Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Teyvat held his breath.

The long journey has come to an end. Trials, battles, defeats, and victories are all left behind. Aether, a traveler who has traveled through many worlds, has reached the end of his journey and found himself face to face with the truth... so ancient and dangerous that even the Archons themselves would prefer not to know it.

He and Lumine are not twins separated by the Goddess. They are two halves of the same whole. A single entity, ancient and powerful, powerful that its very existence once shook the foundations of the universe. This entity did not belong to this world and, being alien and powerful, proved to be too dangerous for the gods.… And that's why it was divided, so all attempts to destroy it failed.

Celestia, the pinnacle of divine power. In the heavenly battle that shook the universe, the divine government was victorious. The essence was torn apart—into light and darkness, into Aether and Lumine—never to regain its true form. This was how the old order was preserved. Thus continued the era in which Teyvat lived under the yoke of heaven, invisible but inexorable.

But there are things beyond the control of even the gods.

When the changes came, they did not come from heaven. They came from the heart of one of the archons. Cryo Archon, the one who has been scheming in the shadow of the ice walls for so long, has decided on the impossible. Betrayal? A feat? Or a desperate attempt to change the fate of the world?

She has raised a rebellion against heaven itself. She sacrificed herself. By combining the power of Gnosis, and merged Aether and Lumine back together.

The world shook.

Aether, who regained his memories and his former power, descended on Celestia like a raging hurricane, wanting to punish her for her sins against him and all Teyvat. And so Celestia fell after a fierce battle that created a cataclysm that led to the destruction of Snezhnaya. Her throne, which once shone above the clouds, crumbled to dust. Debris fell from the sky like stars that died in the dark. The heavenly order was destroyed. And in this silence that followed the catastrophe, a new world order was born. Not imposed by Celestia. And not by the will of the Archons.

Aether, a being beyond the concepts of good and evil, beyond light and darkness, became the one who was before everything. His gaze stretched over the entire Teyvat.

He wasn't carrying the war. He did not build new chains. He was offering... a new world. Freed from the power of the gods imposed from the outside. The age of dragons is long gone. The Age of the Gods is living out its last moments. A new age is coming — the Age of Humans.

But any rebirth requires pain. In the shadow of the ruined temples, far from the still smoking ruins of Celestia, resistance is brewing. Not everyone agrees. Not everyone is ready to let go of the old.

For them, Aether is not a liberation, but a threat. He is the chaos that came from the depths of space.
After all, even old coals can flare up again if there is hope in them.
And when the dawn of a new world rises over Tyvat, the heavens will split not from thunder, but from the choice he makes.

Will Aether become a god who brings light?..
or will a new darkness unfold that no one can stop.

Chapter Text

✦ Mondstadt ✦

The winds of freedom had fallen silent.

The headquarters of the Knights of Favonius lay shrouded in stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of paper. Scrolls, reports, and orders shifted under the timid breeze sneaking in through the slightly open window — a wind so quiet it seemed afraid to disturb the peace.

Dim light filled Jean’s office.
Beyond the clouded glass, the evening thickened — gray clouds devouring the last rays of the sun. The amber glow of a desk lamp reflected in the bottle of ink and along the blade of an old dagger lying at the table’s edge. On the desk lay mountains of documents and maps. Ever since the death of Grand Master Varka, the weight of leadership had fallen entirely on Jean’s shoulders. She had formally taken the title of Acting Grand Master — and with each passing day, the burden grew heavier.

Across the room, by the window, stood Venti.

The bard.
The Archon.
The God of Freedom.

But today there were no songs in him.
No dancing spirits.
Only a shadow.

His light cloak, damp from the drizzle, clung to his shoulders. His hair was tangled, his expression exhausted. Heavy. His face seemed carved from grief.

“Then you truly won’t go to him?” Jean’s voice was controlled, yet trembling.
“He summoned all Archons, Venti. He seeks peace — how can you simply refuse?”

Venti lowered his gaze. His lashes quivered like grass under rain.

“No,” he whispered.
“I will not go.”

Silence stretched.
He sighed — deeply, heavily, carrying centuries in a single breath.

“And not because I fear him,” he continued. “But because I know he does not wish to see me. Not now. Not knowing… everything. The whole truth.”

The truth of who had torn his soul in two.

Air grew heavy, as if the world itself leaned in, awaiting a storm.

“It wasn’t a mistake, Jean,” Venti murmured.
“It was a wound.
And I…
I am the one who caused it.”

Jean said nothing.
She approached the window.

Outside lay Mondstadt — veiled in evening mist.
The lantern light trembled like dying candles.
Trees bent beneath the breeze as though the city itself held its breath.
The City of Freedom — once a place where songs soared from every plaza — now waited in wary silence, like a beast sensing the hunter’s arrow.

“And still,” she whispered, “I believe Aether can forgive. You didn’t know him then. You followed Celestia’s will… it wasn’t your choice. If you ask for forgiveness, maybe he—”

“The Aether you knew,” Venti interrupted,
“is gone.”

He stared through the window, though his eyes seemed fixed far beyond the sky — toward the heavens that had fallen.

“He is no longer a kind-hearted traveler. He has merged with something beyond light and darkness. He is a new force. Not a god. Not a mortal. Not a hero.”

He turned to her, leaning lightly on the windowsill.

“And I… I cannot obey.”

Not because he is my enemy.
But because freedom is more than a word.
If I betray it — I cease to be myself.

Silence settled between them like a closing curtain.

Jean clenched her fists. In her eyes flickered pain — not the pain of a commander, but of a friend losing another, perhaps forever.

“Then you’ve made your choice,” she whispered.
“I… I’m sorry.”

Silence swallowed the room once more.

Venti straightened, his expression regaining a somber determination.

“We will not fight in Mondstadt,” he said firmly. “I won’t allow the streets of freedom to become a battlefield. If it comes to combat — it will happen on Dragonspine. Where the cold can silence the pain. Where no one will suffer… except me.”

He turned. His cloak shimmered briefly in the lamplight — and the door closed quietly behind him, carried by the wind.

Jean stood alone.

Outside, the night sky blossomed with stars, but to her they seemed dim.
Deep within, she clung to a faint hope — that her old friends might speak without raising weapons.

✦ Liyue — Huaguang Stone Forest ✦

High above the earth, where clouds lay draped over ridges and stone pillars pierced the sky like ancient spears, stood two figures.

No words.
No fear.
Suspended between past and present.

The Huaguang Stone Forest — ancient, silent, unchanging.
Jagged peaks rose into the morning mist, as though challenging the heavens themselves.
The air was crisp, ringing like metal — yet heavy, as if holding its breath before the final strike of a battle that could no longer be avoided.

On the edge of a cliff stood Morax — the Geo Archon, the forgotten God of Contracts. His cloak swayed in the mountain wind. He looked almost carved from the stone around him. Timeless. Unmoving. Eternal.

Beside him stood Xianyun.
An adeptus whose name lived in legend.
Her expression was weary, her eyes filled with a pain that burned through the soul.

“Morax…”
Her voice trembled like a zither string in the rain.
“Please… do not walk this path.”

He did not answer.
Only the wind replied — a long howl slipping through the cliffs.

“He is stronger than you,” she whispered.
“Even for an Archon. Even for… you.”

At last, he spoke.
His voice was stone — deep, slow, immovable.

“I gave my word.”

He lifted his gaze to the rising sun, its crimson light spilling across the sky.

“And the word of an Archon… even forgotten… cannot be broken.”

Xianyun gasped — softly, but with the agony of a soul cracking.

“Celestia no longer exists!” she cried.
“Its throne is gone! Everything you served — turned to dust! Why cling to ashes?”

Morax turned to her.
His face was solemn, ancient — a mask of sorrow.
But in his eyes… in his eyes smoldered a long-extinguished flame.

“Because ashes are also memory,” he said quietly.
“And even a lie — if it becomes a foundation — cannot be torn away without pain.”

Xianyun stepped closer. Her hands trembled, but she did not withdraw.

“You do not have to face this alone. We are adepti — a family. We swore—”

“…to protect Liyue,” he finished softly. “I remember. But now… I am the threat.”

Her breath caught.

“Erosion,” he murmured. “It is taking my memories. Faces… names… even your voice… fading. I am forgetting myself. Soon… I will no longer be me.”

She staggered back as if struck.

“So you wish to die… to preserve what is left of yourself?”

He nodded, firm and resolute.

“Better to fall by the hand of a god than destroy the home I built. Better to become dust than a shadow that harms.”

She tried to speak —
but no words came.

Morax looked toward the horizon.
Toward Liyue — the city he had raised stone by stone, contract by contract.

“My time has come,” he said.
“As someone once told me… ‘When it is time to live — live. When it is time to die — die.’
And my time has come.”

When he stepped forward, Xianyun’s tears finally fell.
Silent.
But each one a farewell.

Even stone erodes.
Even a god can become only a name in a song.

✦ Liyue — Jade Chamber ✦

The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky above Liyue in molten gold. Its light shimmered across the Jade Chamber — the heart of Liyue’s wisdom and power.

