On a particularly hard morning, Venti woke up with a stinging, horrible pain in his chest that had him doubling over and almost falling from the tree he was perched on, eyes and teeth clenched, tears threatening to spill. He felt his skin burning, hot flames going from his fingertips all the way to his heart which he gripped desperately, wondering absent-mindedly if it would stop beating from the sheer pain his body was going through. He had trouble thinking straight, all his boiled mind could register was pain. Pure, hot pain. Like knives were being put in his arm, piercing his bones and going out the other way. He felt like he was suffocating.
It seemed to him that hours had passed before he finally started to feel the burning diminish little by little, before he finally calmed down enough to open his eyes and breath normally again. He laid there a few more minutes, staring in front of him at the leaves but not really seeing them.
He knew exactly what was happening to him.
Durin's corruption was getting to him.
Letting his gaze fall dawn to his hand, he immediately noticed the faint but nonetheless present purple vein that went up from one of his bandaged fingers all the way to inside his sleeve.
He was scared of what he would find if he tried to see under it.
Venti laughed bitterly at his own predicament. As if fate wasn't cruel enough already, he had to manage to get himself corrupted by coming in contact with the very same being he killed thousands of years ago.
He wanted to scream into the void, shout at the world that cursed him as soon as he was born. The only somewhat reassuring thought he could think about was that soon, they would either get killed or they would miraculously find a way to truly overthrow Celestia and he would be able to go into slumber again.
He never liked this. For the two thousand years he had been around, he spent at least three quarters of them sleeping, unaware of the way Teyvat was changing, of all the things that were happening in Mondstadt. And the worst was probably the fact that he always awoke in a time of crisis... First had been the Archon war, then Mondstadt's tyranny, and more recently Dvalin's corruption... Just when would he ever get some time to truly enjoy spending time with his people without having to think about the heavy weight she had put on his shoulders, they all... had put on his shoulders...
It pained him to have to leave Mondstadt once again. He hated it. He never had any control of how much time he slept, and he had no way of knowing what was happening in his beloved nation. He could only be glad for Mondstadt's independence to him and hope they wouldn't let tyrants rule them once again. Despite himself, he smiled. He was confident that if such a thing were to happen, the Knights of Favonius wouldn't allow it. They would fight until Mondstadt was free once again. This time around, he wasn't all alone.
Slowly, carefully and with the help of gentle winds, Venti got down from the tree.
Today was the Weinlesefest. Surprisingly, even the thought of the wine didn't raise his spirits up. Too many things were happening at the same time. His mind was constantly thinking about the complicated situations he somehow managed to land himself into. And the pain... It was slowly getting worse. The faint purple that had spread from his fingertips had now darkened a bit and went all the way to his elbows. Not for the first time, he was glad for his long sleeves, hiding the ugly marks of corruption to the world, but also to himself.
It had turned out that his burnt fingers were just early signs of the corruption that had quickly spread.
.
.
.
Murata... wasn't feeling so good. For some inexplicable reason, she had a queasy feeling in her stomach, like she knew something would go wrong today, like the day wouldn't go in her favor.
What set her off even more was that she didn't even know why she was feeling like this. She didn't really have any inkling as to what might happen. She... wasn't used to this feeling. She couldn't say she liked it. It was strange, foreign, new to her. She couldn't remember a time when she felt this anxious about the upcoming day. The last time was way too long ago and felt like a bad dream. This tightness in her chest hadn't appeared again since she and the others went on a little trip to the forever frozen mountain.
She didn't know what to do with what she was feeling, and so she decided the day would reveal to her whatever it should. With that in mind, she joined the others in their shared area, finding almost all of them hunched over a paper. Her mind helpfully supplied to her that it was the same paper that Venti saw when he was over. She also wondered if his fingers healed a bit.
Murata was pulled out of her thought when Morax, drinking his morning tea, noticed her walking in. "Good morning, Murata."
She nodded her head, smiling slightly. "Good morning to you too, Morax."
She walked closer to the three sitting around the table, noticing Tsaritsa alone in a corner, back turned to them and gazing at the sky. Murata raised an eyebrow but decided to stay silent. Ever since they came to Mondstadt, the Cryo Archon had been acting rather strange, slowly detaching herself from them. Murata didn't know if she was even noticing, if she was subconsciously drifting away or if she was willingly detaching herself from them. She was becoming her element.
...Cold and lonely.
Deciding that they would have to talk about this change later, Murata let herself fall ungracefully on the sofa besides the three sitting Archons, sighing dramatically. Only then did it occur to her that the others probably didn't know about this unique chance of progressing in their search for Barbatos.
"What is it now, Murata?" Rukkhadevata jokingly said, looking up from her sketch of what she could now discern as another drawing of the Anemo symbol.
The Pyro Archon sat correctly, adjusting her position albeit stiff, trying to be as comfortable as she could before announcing the news. Her stretched silence had the merit of getting the attention of everyone. She was usually loud and boisterous. Murata was the first who would admit it, so she could easily understand how she managed to get their full attention just by her silence.
"Venti told me something the other day," she finally revealed, watching as perplexed expressions took place on her friends' faces.
