Splendorous Skies - Sunjinjo - 原神 (2024)

Chapter 1: Cover page

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Korybantes

Chapter Text

The sands stretched endlessly on.

Aether was starting to wonder what had compelled him to come this way at all – out of all the directions he could travel in, he’d chosen to venture north of Hadramaveth’s great sandstorm, somewhat curious to see what the towering sandstone mountains out there held. He could barely even see those mountains at the moment, however, their mighty silhouettes obscured by the undulating dunes, and distorted by the thick, heated, trembling air and dusty winds even if he did look up.

The desert was doing a good job discouraging him from pushing on. It’d been a hard day traveling out beyond every waypoint he’d been able to find, and he was starting to think this was more trouble than it was worth. He’d ventured past Lower Setekh’s scorching sands, past the Tanit camps and the storm, across wenut-infested country – what could be ahead of him but more trouble?

Paimon seemed to share his sentiments, listless in the air beside him, feebly shielding her face from the sand blowing in the wind. “Let’s turn back,” she whined. “Paimon’s tired… tired of all this sand, and also just plain tired…”

“Tired of floating?” Aether gently ribbed her, but he had to admit she made a compelling point.

“Yes!”

The Traveler quietly walked on a little ways further, pondering. He’d have to venture out here again at some point. What if they were just one more dune away from the next waypoint…?

Then he staggered, his breath hitching. He’d tripped over something, his foot getting caught in the sand, stumbling before righting himself. He huffed in slight irritation. “You’re right, Paimon. There’s just too much sand here –”

“No, wait!” His companion floated back, looking down. “Paimon heard some kind of ‘bonk-a-donk’ noise. Did we step on something weird?”

“I’m the only one doing any stepping,” Aether remarked with a crooked little smile.

Paimon wasn’t distracted. “Could there be some treasure buried around here somewhere? It would be a shame if we missed out on it!”

Aether’s smile grew. “Look who’s getting all fired up again!”

His companion gave a wide grin, wiggling in the air. “Hehe, Paimon’s getting excited already! Let’s check it out!” She scoured the ground, eyes twinkling as the wind blew away some more sand where Aether had tripped. “Found it, found it! Paimon wonders what it is…”

Aether indulged her, striding back, kneeling down and digging his gloved hands into the sand. After a small struggle with the wind and the sliding grains, he managed to get deep enough to pull it up, shielding it with his body as he set it down. He tilted his head, curious. It was a small, red drum, bound in ropes and bearing a Cryo mark on the head. Paimon drooped in the air next to him. “Aw, come on, this is no treasure. It’s just some tattered old drum!” She folded her little arms. “We don’t know what it could be used for, either.”

Aether considered the Cryo mark. “If we brought this one back to the Akademiya…”

“That’s right, they might want to hear more about something we found in the desert. Paimon’s not all that interested in this studying stuff, but if we can make a little this and that off their budget, why not, right?” She inspected it a little more closely. “Hmm, hold on. There’s a little booklet over there at the side. Huh… this seems to have been left by an adventurer…”

Aether turned the drum, spotting it as well. He pried it open, squinting to read as the wind and sand buffeted his back. It was only partly legible, but the parts he could make out were rather interesting.

…This time, I’ve been commissioned to try to find a local order and obtain information about something known as the ‘Sign of Apaosha’. I must say that remuneration seems quite outsized when compared with the mission content. I hope I won’t get caught in any trouble…

…I reached the entrance to the Temir Mountains with the help of an Eremite mercenary, but he refused to continue onward, saying that this was the ‘border of a war’. Must be some sort of desert-dweller superstition.

Aether frowned. He knew a well-founded warning when he saw one. Perhaps it really would be better to come back here later, and better-prepared.

…Contrary to what I was told, it seems that these Nagarjunites are not very friendly to outsiders. Looks like I’ll have to try infiltrating their ranks…

…I finally managed to make it out! Thankfully, these people are pretty civilized, so I managed to get away with my life…

…As I thought, these high-remuneration commissions always have something fishy going on. Looks like an adventurer’s work doesn’t suit people who just want to earn some quick Mora. I’ll just leave this drum here. Maybe someone will pick it up – that way, I guess I won’t totally disappoint Ms. Katheryne…

“What a story,” Paimon mused. “And what a lousy adventurer! The ‘Sign of Apaosha’… Paimon’s not super sure what this guy’s talking about, but he sure is irresponsible, leaving a commission unfinished just because it’s hard!”