Inside, silence reigned.
A calm, heavy silence.

The marble floors caught the glow of lantern flames. Silk curtains drifted gently, stirred by a faint breeze. Beyond carved windows, twilight deepened, casting long shadows.

The Qixing gathered around a round jade table.
Their expressions were steady — but in every gaze lingered unease.

Ningguang placed her teacup down with graceful precision.

“One matter remains,” she said quietly.
“A final and decisive one.”

A pause filled the room.

“Aether,” she continued. “A hero, now a god. We know not what he has become — but we must learn what he wants of Teyvat.”

Another silence — heavier than stone.

“I propose,” Ningguang said, “that Liyue send an official representative to meet with him.”

Ganyu, Keqing, and Ningguang exchanged looks.
The quiet spoke louder than any debate.

Keqing stood. Determined. Steady.

“I will go.”

Her voice was firm, but held a quiet tremor — not of fear, but responsibility.

Ningguang studied her.
“Why you?”

“Because this is not merely a diplomatic mission,” Keqing replied. “It is a meeting with a being who could reshape all of Teyvat.

Ganyu is overburdened, and her adeptus heritage distances her from mortals.
You, Lady Ningguang, are the pillar of our stability — your absence could cause panic.

I am the most suitable choice.”

She lifted her chin.

“And above all… I knew Aether. As a person.
I saw who he was. And I believe there is still a spark of that light within him.
Perhaps he will listen.
Perhaps… he will hear me.”

Ganyu nodded softly.
“She speaks truth.”

Ningguang walked to the window.
The first stars lit the darkening sky.

“Then so be it,” she said.
“Keqing — you will go to Aether.
And you will learn the truth of this new world.”

Outside, Liyue lit its lanterns — like the souls of ancestors watching over their descendants.
The Jade Chamber shone above them, a beacon of hope.

And one who guided Liyue’s fate prepared to step into the unknown.

✦ Inazuma ✦

Rain had not ceased for days.
It fell as though the heavens themselves had unleashed their grief upon Inazuma — sheets of water rolling down rooftops, streaming across stone paths, turning the streets into trembling mirrors. In every reflection flickered blurred silhouettes of buildings, lanterns, and people. The world here felt unfocused, like a dream verging on a nightmare. Thunder groaned above the city, lightning splitting the sky in jagged veins of violet, echoing the tension that clung to the air.

Through this relentless downpour walked a solitary figure.

Her light garments barely fluttered under the weight of the rain, yet a thin aura of Cryo shimmered around her — the protective chill of her Vision repelling each falling drop like fragments of frost.
Kamisato Ayaka — heir of the Kamisato Clan, the embodiment of Inazuman grace, duty, and honor — walked with purpose.
Her steps were measured.
Her resolve unshaken.

She was heading toward the beating heart of authority — the Tenshukaku — to fulfil her Archon’s command.

At the massive gates, guards were already waiting.
One recognized her immediately and bowed deeply, opening the heavy doors.

“Lady Kamisato, the Shogun awaits you inside.”

Ayaka nodded politely and stepped across the threshold.

Inside, the palace was as silent as the storm was loud.
Thunder cracked in the distance, illuminating the columns with brief, cold flashes. Her footsteps echoed on polished floors adorned with inlaid jade, lapis, and gold. Ancient scrolls lined the walls, and the air was thick with the faint aroma of incense — steady, solemn, divine.

At the far end of the grand hall sat the Raiden Shogun.
Motionless.
Eternal.
Her eyes half-closed, as if conversing with the very concept of eternity.
Only when Ayaka reached the designated spot and knelt respectfully did the Shogun slowly open her eyes.

Ayaka bowed deeply.

“It pleases me that you arrived so swiftly, Kamisato Ayaka,” the Shogun said.
Her voice was level, emotionless — and yet Ayaka sensed exhaustion beneath the surface, subtle but undeniable.

“I am always at your service, my lady,” Ayaka replied, raising her gaze.
There was no fear in her eyes — only steadfast devotion.

For a moment, the Shogun closed her eyes again, as if gathering her strength. A flash of lightning illuminated her expression — impassive, unreadable, but heavy with thought.

“As you may have heard,” she began,
“the golden-haired Traveler has completed his journey. His vengeance against Celestia is fulfilled… though at a cost no one can yet truly comprehend.”

Ayaka froze.
Her heart tightened.

“Yes… I have heard of the tragedy in Snezhnaya, and of Celestia’s fall,” she said softly.

“Now Aether is a god,” the Shogun continued. “Not as we are. Not an Archon. Not a keeper of ideals. He is the embodiment of primordial power. He summons us. Yet… I cannot leave Inazuma.”

She rose from the throne.
Her robes flowed like violet storm clouds trailing lightning.
Outside, the thunder roared louder.

“After the heavens collapsed, a storm engulfed our islands,” she said. “Not a natural one, but a disruption in the ley lines. I must hold it back to protect my people. And yet… my presence at the gathering of Archons is crucial.”

Ayaka understood instantly.

“Then… you wish for me to go in your stead?” she asked gently.
Her voice betrayed only a hint of nervousness.

“Correct,” the Shogun answered with resolute solemnity.
“I ask you to travel to Aether as my representative and tell him I acknowledge his authority. That I will support him in battle, should it prove necessary. I trust in your abilities, and given your past friendship with him, I believe he will be pleased to see you — yet be cautious.
Aether may have changed more than any of us expect.”

Ayaka bowed again, deeper than before.

“I shall fulfill your command, my lady.”

The Shogun spoke no more.
She simply lifted her hand, letting a faint flicker of Electro energy brush Ayaka’s form — a silent blessing.

When Ayaka stepped outside, the rain grew even stronger.
But it no longer weighed on her.

It simply accompanied her.

Her thoughts flowed like water — solemn, firm, and determined.
Her path was clear.

Back at the Kamisato Estate, she gathered what she needed.
By dawn, a ship was prepared.

Standing on the bow as the wind and rain lashed around her, Ayaka gazed into the horizon — toward where all fates now converged.

The wind played with her hair.
Behind her — Inazuma.
Before her — him.

“I walk toward the place where the fate of the world will be decided.
And I will not falter.”

✦ Sumeru ✦

The sun over Sumeru shone softly, as if it itself hesitated to disturb the balance.
The green crowns of the trees swayed in the slow dance of the wind.
The gardens exuded the scent of freshness and spice.
Vendors laughed at the bazaars, birds hopped between rooftops, and it seemed the city lived just as it always had.

But beneath this vibrant illusion, another reality was hidden.

Deep within the heart of Sumeru, in the sacred Sanctuary of Surasthana, silence reigned.
For many days now, no scholar, no guard, and no visitor had dared to disturb this stillness.
Here — where the wisdom of generations flowed, where the walls breathed ancient knowledge — she resided.

The Little Lord Kusanali.
The Archon of Wisdom.
Nahida.

Sitting at the very center of the inner hall, surrounded by ancient script and glowing scrolls floating in the air — each holding secret knowledge — she remained in meditation, her bare feet barely touching the ground. Immersed deeply in trance, she worked to stabilize the earth’s leylines.

After the fall of Celestia, the heavenly order had collapsed.
The entire network of leylines, once stable, had fractured.
Energy began to flow chaotically, causing local anomalies, disrupting cycles of nature, and at times even unsettling the thoughts of people.

Connected to Irminsul and the world’s deep consciousness, Nahida had taken upon herself the task of restoring these flows. Together with Aether — who now stood as the sovereign of Teyvat — she labored to stabilize the leylines.

Five days of intense work, and her efforts had restored Mondstadt, Liyue, Sumeru, and Fontaine.
Now only Inazuma remained — severed from the main arteries — and Natlan, where the leylines were too weak and undeveloped.
But the most dangerous disruptions had already been neutralized.

Five days without sleep, without rest.
Five days in which her mind crossed the spaces between Irminsul’s roots and the energy clusters pulsing deep within the planet.
She guided the flows, sealed fractures, and restored balance.

Now she could afford a brief respite.
But Nahida’s rest was not the same as the rest of ordinary beings.
Even in calm, she continued to feel the ripples within the fabric of the world.

Now she could spend her time and strength speaking with Aether about small matters, discussing the future of Sumeru and Teyvat.
She knew of the coming gathering of the Archons, where the new structure of world order would be discussed, but she saw little point in personally attending the audience with Aether or sending someone else.
Should the need arise, they could discuss important matters through their mental connection.
And most importantly — she was needed in Sumeru, where Nahida could use her unique link to Irminsul to control the flow of the leylines.

In the streets of Sumeru — life.
In the streets — peace.

But in the hall of Surasthana, deep in the consciousness of Wisdom, work still churned.
Scrolls spun.
Flows converged.
Energies regained their rhythm.

Nahida did not smile.
But her gaze was clear.

She knew: when all was finished,
when the age of peace arrived,
she would be ready.

And if the world was to be rewritten —
she would ensure that not a single line distorted the truth.

