suppose you are no longer alone.”

“Capitano,” Columbina hissed a greeting. “Pierro has run out of patience. Your time is up.”

“I’m aware,” Capitano replied, an irritated bite to his voice. “Despite his promise that Natlan would be under my sole purview.”

“That was before.”

Before the Pyro Gnosis became the final Gnosis still to be collected by the Fatui, went unsaid yet it still hung in the air. Capitano still appeared peeved, his imposing posture portraying bitter annoyance.

Neuvillette was poking at the stab through Arcaeos’ shoulder, lips pursed tightly in worry and displeasure. Arcaeos hissed at the action, glaring at the Hydro Dragon, though he was stubbornly ignored. Arcaeos said nothing about their sudden appearance. He kept eyeing all three of them with a scowl, but he didn’t comment. Neuvillette merely glared in return, making his own displeasure known.

“Uh, now what?” Paimon whispered nervously from her place beside the Traveller. “Paimon doesn’t think we can take on two harbingers and their subordinates.”

“Leave everything to me,” Arcaeos hissed lowly.

“Absolutely not—” Neuvillette hissed back, the slightest curl to his upper lip, only to be cut off by Capitano speaking again, loudly, to Columbina.

“Well,” he said, arms crossed. “I have an idea that would guarantee the Gnosis quickly. I will take care of it; we wouldn’t want our darling Damslette to get ruffled feathers, since she’s deigned to come all this way.”

Columbina bristled, her wings flaring angrily. “I’m just as capable as you are. Just because I’m not a lowly field rat, doesn’t mean I’m useless, especially against a dragon in a pathetic human form.”

“A Sovereign,” Capitano drolled, unimpressed. “You sit and write your songs all day. I spend each day training to become stronger. But if you think you could do better against the Pyro Sovereign in a Natlanean duel, be my guest.”

“Hmph!” Columbina huffed, one fist around the Hydro Gnosis. She shoved past Capitano—the man actually stumbled back a step—and stomped forwards. “Dragon of Fire, I challenge you to a duel. No limits or lines, we go until the opponent can no longer stand. If I win, you hand over the Pyro Gnosis.”

Arcaeos sneered and said nothing for a long moment. He appeared to be considering it, but it must have been for show because this was what he wanted. He glanced at both the Traveller and Neuvillette, the Traveller’s slight, worried frown and Neuvillette’s obvious displeasure.

“I accept,” he said finally. He stepped forwards, releasing his injured arm and letting it hang at his side. The Traveller didn’t miss the way Neuvillette twitched as blood started to sluggishly drip down the Pyro Dragon’s fingers. “If I win, the Fatui will cease attempts for the Pyro Gnosis indefinitely, and I will speak of it only to the Cryo Archon herself. The Hydro Dragon will be my watch. Yours?”

Columbina only hesitated for a moment, hearing the terms. Then she huffed sourly and answered, “Capitano.”

“Then let’s define the arena and begin.”

With a last glance at Arcaeos, the Traveller turned and began walking towards the edge of the arena. Neuvillette followed them, while Capitano and the Fatui headed for the opposite side. The lava field they were on would make for a good, open area for combat. The lava pools would add a level of difficulty to the duel, something the Traveller knew was desired, not a hindrance.

All they had to do was observe, and ensure the rules of the duel were followed.

—“Murata did not invent Natlanean duels. They just became her favourite. I don’t know who came up with the duels, and there have been many version developed over the centuries, but the rules are clear. Everything is discussed beforehand. Breaking the agreed terms forfeits the duel. Once begun, there is no backing out. What is usually called a Natlanean duel nowadays must have a strong arena.”—

Murmuring an old incantation, Neuvillette slammed the end of his cane into the rock, sending a wave of power and ancient ritual echoing outwards. On the other side of the arena, muttering the same incantation, Capitano planted the tip of his claymore into the stone. The two waves met in the middle and crash together, energy rippling and merging and solidifying into the translucent walls of a massive hex around the duelists.

As soon as the arena settled into place, Arcaeos lunged. His hair blazed behind him, eyes alight with his power and his fingers curled like claws, shoulder injury ignored. Columbina swept out of the way, her movements fluid and graceful. She seemed petulant but not surprised that Arcaeos had his fire as she danced out of his range.

The Traveller couldn’t hear anything outside the arena, but Columbina appeared to be speaking as Arcaeos chased her around, clashes of hydro and pyro booming brightly. They moved incredibly fast, blinking from one side of the arena to the other, then into the air only to plunge down again. Chunks of rock cracked and flew into the air with each impact, and the lava pools bubbled violently as if taken by a rage of their own.

One particularly hard clash sent the Pyro Dragon sliding back a few paces, his expression furious and Columbina’s expression smug. Arcaeos leapt forwards again, flames burning in his hands. This time, instead of running, Columbina planted her feet firmly and screamed, and the sound blast threw the dragon back. He hit the ground hard, hard enough that he appeared to be dazed, lying at the edge of a large lava pool.

Neuvillette’s hands tightened on the head of his cane as the Damslette stalked forwards. He couldn’t do anything, however. No rules had been broken. All he could do was watch.

