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Cecilia takes deep breaths, trying to calm the pain in his head and chest. The thirteen-year-old looks up, one hand on his chest and the other keeping him steady as he kneels on the ground. The first thing he realizes is that he is definitely not where he once was. Instead of lush greenery, everything was covered with a thick layer of snow. Confused and feeling a bit steadier, he pulls his cloak around him tighter.
How did he get here? He was just in the woods, practicing his abilities far away from where anyone could find him. At some point, he felt a different power make itself known; it had been itching inside for a while now. It didn't feel like his Anemo abilities, nor did it feel like his Dendro vision. He did inform his father, the Anemo Archon, as he got most of his power from him. Yet all his father did was warn him not to give in to the power, as if that would make Cecilia any less curious. So he did, gave in, and ended up here.
He doesn't know if he regrets it or not; it sure has piqued his curiosity, but if this little adventure keeps him away from his brother for too long, he won't be pleased.
With a heavy sigh, he stands up, trying his best to ignore the cold. He knows it won't kill him, but he still does inhabit a human-like body, which means it is not pleased with how he is hurting it. He looks around, then realizes where he is looks the slightest bit familiar. He can see the smallest of details, as if the place around him is a thousand years young version of where he once was. He decides to think about it once he has found somewhere warmer.
As he walks, becoming annoyed, he finally sees something. It was quick, but something flew past him. He blinks, and without knowing fully why, he follows it. He can feel the pull of Anemo coming off whatever the thing he is following is. The power feels extremely familiar and… safe.
After what feels like forever, they get to a cliffside where Cecilia sees the form of another person. Not trusting anyone easily, Cecilia hides behind a tree nearby. Watching this, cloud white, hooded, flying creature as it approaches that person. When Cecilia finally registers the other person, his heart drops.
They are standing there, holding a lyre while strumming it without much thought. The boy has dark hair and two braids framing either side of his face. He smiles to the flouting creature, his eyes a blueish gray. He looks just like Cecilia’s father. Almost exact, they are practically twins. Then Cecilia remembers late nights of begging his mom to teach him the lyre after hearing the story of his father's first friend, the hero whose likeness his father had taken after his crushing death.
That was him, that was his father's friend, who died more than two thousand years ago. Had he… time-traveled to the past…?
“Who is there?!” The voice snaps Cecilia out of his thoughts, realizing this to be coming from the bard. He takes a deep breath, taking his vision off to appear less threatening and having it disappear like how he does with his lyre. He moves out of his hiding spot, slowly making his way to them.
When the bard spots him, his eyes widen, confusion and concern evident. “A child? What are you doing here?”
Calling Cecilia a child made him want to laugh, as the bard in front of him couldn't be more than four years older than him. Instead, he keeps a stern face, then, after thinking about what his best course of action is, mutters, “I'm sorry for disturbing you. I had sensed people, and I was drawn to it.”
“Yes… But why are you here in the first place? Where are your caretakers?”
“They aren't here anymore,” Cecilia replies, which is true. Neither of his parents is here with him, because even if Venti is here, this is in no way the version he would consider his father. Then his dad wasn't likely even alive. But, thinking of his father, where could he be?
Cecilia recalls from the stories that his mom was almost always with the Nameless Bard, but his father hadn't had a human form at the time. He looks up to the nearby Anemo being. The one with the familiar and safe energy, that's when he gets it; that is his father. Cecilia can't help but feel relief when he realizes, and he hopes he doesn't show it. He knows this version of his mom isn't anywhere close to the version he knows as his father, yet it still is him. He still feels safe.
“Oh, I'm sorry,” The bard says to Cecilia, then he follows the boy's gaze to the wind spirit, “I see you're looking at my friend.”
Cecilia nods, then, before he can say anything else, the Anemo spirit flies over to Cecilia, getting so close he stumbles backwards a bit in surprise. The spirit seems to be looking at him intensely. He takes a deep breath, then looks over to the bard, “Do they talk?”
“Yes, but I think they are messing with you.” The other laughs, making his way closer. “My friend, stop tormenting the poor boy.”
The spirit looks over to his friend, then instead decides to fly all around Cecilia, as if looking for something, then he hears a voice he would recognize anywhere, “He is odd.”