✦ Fontaine ✦

Morning spread over Fontaine in the form of rain.
Not stormy, not violent — but stubborn, quiet, like the whisper of a truth no one wishes to hear.
Fine droplets slid down the marble façades of buildings, across bridges, along carved cornices.
Stone boulevards glimmered with a wet sheen, reflecting lanterns like starlight drowning in water.
Water flowed everywhere.
Like air.
Like thought.
Like a sentence yet to be spoken.

Fontaine did not hurry.
Even amid change — it preserved its calm.

Neuvillette.
Chief Justice.
Voice of the Oratrice.
Temporarily withdrawn from these roles, having ceded authority to humanity — for now he posed a danger to the city with his newly awakened power.

Silently, he gazed at the water.
Rain traced down his shoulders, his hair, his mantle.
Snow-white strands clung to his neck.
But he did not move.

In his eyes lay the reflection of the water’s surface.
Yet he saw something else.

“Celestia has fallen,” he said.
His voice was quiet, yet within it echoed the rumble of the oceanic depths.
“Aether… has become one who stands above the heavens. Above laws.”

He extended his hand — and the water responded.
From the lake, rising to the call of a mighty dragon, a thin column of liquid ascended, swirling like a transparent spiral.
He looked upon it as though at a mirror.

And in that mirror — he saw himself.

“I have changed as well.”

His fingers closed — and the water fell apart into droplets.
They hit the ground, but their sound vanished beneath the rain’s endless whisper.

“The power that awakened within me…” he continued, speaking either to himself or to his former comrade,
“…is beyond the laws.
It is older than humans, more fundamental than anything in this world.
It is the voice of dragons — those who ruled long before the Archons.
And they demand vengeance.”

He stepped toward a boulder.
Placed his hand upon it — and it vanished.
Simply… crumbled into dust.
No crack.
No sound.

In the dragon’s eyes flickered sorrow: he still could not fully control this power, and he needed far more practice before the decisive battle.

“Justice… cannot remain silent when the world cries out.
Even if that means — the execution of a god.”

Lightning flashed on the distant horizon, cleaving the sky like a delivered verdict.
The shadow across Neuvillette’s face deepened.

With a weary breath, he resumed his training — attempting a light jump of only a few meters, but once again pushed off the ground with too much force and in an instant found himself on the opposite side of the valley.
The next failure did not stop him.

The hydro dragon lord extended his arm, trying to summon a small gust of wind — and again misjudged his strength, calling forth a massive hurricane that tore several trees from the earth before he managed to soothe the raging element.
He had achieved absolute control over Hydro — but the remaining six elements were clearly far more difficult to master.

Now his gaze fell upon the uprooted trees — a perfect opportunity to test the workings of yet another element.

“He has changed,” he whispered again.
“But so have I.”

He closed his eyes.

And saw — not the future, but balance.
Not vengeance, not fury.
Not worship.

But the scales.

On one side — truth.
On the other — everything else.

And if he would have to fight — he would do so.
Without fear.
Without hatred.
Only with duty in his heart.

He turned, his cloak slicing through the air.
Drops of water fell from his shoulders like old oaths being shed.

“Time… is almost up,” he said at last.

✦ Natlan ✦

The sun stood at its zenith.
Blazing, merciless — like Natlan itself.

The sky was burned white, and neither shade nor prayer offered relief.
The air trembled above the ground, scorched to cracking.
The sand underfoot was as hot as flame; the stones gave off heat like smoke.
And yet — life thrived.

In the streets — songs.
In the squares — dances.
In the bazaars — laughter, arguments, the voice of ancient drums.
Natlan lived.

As if each day were the last, and every moment a fragment of the eternal flame.
But beneath this fiery rhythm lay an undertone of unrest.

Atocpan, the ancient volcano, had awakened.
Its roar shook the earth.
Rivers of lava streamed down its slopes, destroying homes and driving families to flee in search of shelter.
Smoke darkened the sky.
And the heat… the heat was such that the air tore into the lungs like fire.

In the capital’s center, on the great arena where champions usually fought, tents now stood.
Temporary shelters for refugees.
Here, fires burned, children’s laughter echoed, and even those who had lost everything continued to sing.

Because this is Natlan:
where even in hardship the heart beats loudly,
and the spirit does not burn out — it burns brighter.

In the Hall of Counsel, upon her throne, sat Mavuika, the Pyro Archon.
Her flaming eyes and calm expression inspired both confidence and respect.
Around her lingered an invisible aura of authority and resolve.
Before the meeting began, she sank into deep contemplation, thinking over the course of the coming gathering.

Once the tribe chiefs had taken their seats, the council began.
Voices rose with concern for the people and analysis of the volcano’s activity.
Discussions lasted for an hour — heated, yet constructive.
And then the moment came when Mavuika stood.
Her gaze swept across the hall, and in the silence one could feel anticipation.

“Honored chiefs. We have discussed the consequences of Atocpan’s eruption and made decisions regarding evacuation and support.
But now it is time to speak of my mission.”
Her voice was steady, yet full of strength.

Every eye turned to the Archon.

“As you know, Aether has destroyed Celestia and effectively taken its place, becoming the new ruler of Teyvat.
He has summoned all Archons to him.
I consider it my duty to go to that meeting.”

The hall fell into expectant quiet.
Mavuika paused, letting her gaze pass across the tribe representatives to read their reaction.
Her voice softened:

“Therefore, I am forced to leave Natlan for what may be a very long time.
I rely on your support and am ready to entrust you with all that is dear to me.”

The chiefs exchanged glances, briefly discussing the current situation: lava flows, evacuation routes, the stability of the tribes.
Moments later, they rose one by one, each declaring their support for Mavuika’s decision.

Their agreement brought a true sense of relief to her, and she began preparations for the journey — one of the main tasks being to ready the Flamecycle for long travel, assigning the necessary instructions to Shilonene.

When the first glimmer of sunrise appeared on the horizon, Mavuika stood upon the departure platform.
The wind tugged at her fiery hair; she herself was calm, focused.
She placed her hand upon the Flamecycle, feeling the heat of its metal.
One deep breath — and she mounted.

Hundreds of eyes watched her.
People.
Chiefs.
Children.
And the sky, slowly brightening over Natlan.

Mavuika looked back one last time — and without a word, shot forward.
The Flamecycle roared, leaving behind a trail of blazing heat, and disappeared beyond the hills.
Fire sped toward the horizon.

And there, in the distance — where Aether and change awaited — the Archon of Natlan advanced, proud and free.

Chapter Text

✦ Natlan ✦

The scorching breath of the plains burned against her face as Mavuika sped forward, merging with the blazing wind as though she herself were the embodiment of flame.
Beneath her roared the Flamecycle — her faithful companion — racing through heat, dust, and the trembling of the charred earth.
Its fiery wheels bit into the parched ground, sending up clouds of steam and ash, as if cutting through the very body of Natlan.

Above — the searing sun, merciless as the gaze of an ancient deity.
Around her — blazing hills, golden tents rising against the horizon, crimson banners trembling in the wind, and drums — deep and resonant, like the heartbeat of ancestors.
A landscape where her blood pulsed.
Her homeland.
A living rhythm.

Mavuika did not look back.
Yet in her heart, every meter she left behind carved itself like a mark.
As though the land itself whispered farewells to her.

When the savannah gave way to sand and the world’s breath grew dry and rough, she stopped.

The yellow-orange light of the sun slid across the dunes, shaping them like living waves.
Here began foreign land — with no drums, no songs, no people of hers.
Mavuika turned back, letting her gaze linger for a brief moment on the fading scenery of her homeland.

“When will I return?.. In a day? A week? Perhaps it will take a year.
Or even an eternity.”

She turned away.
Her heart clenched, but her eyes remained firm.
The wind of the sandy lands struck her face.
She did not slow — she mounted the Flamecycle again and continued forward, plunging deeper into the silent desert.

The sand hissed beneath the wheels as though it complained.
And ahead, between the dunes, rose the silhouettes of ancient ruins.
Stone giants, covered in cracks of ages, stared at her in silence.
Stone arches inscribed with faded hieroglyphs cast shadows — not comforting, but unsettling.
Pyramids, obelisks, half-collapsed gateways — everything seemed like fragments of someone’s once-great pride.
In these lands, time did not simply flow — it froze, turning into stone, into sand, into shadows of the past.
The deeper she traveled into these lands, the quieter her path became.

And by evening, the outlines of Celestia — or what remained of it — rose on the horizon.
Marble columns, like broken bones of the celestials, towered over terraces bathed in the crimson light of sunset.
The air was heavy, filled with dust and the echoes of destruction.

The ruins were majestic — and dead.
Half-shattered marble columns resembled the broken fingers of a titan reaching for a sky that no longer existed.
Once, the fates of the world were decided here.
Now, a new era was beginning.

Mavuika slowed her pace.
She stopped the Flamecycle at the very edge of the terraces.
The machine fell silent.
Only the wind remained… the sun… and the quiet.

She dismounted.
Took a step forward.
Lifted her eyes to what was left of the heavenly order.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon, painting the columns red.