“He’ll be alright,” the Traveller said reassuringly, seeing the way the Hydro Dragon’s lips pursed. “Remember what Xbalanque said about Arcaeos’ plan?”

—“It’s a stupid plan. It would be over much quicker if he wasn’t so sentimental and stubborn. If he wants to do it like that, whatever, but it’s stupid.”—

Columbina was getting closer, and Arcaeos still hadn’t gotten up. Either he really was dazed, or he was trying to lure the harbinger closer. The Traveller tensed, fingers tightening around the hilt of their sword despite their inability to interfere. Beside them, Paimon tittered nervously, floating side to side as she tried to choose between attempting to see better or ducking to cover her eyes.

A low growl started emanating from Neuvillette’s chest as Columbina stopped and stood above Arcaeos’ body. She crouched next to him, the wings around her head flapping curiously as she tilted her head. She reached a hand out, hydro gathering between her fingers, when the lava pool in front of the pair of them exploded.

The Damslette retreated quickly, snarling as lava violently splashed around the form of the Pyro Dragon’s massive head rising in the center of the pool. Lava ran down his iridescent red scales, dripping from his horns and making them glow. His fiery eyes were the same shifting colour as his human vessel’s, yet there was much more weight to his gaze, a much more ancient power held within. Even on the other side of the arena wall, the Traveller could feel it. This was the Pyro Sovereign.

Arcaeos didn’t even need to fully emerge from the lava pool; he kept only the top of his shoulders visible, wicked talons dug into the rock at the edge of the pool. In front of him, his human vessel was now struggling to his feet with a hand pressed to his temple as he shook his head, blood dripping from his nose.

Columbina eyed them both, a frown on her lips. She didn’t seem afraid. She appeared to consider her options, then curled in on herself, feet lifting off the ground as she hugged her knees to her chest. Brilliant white feathers enveloped her, only to explode outwards as sharp, glowing blades and a blast of blinding light.

When the Traveller managed to blink dark spots from their vision, the duel was already going once again. Six white wings now sprouted from Columbina’s back, carrying her around the arena and out of the path of the Pyro Dragon’s blasts of fire. Her feathers were sharp, that much was clear from the way she used them to slash at Arcaeos’ human vessel, and her shrieks appeared to be both deafening and disorienting.

Arcaeos used his dual swords now, his movements rapid and smooth. He fought fluidly, for having his consciousness split between two bodies, and each attack complimented the other. A flare of Columbina’s wings sent another wave of glowing, blade-like feathers raining down and embedding themselves in the ground. Meanwhile, the Hydro Gnosis was conjuring a massive whirlpool around the edges of the arena, water climbing the translucent walls and warping the outsiders’ view. The ocean water on the horizon rose too, becoming a towering wave big enough to crash over Haven.

On the other side of the arena, Capitano stood still as stone, both hands around the hilt of his claymore, the point of it still embedded in the ground. Behind him, the Fatui appeared to be watched with bated breath, cheering when their commander got the upper hand, only to grow quiet again when she was pushed back.

Columbina flew up, then spun and dove down just as the wave of water crashed inwards. Steam erupted throughout the arena, while around the nation, the tsunami lashed against a sudden, massive pyro dome. Slowly, the steam dissipated, soon revealing one of Columbina’s bladed feathers locked against Arcaeos’ dual swords, her wings flapping harshly to press her down against his guard. Smoke curled from the Pyro Dragon’s mouth as he swiped his claws at the pair of them. He missed, Columbina dodging away and Arcaeos disappearing in a small blaze of fire only to reappear nearby.

Sneer on her lips, Columbina lunged forwards. Instead of dodging, Arcaeos turned and sprinted away, dismissing his swords and running across the arena. Columbina flew after him, and she would easily catch up. The Traveller watched, eyes wide, and they expected the dragon to leap up and over her. But he didn’t.

Instead, right when Columbina caught up to him, Arcaeos ducked down and held his sword up, immovable and sharp. Having clearly expected him to go up, Columbina failed to correct her path in time. Arcaeos’ sword sliced cleanly through all three of the wings on her right side, sending her sprawling to the ground.

She pushed herself to her feet instantly, but stumbled due to pain or struggle to balance with her missing wings. The Pyro Dragon didn’t bother to wait for her to properly recover before using one massive talon to pin her down, almost completely hiding her from view. He spoke, a low rumble that the Traveller felt echo in the stone beneath their feet. Whatever Columbina said in reply sent a flicker of disappointment across the dragon’s expression, and Arcaeos walked forwards, sword drawn. He crouched down next to the Pyro Dragon’s talon, and a few seconds later, the arena walls shattered and dissipated.

“Lady Columbina!”

Several of the Fatui rushed forwards as the Pyro Dragon released the Damslette. He settled at the edge of the lava pool, sinking down until he could rest his head on the edge. Though he appeared sleepy, his eyes remained open, sharply observing everything before him. Arcaeos stayed next to Columbina, dismissing his sword and crouching beside her. Neuvillette and Capitano both strode forwards, tall and imposing in their own ways. The Traveller and Paimon moved closer as well, nimble around the many new craters in the ground.

