Chapter Text
Venti hummed under his breath as he caught sight of the ruins that the people of Mondstadt now refer to as Stormterror's Lair─ To him, it would always, will always be Old Mondstadt, a fleeting relic of a past long gone, and one of the few things he still remembered so clearly from that time.
The Traveler had paid a visit to him a few days ago, returning from Inazuma. He remembered making a joke about the troubled expression on their face. He remembered his smile falling when a question left their lips─
"Venti? Have you heard of someone named Istaroth?"
He remembered going silent after that, as the Traveler recounted everything that happened when they returned to visit Inazuma, of the Sacred Sakura Tree, and how the former Electro Archon, Makoto─ (Oh, how he's missed her...), made a deal with a higher power, who they assumed to be Istaroth.
Venti didn't know where they got that name, He didn't know where they got the assumption that she would be involved, or why they asked him in the first place. But he knew this- He placed a smile on his face, chuckled and said, "I'm afraid I don't know much, my dear warrior, you're better off asking someone else!"
After that, the Traveler had a look on their face, as if they didn't seem to believe him. They looked as if they wanted to say something, but instead, they just shook their head and replied, "Well, if you're sure... We'll be heading back to Sumeru now, Nahida wanted to talk to us about something."
Venti remembered placing another smile on his face, wishing them safe travels and to greet Nahida for him.
Now, he wondered what Nahida wanted to talk to them about─ It was probably concerning that puppet Ei had recklessly left roaming around.
Nevermind that, He had no plans to get involved, his days of involving himself in the business of other nations (and the consequent rebellions) were far behind him. He still remembered how angry Egeria had been at him when he had interfered with some local rebellion concerning labor laws... Focalors had made fun of him at the next Archon meeting after that event, and he gained a threat from Murata to never enter Natlan at all costs. Honestly! It's like someone can't be the god of freedom around here...
Venti held onto his beret as a strong gust blew, nearly whisking his beret and the cecilia in his hair off in the winds, signaling his arrival to Old Mondstadt. As the winds halted, he laughed, his silvery voice echoing throughout the winds. 'How very Decarabian-like of him', Venti thought, 'Even in death, his winds still show his dislike for me'.
Well, Venti can be just as petty, he flicked his wrist and summoned his own threads of wind to push back against the remnants of Decarabian's winds. Take that, Decarabian.
He shook his head and continued on, noting that Dvalin wasn't anywhere near, which was very a peculiar sight, since he was pretty sure that Dvalin spent most of his time here, but Venti didn't really think of it as anything worth worrying about, since Dvalin was free to go wherever he wanted, he's probably flying around, soaring the skies with his wings of freedom. Unlike Andrius, who preferred to stay in Wolvendom, Dvalin was a free spirit. Ahh.. truly a child of freedom, that one.
Instead of heading towards the main tower, he let his feet lead him towards a familiar location, one that he hadn't visited in a long time. (The last time that he had visited it had been after the cataclysm had occurred, when he had felt himself weaken and had wanted to be there, to be beside his dearest friend before he would fall into slumber again.)
At the sight of that old bridge, leading to this calm and serene island that had a huge tree on it, he nearly felt his heart stop.
"It's just as I remember it," Venti whispered to himself, It was still the most peaceful place in the vicinity of Old Mondstadt, just like how it was that dreadful day. He walked through the bridge, dragging his hand along the broken and incomplete railings at the side and glancing around at the countless yellow butterflies, only stopping when he had reached the other side and found himself face to face to the tree.
Underneath that tree, lay a body identical to the one that he had. A bard who had only wanted to be free, to see the world beyond, but whose life was cut short before his dreams could come to fruition. He still remembered the chaos of the battlefield that day, of how the bard had been so certain that they had won, that they had gotten distracted and hadn't noticed the arrow that had been aimed at them.
As they had buried him in the ground, he had gotten the idea to plant a seed there, to represent how he had been the start of the revolution that had set Mondstadt free, and even if he had perished, the seed of rebellion he had planted would grow into a prosperous nation of freedom. His legacy.
This island, as serene as it is, showed signs of neglect, evident from the bridge he had just crossed. A silent apology crossed his mind, his dearest friend didn't deserve such a desolate burial place. In his mind and heart, he vowed to clean things up, make it more tidy and neat, for his friend's sake.
"How are you?" Venti asked, as he placed the pal of his hand against the tree's trunk, "I mean, how have you been?" He restated, still struggling with thinking of his dearest friend as a relic from the past. "You know, you've grown taller than me," He joked, removing his palm and leaning his back against the trunk of the tree, staring up at the leaves covering the setting sun, He slid down to the ground, uncaring of the fact that his clothes were getting dirty, "I'm sure that you're excited to hear how Mondstadt is faring!" He continued on, a fond smile on his face.