"Venti?" questioned Tsaritsa, fully faced towards her. "You mean the bard clad in green we saw at Dragonspine's camp?"
Murata nodded her head. Before she could open her mouth to respond, she heard Makoto gasp, therefore making her forget what she was about to say. "He's such a nice kid!" she marveled, soft smile playing on her lips.
Murata snorted, shaking her head. "Yeah yeah, he is." Then she grounded herself, getting back to her previous posture, crossing her arms and readying herself. "Well, he told me about this Mondstadt festival going on today, the Wein-something. He was telling me about-" she audibly swallowed, taking a deep breath, "-the importance of this festival."
When she saw no recognition nor understanding on their faces, it confirmed her previous suspicions that they also had never heard of such a festival. It did nothing to quell the guilt that was still boiling deep down at the knowledge that they really knew nothing about Mondstadt. And so ignoring it for now being her best bet, she pressed on the matter currently at hand.
"It is also a festival during the end of which Barbatos is present," she finished, waiting for their imminent reactions. Least to say, the other archons did not make her wait. They all looked at her with wide, disbelieving eyes, not knowing exactly if they could believe her, if they were allowed to believe her, fearing that they might be getting their hopes up.
Focalors was the first one to break the silence with her breathy "Are you sure?"
Murata could definitely relate to the way they were feeling right now. After all, after Venti left her to think about what he had said to her, she had sat in her place for several minutes, if not hours waiting for the others to arrive, pondering on what was thrown at her in the most unexpected of ways. And then, it took her days to verify if what Venti said to her was true. She was aware that he had no reason to lie to her, but she also knew she had to do extensive research on her own before announcing such a festival to her fellow archons, least they all got their hopes up and ended up disappointed. And before she knew it, the festival had started.
But there was also one tiny little detail, yet the most important and crucial one. She didn't tell them about it yet, and she wondered if she would be met with the same reaction she had when Venti told her. "Barbatos will not be present in person, however. He will be there through the wind."
And as soon as she said it, she could see the hope drain out of the five archons' eyes. So she felt obliged to add "But it is still worth going, don't you think?"
At this, she could tell she made the right call as Tsaritsa quickly caught on what she was doing. "We could still end up getting some valuable information out of this!"
Smiling gratefully at the Cryo Archon, Murata nodded her head towards the others. They could only hope that they were right. They had all messed up pretty badly.
Later that day, they all head out collectively to Springvale, where the festivities where at their peak. Looking around, Murata couldn't help but notice how much blue things were. But even so, it was organized in a way that made it pretty to look at.
Standing just at the entrance of Springvale where scattered many stands, varying from flower stands, to those that sell bread and various Mondstadt pastries, drinks and wine - she would be lying if she said she didn't want to try their wine, especially in this festival.
Apparently it was all about Barbatos coming for the wine or something, she didn't really understand it. There was even some stands for goods. The red stood out among the green of Springvale. A nice shade of red she would now and forever associate with the city of freedom.
At the end of the stands alley, there was a podium on which a blue carpet marked with the Knights of Favonius crest on it. A bit higher, a light blue garland was hooked to some pillars, filled with some dandelions scattered on it in an even way. Some balloons were also put around the place, giving the impression that the people were celebrating something. Thinking about it, they were in a way. After all, they knew all too well that Barbatos never showed himself.
Contrary to Morax who made it a habit to appear once a year, and the other archons who actively ruled, Barbatos was just stories. He was only there by name, mentioned from time to time in discussions or in prayers. He was acknowledged as one of the Seven, and yet he was almost always absent. The people all across Teyvat didn't really know anything about Barbatos, unlike the other six.
Barbatos was an absent God, so much that even his own people only had stories of the past to tell.
It came to a point that even Murata, had she never spent some time in his company, would have doubted Barbatos ever existed. Before, she wouldn't have cared. She would have put Barbatos himself to blame. Why would she care about an Archon who seemed to not care about anything? Why would she worry about someone who seemingly put no effort in trying to get recognized and acknowledged like the other archons did? For her, Barbatos was someone who didn't care about his people. He was someone for which the belief of his people didn't matter, not really, knowing full well his powers originated from their belief and trust in him.
And yet looking around herself, she came to the realization that his people didn't care. They didn't care that their God was absent. They didn't care that they were looked down upon by other nations whose Archon was still present, seemingly loving them more than Barbatos ever could.
They never doubted their Archon, they still believed in him no matter what. Their faith in him was unwavering and Murata could only watch in admiration as the Mondstadtiens smiled like there was nothing ever wrong, as if their Archon was celebrating with them, present between them before, now, and in the future.
Their faith in their deity was unwavering. She couldn't understand how Barbatos did it. She couldn't quite grasp the concept of a nation loving an absent God as much as Mondstadt loved Barbatos. It was surreal to her. It seemed that one of the things Teyvat didn't know about Mondstadt was how fiercely protective they were of their beloved God.
Murata found herself smiling at the idea. Barbatos would forever have someone at his side, protecting him, shielding him even though he didn't really need someone to protect him. She wondered if Barbatos knew how much his people loved him. She had no doubt they would go to war for him.