“—The Fatui will pull back from Natlan,” Columbina was saying defeatedly when the Traveller was in hearing range. She was sitting up now, bruised and battle-worn, carefully poking at the slashes at the backs of her ankles. Her wings were still out and folded at her back, blood dripping from the remnants on one side. She looked to one of the skirmishers that had hurried closer. “This is my official order. All of Sandrone’s machines are to retreat from the nation. Have some of our squads relieve the men and women currently stationed at some of the Natlan and desert outposts. Send the others home.”

The skirmisher bowed his head. “Yes, Lady Columbina.”

“Have you learnt a lesson at all?” Capitano asked drolly, arms crossed.

“Oh please,” Columbina snapped, wings twitching in irritation. “What makes you think you could have put up a better fight? Even the Pyro Sovereign says I did well.”

Attention turned to Arcaeos at that, but he didn’t seem to notice. He appeared to be frozen, a blank look on his face as he stared somewhere into the distance. The Traveller glanced over at the Pyro Dragon, frowning mildly when they saw his intense stare being pinned on Capitano.

“You lost,” Capitano replied, deadpan and seemingly not noticing the stare.

Columbina gnashed her teeth and turned her nose up, returning her focus to Arcaeos. “I’ll be in touch with some final words soon. Lyudmila, carry me, would you?”

A lithe-looking cicin mage stepped forwards. “Yes, Lady Columbina.”

The mage was strong. It didn’t appear to take much effort for her to pick the Damslette off the ground, holding her in a careful bridal carry and walking away. The rest of the Fatui didn’t seem that surprised as they followed after them, already tending to Columbina’s wounds as they walked, and leaving only Capitano behind.

“Huh,” Paimon said, thumb to her chin. “Are all cicin mages that strong?”

“All of those under Columbina and myself tend to be,” Capitano replied blankly. He always sounded so bored. “Now, with this business settled, I must be returning—”

A furious hiss from the Pyro Dragon cut him off. Paimon yelped loudly in surprise and fear, caught off guard by the sound. The Traveller flinched as well, all eyes turning towards the dragon. He was growling now, sharp fangs bared at the harbinger and scarlet eyes narrowed in rage. There was a sharp twist in the pyro energy hanging around them, and Capitano tensed. He shifted slightly, appearing uncomfortable or pained as he turned his head away from the Pyro Dragon.

This only made the Sovereign hiss again. A small flicker of fire glowed between his teeth, and Arcaeos, having been still the entire time, finally moved. He moved quickly too, rushing forwards towards the harbinger. Capitano merely watched him approach, making no move to dodge or otherwise evade. When Arcaeos drew close enough, he leapt up and flipped over the harbinger, grabbing him by the back of the collar and pulling him down. Before Capitano could hit the ground, however, both of them disappeared in a whirl of fire, leaving only the faint scent of smoke.

Unimpressed, Neuvillette turned back to the Pyro Dragon and raised a brow. “Care to explain what that was about?”

The Pyro Dragon huffed, releasing a puff of smoke from his nostrils. “I’ve merely discovered a severe lie and betrayal that the Captain has perpetrated. Confrontation for such action is unavoidable.”

“Severe lie?” Paimon repeated hesitantly. “About what?”

The only response was a distracted huff. Neuvillette curled his lips in return. The irritation he’d suppressed finally made a real appearance as he slammed his cane down, conjuring a small water spout that sprayed in the Pyro Dragon’s face.

“You are awful,” Neuvillette hissed, his glare fierce and his hands tight around the head of his cane as if that were all that kept him from striking at the spluttering Pyro Dragon again. “You lied to me about what you planned, and you sent me away instead of letting me help from the start. I hate that you tried to take on the Damslette yourself. I hate that you put yourself in danger like this.”

“I needed you to take Jiazhen,” the Pyro Dragon protested, managing to keep his voice low despite his size. “He wouldn’t have gone otherwise.”

Neuvillette scoffed, hydro energy bubbling around him. “Perhaps that is true, but you still could have told me. I may be reborn and still adjusting to my Authority, but I am still a Sovereign. I am still your mate, and your equal.”

“I know.” The Sovereign ducked his head down at the reprimand, sounding miserable. “But I don’t want to lose you. Two thousand years, I spent without you. I was not going to take that risk. Not at first.”

“At first?!” Paimon raged, her own irritation bursting forth. “Flameweed Brain had to tell us about your hair brained scheme!”

“I know. He told me of his.”

“You knew about Xbalanque’s plan?” the Traveller asked tightly, the corner of their lips turned downwards.

“Yes.” The Pyro Dragon ducked down and disappeared under the lava for a moment before resurfacing, appearing to savour the heat. “He told me right after he told you, which he did on purpose so I could not protest your involvement. Still, he made me see reason, that having your aid would help.”

“What was your original plan then?” the Traveller asked with narrowed eyes.