At the entrance — sand.
But with each step deeper inside, the dust faded.
The floor grew cleaner.
The columns — more whole.
The carvings on the walls — brighter.
As though the ruins… were awakening.

She walked slowly, studying the symbols, trying to hear the echo of ancient will.
Half the way behind her.
And then — frescoes began to appear, left untouched by catastrophe.
Angelic figures, solar disks, scenes of battles and triumphs, exiles and revelations.

And then — the gates.
Massive.
Closed.
Leading unmistakably into the throne hall.

Mavuika stopped.
Took several breaths to steady her mind.
And after a minute — she chose to proceed, opening the colossal doors.

Inside was light, fury, and blinding radiance that pierced through bone and scorched the soul itself.
Endless sound, filling eternity.
Her senses were crushed by a myriad of ideas, memories of tens of thousands of years of existence.
Random streams of thought rushing in circles, intrusive visions, predictions and unimaginable fears.
So many voices… all alike… all different… none coherent.

An old man with a withered, lifeless face sat upon his throne — but then the vision flickered, and she saw instead a ruler of boundless power, resting for a moment to contemplate.
He was lost to his subjects only temporarily — when his reflections ended, He would rise and rule again.

The vision shifted once more.
She saw a colossal force that could rival the strength of an entire world.
She saw sorrow, triumph, failure, loss, and unimaginable potential.
Among all the faces, there was no single face…
Among all the voices, not one true voice — only a roaring chorus.

Aether’s presence struck like a hammer against her soul — a terrifying torture of existence.
Mavuika could not withstand it; she collapsed to her knees.

“Aether… I have arrived, as you asked,” she forced out, raising her gaze toward the pillar of light.

She looked upon the new God — and saw nothing.
Too much… too bright… too powerful…
The unreality of the being before her overwhelmed her entirely.
Hundreds of images — all false and all true — sped through her mind at a maddened pace.

“Mavuika.”
The raging storm spoke her name — and it was like primordial annihilation, like a dying sun burning nearby planets into lifeless stone.

“Mavuika… Mavuika… Mavuika…”
The name echoed through the winds of eternity, never falling silent — yet never reaching a final point.

The presence of countless minds pressed upon her, distort­ing her senses as they tried to communicate.
But then, from the multitude, one consciousness separated itself.

“Mavuika.”
Her name was spoken one last time.
The storm began to weaken, the light dimmed — and the Pyro Archon glimpsed one final, clear vision:

A small girl, surrounded by countless books and scrolls, hovering above the ground.

And a second later, the vision vanished.

Blinking, Mavuika found herself kneeling in the center of the hall, before a majestic throne.
Aether sat upon it like a king — and on his face was deep exhaustion.
Then, as his gaze focused on her, a faint smile appeared.

“I’m glad to see you, Mavuika,” Aether said, his voice weary.
“I’m sorry you had to witness me in such an unsuitable form.
The restoration of my soul and the battle in Celestia left their mark…
I expected you to arrive later.”
There was a drop of sorrow in his words.

Mavuika rose, exhaling in relief as she realized her worst fears about how much he had changed were unfounded.

“So I’m the first to arrive,” she said softly.
“In truth, I feared I would be the last.”

“I’m afraid,” Aether replied, “you may be… the only one.”

He spoke evenly.
Without bitterness — but without hope.

“The Cryo Archon is dead,” he said, staring into the emptiness beyond the hall.
“The Hydro Sovereign, last of the dragons, sees not an ally in me… but an usurper.
He desires my fall.

“The Dendro Archon is now bearing the burden of stabilizing Teyvat’s leylines.
And the others…”

He fell silent.
The pause hung heavy.

“Who knows what goals drive those who remain.
The Anemo Archon, obsessed with freedom, may see my ascension as a threat — and decide it is time to free the world from all chains, including me.
The Geo Archon values his contracts above all else, and it would be foolish to assume he does not have at least one binding him to kill anyone who overturns the heavenly order.
And the Electro Archon… may find my rule incompatible with her eternity.”

Mavuika listened in silence.
The flame of her heart — bright and fierce — flickered weakly.
What she heard was not a threat, but a revelation.
And that made it all the more terrifying.

“And what do you plan to do,” she asked,
“if the other Archons do not accept your rule?”

The answer fell without hesitation.
Like a stone into a well:

“Then they must be destroyed.
All of them.
And all who stand with them.”

Her breath caught.
The words were spoken calmly.
Without anger.
Without hatred.
Simply… as a conclusion.

For a moment, horror seized her.
The image of her old friend shattered in an instant.
The Aether she remembered would never have said such words so calmly.
They had been his friends — and yet he spoke of killing them as if it were necessity.

Had he really changed so much?

“I hope,” she whispered,
“that it won’t come to that…”

Aether looked at her.
His eyes were heavy — but not cold.

“I hope so too,” he said.
Then, rising from the throne, added softly:
“Come. I think you won’t mind a little walk.”

The corridors of Celestia greeted them with silence.
But not dead silence — deliberate silence.
As if the walls were watching.
As if the stone remembered.

They walked together.
Their footsteps echoed lightly across polished marble, where mosaics once shattered now gleamed anew, restored by unseen power.

Here, among golden light and faint remnants of ancient hymns, Aether once again resembled the Traveler she had known.
As old comrades do, they spoke.
Long.
Calmly.

When the conversation ended, Aether escorted her to the chamber prepared for her — spacious, but not extravagant.
Quiet.
Beyond its windows shimmered stars she had never seen from Natlan.

“Rest,” he said.
“A new chapter begins soon, and you will need all your strength.”

Mavuika remained alone, gazing a while at the beautiful stars that had long been hidden beneath a false sky.
Then she lay down upon the soft bed — and drifted into sleep.

✦ Sumeru ✦

The sun hung at its zenith, spreading its blinding light over the bay.
The water by the Port Ormos docks shimmered as though sprinkled with molten coins.
The air vibrated above the rooftops, while the cries of seagulls, the wind, and the hum of countless voices blended into a single symphony of life.

But today the port was lively not because of the usual trade.
Today, two large ships had arrived — and each carried not only goods, but the will of their nations.

One vessel from Liyue had arrived before dawn.
The second — elegant, light, adorned with the crests of Inazuma — had only recently cast anchor.

On its deck stood Kamisato Ayaka.
The wind gently played with her hair as her focused gaze swept across the port.
As soon as the ship dropped anchor, she instructed her companions to begin unloading and immediately disembarked.

“Two main tasks,” she thought.
“Find transport suitable for desert travel — and a guide.”

Her light footsteps echoed across the wooden planks of the pier when suddenly…

“Lady Keqing… this way, please!”

The name, spoken by a passing sailor, made Ayaka freeze.

She turned toward the voice — and saw a young woman, poised and resolute.
Ayaka recognized her at once from descriptions: the Jade Balance of the Qixing.
She was accompanied by several attendants and a pack yak laden with provisions and travel equipment.

“The Jade Balance… Keqing, one of the Qixing. It truly is her.”

Ayaka did not hesitate.
Approaching, she offered a respectful, deep bow.

“Forgive the abruptness. Are you Lady Keqing of the Qixing?”

Keqing raised an eyebrow, studying the girl before her.
The Inazuman attire, the Kamisato clan crest, the refined manners — everything spoke of noble birth.

“Yes, that is me. And you, unless I am mistaken… are from Inazuma?” she replied with polite curiosity.

“Correct. Kamisato Ayaka, heiress of the Kamisato Clan.
I am pleased to have the chance to meet you in person.”
She smiled softly.
“I have come to Sumeru as an envoy on behalf of the Shogun Raiden. My purpose is to meet with Aether.”

Keqing’s brows lifted slightly, then she nodded with approval.

“Then it seems we share the same purpose.
I represent the interests of Liyue and the Qixing.
It appears we arrived almost at the same time.
I admit, I did not expect to see an envoy from Inazuma here, but… this may actually be for the best.”

She glanced aside briefly, assessing the situation, then turned back to Ayaka:

“We are prepared to leave Port Ormos shortly.
We already have an experienced guide — Dehya, a mercenary with an impeccable reputation.
She knows the desert well and will provide protection.
If you wish, you may join our group.
It will be safer and more convenient for everyone.”

Ayaka bowed once more, sincere gratitude in her voice.

“Thank you, Lady Keqing.
Your offer is an honor.
I would be glad to accept it.
I believe we will need no more than an hour to be fully ready for departure.
I hope this will not delay you?”

“Not at all,” Keqing replied calmly.
“We will wait for you.”

Their eyes met — not merely as envoys, but as women carrying the weight of their nations’ futures.
In both, there was firmness, courtesy, and an understanding that their alliance might play a crucial role in the events to come.

An hour later, as the heat began to subside, the delegations of Liyue and Inazuma departed Port Ormos.
Their path led straight into the heart of the desert — to the resting place of the ruins of Celestia.

✦ The Ruins of Celestia ✦

Mavuika walked slowly through the halls where the fates of the world had once been decided.