Cecilia feels comforted by the voice, yet not the words. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised that the wind spirit has figured out he wasn't normal. Cecilia must be pulsing with Anemo energy, which the spirit should recognize as his own. Cecilia stands firm, even as the bard begins to waver.
“Who did you say you were again?” The bard asks, continuing to watch as his friend flies all around the stranger.
He takes a deep breath, “I hadn't told you. My name is Cecilia, and I am one with nowhere to go.”
“Ah, I'm Venti,” The bard says, and Cecilia has to keep his surprise in check. His father had claimed he long ago forgot the name of his old friend, referring to him as just that, his old friend, or the Nameless Bard. He wonders if that is a lie from his father, or if the man had actually forgotten he had taken the name of his friend.
The wind spirit sits itself on Cecilia’s head, “He could help.”
Venti looks up to the Anemo spirit, confused, “Help with what, my friend?”
“He processes powers like mine, but holds no malice; he could aid in the fight for freedom.”
“Powers like yours?” Venti mutters, growing more concerned. The wind spirit sounds ignorant, saying they could trust Cecilia. The future son of this spirit wonders if his father is actually able to tell, or if he's too trusting. The bard speaks, obviously far more worried about this than the Anemo spirit, “Who are you really?”
Cecilia takes a breath. He considers his options, thinking that telling the truth to these two, or at least most of it, might be a good idea. If there were anyone he would trust to take him home, it would be these two. So he does, “I will be truthful. I am not from this part of time; I was born more than two thousand years in the future. Where it is a Mondstadt of new.”
Venti’s eyes widen, a smile light on his lips, “A Mondstadt of new? Does that mean...”
“I… shouldn’t tell you too much. I shouldn't even be here. I wish to go back home, to my family.”
“Oh, of course! Please forgive me. We could help you if you would like? There is room in my home for you to rest, and my friend here might be able to help you better than any, since you both possess similar powers. Who knows, maybe you two are somehow related to each other!”
If only he knew the extent. The Anemo spirit flies down, and Cecilia puts out his hand for the spirit to rest on it. They look at each other, and Cecilia wonders if he could somehow sense their connection, like how Cecilia could. Somehow, Cecilia can feel the spirit is happy, if not a little confused. “I like Cecilia. I would like to help him.”
“Then it's settled! Come with us, Cecilia. It's quite chilly all the way out here.”
The room Venti brings them is small, but homely. This is the bard's home, a small room he has rented out using money he gets from playing his lyre. It's nice. Venti smiles shyly as Cecilia looks around, “I know it's not much, but it keeps me safe and warm. Speaking of warmth, I should start the fire.”
Cecilia watches as the bard does just that. The Anemo spirit has made its home on Cecilia’s shoulder. Even if he hasn't realized who Cecilia is, he has taken a liking to him, which he guesses is to be suspected. No matter what, the spirit can probably find safety in Cecilia’s energy, just like he can his.
Once done, Venti lies down on his bed with a sigh, the Anemo spirit flying off Cecilia’s shoulder to go mess with his friend. Venti laughs at the attention and reaches out to tap the spirit on the head, “I think I should sleep now. I have a big day tomorrow.”
“Food?” The spirit questions, which makes the bard shake his head.
“I don't have any on me, but I'll be okay until tomorrow, don't worry. We can go apple picking with our new friend tomorrow for food before I leave for the meeting. I know they are your favorite.”
Cecilia laughs inside at the fact that his father's favorite food has been the same for more than two thousand years. It's ridiculous. He's gone apple picking with his mom before, of course he has. He grew up hearing about his father's love for apples, watching as his dad brought apples as a gift every time he made his way to their home in Mondstadt from Liyue. Cecilia has always thought this was weird; now he believes it even more.
“Okay...” The Anemo spirit says, and Cecilia thinks this is the first time he's heard him worried since he met this version of him.
“Mn, be happy, we're getting apples. Also, could you please help Cecilia sleep? I don't think I can...” Venti’s voice trails off, and Cecilia can tell from here that he has fallen asleep.