“This same plan, with the exceptions that I would have challenged the Damslette to the same type of duel Murata once challenged me with. The arena incantation was added later as a way to lessen environmental damage. The oldest form of Natlan duel has no such barriers, and no watch.”

“So the damage from your attacks could have spread much further,” Paimon hummed.

The Pyro Dragon nodded. “Indeed.” He glanced away with a slight wince when Neuvillette pursed his lips. “Do you have any further questions?”

“Uh, about the Natlanean we saw at the guard outpost…” Paimon asked hesitantly.

“That was a very simple vessel I created the previous night. I controlled it the same way I split my consciousness between my vessel and my true body. I wouldn’t put any of my people in such danger.”

“The way you fought,” the Traveller said with a hum, “I’ve never seen you fight like that.”

“Ah.” The Pyro Dragon ducked his head, appearing embarrassed. “Ahem, that was much more vicious than I prefer, but the Damslette has brought harm to my people, and I was angered.”

Neuvillette hummed, thumb to his chin in thought. “I believe that was very similar to the way you fought when you were two millennia of age.”

The Pyro Dragon eyes widened briefly, then he huffed, sending a puff of smoke from between his teeth. “I was young then. You were just as bad.” He shook his head slightly, huffing again. “If that is all the questions you have, I will be spending an unknown amount of time in the magma catacombs to recover. I am stiff. This hurts.”

“And your wings?” Neuvillette asked, sharp like he just remembered.

“They feel alright.” The lava shifted and rippled, like the dragon was testing the movement of his wings. “Kind of… cold, but not painful.”

The Hydro Dragon nodded firmly. “Good.” His lips pursed unhappily, hands tightening around the head of his cane. “If you are certain of your condition, then I must make my return to Fontaine. I will come back as soon as I am able.”

“I know you will.” The Pyro Dragon moved, stretching out far enough that Neuvillette could rest a gentle hand on his snout. “I know you are here to stay.”

There was no damage to Haven. The stone walls and roadways were all intact, though they were also covered with soot marks from explosions. The wooden market stalls and cart had been taken down and moved inside beforehand, so the only debris to be seen were the fallen bodies of Sandrone’s automations. And the many large puddles that pooled at every low point. It seemed one massive wave was not all Columbina sent.

Natlan’s people and dragons were already working on cleaning up. They loaded machine parts into giant nets that dragons then carried away, wingbeats fading over the treetops. Any casualties were taken to the morgue, while injuries were assessed and taken care of.

The Traveller found Qinlin speaking with Dairet, Xbalanque, Childe, and Nakon. They stood in the heart of Haven, at the base of the Statue. There was a long tear in Xbalanque’s cloak, and Childe and Nakon were both splattered in blood and machine oil, though neither seemed to mind. They were all at least a little damp.

“Hey, Traveller, Paimon!” Nakon was the first to notice them, waving them over with a grin. “You’re just in time.”

“Are we?” Paimon asked.

“Did everything else go alright?” the Traveller asked the more important question.

Dairet nodded, black eyes glancing worriedly towards Sovereign’s Breath before refocusing. “All of the Marionette’s machines were defeated, and our nation was successfully defended. We’ve lost a number of good citizens, but the Fatui lost more.”

“Mostly because Natlan had dragons on their side,” Childe chimed in. When all eyes turned to him, he raised his hands with a shrug. “Come on, the Fatui aren’t weak. And Columbina only accepts the strongest.”

Qinlin sighed and rolled her eyes. “Traveller, where is Arcaeos?”

“He said he would be in the magma catacombs for the foreseeable future.” The Traveller shrugged, then remembered, “He also kind of kidnapped Capitano. Said something about a severe lie and betrayal.”

Childe frowned. “Lie and betrayal? Cap? I don’t believe it.”

The Traveller shrugged again. “Either way, he’s probably not coming back for a while. Arcaeos seemed pretty pissed.”

“Hm.” Nakon pursed her lips and crossed her arms, a thin trail of steam rising from the top of her head. “Maybe I’ll have to kick his ass a bit. People who really piss off Arc tend to deserve it.”

“But it’s Cap,” Childe argued. “He’s not the manipulative or deceitful type. He’ll kill you to your face, not behind your back.”

“That makes no sense, you starry-eyed twit,” Xbalanque scowled with a roll of his eyes. He ignored Childe’s protest and went on. “What were the terms of the duel?”

“The Fatui will cease all attempts for the Pyro Gnosis. Arcaeos will only speak to the Tsaritsa about it.”

Xbalanque’s scowl deepened. “Of course. He didn’t ban the Fatui from Natlan entirely. Would have made my life much easier.”

“The Fatui aren’t just pests.” Rather surprisingly, it was Qinlin who argued, though she huffed like she’d rather not. “They are our main contact for Snezhnayan trade. Northern resources are valuable.”

“Wait, Natlan is responsible for the inspiration to Snezhnaya’s hot bath springs,” Childe piped up suddenly, snapping his fingers as a bright grin grew on his face. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to spend an afternoon in a natural Natlan hot spring—”

“That afternoon won’t be today,” Dairet said with a pointed hum, lifting his head to look around the drenched city. “The fight may be over, but there’s still much to be done.”