The vast corridors, the towering vaults, the columns rising toward the heavens — all of this had once borne the name of Celestia, the seat of the divine. Now — ruins. Shadows of former grandeur, echoes of a fallen authority. And yet… with each step, Mavuika felt it clearly: this place was not dead.
It slept.

And now, awakened by the will of its new master, the Ruins had begun to breathe again.

The very walls seemed alive.
Damaged arches were restoring themselves.
Stone once covered in cracks was now smooth.
Collapsed sections had vanished.
Where yesterday there had been only ash, today stood order and purity.
As if an invisible servant had moved through these halls, wiping away the traces of a bygone battle.

Mavuika stopped at what once had been a window — or rather, a balcony.
The fierce sun hung at its zenith, pouring gold over the columns.
Far away, where the sky dissolved into desert, she could barely make out the silhouettes of Natlan’s mountains.

A warm ache filled her chest.
Home.
Her people.
Songs, campfires, drums, the laughter of children.
Living fire.

“I will return. I will. But not now…”

The duty of an Archon was absolute.
Until the fate of Teyvat ceased to hang by a thread, return was impossible.

She turned away slowly and headed in a familiar direction — toward the throne room.
It was there she had first seen Aether yesterday — not as the Traveler she had once known, but as a force standing above the gods themselves.
She recalled their conversation, trying to understand how deeply he had changed.
In the throne room he had been cold and detached — yet afterward, he had become himself again.
This contradiction tugged at her thoughts.

But she had walked only half the distance when an unexpected sight made her stop.

In one of the inner chambers — a large hall filled with light, adorned with columns and mosaics — Aether sat at a table set for two.

He lifted his gaze and offered a faint smile.

“I thought…” he began, leaning an elbow on the table, “that conversations like these are better held somewhere less empty. Over wine.”

Mavuika blinked in mild surprise — and even a touch of emotion.
She nodded and took a seat across from him without hesitation.

“A wonderful idea,” she replied with a soft smile, briefly wondering where wine had come from in these long-dead halls.
But this place, it seemed, would never cease to surprise her.

A faint glow emanated from the wine — as though ancient energy still pulsed within it.
Aether raised his glass, took a slow sip, and in his eyes Mavuika saw exhaustion.
Deep, ancient… yet tinged with relief.

“I have good news,” he said.
“The ley arteries in Natlan have stabilized. The Dendro Archon has finished her work.
The volcano will calm.
The disaster will soon be over.”

Mavuika exhaled in relief, lowering her glass.

“That is… wonderful.” She smiled.
“It means I can finally stop worrying about my people. But that isn’t all, is it? You look troubled.”

Aether averted his eyes.
He stared into the wine as if seeing a whirlpool of memories.

“Correct.
The second day is ending…
and you remain the only Archon who has answered my summons.”

Mavuika tensed.

“Do you think the others… will refuse?”

“Perhaps.
Perhaps they’re merely hesitating.
But there is a chance they won’t come at all.
That they’ve already made their choice.
And that choice… was not in my favor.”

He paused.
His voice was steady, almost calm — but each word carried sorrow.

“Some of them are… too deeply bound to the old order.
To ideals that no longer exist.
And I… I did not merely destroy those ideals as symbols.
I shattered their foundations — the thrones, the sky, Celestia itself.”

Mavuika set her glass on the table and looked at him with seriousness, but also warmth.

“I believe they will come.
Maybe not today — but they will.
Each of them knows you.
Knows who you are.
I refuse to believe they would declare war on you.
Not Raiden.
Not Venti.
Not… Morax.”

“For now, I do not intend to make hasty decisions — especially since the wounds I received during the battle have not healed.
My combat readiness is still at an unacceptable level.”

A pause.

The tension in the air eased.
Aether’s expression softened.
For the first time in a long while, he smiled genuinely.

Their conversation flowed freely.

They spoke no longer as gods.
Not as leaders.

But as those who had walked through pain together, side by side, through countless adventures.

Aether spoke of his vision:

An era in which humans could live without fear of the gods.
Where no one would be punished for sins dictated by another’s will.
A world where humanity — free, mature, strong — would shape its own destiny.

Mavuika listened in silence.
And within her, something flickered — a spark.
A spark of hope.

The sun sank beyond the horizon.
The fiery glow faded into the cool blue of stars.
A breeze swept through the vaults of Celestia, carrying with it stillness.

“Your room is ready. Rest — who knows what awaits us tomorrow.”

She rose as he did.
And for a moment — looked at him not as a god.
But as a friend.

And there, in the ruins of an old world, in the quiet of collapsed grandeur, two beings — once mortal, now touched by divinity — prepared to greet the dawn.

The dawn of a new era.

✦ The Desert of Sumeru ✦

By noon, the group had left Port Ormos behind. The sands greeted them with heat, dust clung to their faces, and the dunes stretched endlessly toward the horizon. At the front, moving like a huntress through the shimmering air, walked Dehya, guiding the group with confident steps through mirages and jagged stone ridges.

Day turned to sunset.
The sand grew cooler, the sky more crimson.
By evening, the group reached Aaru Village — an oasis of shade and water amid the silent dunes.

A dusty wind welcomed the travelers, carrying with it the breath of the scorching desert. They were exhausted — the sun, the heavy cloaks, the relentless sand underfoot. Even the modest canopies, weathered palms, and shadows cast by clay houses seemed a true blessing.

Dehya, serving as their guide, took off her pack and tossed it over her shoulder with familiar confidence.

“From here, the ruins are no more than seven or eight hours away. By tomorrow’s noon, we’ll be at our destination.”

The news restored their spirits.
After a simple but filling dinner, everyone dispersed: some checked their equipment, others whispered prayers in the quiet, and some simply watched the sunset, contemplating what awaited them at the edge of the desert.

At dawn, when the first rays pierced the horizon, the travelers rose.
The road called.

Dehya led them, her steps certain, her voice steady.
The desert parted before her as if recognizing its own.

Columns lost in sand.
Fragments of ancient temples.
Silent ruins of a long-dead civilization — all scattered along the path.
Everything felt like pieces of a greater picture, guiding them to the final destination.

When the sun reached its zenith, their goal finally appeared on the horizon — the Ruins of Celestia, majestic and radiant in the midday light. Even shattered, they preserved their ancient dignity. The white stones gleamed like the bones of a fallen colossus. Broken arches, collapsed terraces, scorched walls — all spoke of a great catastrophe.

At the base of a ruined archway, someone was already waiting for them.

A tall figure emanating divine presence.
Hair flickering like tongues of flame.
A gaze firm but not hostile.

The Pyro Archon of Natlan.
Mavuika.

Ayaka stepped forward and knelt the moment she recognized her.
Behind her, Keqing bowed with the same respect.

“Welcome,” the woman said. “I am Mavuika, Pyro Archon of Natlan. Aether asked me to receive you. I assume you prefer to postpone your meeting until evening, after you rest. For now… allow me to lead you somewhere you can regain your strength.”

“We are grateful for such a warm welcome, Lady Mavuika,” Keqing replied with a slight smile. “It will be an honor to follow you.”

They walked deeper into the ruins, stepping across sand-covered stone tiles.
The halls, once shattered during the great battle, still carried traces of destruction — yet life ran through them again.
Restored walls, rebuilt vaults, frescoes brought back to brilliance as if by unseen command — Celestia was awakening.

They entered a spacious hall where a waterfall fell from above, turning into a crystal-clear river.
Near the water, beneath the shade of palms, stood several small dwellings — light, elegant, yet sturdy.
A refuge for guests.
A place to breathe.
The sight was astonishing; the visitors couldn’t help but wonder:
How could a waterfall exist inside a building in the middle of ruins?
And who was this place originally meant for?

“Rest. I will return in the evening,” said Mavuika, her silhouette dissolving among the stone corridors.

After a meal and a short rest, Ayaka and Keqing found time to discuss the recent events and their plans for the meeting with Aether.
They agreed to act in turns, so each could conduct her audience calmly and receive the answers she sought without interfering with the other.
Thus, it was decided that Kamisato Ayaka would go first.

Mavuika returned soon after and led them through transformed corridors: restored walls, standing columns — as if they had never been broken. Under Aether’s hand, Celestia truly lived again.

The doors of the throne room opened.

Ayaka stepped inside.

Aether sat upon the throne — straight, unmoving, like a sculpture.
His voice was deep and cold, like stone that had survived countless storms.

“I am pleased to meet you, Kamisato Ayaka. What brings you here?”

Ayaka bowed deeply.

“I come with a message from the Electro Archon, the Shogun Raiden. She acknowledges your authority… and offers her blade. If a new battle is coming, she will stand by your side.”

Aether’s face remained impassive.
Only his eyebrow twitched slightly.

“A welcome message. But why did she not come in person?”

“A violent storm ravages Inazuma. Lady Raiden must contain it to protect her people. Thus she sent me in her stead.”

Aether paused, weighing her words like a verdict on the scales.

“The storm should end soon,” he said at last.
“Tell her: the moment she is free — I order her to come here at once.”
His voice rang with unquestionable command.