Murata startled as a gentle breeze passed by her, taking her out of her thoughts. She turned her head in the same directing the wind was heading to, finding Venti talking with someone she didn't recognize. Murata was about to make her way to him, thank him for inviting her as well as the others to the festival, when she noticed he wasn't sporting the usual happy expression on his face. It made her stop dead in her track. Murata was curious by nature, but seeing the face he was making, she decided against eavesdropping.
However, she couldn't help but be intrigued by the frown and calculating look on his face. She had never seen him like this. She watched as the man waved his hand a bit, fell silent before closing his eyes and opening them shortly later. Then he said something brief, barely a few words. Somehow, those words were enough for Venti's expression to switch from sceptic to complete and utter horror.
She never imagined that one day, she would see such a terrified expression on such a lively person.
It worried her more than she wanted to admit.
She watched in silence as the bard shook his head mechanically, slowly backing from the man, taking small and uncertain steps back. Upon trying to read his lips, she could make out soft "no" 's, like a silent plea from, something she didn't know anything about. It made her want to know what could possibly create such a reaction in the bard, so intense one didn't need to be close to see how terrified Venti was. Murata was confused and worried.
Her first thought was to get closer and go to the bottom of it to understand what happened. She reasoned it was because Venti reminded her of what Barbatos could have been. Venti had managed to fray his way in her heart, claiming a place she should have given to the Anemo Archon. And-
Oh.
Oh.
It was wrong. It was very wrong. She was supposed to apologize to Barbatos, and here she was putting a bard in the place of a literal God. Murata distinctly realized she was comparing the two of them, giving to one the affection she should have given the other. But perhaps, she could start to redeem herself by taking care of one of his children, make sure he would be okay. Her resolve suddenly hardened and Murata moved. She took a few steps ready to call out to the bard. However, before any sound could escape her mouth, Venti ran away, passing right by her without seeing her, heading straight in the general direction of the city.
"Venti!"
She still called out his name, hoping he would turn his back and tell her what was wrong. She didn't like that expression that had suddenly appeared on his face, nor did she like seeing Venti in that state. But the bard didn't even look back at the mention of his name, not even a flinch. It was like he didn't even hear her, his mind running elsewhere.
Murata turned back in the direction of the man, glaring at him for being the cause of the normally happy and cheerful bard's state. It was enough for her to grow a general dislike for the man. However, her glare faded to slight shock when she saw him staring right at her with a displeased frown, arms crossed. She saw him scoff and turn away, going in the opposite direction and disappearing in the shadows. Murata was taken aback.
What just happened?
She never saw the man in her life, never even heard of someone similar looking that she could associate with him, but she knew she didn't trust that man. She had a bad feeling about him. She felt more than she saw the presence of the other archons by her side a few moments later, looking in the same direction as her, confused. Well, she could understand their confusion at least.
"Who was that?" asked Morax in a curious tone.
Murata shrugged, then shook her head, already feeling the headache coming. Oh how she wished she knew.
Suddenly, Barbatos didn't matter to her as much as Venti's well-being, and it scared her. She was terrified that her twisted mind would replace the Archon with Venti, putting him subconsciously in a spot he didn't belong in, forcing on him burdens couldn't shoulder. So she did the only thing that seemed important to her. She ran after him, ignoring the calls of the other archons, and not caring about the ruckus she just made in Springvale.
She decided she would feel guilty about this later.
.
.
.
His lungs hurt. He was barely managing to get enough air. All he could think about was escaping, running away. Far, far away. Somewhere he couldn't be reached, somewhere he would be safe. But deep down he knew, no matter where he went he couldn't escape. Reality would always come crashing down on him in the most brutal of way. He felt trapped, played, toyed with.
His burns didn't seem to get any better, spreading to his shoulder like the branch of a sick, purple, corrupted tree. And the occasional shocks or pain weren't getting any better.
As he wheezed, he got down on his knees in front of Vennessa's tree, once again finding himself in his safe space. But even Windrise wasn't safe anymore. Nothing was. If Celestia didn't end him, Durin's corruption would. He had no doubt about this.
He had to talk to Dvalin, to Andrius, he should warn the Knights-
Venti squeezed his eyes shut, putting his hands on each side of his face, blocking his ears and clutching his hair as if his life depended on it. It seemed to him like walls were closing up on him, trapping him like a rat in a cage. He couldn't get out of this mess. He had no choice but to stand proud and tall, and hope he would live, hope the storm would pass without too many casualties.
Hope Mondstadt would still be standing by the end of it all.
He prayed to the only person who could help him, to the only person who could guide him, even though he knew it was pointless. His prayers were never answered. He was the one people prayed to, not the other way around. And Venti was painfully aware of the fact.
Flashes of red appeared in his vision. Venti abruptly snapped his eyes wide open, gasping for air once again. Immeasurable relief coursed through his body as he allowed himself to relax upon seeing the green surrounding him, clashing violently with the memories he had of that fateful night, reassuring him that it was not too late, Mondstadt was still standing. It was still somewhat safe.
But if he didn't do anything now, it soon wouldn't be.
Celestia was heading straight to Mondstadt.