Chapter Text

“That was fun.” Childe stretched his arms above his head, letting out a satisfied groan as he did. “Cap sure knows his stuff; this place is so remote, I doubt anyone’s been here since it was abandoned. Hey, are you done gathering the materials you need for Suvroa?”

“Almost,” the Traveller hummed from where they were still crouched by the body of the pyro-infused, mechanical spider monkey. An old experiment of the Hedj, abandoned in the underground lab when the tunnel caved in. The Traveller didn’t ask. “She wants the eyes. Jiazhen wants the tail, and Capitano wants the paws, so this is a three in one.”

“Did they say why they want this stuff?”

“No. I think I have all I need for Suvroa now, anyway. The ley lines around here take a long time to reset, so we’re done farming until next week at least.”

Childe huffed, crossing his arms. “Unfortunate. And Cap’s still missing. It’s been five days, I’m bored!”

The Traveller stood and dusted themselves off, storing the materials away in their interdimensional pocket. “Have you tried the Hunt? The battles I joined were fun. For being healers, the Indigo are vicious.”

“Oh?” Childe’s expression brightened in interest as he tilted his head. “I’ve tried convincing their Chief to fight me before, but he’s retired from fighting unless absolutely necessary or something. The Kem Chief is usually up for a duel when he’s free though. So’s the Blar Chieftess. And Nakon. I managed two minutes against her yesterday.”

The Traveller raised a brow. “Only two minutes?”

Childe scowled at them. “Have you tried sparring against her?”

“Yeah, the Traveller managed two and a half minutes,” Paimon tattled, ducking away when the Traveller turned to glare at her. “Hey, it’s still better than he did!”

The Traveller huffed and started walking towards the exit. “Come on, let’s get back to Haven. Maybe Suvroa will be back. How long can it take to break into Snezhnaya, anyway?”

“I dunno, Traveller, you’ve met Teucer.” Childe hurried after them, matching their pace. “I love him to death, but he’s not exactly suited for stealth. And I’m not sure my parents or older siblings would go easily. Maybe they won’t come at all…”

The ginger trailed off, suddenly turning sullen. The Traveller shared a look with Paimon, neither of them sure of what to say. Luckily for them, they reached the teleport waypoint and were saved from having to reply.

When they teleported to Haven, the sun was bright overhead. The air was humid as usual, and the Traveller’s nose wrinkled as the sticky feel of it settled around them. A second later, Childe appeared beside them, thankfully seeming less sad. Still, the Traveller said nothing of it, and Childe didn’t say anything more.

Five days since Columbina’s attack, and Haven was back to normal. As they made their way through the streets towards the Fireside Estate, they passed market stalls and shops, all open and unharmed from the attack. The rest of Natlan’s villages were similar, having been well defended by the people who called them home. Natlan was the nation of war, after all. How can a place be called a safe haven if it’s easily taken down?

“Traveller! Paimon! Mister Childe!”

The Traveller turned as Nakaio came running up to them. She was out of breath and panting, but her green eyes were bright with determination. The Traveller and Paimon watched her warily, still not willing to forget her skill at lying. Childe eyed her carefully too; the Traveller wondered what the girl had done to him.

“What is it?” Paimon asked slowly.

Nakaio huffed one more tired breath before she straightened. “Suvroa and the Jaguar Two team are back. They had three ginger kids with them, going to the Fireside Estate.” Childe barely waited for her to finish speaking before he took off. Nakaio puffed her cheeks out as she watched him go, then looked back at the Traveller, brightening with a cheery smile. “I have to go now! Suvroa said to find Mister Childe, then you, and then Dairet, no distractions! Oh, take this!”

She shoved a paper bag into the Traveller hands, and then ran off with a wave, disappearing down a narrow alley. The Traveller frowned slightly, thinking over the quick interaction, then shrugged. They peered into the bag, only to find two chocolate butterflies, and a note: Don’t be too mad? A small smile crossed their lips, seeing the childish scrawl. They showed the note to Paimon, who sighed.

“Well,” she said slowly. “Paimon supposes it’s hard to stay mad at the kid, even if she is a sneaky little spy. She’s pretty cute.”

“And she gave us food.”

“Yeah, and that. Uh, should we be catching up to Childe?”

“Maybe.” The Traveller whisked the paper bag into their interdimensional pocket and sighed. “Alright, let’s go.”

It was easy for the Traveller to vault themselves onto the roof of the nearest building. Natlan architecture made it fairly easy and fairly fun to navigate the city by rooftop, and the Fireside Estate stood tall and visible at the northern end, so it didn’t take long at all for them to land atop the gated entrance. The Traveller settled themselves there on the wall, resting their chin on their hand as they watched Childe run through the courtyard from the west wing to the east wing, not even noticing them.

“You think he realizes they’re probably not here yet?” the Traveller hummed, amused.

“Not at all,” Paimon answered. It was then that Jiazhen and Neuvillette emerged from the northern wing of the estate, looking around in confusion. Paimon perked up, waving down at them. “Hey, you’re back!”