After a moment of hesitation, the Anemo spirit starts flying over to Cecilia. “There are an extra pillow and blanket under the bed! He bought them for colder nights, and since he sometimes takes in kids off the street until they can get their footing in life.”
Cecilia nods his head, making his way over to get the stuff, “Thank you.”
“Of course! Also, can I ask you some questions!? You don't have to answer, but you're a curious being. You look like a human, but you have my energy.”
As he gets everything set up for the night, he nods his head, “I will answer what I can.”
“Yay! So do you know what an apple is? Do apples still grow?”
Of course, that's the question he asks; he can't even be surprised. He knows his father. “Yes. They are my father’s favorite.”
Cecilia watches as the wind spirit does a flip in the air in excitement, “Yoo-Hoo! I love them too! I didn't know you had parents, your father sounds cool!”
“He sure thinks he is, but yes, I have parents and a brother. Now what else would you like to know?”
“Hm,” The spirit starts, flying over to rest next to Cecilia on his pillow. “Why don't you tell me some stories!?”
“Stories… okay, I'll tell you what I can. I have a brother and...”
Cecilia then spends the next handful of hours telling the young version of his father stories of his future, without him fully realizing it. It was nice, but all he found was how much he misses his family already. Even if his father is technically right next to him, that isn't really him, but Cecilia guesses it's good enough for now.
Cecilia spends the next week with the duo. Though Venti was busy most of the time, doing something he wouldn't fully disclose to Cecilia, the Anemo spirit would spend a lot of time with him. Apparently, the wind spirit wasn't allowed to go with Venti, as the boy didn't want certain people to know about the Anemo spirit in case they tried to hurt him. Before Cecilia arrived, he had been alone during these times, so he was more than happy to try to help Cecilia get home while he waited for his friend.
This all worried Cecilia. He knew the stories, and so he knew what Venti was most likely doing. He wanted to get home before the war started, but the more days went by, the closer he got to an unknown date. He had grown to like this Venti, the one who would die soon. He already liked him from the stories, but meeting him and actually talking made him like him all the more. It's hard for Cecilia to like people, for more than just how useful they were to him and his family. Venti almost feels like family to him. Like his long-lost uncle he should have never met.
He's sitting in the room he has been calling home for the past week. The Anemo spirit has realized recently that Cecilia also knew how to play the lyre. So sometimes, while Venti was gone, he would get out the lyre and play for him. Today he was playing a song his brother loved a lot, one that the wind spirit seemed to enjoy as well, when Venti walks in. When the bard walks in, hearing the melody, his eyes widen. That is when Cecilia realizes he has never played in front of Venti before.
“You play too?” Venti asks, sitting down in front of Cecilia on the floor. He looks tired, but this seems to give him a bit of joy.
Cecilia nods his head, “I do.”
Venti smiles, “That song you were playing, I've never heard it before. What is it called?”
“It is one my father and I wrote for my brother's birthday. It's called The Winds Who Flow for the Flower.”
“It's beautiful. You and your father are very talented and must love him a lot.”
Cecilia nods his head, giving a small smile, “My brother is my favorite person… I'll teach you the song if you teach me one I don't know?”
The bard laughs, his smile growing, masking his tiredness, “Deal. Shall we start now?”
The Anemo spirit really liked apples. It seemed their favorite things in the world were apples, music, and Venti. He knew these things about his father, but seeing this joy before their heart will be broken by the inability to see or hear the last, makes things sweeter but also sickening. He loves seeing his father happy, but he knows each day is getting closer to him being broken beyond belief. He doesn't want to be here for that; he wants to go home and see his father, to see his version of this soul. He wants to go home.
Right now, Cecilia and the Anemo spirit are out, searching for apples to take back. Cecilia has realized something is off about the wind spirit, but he wasn't sure if he should ask anything about it. They seemed sad, which was weird. He did notice that the wind spirit wasn't with him this morning. Had he gone with Venti?
“Cecilia?”
The boy gets kicked out of his thoughts by the wind spirit. He looks over to them, “Yes?”
“Do you know what death is?”
Cecilia doesn't get taken off guard often, but he physically stumbles. Of course, he knew what death was; he had a fit about it when he was eleven. The day he realized his older brother was moral and would die, he had run away to change that. He was successful and had stopped his brother's aging, preventing that death, but he was still always frightened that his brother or anyone in his family would die. “Yes, I do. Why would you like to know?”