A sharp chill pierced Ayaka’s heart.

“Order…? To the Raiden Shogun…?”

Doubt gnawed at her heart — she was almost certain something was wrong with her old friend.

“If I may…” she began cautiously. “I would like to know what plans you hold for the future of Teyvat.”

Aether rose from the throne.
His voice softened — but still carried the weight of inevitable stone.

He spoke of a new era — an era of humans, free from the oppression of gods.
A world without blind worship.
Where humanity lives without fear of divine judgment or celestial will.
Without fear.
Without subjugation.
Without worship.

To Ayaka, raised in a land where divine wisdom guided every path, such ideas felt unsettling.
But she hid her doubts, bowed, and left the throne room.
Her heart was uneasy — in Aether’s eyes she saw no warmth, only exhaustion and icy detachment.

Keqing’s turn soon came.

On the stone terrace beneath the stars, Ayaka and Keqing met again.
Ayaka felt compelled to share her worries.
Keqing listened quietly, then nodded — her expression thoughtful.

“He has changed,” Keqing said, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But perhaps not forever. Power… can break even the strongest. We should not rush to judgment. Premature condemnation of a god could become the spark of a disaster that would shake all of Teyvat.”

When night fell, they returned to their companions.
The moon rose slowly above the ruins, and the cool wind carried away their troubled thoughts.

Ahead lay their journey home.
But their hearts were no longer the same.
They carried with them not only news of the meeting…
but doubt.

✦ Ruins of Celestia ✦

Early morning brought with it a cool breeze and a quiet stillness. At the edge of Celestia’s ruins, where shattered arches met the winds of the desert, Mavuika stood, seeing Kamisato Ayaka and Keqing off on their journey back.
Ayaka and Keqing, wrapped in their travel cloaks, were already preparing to depart. Twilight slowly receded, making way for a new day — yet unease refused to leave the Pyro Archon’s heart.

She gazed into the distance, toward the sands of Sumeru that once again swallowed the stone pathways.
At that moment, Ayaka approached her — hesitation and doubt clearly written in her eyes, as if she had long debated whether to ask the question forming on her lips.

“Lady Mavuika,” Ayaka said, stopping in front of her.
“Before we leave this place… I beg you to answer one question that troubles me.”

The Pyro Archon turned to her, her expression becoming thoughtful.
A gust of wind brushed her hair, making it flare like living fire.

“Of course, Kamisato Ayaka. What is it you wish to know?” Mavuika replied courteously. “I will answer whatever I can.”

“Aether is gathering a council of the Archons… yet we have seen only you. Are you truly the only one who was able to arrive when he commanded it?”

Ayaka’s voice trembled slightly.

“My lady, the Shogun Raiden is holding back a storm above Inazuma… but the other Archons — why are they silent? Why are they not here?”

Mavuika closed her eyes for a moment.
The wind touched her fiery hair again, and her face grew pensive — almost sorrowful.

“You are right. I came alone.
The others… either did not answer, or turned away deliberately.
I know not their reasons.
Perhaps fear.
Perhaps doubt.
Or…” — she paused — “…they consider Aether a usurper.”

The words hung between them, heavy as stone.

“In the worst case, they are preparing a rebellion.”

Ayaka’s breath caught.

“You believe… a new Archon War might begin?” she whispered.

“I fear so,” Mavuika answered.
“And that is why the presence of the Raiden Shogun is vital. Her experience — her strength — may become the counterweight that prevents the catastrophe approaching this world.”

Ayaka bowed and returned to her group.
The desert sands awaited.
The wind carried their words away, scattering them into the pale morning horizon.

✦ The Desert of Sumeru ✦

The road back was quieter.
The sands once again merged into endless gold, the wind once again sang — but in its song now lingered a question no one could answer.

Under the reddening sky of Sumeru, accompanied by the soft whisper of the breeze, the delegations of Inazuma and Liyue made their way back to Aaru Village.
The shadows grew longer, and their expressions — more somber.

Walking side by side, Ayaka broke the silence.

“We’re almost at Aaru Village. It seems our journey together is slowly coming to an end,” she said with a touch of sadness.

“Yes… and I’m glad I spent this time with you,” Keqing replied. “Although, to be honest, I cannot shake the doubts about the changes in our mutual friend. His view of Teyvat’s future, his new authority — none of it leaves me at ease.
For Liyue, where power has long since passed into the hands of people, this may not seem as critical,” she added. “But in Inazuma — if I’m not mistaken — the Electro Archon still actively governs the nation, doesn’t she?”

“That’s correct. Lady Shogun Raiden still rules Inazuma directly, supported by the Tri-Commission, which carries out her will and oversees the well-being of the people,” Ayaka confirmed.

“Exactly that is what worries me,” Keqing continued. “If Aether truly seeks to free people from the influence of the gods, what will become of Inazuma? Liyue worked toward this for years, learning to stand on its own. But your land? Is it ready for such a sudden shift? And then… what are the chances that Aether won’t enter into conflict with the Electro Archon?”

Ayaka slowed her pace.
The sand crunched softly under her sandals.
Then she said:

“He does not speak of war. He speaks of a dream. And I believe… he is still the one we once knew.
Lady Raiden respects him. I hope… they will find a path. Without blood.”

Keqing looked at her.

“And Liyue?” Ayaka asked. “What will the Qixing say?”

“We have grown accustomed to the idea of a world without Archons. For us, his words are not a threat but… a natural continuation.
Though…” She sighed. “We are still uneasy. This world is held together not just by words, but by trust. And trust in someone who has become stronger than all…”
Her voice softened.
“A fragile thing.”

With those words, they reached the village.

And by nightfall, they left it, heading back toward Port Ormos.
At dawn they were already boarding the ships that would take them home.
Each carrying her own thoughts.
Each carrying feelings too difficult to name.

✦ Inazuma ✦

The stars above Inazuma were silent.
Late in the evening, a clear, star-filled sky stretched over the islands.
The ship carrying Ayaka docked at Ritou.
Wasting no time, Ayaka issued the necessary orders and hurried toward the residence of the Electro Archon.

After reaching Tenshukaku, she demanded an immediate audience with the Raiden Shogun.
The guard listened, departed, and returned a few minutes later with the message that the Archon was waiting for her inside.

Ayaka took a deep breath and stepped into the throne room.
Seeing the Electro Archon, she lowered herself to one knee.

“You returned faster than I expected, Kamisato Ayaka,” said the Raiden Shogun.
“How did your journey go?”

“I hurried… to deliver your message — and his reply.”

“Speak,” the Shogun said, her voice tinged with cold steel.

“He is pleased… that you acknowledge his authority.
And he demands your immediate arrival in Celestia.”

Silence fell.
A chill seeped through the hall.
Lightning flickered somewhere beyond the windows.

The Electro Archon lowered her gaze.
Her voice remained calm, but a blade-like hardness resonated beneath its surface.

“I understand. Then… tell me everything.”

Ayaka told her.
About the throne room.
About the coldness in Aether’s eyes.
About his vision — and Mavuika’s worries.

When she finished, the Shogun nodded.

“You acted wisely. I will depart at once.
Until my return, the Tri-Commission will take over the governance of the nation.”

✦ Ruins of Celestia ✦

At dawn, stepping out onto her favorite balcony, Mavuika felt tension in the air.
Storm clouds were swiftly approaching Celestia.

She leapt down from the balcony and positioned herself near the archway, awaiting the arrival of her guest.

A thunderclap split the silence, and within the glowing flash appeared a tall figure — a young woman with violet hair tied into a long braid.

“I am the Raiden Shogun. Electro Archon. Ruler of Inazuma.”

“I have been expecting our meeting,” Mavuika said gently.
“Call me Mavuika. No titles.”

“Then call me simply Ei,” Raiden replied, extending her hand.

They clasped hands.
And walked forward together.

“I take it that… if the other Archons have not come… it means…” Ei asked as they moved.

Mavuika only nodded quietly.
It was enough.

In silence, among the shattered splendor of Celestia, the two goddesses walked toward the future.
A conversation awaited them — one upon which the fate of Teyvat would depend.

Chapter Text

✦ Ruins of Celestia ✦

The stone vaults of Celestia greeted the Pyro and Electro Archons with solemn silence.
Their footsteps echoed through the restored corridors, where the air itself seemed to carry the sense of something vast — and dangerous.
Majestic halls followed one after another: columns woven from light and ash, mosaics that stirred when looked upon, and frescoes telling the story of the heavens’ fall.
Everywhere, Celestia breathed with memories of lost power.

Mavuika and Ei walked swiftly, resolutely, exchanging no words.
Only the wind, slipping through the window openings, accompanied them — whispering forgotten names.

When the massive doors of the throne room rose before them, the Pyro Archon stopped.
She turned to Raiden — calm, without tension, yet with that fire in her eyes that lived only in those who had already witnessed the end of a world.

“We’ve arrived,” Mavuika said evenly.

Ei glanced around.
She tilted her head slightly, as if listening to the stone itself.