Jiazhen looked up, only seeming mildly surprised to see them up there. “What’s going on? Someone went crashing through the west wing?”

“That’s Childe,” the Traveller replied with a dismissive wave. “We heard from Nakaio that Suvroa’s back—”

As if on cue, movement on the street caught the Traveller’s eye. Suvroa was with a team of Natlaneans dressed in thick furs, walking towards the estate. The First Ember looked tired, but the thin press of her lips said she was angry too. Teucer was held in her arms, his head on her shoulder, hiding his face. There were two other ginger kids shuffling along behind Suvroa, a girl carrying a small wooden crate and a boy hugging a stuffed cryo bear toy to his chest. There was something lost and scared in both of their expressions, and that said nothing good.

“Traveller, Paimon.” Suvroa noticed them just as she reached the gates. She dismissed the team with a quiet murmur, an order to get some rest, and then pushed the gate open and slipped inside with the three kids. Though she was tired, she managed a relieved smile upon seeing Jiazhen. “Hey. How was Fontaine?”

“Beautiful,” Jiazhen replied easily. He eyed his sister and the children. “That can wait. You look exhausted from teleporting and your mission. What do you need?”

Before Suvroa could reply, the whirlwind that was Childe came rushing back out of the east wing. He looked about to storm the north wing next, when he saw the newcomers in the courtyard and froze, wide-eyed.

“Brother!”

Teucer, who was not asleep as the Traveller had thought, sounded distressed. The boy squirmed and broke out of Suvroa’s arms, running towards Childe, arms outstretched, and face scrunched with a cry. The kids who must have been Tonia and Anthon went running over too, all three of them gathering around Childe as he rushed forwards and kneeled to catch Teucer.

“They took Mother and Father and everyone!” Teucer wailed, fat tears streaming down his cheeks and snot dripping from his nose. “The rooster guy said you betrayed them, and the nice scary lady tried to get them back, but they’re gone!”

“Her Majesty threw them into the abyss,” Tonia said, quiet and faint, huddled close to Childe’s side, the wooden crate at her feet. “We only escaped because Mother hid us in the basement and lied to them. She said we were out fishing. We ran when they left, in case they came back. We were hiding when Miss Suvroa found us.”

The Traveller hopped down to the ground as the air grew somber. There was rage in Childe’s eyes, but instead of bursting out, he growled softly, and pulled Tonia and Anthon into his arms as well. Letting them have their privacy, the Traveller walked over to where Jiazhen was poking worriedly at Suvroa’s side, Neuvillette standing nearby and watching them.

“It was nothing,” Suvroa hissed between her teeth, jaw clenched as she winced.

“Being impaled by an icicle is not nothing,” Neuvillette said firmly, a frown on his lips.

“Especially one formed by the Cryo Archon,” Jiazhen huffed with a scowl.

“It’s bandaged and taken care of,” Suvroa grumbled. Her lip curled, the anger in her eyes burning as she shrugged Jiazhen away and looked towards the Traveller and Paimon. “We heard the rumours in Snezhnaya. Columbina launched an attack and has since retreated from Natlan. Where is Father?”

“Aha…” Paimon trailed off weakly, hand to her head. “Funny you should ask that.”

“Arcaeos is still in the magma catacombs?” Neuvillette asked, his frown deepening.

That made the Twin Embers whirl on him. The Hydro Dragon startled at the sudden movement, lavender eyes looking back and forth between them.

“You knew,” Jiazhen accused sharply.

“Well— Yes.” Neuvillette said carefully, seeming to be unsure of what to say. “Arcaeos was concerned for your safety—”

“So he sent us away?!” Suvroa shouted, enraged. “Malaka, of all the idiotic plans he could have had—!”

“Suvroa,” Dairet cut her off sternly as he landed in an open corner of the courtyard. “Manners in front of children. Go clean yourself up, five days in the Snezhnayan wilderness leaves you quite exhausted and filthy. Jiazhen, see to it that she cleans the injury properly, I can smell old blood.”

Suvroa scowled at the golden dragon, while Jiazhen eyed him with a suspicious huff. Nonetheless, the Twin Embers both slunk off into the estate and disappeared. From the side of the courtyard, Childe herded his siblings closer, carrying Teucer with one hand and holding Anthon’s hand with the other. Tonia had that small crate clutched close to her chest again as she stayed just behind her brother. As she came closer, the Traveller could see that the crate was full of loved trinkets and things she must have thought to save.

“Natlan better make good on that promise of safety,” Childe said, dead eyes sharp as he stared at Dairet. “I accepted the risk of… unsavoury outcomes in getting my family out of Snezhnaya, but now? If anything happens to my siblings, you have my word that I will do my best to hit Natlan ten times as hard.”

“Noted.” Dairet bowed his head in a nod.

“If I may,” Neuvillette injected with a solemn hum. “How did the Rooster know of Childe’s deserting? He had only made the decision two days before the First Ember departed for Snezhnaya. Surely such serious information does not get leaked and spread that fast?”

The Traveller winced as the air around Childe seemed to freeze. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it, his expression growing colder and colder.