The spirit stops, and Cecilia takes a seat, letting the other rest on his shoulder. “There is going to be a fight soon. Venti… and others… are coming together to defeat this tyrant that has kept his people trapped. But… today I followed Venti. He hadn't been telling me much. I heard that he wanted to join during the battle, but he doesn't know how to fight, and someone said that he would most likely die. I don't want him to die.”
“I don't think you can stop him. Venti has a strong soul; he will do as he wishes. Maybe you should talk to him?”
“About what?”
“He's your best friend. Just talk to him.”
He wasn't supposed to be a part of this fight. He knew it didn't matter if he fought or not; they would win no matter what, but any lives he saves might completely change the future. He can't fight, and he told them this. Even as he watched Venti hold his hand out to the Anemo spirit, asking him to join him in the battle, he knew that he couldn't. Even as he was left alone more often than not, as the Anemo spirit was taken into the revolution. He knew he couldn't. So he doesn't understand why he is here, watching as the battle rages all around him, looking for the one he considers his uncle. Well.. he does know.. It's because he doesn't want him to die. He can't have him die.
Cecilia spots Venti, not questioning why the wind spirit is nowhere near, and runs, grabbing a bow off a dead soldier. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees someone pulling back their bow string, aiming right at Venti. Without a thought, he gets his bow ready, and just as fast as his father taught him, shot the man in the heart. When he does, Venti looks back, confused, then shouts, “Cecilia? You shouldn't be here.”
When he gets up to them, “I can't have you die.”
Venti looks confused, then a realization paints its way onto his face, and after a moment, he gives Cecilia a sad smile, “I'm supposed to die. Aren't I?”
He doesn't question how Venti could possibly know this. “Yes, and you can't. I can't let you die. I can't let my father's friend die.”
“Father's friend… oh… so that's why your energies are the same. You're my friend’s son. So they are okay? Even after my death?”
“That's not the point. He doesn't have to experience your death.”
“I am mortal, I will die one day, and you cannot change fate, Cecilia. If I am destined to die here, then I will.”
“You can't-” He is cut off as Venti’s eyes widen. Cecilia doesn't process what happens next fast enough. One moment, he is standing in front of Venti, the next, he is being shoved to the left, and then he watches as an arrow is shot right into Venti’s chest, right where his heart is. When Cecilia falls to the ground, he watches the last few moments before Venti falls to the ground as well, lifeless. He feels sick.
“Venti!” is screamed, but Cecilia can't take his eyes off the body. He watches as the Anemo spirit flies over right above Venti. He stops, floating down to lie on Venti’s chest. He then lets out, voice distant, “He's dead.”
Right as those words are said, the clouds above them begin to change. He hears screams of victory in the distance. Cecilia wants to laugh. They won. The moment Venti died, they won. The sky cleared, as Venti had always wished, moments after his last breath. He doesn't remember his father ever telling him this detail, and he wonders if it's because it's far too painful for him to think about.
Then, after a moment, a bright light comes from where the Anemo spirit was, and by the time the light is gone, Cecilia sees someone else there. Holding the dead body of Venti, the bard who will soon become nameless, is one who looks almost identical to the dead. Cecilia has the urge to run up and hug him for comfort, because he knows who that is, that is his father. Cecilia is crying; he never cries, but he's crying now. Chest tight, and breath caught.
His father, who would now take on the name Venti, looks to Cecilia. He doesn't say a word, eyes hollow, filled with heartbreaking pain. His eyes don't stay on Cecilia, he puts the now nameless bard down and stands up. Clothed in whites and blues, with soft white wings accompanying him. He walks, looks around, then everything starts to change. He watches as his father becomes a god, becomes Barbatos, becomes the Anemo Archon.
At some point, Barbatos walks over and hugs him, whispering, “Sleep.”
Everything goes dark.
The first thing he registers is singing; he doesn't recognize the song, but he will always recognize that voice. He blinks his eyes open, and above him is his father, but still, even now, he knows this isn't the right version of him. He's still in the past, but he's also lying on his mom’s lap. He blinks, then leans into his father's hold. He hears the man laugh, “You're awake?”