He remembered doing this every few hundred years, he'd visit his bard-friend, tell him stories about Mondstadt, desperate to tell his friend of the home that he died for, of the home that he always envisioned, of the home he never got.
"It's been doing rather well, you remember the Gunnhildr clan, right? They─"
He kept talking for hours, telling tales of what was happening in the city of Mondstadt, no matter how boring or how grand the story was, because he was sure that his bard friend would have been── would be, extremely ecstatic to hear about everything that went on in Mondstadt, in a land that was free and prospering thanks to him. He told tales of his little traveler friend and Paimon, of the descendants of Gunnhildr, Ragnvindr and Lawrence clans, of the Knights of Favonius, and of the countless bards in Mondstadt. Anything and everything that he thought would be of interest, he had told.
As the sun began to set and he began to tire, he stared down at the dirt where his friend was buried and spoke─ "I wonder, would you be proud of the Mondstadt of today?" He asked, "Would it be everything that you've dreamed of? That you've wanted?" He closed his eyes, "Have I built the Mondstadt that you have always envisioned back then, or have I failed you once again?"
The winds stilled, and the silence of the night was the only answer that he had gotten.
Venti tilted his head upwards, letting the back of his head collide against the tree bark as the winds calmly flew through the area, zipping around and playing with his braids, feeling the wind against his skin in a way that almost felt like it was comforting him, in a sense.
A soft glow permeated through the area, emanating from the water, as if it had absorbed the anemo energy that he had placed all those years ago, to keep this place calm and serene for his friend. The anemo crystalflies around became more noticeable, like beacons of light in the darkness.
"I wonder... have you missed the tunes and songs? Shall I play a melody for you?" He wondered out loud, glancing around at his serene, yet quiet surroundings.
'Well,' Venti thought, 'It was a calm and peaceful night, I should play for him, perhaps he has gotten bored without music in his life.'
He summoned his lyre to his hands and gently strummed it, the music immediately filling the silence with sound. He was currently debating on what to play, because this was his dearest companion, and this might be his last visit in a long while, so he wanted to make it a bit special.
After thinking about it for a while, he decided to play the song that he had first heard all those thousands of years ago─ A song that he had heard from the very bard that he was going to sing it for.
He began to strum his lyre.
Fly, fly away.
A sense of melancholy came in every string that he had strum.
Like a bird in the sky.
He felt dampness in his eyes, like tears threatening to fall.
See the world in my behalf.
His playing began to slow, the lyre in his hands dissipating as he sang the final line.
To the heavens may you fly.
"Goodnight dearest friend," He whispered, as he closed his eyes, and fell into slumber once more, as he did 500 years ago, when the cataclysm had occurred.
The glow around him and the tree grew brighter, as a woman walked through the bridge and knelt at his side.
She said something that was lost to the winds, and──
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A dark-haired puppet, dressed in clothes as dark as his hair, adorned with shades of red and purple, stood in front of a large tree, glowing ethereally. He tipped his kasa hat down, covering his eyes as he moved forward, near the tree.
The woman lay still, as if waiting for something for something to happen.
"You sound lost and confused."
The puppet pressed his palm on the base of the tree, kneeling down. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Soon," The woman whispered, coldly staring at the slumbering form of the god of freedom, she carefully moved a piece of his hair away from his face.
"I know why you are troubled. Any who knew of this would find their mind overwhelmed."
'I wish to disappear,' The puppet thought, 'The names Kabukimono and Balladeer, I wish to erase them from this world.'
The woman sharply smiled, as if something she had been waiting for had finally occurred.
"Unfortunately, the fate of Teyvat cannot easily be changed. Perhaps a god may have a slim chance, but for anyone else... who can say."
The tree glows, bright and blinding, and the puppet boy fades away, his identity rewritten, his role removed.
The woman sighs, feeling the pull of her domain. "Just in time." She said, giving one last glance at the slumbering god.
" When a small animal runs into a tree trunk, though the tree may sway, it is not displaced. The same is true of fate."
Perhaps in a way, the puppet boy succeeds, scrubbing away every mention of his name in the annals of history.
The woman closes her eyes grasping tightly at the slumbering god. She places a soft kiss on his forehead, before her hands glow. And so does the god.
" Like a vase that falls to the ground. Whether it is broken by a cat or by a bird, the result is still a broken vase, is it not?"
Perhaps in a way, the puppet boy fails, for everything he wished to change still stayed the same.
Istaroth had no intention of mirroring that unfortunate puppet. She succeeds.
"History does not change easily, but human hearts can. Believe your own eyes. Only that which you see is true. What is unseen is but an illusion."
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When he opened his eyes again, he felt strangely lighter, and somehow had a heavy feeling in his chest.