“Uh, maybe someone saw him fighting the Fatui when Columbina attacked?” Paimon said meekly, just barely peeking out from behind the Traveller as she said it.

“How?” Childe hissed. “Tonia says they spent five days hiding in Snezhnaya while Suvroa tried to free our parents and older siblings—remind me to thank her for her effort. Pulcinella attacked them before Columbina finished her attack here. Besides that, I made sure that every Fatuus who saw me wound up dead.”

There was a small whimper from Teucer at that. His arms tightened around Childe’s neck as he buried his face in his older brother’s chest. Despite his anger, Childe’s touch was gentle as he rubbed Teucer’s back, and something like regret crossed his expression. The Traveller supposed the toyseller lie was over now. That seemed to have been brutally ripped to shreds.

“If you want to investigate, I suggest asking Xbalanque,” Dairet offered slowly. “It’s his job to know everything happening in the streets. It wouldn’t be the first time that he knew something we didn’t, regarding the Fatui.”

“I’ll do that,” Childe said tightly. “Now, if you’d excuse me.”

Without another word, Childe carefully nudged Tonia forward and led her out of the estate. The Traveller hummed, watching them go; they would probably have to take extra precautions the next time they chose to burst unannounced into Childe’s house. They were mildly surprised that he was leaving, rather than going after Suvroa to interrogate her, but they supposed that Childe’s biggest priority had always been family. They didn’t really want to imagine what sorts of trauma the kids were dealing with.

Almost as soon as the gate doors closed behind Childe, there was a burst of flame in the center of the courtyard. It lasted barely a second, and when it vanished, Arcaeos and Capitano were standing there, neither looking much different than the Traveller had last seen them. The blood from Arcaeos’ shoulder injury was gone, as was the injury itself, and Capitano’s clothing appeared to be slightly scorched, but that was it.

“Did we miss something?” Capitano asked in that dull voice of his, seeing the Traveller, Paimon, Neuvillette, and Dairet all staring at the two of them.

“Most of Childe’s family is dead,” Paimon deadpanned. “Other than that, not really.”

“Paimon!” the Traveller choked, surprised.

“What?!” the pixie said loudly. “Paimon’s not wrong!”

Capitano looked between the two of them, then appeared to stare into the distance. “I see…”

Arcaeos’ lips pursed in a thoughtful frown. He appeared to be turning the potential scenarios over in his head, but Neuvillette was at his side and poking at his formerly-injured shoulder, so the Pyro Dragon didn’t get to think it over for long.

“Stop it,” Arcaoes huffed petulantly, grabbing Neuvillette’s worried hands in his. “This form may look human, as my vessel was, but it is not. I assure you, my heart, it will not be so easy to injure me again.”

“Hm. That’s what I’m sensing as off about you, isn’t it?” Neuvillette replied with a hum. His fingers intertwined with the Pyro Dragon’s, giving a testing squeeze. “This is not your human vessel, but your true body folded into human shape.”

“Indeed.”

“What happened to your vessel?”

“Laid to rest.”

Neuvillette hummed, lavender eyes studying his mate carefully. “So easily?”

“Mn.” Arcaeos smiled slightly, reaching up to cup the Hydro Dragon’s cheek. “Five hundred years is not very long in my lifetime, beloved. Besides, I figured it would be less worry for you, knowing I have my draconic strength to fall back on should the need arise.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Neuvillette sighed, pressing into Arcaeos’ touch with a soft sigh. “I do not remember you being so reckless.”

“I am not reckless,” Arcaeos huffed. “I always think through my actions. I take calculated risks.”

“You take too many.”

“I took one!”

“Too many.”

Arcaeos huffed again. He withdrew his hands and crossed his arms. Neuvillette followed his grasp, pulling Arcaeos’ hands back into his and placing a sweet kiss to his mate’s cheek.

Next to the Traveller, Dairet rolled his eyes. “What’s your plan for your journey now, Traveller? Will you depart for Snezhnaya instantly?”

The Traveller hummed. “I think I’ll stay in Natan for a few months at least. There’s some more exploring I want to do. I’m considering entering the Dracarys Games too, outside of Capitano’s duel. I’d need more info on how the Games run though.”

“I see,” Dairet hummed, tail swishing curiously behind him. “Well, if you decide to look further into it, you may always ask me. Jiazhen knows a lot about the inner workings of the Games too.”

“I will be returning to Snezhnaya soon afterwards,” Capitano added with a hum. “You have not reached a Snezhnayan waypoint, have you, Traveller?”

“Do not think about using the Traveller,” Arcaeos cut in rather sharply.

The Traveller frowned, looking between the two. There was a strange tension hanging in the air, but they didn’t really know where it came from. It didn’t seem like Neuvillette or Dairet knew either. Whatever lie the harbinger was caught in wasn’t one either of them had parsed out.

“Guardian,” Capitano started, only to stop when Arcaeos leveled a stern glare at him. Seeing this, Capitano breathed a heavy, defeated sigh. “I have told you—”

“You can not stay in Natlan long after the Games,” Arcaeos cut him off curtly. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it. I do not care. Your duties to the Cryo Archon do not concern me. You are still grounded.”

“Guardian—” Capitano cut himself off when Arcaeos’ gaze grew fiercer. The harbinger appeared to hesitate—something told the Traveller he was glancing warily at the rest of them—and his shoulders slumped slightly with the weight of having been through this very scenario several times before. Capitano heaved another, long-suffering sigh. “Yes, Papo.”

“Mn.” Arcaeos nodded firmly, lips pulled thin as he eyed the harbinger and ignored any shocked noises from the rest of them. “Now go find Jiazhen and Suvroa, I can sense them in the north wing. Hope Suvroa doesn’t have her spiky boots.”

Capitano said nothing more and left quickly, hurrying as though Arcaeos’ stare at his back was painful. If the Traveller didn’t know any better, they’d think he was fleeing the scene. They weren’t exactly sure what it was. They didn’t particularly care to ask either, not when they had a more pressing question.

They turned to Arcaeos, hands on their hips. “What the fuck did he mean, ‘Papo?’”

(It seemed that Natlan would take the title of adventure with the most strange twists. The Traveller was not expecting Arcaeos’ oldest child to have faked his death to become a Fatui spy. Xbalanque being the only one to know, however, was expected at this point.)

It was late in the evening when the Traveller found themselves standing on a balcony overlooking the Natlan rainforest. Paimon floated beside them, eating from a bowl of mixed fruit slices. On their other side, Neuvillette stood with his head on Arcaeos’ shoulder and his arm around the Pyro Dragon’s waist. Arcaeos in turn had an arm around the Hydro Sovereign’s shoulders, fingers gently brushing through his hair. The night sky was clear above them, the half moon bright in the darkness.

“Another chapter closed,” the Traveller hummed. They tilted their head, looking over at Arcaeos. “Are you coming to Snezhnaya?”

The Pyro Dragon tilted his head in return, lips pursed in consideration. “I said I would remain at your side on your journey. I would like to keep that promise, Traveller, but the stars are changing.”

“Changing?” Paimon asked.

Arcaeos hummed and lifted a hand up, pointing out four stars hanging together in the night sky. They were small and dim, nothing looked different about them, but the Traveller was born of stardust, and there was none present in those stars. They hummed in interest, feeling the absence.

“Those aren’t stars,” they said, knowing Arcaeos could already tell. “They’re heading right for Teyvat.”

At that, Neuvillette lifted his head from Arcaeos’ shoulder, his own lavender eyes seeking out the four comets. He stared up at the sky for a few seconds before a slow, marvelling smile grew on his lips. He turned his head to look at the Pyro Dragon, question obvious in his gaze.

“The other Sovereigns are returning,” Arcaeos confirmed, his voice low. “This will force Celestia to act. Another war is almost upon us.”

“War?” Neuvillette murmured worriedly. “The first war against the Usurper was devastating, as was the Archon War.” The Traveller didn’t miss the way Neuvillette’s voice grew tight, nor the way Arcaeos flinched at the mention. They said nothing about it, and Neuvillette went on. “There is no way we can manage to fight and shield the nations at the same time.”

Arcaeos said nothing to that. His lips pursed unhappily. He looked lost, and the Traveller sighed at the pair of them.

“Tell the Archons,” they said firmly. “Even without their Gnoses, they’re powerful. Given time to prepare, they can protect their nations so the Sovereigns can focus on Celestia.”

Arcaeos frowned. The Traveller waited while he thought it over. Slowly, he settled with a quiet sigh.

“I have revised my views on the Archons throughout my journey with you, Traveller,” he hummed. “I would be willing to work alongside them and argue in favour of such acts to my fellow Sovereigns. However, with the Hydro Dragon’s return, it falls to him to lead us. Taking our voices into consideration, the final decision is his. What say you then, beloved?”

“I say I need to hear every voice.” Neuvillette’s voice was firm, his expression stern. The perfect image of the dragon that had judged Fontaine’s people for centuries. “Sovereign and Archon both, all of the arguments and evidence laid before me. An alliance is no good if only one side is aware. Even if such a thing falls through, informing the Archons of the coming war is the best choice.”

Both the Traveller and Arcaeos nodded, accepting that.

“When?” the Traveller asked.

“There is no time better than the present,” Neuvillette said solemnly. “Time will not be added back to the countdown. My love, could you…?”

“Of course.”

Arcaeos’ fiery eyes grew distant. A second later, the Traveller felt the strange, mental tug of someone summoning them to a communication array. Distantly, they could sense the many other summons being called. They were answered rather quickly, and not long after that, confusion and wariness filled the array.

“Six Archons and seven Sovereigns,” the Traveller hummed. They noted that Neuvillette’s expression has also grown distant and turned to their companion. “What do you think, Paimon?”

“Paimon thinks she’s glad she doesn’t have to witness it,” the pixie said. She offered them a redberry sympathetically. “Paimon can start on a headache remedy?”

The Traveller accepted the berry and the offer with a soft huff. They sent one last glance upwards to the night sky before entering the communication array.