Cecilia nods his head, “How long was I asleep?”
“I'm sorry… I'm not sure. That day... I had put you to sleep. I had a lot of work to do and couldn't handle you at the moment. Knowing you to be immortal, I had just put you somewhere safe until I figured out a way to get you back to your proper time.”
“Oh… and have you?”
With a smile, “I have! But I wanted to talk to you before you had to go. Do you want an apple?”
Cecilia can't help but smile, sitting up and nodding his head, “I would love one.”
With a smile, Venti nods his head, getting an apple from next to him. Cecilia realizes Venti is still in the outfit from before, minus the wings. He wonders if this is the outfit his family members mention as being highly inappropriate for war. After looking at it, he is certain it is. Venti hands him the apple, which Cecilia takes, speaking, “What would you like to know?”
“You're my son, right?”
He isn't completely surprised Venti has figured it out. His father has always been smarter than he lets on. With a breath, “I am.”
Venti smiles, “You're perfect. I'm so lucky you're my son. You have another parent, right? You had mentioned your dad a few times, oh, and a brother. I have another son?”
“I probably shouldn't tell you too much about them; you should find them yourself. But yes, my dad is your husband. You had fallen in love generations before you had me. Then my older brother is a child you two adopted.”
“I have a family. That makes me happy to know. Something to look forward to.”
Cecilia, after a moment of hesitation, takes his father’s hand. Venti looks to him, surprised. “Everything will be okay. Mondstadt will flourish under your care; you will make him proud.”
Venti softens, letting out a light laugh, smiling brightly, “Thank you, Cecilia. You're a beautiful soul. Your dad must be amazing. There's no way I could have raised you to be this wonderful.”
“Both of my parents are amazing. I love you both a lot.”
Still smiling, Venti sighs, “Well, we will see. I think it's about time we get you home.”
Cecilia, feeling a mix of excitement and disappointment, nods his head. “Okay.”
“Now, take my other hand. Close your eyes and I'll see you soon...”
Cecilia wakes up with a start, looking around. He recognizes where he is right away, one of his father’s favorite places, Windrise. He looks up to his father’s statue, then feels a swarm of Anemo energy and arms wrap around him, “Oh my archons, my baby.”
He looks to see his father, actually his father, hugging him. To his surprise, Cecilia starts crying. When he starts, Venti pulls away, now more concerned than ever, “Cecilia? My seedling? What's wrong, you never cry.”
He shakes his head, “How long was I gone?”
Venti stops, as if to process what's going on, then he sees, next to Cecilia, an apple. He sits, taking the fresh apple to his hand, mapping an image cut into the apple’s red skin. A drawing of a Cecilia flower. With a smile and a light laugh, Venti whispers, “Ah. You channeled the power of the time god; it truly flows through you as well.”
“You remember?”
“Not a lot. I do vaguely remember drawing into an apple thousands of years ago, while a young boy your age rested on my lap. Then the words, the promise, that one day I would have a family. Oh, and your eyes, it's how I knew Xiao was the one. I looked into his eyes and remembered yours, it made my heart, which was already screaming my love for him, make up its mind.”
After hearing all that, Cecila shakes his head and bolts to hug his mom, unable to think about anything else but how he has failed him. “I'm sorry I couldn't save him.”
Venti lets out a sigh, returning the hug, “It was fate, my dearest. You are not strong enough to defy time. But! I have a way for you to make it up to me.”
Cecila looks up to him mom, “How?”
Running his hand through Cecila’s hair, “Tell me everything you remember about him!”
With a smile, he nods his head, “He taught me a song I've never heard before.”
“Perfect! Wait, we should get Xiao and Dahlia. Your dad and brother have been worried sick about you.”
Cecilia’s eyes widen, and he stands up, “Brother! I need to see him.”
“Honestly, I was surprised he wasn't the first thing he asked for. This little adventure of yours must have grown you up quite a bit. How my seedling is blooming into a beautiful flower each and every day.”
“Yes, but come on mom. I want to see brother!”
Venti laughs, letting his son drag him towards their home.
Bonus art:
