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There’s as many stories of the birth of the universe as there are stars in the sky. Are any of them false, if nobody was there to truly witness the beginning of it?
There used to be a world full of ice and holy forests, the Traveller says, and it was on the brink of an end. The End, perhaps, because of human folly and arrogation.
Venti hums to show he’s listening, and very carefully doesn’t think: Ah, it’s that story.
Human greed was instrumental in bringing the End to them, the Traveller says; people wanted the secrets, the lifeblood of the forests without paying the price, and so they cut the trees down and used their corpses to keep themselves alive without returning or repaying what they’d taken. But a world protected by the holy forests and then by no one cannot continue on when it’s defenceless, and the people of that world soon understood that: invader after invader, it was as if the universe itself was trying to avenge the felled guardians.
But humanity didn’t want to perish; they chose amidst them champions, determined enough to stop at nothing to save a dying world. After endless battles, the champions killed the last enemy; they donned its armour and took hold of its weapons, and they turned into the guardians of the world themselves. But by that point, it was too late - there was no living being remaining in their world, and the champions were given an empty world to guard. Nobody knew of the deeds they’d committed, but does one stop being a hero when nobody remembers their heroic doings?
“A sad ending for ones so brave,” Venti comments lightly. His chest is still smarting where his heart was torn out of him. “Is this why you’re telling me this story, Traveller? So I can make sure their valour is known far and wide?”
“Is that what you would call it?” The Traveller asks; his eyes are the flat gold of a Mora coin, the blinding white of the sun. He walks away without Venti’s answer, and every single of his footsteps matches the beating heart in Teyvat’s depths.
Not the correct answer, this time. Venti smiles, lies back into the Windrise oak’s roots and closes his eyes.
There used to be a world made out of gold and pearls, the Traveller says, and it was on the brink of an end. The End, perhaps, because of human envy and gluttony.
There used to be a world with crystal-clear oceans, the Traveller says, and it was on the brink of an end. The End, perhaps, because of human bloodlust and fury.
There used to be a world with indomitable mountains, the Traveller says, and it was on the brink of an end.
There used to be a world—
—the Traveller says—
—and it was on the brink of an end.
There used to be a world with teal-bright skies and countless stars, the Traveller says, and it was on the brink of an end. The End, perhaps, because of human greed and pride.
Venti hums to show he’s listening, and very carefully doesn’t think: I haven’t heard that one yet.
Human folly was instrumental in bringing the End to them, the Traveller says; people wanted the knowledge, the power of the gods without the responsibilities, and so they hunted them down and used their lifeblood to power their great creations. But a world ruled by gods and then by no one cannot continue on if there is nobody who can keep it going, and the people of that world soon understood that: calamity after calamity, it was as if the world itself was trying to avenge the fallen rulers. Only one god remained, but it did not like humans; it wanted the world to end in order for it to start anew, the only way it knew to save it. It was the god of a cycle, after all, and that’s all it knew how to do.
But humanity didn’t want to perish; they chose amidst them champions, determined enough to stop at nothing to save a dying world. After endless battles, the champions killed the last god; they split up between them its thirteen hearts and sucked out the marrow from its bones, and they turned into gods themselves. But by that point, it was too late - there was no living being remaining in their world, and the champions were named God Devourers and given an empty world to rule. Nobody knew of the blasphemy they’d committed anymore, but does it stop being blasphemy when nobody’s looking?
“The champions were looking,” Venti reminds lightly. His chest is still smarting where his heart was torn out of him. The glass chess-piece in his hands is warm, pulsing with Anemo, a heartbeat unused to being out in the open. “It’s the role of the ones with responsibility on their shoulders, to look and to remember even when nobody else does.”
“Is that so,” the Traveller says. He’s barely more powerful than a human with a Vision like this, but the starlight he’s made out of glows from the inside of his eyes like it’ll burst out of its mortal confines any second now.
Oh? Have we finally found the answer you want to hear? “You disagree, Traveller?”
“Aether.” Sun-bright eyes meet his; for a moment, it’s like Teyvat’s beating heart stutters under their feet, before it resumes its familiar song once again.
Venti rolls the Gnosis in his hands and thinks, yes. I won’t give this to the Cryo Archon after all.
He puts it into Aether’s hand carefully, closes gloved fingers over it. “I hope you don’t mind taking care of my heart for a little bit,” he says with a mischievous smile.
Aether’s eyes are dark, when he brings the piece to his mouth. “Not scared I’ll eat it?”
“If you do, it’ll remain stuck with you!” Venti chuckles. “It’s yours now. Do what you want with it.”
Not breaking eye contact, Aether brushes his lips over the crown of it. A sensation - standing in the sun, bright enough to be almost painful - crawls up from the empty core of him and into his limbs, and Venti jolts. “Very well,” he says. “Then I shall do as I please with it. I shall keep it close to me for the rest of eternity.”
“Even if I won’t be able to follow?” Venti asks despite himself, something old and deep and drowning bubbling up inside him, and Aether laughs. It feels like Teyvat’s laughing with him.
“Silly little breeze,” he says. “Solar winds are still winds, are they not? And the sun—”
“—Is a star, just like you.” Venti finishes with an enigmatic twist of his lips. “Very well, o traveller of old. I had always been curious to see what lies beyond this false sky, anyways.”