“Paimon, we were just about to turn back as well,” Aether chuckled.

“And we’re still gonna! Just… just for a little bit, to have a bite to eat…” She folded her arms behind her back, looking bashful – and hungry. “We’re not the ones leaving a commission, though. In fact, let’s hand this drum over to Katheryne and let her reassign someone to complete… whatever commission this was.”

Aether got up, still smiling in amusem*nt. “That’s a plan.” He wrapped an arm around the drum, holding out his other hand. “Alright, Sumeru City it is, then.” Paimon gleefully took his hand with both of her own, and together they dissolved into a shower of starry light.

Arriving at the Adventurer’s Guild in welcoming, balmy Sumeru City, Katheryne greeted them with a polite smile like always. “Hello there, Traveler. How have your recent travels gone?”

Aether ruffled the sand out of his hair. “It’s been a little tiring,” he admitted. Paimon chuckled, helping him get the back, then shaking herself out as well.

“It would not hurt to take a little rest from time to time,” Katheryne advised. “I’ve heard about your previous adventures. It seems that you’ve become very experienced. As long as you keep going, I believe that it will only be a matter of time before you become a truly great adventurer.”

Aether paused, actually feeling a little touched. This Katheryne might be one of a line of many puppets, only having an overview of Sumeru, but she’d heard about his deeds in the other nations – and she was rooting for him.

Paimon spoke before he could say anything. “Hmm, speaking of adventures, we found this on our last one.” She lightly tapped the drum in Aether’s hands. “This was left in the desert by some irresponsible adventurer. We thought it’d be bad if the commission he took never got resolved, so we brought it back here.”

Katheryne inspected the drum for a moment. “Hmm… Indeed, this item is key to a particular commission. Thank you very much.” She considered the new information. “The commission linked to this drum is a very important one from the Akademiya, and is also critical to the expansion of our operations. Unfortunately, though we have previously given this commission to various talented adventurers, they have all invariably failed.”

Aether gave a slight smile, putting a hand on his hip. “Oh boy, here comes trouble.”

Katheryne folded her hands. “Well, this is an issue that even the Akademiya cannot solve, so we did expect a relatively high…”

The Traveler co*cked his head as she trailed off, falling silent and not finishing her sentence. “…Katheryne?”

The puppet before them closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her expression had shifted; she looked more lively, her smile much brighter than before. “Hello, you two! It’s good to see you again. My apologies for speaking for you in this way – it may bring back some unsavoury feelings of nostalgia, but I’m only doing it for convenience’s sake, honest.”

“Nahida!” Paimon realized. “Right, Paimon almost forgot you could contact us through Katheryne!”

“Through anyone, really,” the Dendro Archon giggled quietly. “I just prefer not to do this to my people.”

Aether suppressed a slight shiver. He was glad Nahida was on their side, and as sweet as she was. She had the potential to be the scariest Archon of all, if she were to put her mind to it. “…This must be serious if you decided to contact us directly, Nahida.”

“It is! With yet another adventurer giving up on this commission… that’s one too many. I’m taking this into my own hands. Or rather, passing it into another’s. Thank you for informing the Guild, you two. I know someone who’d be very interested in this area, and glad I’m letting him investigate it on his own.” Katheryne’s face brightened in a sweet smile. “He’s been too mired in the theoretical aspect, even I have to admit that. It’s time for some field research.”

Paimon’s expression went flat, and she folded her arms. “Is this guy who Paimon thinks it is?”

“It’ll be good for him to get out,” Nahida spoke, slightly apologetic. “He’s… how did he put it…? Ah yes, ‘bored out of his skull’ with lectures, the House of Daena, his essays, all of it. I’m not asking you to work with him,” she added with a knowing smile. “Just hand him the drum and point him in the right direction…”

The little fairy narrowed her eyes a little. “Good, because working with him out in that desert doesn’t sound very fun at all.”

“He’ll appreciate this, I’m sure of it. He’s been reading up on that part of the desert and those that dwell there,” Nahida mused. “The Nagarjunites… they’re also called the ‘Lost Darshan’ by the Akademiya. They’re the ones that partly inspired Sachin’s nihilism, do you remember?”

Aether nodded thoughtfully. “The Interdarshan Championship’s sponsor. The thesis you tasked him with… that makes sense.”

The little fairy relented. “Alright, fine… but he’ll owe us a favour in return!”

The Traveler lightly nudged her. “Aren’t we trying to get him to let go of all that transactional thinking? You’re a bad influence, Paimon.”

She gasped. “No…! Did he and his evil ways rub off on Paimon…?”

“Might have. So let’s not let him owe us, hm?”

Paimon nodded. “He’ll probably find a way to twist it into something we don’t want at all, anyway…”

Nahida had observed them with a fond smile for a little bit. “Alright, you two. Thank you so much. I’ll send him down to you.”

They waited around for a few minutes, eventually taking a stroll down towards the docks and taking a seat on their trusty old bench above the waterside. “What’s taking them so long?” Paimon whined after a while attempting to entertain herself with little aerial somersaults. “Are they having tea up there? Catching up? What do they even have to catch up on, they’re always together anyway…”

Just when Aether was about to speak, he caught movement in the air – a familiar shape, trailing luminous blue sparks. However, the rapidly flying Wanderer only turned his head once, sparing them a single glance, before abruptly descending over Treasures Street instead of coming to them. Paimon sputtered. “What – ?! What’s he thinking now?”

The Traveler had gotten up, moving over and up into the street. “We both know he’s not going to come to us,” he sighed.

“He – you – !” Paimon grumbled, floating after her companion. Indeed, when they arrived up in Treasures Street, they spotted the Wanderer sitting in his usual spot at Puspa Café, hands neatly folded on the table. He gave a slight smirk upon seeing them. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You jerk! Making us walk over here!”

“Take a seat.” He was calm as anything. “You should be grateful for some respite.” He scrutinized the two, considering their fresh sunburns, the remaining sand in their clothes and hair. “Clearly, this requires someone less pathetically unsuited to the area.”

“Hey – !” Paimon flared, but she was quickly quieted as Enteka came out carrying a pair of cool berry-and-mint bursts, baklava and padisarah pudding. The drinks and desserts were put before the Traveler and his companion, while Kintsugi curiously hadn’t seemed to have ordered anything for himself, not even his usual pitch-black coffee. Paimon simmered down. “…Hey, that’s actually really nice. Thank you.”

Kintsugi ignored her, his eyes fixed on the Traveler instead. “So, you two found some drum near the foot of the Temir Mountains?”

The outlander placed their find on the table between them. “We were making our way up north after trekking through Hadramaveth. We investigated the ruins of old Gurabad with an Eremite friend of ours…”

“…and a really rude jinni!” Paimon added, in between stuffing her face with baklava. “Dragging us all over the place and then revealing she committed all sorts of atrocities and led to the city’s downfall in the first place…”

Kintsugi leaned his chin in his hand, listening in amusem*nt. “You two don’t have the best of luck where it comes to the company you keep, do you?”

The Traveler gave a crooked little smile. “She eventually chose to fall into slumber alongside the rest of Gurabad, to atone for her sins.” He shifted, toying with the mint leaves in his drink. “But enough about us. I hear you know about the area north of the sandstorm, you’ve read up on it for your studies?”

“I have. I’ve been doing a little too much reading, really.” Kintsugi inspected the small instrument. “I’ve been wanting to go. Thanks for the opportunity, and the talk. I’ll take it from here.”

Paimon blinked. “Wait – you’re not gonna tell us anything about what you learned? Or… y’know, how you’ve been or what you’ve been up to?”

His eyes glimmered. “No. Why would I? And surely Lord Kusanali has already told you how I’ve been – bored to the Abyss and back. This’ll remedy that nicely.” He took the drum, rising from his seat, leaving the Traveler and Paimon with their desserts. “See you, suckers.”

“Hey! You paid for these in advance, right? Right?” Paimon flailed, staying behind in a tizzy as the Traveler hurriedly rose and followed Kintsugi as he carelessly strolled down towards the Adventurer’s Guild, swiftly registering himself with Katheryne and receiving some additional information. Once he’d finished up, he turned to the golden-haired outlander, resting the drum on his hip. “…What is it?”

The Traveler stared at him, briefly looked up at the café, Paimon still being torn between guarding their food and joining him. Then he relaxed a little. “Thanks for the food, I suppose. Be careful out there.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done you any favours,” the puppet grinned. “And… sure.” He turned away. “Let’s see how soon I can be done with this.” And with that, he was off, rocketing up and away with a gust of wind, soon bearing the drum far away into the northwest – a luminous blue glint against the blue sky.

Aether shook his head in fond exasperation, before turning back in the direction of the café and his agitated companion. “Paimon, settle down – I’m paying, no different than otherwise.”