“Yes… I can feel it. There is… an overwhelming power here. It seeps beneath the skin, like lightning digging into bone,” the Electro Archon said quietly.

Mavuika smiled faintly.
But her voice, when she answered, held no mockery — only weary understanding:

“He has changed. Not as much as he could have… but enough to cause concern. I know you wanted to ask about it.”

Ei averted her gaze and gave a faint nod.

“I did. But I thought it best to postpone the question for later.
Though now… perhaps there is no point.”
She took a deep breath.
“I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

With those words, she approached the doors.
Mavuika followed at her side.

The heavy doors swung open, and the two goddesses stepped into the heart of a new era.

Light poured from above — soft, unnaturally pure.
The white stone floor reflected it like a mirror, and the walls cast shimmering glints like distant stars.
At the center stood a throne — grand, unmoving.

Upon it sat Aether.

His figure was stately and composed.
His presence filled the space, as though Celestia itself spoke when he did.

“I am glad you’ve come, Ei,” he said, lifting his gaze — satisfaction in his voice.

The Electro Archon and Mavuika knelt before him.
Then, with solemn dignity, both stood.

“I am always ready to answer your summons, my lord,” Raiden replied with unwavering sincerity.

Aether nodded.
His expression remained unreadable.

“My wounds are healed,” he said. “Those I received in the battle against the Heavenly Order no longer hinder me.
But… the Geo and Anemo Archons refused to come.
They turned away. They have made their choice.”

Mavuika tensed.
In her voice sounded a flicker of dread:

“Then… we truly must resort to extreme measures?”

Aether looked at her.
There was no hesitation in his eyes — no doubt.

“Yes. They must be eliminated. Leaving gods alive who defy the new order is too dangerous.
It is a threat to the world.”

Silence fell like a blade.
As if the world itself held its breath.

“Then… what is our course of action?” Ei asked carefully.

Aether rose from the throne.
His voice was steady as stone — and just as immovable:

“I cannot leave Celestia. My presence here is required — the Hydro Dragon may appear at any time.
Therefore, you will go.”

“Mavuika — you will depart for Liyue. Your target is the Geo Archon.
Ei — your path leads to Mondstadt, to the Anemo Archon.”

The two goddesses exchanged glances.
In that silent gesture was everything: doubt, fear, and resolve.
Then — a synchronized nod.
Acceptance.

Aether continued, raising his hand:

“But first… I must grant you strength. Superiority.
Once, the Archons drew their might from Celestia through their gnoses.
Now the gnoses are gone, and you rely solely on your own power.
Therefore, I shall bless you. Only for a short time — but it will be enough.
You will receive power akin to what was lost.”

He swept his hand.
Light descended from above, piercing the bodies of both Archons.
In an instant, new energy surged through their veins — burning, sharp, alive.

“Now you are ready,” Aether said.
“Return with good news.”

The throne room faded behind them.
Celestia fell into silence once more.

At the temple’s exit, the two goddesses stopped.
No words were spoken — only exchanged looks.

Mavuika extended her hand first.

“Good luck, Ei.”

“And to you,” Raiden replied.

They clasped hands — fire and silent lightning.
And then parted ways.

✦ Liyue ✦

The Flamecycle roared as it sliced through the winds and dust of Sumeru.
Mavuika rode without pause, devouring miles of scorched land until the golden sands gave way to the green shadows of Liyue’s forests.
The air grew cooler, the mountains steeper, and the earth beneath her gained the solid weight of ancient stone.

She rode quickly, but not blindly — she was guided by purpose.
An instinct, something akin to an Archon’s sixth sense, pulled her northward, deep into the Huaguang Stone Forest.
There, among petrified giants and age-old cliffs, on a flat plateau between two mountains — he waited.

Morax.
The Geo Archon. The God of Contracts.

He did not move.
He stood leaning on his spear, as though carved from the same stone as the mountains behind him.
Yet Mavuika knew — he felt her approaching.

By noon she reached the plateau.
She stopped the Flamecycle and stepped down onto the ancient rock.
Their eyes met.
In his gaze — the unwavering discipline of a warrior, the calm of the mountain.

She drew her sword, and it ignited.
Flames coiled around the blade, reflected in the bronze eyes of the Geo Archon.

“You must be the Pyro Archon,” Morax said as he straightened.
His voice rumbled like distant thunder.
“I expected to meet Aether himself. But… no matter. I will fight you instead.”

“Correct,” Mavuika replied, her voice firm as tempered steel.
“I have come for your life. Today, you will die by my hand.”

Morax gripped his ancient spear with both hands and lowered into a combat stance.
Silence settled between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind.

A heartbeat — and Mavuika burst forward, turning into a vortex of fire.
Her sword sang through the air, striking from every direction: sharp, swift, unpredictable.

But Morax’s spear moved flawlessly.
Every strike was deflected with mathematical precision, every turn of the shaft like a hammer blow scattering her flames.
He defended effortlessly, as though reading her movements before they were even born.

And then — danger.

Instinct screamed in her chest.
Mavuika leapt back, and in that same heartbeat a meteor crashed onto the spot where she had stood — stone blazing hot, as if torn from the heart of the mountain.

The ground trembled.
Shards of rock flew outward.

“You’re fortunate,” Morax said, his tone low and stern.
“I intended to end the fight with that attack.”

Mavuika did not answer.
She charged again.

Now her strikes burned hotter.
Flames spiraled from her blade, each flash dazzling, each blow radiating heat strong enough to melt stone.
But the Geo Archon remained unshaken.
His spear glimmered as though alive — an ancient weapon that had served him for millennia.

She retreated briefly.
Her eyes analyzed his face.

Yes — he was still calm.
But his breath was deeper.
Heavier.
He was tiring.

“So even you are not eternal,” she murmured.

They clashed again.
Steel and stone collided with a roar that rolled across the mountains.
Mavuika no longer sought an opening — she created one.
Each movement precise, each one forcing his spear just a fraction out of position, until at last Morax’s defense revealed a tiny, nearly invisible crack.

And then — she called upon Aether’s blessing.

Power surged through her veins like the heart of a god.
The world slowed.
The flame on her blade turned white — blinding, like the sun itself.

A lunge.
Her sword pierced through his guard, cutting through air and armor.
A heartbeat later — Morax’s breath caught.
His spear slipped from his hands and clattered onto the stone.

He fell to his knees.
In his eyes flickered something that looked… like acceptance.

Mavuika stood, breathing heavily.
The flames along her blade slowly dimmed.
She lifted her gaze toward the mountains of Liyue — ancient witnesses of this battle.

Drawing a deep breath, she mounted the Flamecycle once more.
The engine growled alive as she turned toward the north, to the Ruins of Celestia.

The winds of Liyue carried away the ashes of battle.

✦ Mondstadt ✦

The sun was slowly sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in blood-gold hues.
Long shadows stretched across the slopes of Dragonspine, where eternal winter kept its silent vigil.

The Electro Archon walked along a narrow mountain path, ascending ever higher.
Snow crunched beneath her feet, and the icy wind clawed at her face, trying to slow her step.
On both sides rose frozen ruins — remnants of a civilization long gone before Mondstadt had even earned its name.

But Ei did not let the past distract her.
She could feel the Anemo Archon.
His presence pulled her toward the summit like a quiet, irresistible call.
He was waiting for her there.

And yet Ei’s heart was uneasy.

Barbatos was an old friend.
They had known each other for thousands of years — drank wine at festivals, debated war and peace, argued and laughed together.
She did not wish him dead.
Perhaps bloodshed could still be avoided…

But the memory of the Geo Archon — and Mavuika’s mission — flared in her thoughts.
The Pyro Archon had not hesitated.
She believed in Aether absolutely, believed in his vision of a new world.
And yet… Ei herself could not fully grasp what her own heart desired.

The cold winds could not harm her — they were but faint shadows of the storms she had endured over the centuries.
But each step brought her closer to a decision she feared to make.

The Meeting

At last, the path ended at a narrow, snow-covered ledge near the very peak.
There, among stone boulders, sat a lone bard.
He held a lyre in his hands, plucking at the strings, though the melody was faint and nearly swallowed by the wind.

Noticing her, he rose.
A soft smile appeared on his lips — the same disarming smile he had worn for ages.

“So it’s you who came for me, not Aether,” he said, standing up from the rock.
“Perhaps… that’s for the best.”

“Yes,” Ei said quietly.
“I was ordered to eliminate you. As a threat to the new world.”

There was sorrow in her voice, and Venti noticed it.

“So we’re going to fight, then?” he asked, sliding the bow off his shoulder.

“Don’t rush,” Ei raised a hand.
“First, I want to know: why didn’t you answer Aether’s summons?”

Venti chuckled softly, but a shadow passed through his eyes.

“To come… only to be executed by him?”
He paused, then lowered his gaze.
“I… used my power to tear his soul into two halves.”

Ei tensed instantly.

“You did that?! Why?!”
Her voice cracked like a lightning strike.

“Mondstadt,” he whispered.
And that single word was enough for her to understand.

The Conversation

Ei exhaled slowly.
Stepping closer, she spoke more firmly:

“Then you had no choice.
We all committed terrible acts to protect our nations.
If you go to Celestia and kneel, I’m certain — he will forget that incident.”

She raised her eyes; cold lightning flickered within them.

“And don’t you dare start talking about your love of freedom.
We both know — for gods, free will has always been a forbidden luxury.
We obeyed the Heavenly Principles as long as they existed, because that was how we protected our people.
Now we must follow Aether’s will, if we want to shield our nations from his wrath.”

Venti smirked bitterly.

“You think that if I surrender, I’ll live?
Are you sure of that?”

“No,” Ei answered honestly.
“With Aether… I can no longer be sure of anything.
But it’s your only chance.
Otherwise, I will be forced to kill you.
And you know perfectly well you stand no chance of defeating me.”

Long silence fell between them.
The wind howled through the cliffs, lifting snow into the air — as though the mountain itself were listening to their words.

At last, Venti slid the bow back over his shoulder.

“Very well.
I’ll go with you.
And I’ll believe in Aether’s mercy… just this once.”

Ei nodded.

Thus, without a battle, two old friends descended together from the peak of Dragonspine.
In their hearts lived a fragile hope for the better…
but heavy clouds were already gathering above the mountains — harbingers of the storm to come.

✦ Ruins of Celestia ✦

The Archons had already departed Celestia, each on their appointed mission.
The halls once again sank into silence, broken only by the distant echo of wind wandering through the ruins.
Only one remained — Aether, the new sovereign of heaven and earth.

But the silence was deceptive.
One threat still lingered — ancient, proud, and unbroken.
A threat for whom the Archons’ departure was the only chance.
This moment was all he needed — the lord of dragons, seeking to return the world to the dominion of the ancient scaled kings.

Time moved slowly.

Aether sat upon the throne, lost in contemplation of the future.
His body absorbed the endless stream of energy flowing from the world itself.
With every passing second, he felt his power expand, rising to heights unseen in any age.

Soon, he would possess complete dominion over Teyvat.
Then the laws of creation would bend to his will.
The Era of Humanity — that was the world he intended to build once everything was settled.
But first…

He felt it.

A being of colossal power was approaching from Fontaine.
The Hydro Dragon.
Neuvillette.

He had sensed that the Archons were gone… and chose to strike now.

“Well, then… let him try,”
Aether murmured to himself.

Golden armor, as if forged from sunlight, lit up across his body.
Beside him, resting on the steps of the throne, lay his sword — gleaming like a distant star.

Then the ceiling trembled.
Stone slabs shattered.
And into the throne room, destroying everything in his path, burst Neuvillette.

“You could’ve used the door,” Aether remarked coldly.

“Your reign ends today. You are doomed,” the dragon lord declared.

“Funny…” Aether smirked slightly.
“I once witnessed a world where a Dragon-God tried to kill a God of Man.”

“And how did that end?” Neuvillette asked without much interest.

“The God of Man fell,” Aether said, locking eyes with him.
“But the dragon needed hundreds of attempts — and help from beyond.
You have neither help… nor hundreds of attempts.”

The First Strike

Neuvillette moved first.
His fist shattered the throne into dust.
Aether pushed off the ground just in time — in the next instant, his blade was already clashing in a furious dance against the dragon lord’s blows.

In less than a second, they exchanged a hundred strikes.
Each one lethal.
Yet none found its mark.
Their movements were so fast they blended into a single whirlwind of steel and energy.

They split apart, landing in opposite corners of the hall.

Aether’s mind raced at its limit — analyzing each motion, building dozens of strategies and discarding them until only one remained viable.
But one question drove his focus:
How durable was Neuvillette’s true form?

His fists withstood the blade — but the body beneath… that still had to be tested.

They clashed again at the center.
Aether’s sudden lunge cut through Neuvillette’s guard, leaving a deep wound.
But the price was high — Aether’s left arm split open to the bone from a counterstrike.
He clenched his teeth, accepting the pain as the price for the knowledge he needed.

They separated once more.

Now Aether had enough data.

Neuvillette was faster and stronger — but Aether had an advantage the dragon could not predict.

Wings of golden light unfurled behind Aether.
In the blink of an eye he launched forward, seized Neuvillette, and using his full speed — burst into the sky.
Within a heartbeat, they left the boundaries of the planet.

The Battle in the Void

Cosmos opened before them — an abyss of stars.
Here, in weightlessness, Neuvillette lost his advantage:
he had never fought in a world without gravity, where every movement required new logic.

Behind Aether, hundreds of spectral weapons formed — blades, spears, sabers, warhammers, and exotic armaments gathered throughout his travels across worlds.

They hurled toward Neuvillette.
The dragon fought desperately, breaking through dozens of weapons with his bare hands.
But it was useless — the assault was endless.
Every block birthed a new strike.

Aether waited.

Then, catching his moment, he lunged forward — pouring every ounce of power into a single blow.
The sword pierced through Neuvillette’s defenses.
The impact sent them both hurtling back toward the planet.

The Falling Star

They plummeted, tearing through the atmosphere.
Fiery trails ignited around their bodies.
Aether knew — he would survive this fall.
Neuvillette would not.

From the surface, the people of Teyvat saw it as the descent of a golden star.
They watched, unaware that they were witnessing the death of an ancient force — and the birth of a new era.

Thus the golden star became the symbol of the dawn of the Era of Humanity.

Chapter Text

Twilight of the Gods, Dawn of Humanity**

With the death of Morax, the ancient Sovereign of Stone, and the fall of Neuvillette, the last Supreme Judge of Fontaine, the old Age of Archons came to an irrevocable end.
The winds of change scattered the remnants of past doctrines, and the heavens—once the throne of gods—now gazed upon the world with different eyes.

Barbatos, the freedom-loving Anemo Archon, was spared.
Yet Aether’s mercy was not without conditions — as penance for his past deeds, he took an eternal vow:
to watch over the lands of Mondstadt and Liyue as an unseen guardian, intervening only when threats exceeded mortal strength.
He became the wind that blows over mountains and seas — always present, yet never ruling.

The Visions that once shone in the hands of the chosen went dark.
Their light no longer guided heroes.
But now, to wield the elements, one no longer needed divine gifts — will, determination, and knowledge were enough.
The world began to belong to those ready to understand it.

Returning to Inazuma, the Raiden Shogun gradually stepped away from power.
Her once iron rule — the force that held the nation together — became merely a symbol of stability and eternity.
She no longer interfered in the daily affairs of the people, leaving governance to the Tri-Commission.
Thus, the Electro Archon became not a ruler, but a living emblem of her nation — the embodiment of its spirit.

Mondstadt and Liyue felt little change.

The dragon Dvalin, the great wolf Andrius, and the ancient Adepti of Liyue withdrew into legend, becoming tales sung by bards.
People continued their lives as before, and only old stories reminded them of those to whom they once offered prayers.
Slowly, the memory of gods faded, giving way to new heroes.

Only Nahida — the Archon of Wisdom — kept her “conditional rule.”
Just as before Aether’s rise, she preferred to remain an advisor, avoiding direct political control of Sumeru.
Her words still carried weight, but now she spoke not as a deity — but as a wise keeper of knowledge.

Fontaine, left without its Supreme Judge, endured a storm.
Authority wavered, order collapsed, and the people’s trust nearly shattered.
But after difficult years, the Nation of Justice rebuilt itself.
Music filled the streets once more, and the theaters told new stories — stories of the Era of Humanity.

Mavuika returned to Natlan to see her homeland — its volcanoes and arenas — one last time as a goddess, where flame and blood wove together in the dance of competition.
There, before the elders, she renounced her title of Pyro Archon and entrusted power to the Council of Tribes.
For the first time in thousands of years, Natlan truly belonged to its people alone.

But her journey did not end.

She returned to Celestia, where she remained beside Aether — not as a subordinate, but as his beloved and equal.
Together they watched the world slowly shaping its own future.

Little more than a year later, Celestia, restored completely from its ruins, once more ascended into the skies.
Its white spires shone above the clouds, and ancient mechanisms resumed their eternal voyage across the lands.

Aether and Mavuika often left the heavenly city, hiding their identities to wander Teyvat as ordinary travelers.
They saw people build new cities, master the elements without divine aid, forge alliances, and create laws of their own making.

The Abyss — once a deadly threat — was finally subdued by the will of the new Lord of Celestia.
Its dark spawn no longer plagued the world, and even the deepest shadows fell silent, resigned to the new order.

Even the frozen ruins of Snezhnaya, shattered in Aether’s battle against the Shadows, slowly began to awaken.
Survivors from other nations founded new settlements there.
They no longer prayed to a Cryo Archon — instead, they spoke their words to Aether, recognizing him as their sovereign and protector.

Thus, beneath the blue sky, the final page of the old story was turned.
Thus ended the Age of Gods.
And began the Age of Humanity — an era in which the fate of the world was no longer decreed in the heavens, but forged on earth, in the hearts of mortals.