He moved to stand up before realizing that the reason that he had felt lighter was because he was in his original form─ a little wind wisp, merely a sliver compared to the might of the thousand winds.
'I must have been really tired to be in this form again,' Venti thought, floating up into the sky and looking around─
...Wait.
The intact tower, the storm wall around the city, the howling winds that surrounded them.
Didn't he dispel the storm wall? Why couldn't he see the sky?
"Little friend!" He hears a familiar voice call out, and he freezes, "Why do you seem so down?" The voice continues, so painstakingly familiar. Venti glances at the direction of the voice and stiffens, because there is his friend, looking just as he remembers him, so reminiscent of a fleeting past, with outstretched hands just like his statue in front of the church in Mondstadt. "We will be free soon, and we will be able to see the sky and the world beyond," The bard continued, "There is no reason to be so glum."
Oh, Venti realizes, I am here again.
He supposed this was an effect of sleeping beside his friend's grave, the inevitable seeping of past memories in his dreams. After all, this isn't the first time that he had dreamed up something like this. Always in Old Mondstadt, always in his past form of a wisp amongst the thousand winds, and always─ always, with his dearest friend, haunting him in his dreams, looking as he did thousands of years ago, forever frozen in his youth.
Venti felt his eyes turn watery as he floated near his friend, wanting to be near── to be comforted, by this mirage of his long-dead friend, no matter how fake it was, no matter if this was a dream.
Venti floated above his friend's palm, "Why are you weeping so?" His friend asked, laughing melodiously as he wiped at Venti's tears using one of his fingers, "You need not worry about the people of Mondstadt, my little friend," He continued, smiling down at him, "Is this why I found you so terrifyingly near to this dreary wall of winds?" He asked, looking up at the barrier that had kept them so cut off from the rest of the world─ Trapped by the very god that ruled above them, "You are so deeply saddened by the fact that we are not yet free?"
A soft smile appeared on his dearest friend's visage and Venti felt so warm, to be in the presence of his friend's light. He was so bright, so empathetic, his dearest friend always knew what he had thought, even back then.
"You are such a kind little breeze indeed."
His bard friend laughed, a melodious sound echoing in the ever calm, ever serene surroundings.
Venti was so distracted by his friend that he missed a presence drawing near them, until──
"Carmen! There you are!"
Venti froze.
His friend── Carmen, turned around and beamed, "Sir Lorant! You're here!"
As the red-haired warrior, the head of the Ragnvindr clan, if he remembered correctly, drew near and started fussing over Carmen, scolding him for being too near the storm walls, Venti's mind went into overtime.
His dearest friend's name── Carmen, that was something he had forgotten thousands of years ago, him never remembering that name had always been one of his deepest regrets. For this dream to invoke a name that even the depths of his mind could not remember.... Then this was no dream at all.
He didn't understand, if this was not a dream, then what was it? Could it be──
The heavy feeling that he had felt when he had woken up── Venti almost laughed. Of course, She would intervene with his life when he had finally gotten it under some sort of control. There was no doubt that both of them had felt disillusioned by Celestia and the actions that they took── (Will take now, He reminded himself, he was in the past now.) ──But did She really think that he could fix everything?
He could refuse to play along to this little.. game that She was playing, could let everything that happened in the first timeline happen again to spite her.
Was this some punishment of sorts? Is this Her way of disciplining a wayward child such as he?
He scoffs. Prodigal child indeed...
Actions such as this.. He was reminded of a poem that one of his children penned.
How did it go again?
The wind blows for a moment, but the ravages of time are constant, unrelenting, and irreversible.
A god of the winds may move between the pages of a book, but in the end, the merciless god of time will eat away at them until not a single legible word remains.
Hah... The people of Mondstadt were right, She truly was a merciless god, to subject him to this──
"Little breeze!" Carmen called out, Lorant right beside him, glancing over at him, "We must return to the main city, and if we make haste, there may be enough apples to satiate the both of us." Carmen said, smiling brightly at him as he started heading back towards the main city, Lorant right beside him.
...Perhaps there were some positives to Her plan.
Carmen is here. He is still alive and breathing and well, he can──
Venti can save him.
He can really, truly, save him.
as much as Venti holds dislike for how She is dealing with things, of how She did this to him without even telling him, this plan of Hers? He is willing to play along, because if there is even a sliver of a chance that he can save Carmen── He is willing to take it. He is going to play along.
He flitted along, taking his place at Carmen's side, basking in his light. In the light that he is willing to get burned by, as long as he remains by his side, alive and well.
As he watched Carmen and Lorant, the young bard huffing and pouting as the red haired warrior laughed and teased, he made up his mind and resolve.
Venti was going to change things, he is going to stop Carmen from dying. (He is going to stop Celestia──)