“That jerk! Oh, Paimon’ll really let him have it next time!”

Chapter 3: Pari

Chapter Text

Kintsugi reveled in taking the biggest possible gulp of fresh air he could – the entire Sumeran jungle sky.

Just like that, he’d been given leave to turn his back on the Akademiya, the library, the endless slog of his thesis – at least, the theoretical aspect. He’d been handed the opportunity to do some practical work and make himself useful in ways that suited him much better, and he got to one-up the Adventurer’s Guild and perhaps even the Traveler himself while he was at it!

After soaring out over Yazadaha Pool and skimming his fingers across the water with a self-indulgent grin, he swiftly rose up and turned to look back at the city, just once, snickering at the flustered state he was sure he just left Paimon in – and taking in the Divine Tree one last time, as he’d gotten accustomed to doing before longer missions away. Because this was sure to be one of those.

The desert, huh… the environment wouldn’t bother him much, but it would be quite the change of scenery.

Not that that was a bad thing. The path down from the Sanctuary to the Akademiya through Razan Garden had become something akin to torture by now. One more day poring over dusty tomes, and he was fairly sure he’d summon a vortex in the middle of the House of Daena that’d pull every single book off the shelves and shred them all to bits. Although he’d certainly get some fun out of that, he’d really rather spare himself the following hassle.

The Temir Mountains, the Sign of Apaosha…

Lesser Lord Kusanali had filled him in after the Traveler had shown the little red drum to Sumeru’s Katheryne. A most curious commission. He was surprised they let any mere adventurer have a go at this, and very unsurprised they’d all failed or given up.

“The Rtawahist Darshan alerted me a little while ago,” she’d told him as she’d summoned him to her chambers. “Their astrologers recently discovered the northern desert skies have become blocked by a strange, unforeseen phenomenon, in their own words. They put researchers together to investigate the available literature, eventually finding out about the ‘Sign of Apaosha’ – almost certain to be the same thing.”

“Yeah?” he’d inquired. “What did they find on that?”

“It’s apparently a dark, celestial sign that appeared right after the Cataclysm, way out beyond Hadramaveth,” Nahida had fretted, looking up at him with slight worry in her eyes. “There’s barely any people living there now. The Akademiya declared it a restricted zone, and barely any adventurers have gone there since. However… it is said to be the home of the Lost Darshan, as you know. The researchers that split off from the Akademiya, five hundred years ago.”

He did know. He’d been reading up on them, although he’d found the Akademiya’s records sorely lacking. He’d rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing in interest. “Heh. Everything worthwhile seems to have happened exactly five hundred years ago…”

“Pray we don’t see such times again anytime soon,” she’d cautioned him.

He’d folded his arms. “I don’t pray. I act. You’re sending me to deal with it?”

“That is up to you.”

He’d nodded. “Alright. I’m sending myself, then.”

She’d smiled. “Some time away is sure to help with your writer’s block.”

“I don’t – !” He’d sputtered. “…My thesis is progressing swimmingly, thank you. I just think meeting these… Nagarjunites and hearing their perspectives could help me better refute them. They had a part in inspiring Sachin’s idiotic views on humanity and the nature of this world, after all. Vahumana should be delighted I’m finally getting to the root of that drivel.”

“You’re very right,” she’d nodded. “Yet, even without that, the trip would be extremely valuable! The Akademiya hasn’t been able to gain a foothold ever since the Lost Darshan split off, and even unaffiliated adventurers haven’t managed to stay long or gather much information beyond what you’ve already studied in writing. To most people, the area is simply shrouded in myth.”

“I’m quite at home in myths.” He’d straightened his hat, rolled his shoulders. “I’ll bring you back some valuable information, then. And maybe even manage to fix the sky. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering its flimsy true nature,” he’d grinned.

She’d looked up at him, still some concern lingering in her eyes. “Be safe. You might venture beyond my reach in dreams, like a little fish venturing far beyond the safety of the reefs into the open ocean – I may not be able to offer you any guidance beyond a certain point. I’m not as strong as my previous incarnation – and you’re venturing a long way past the Wall of Samiel and the last borders of the forest.”

His smile had softened a little bit. “Don’t worry. I’ve survived way worse, and I’m used to being alone.”

“I know. But I also sense something out there… something dark, like an icky storm cloud… keeping me from truly seeing the area even with my limited abilities.” She’d covered her mouth, troubled. He’d known then why she’d used the fish metaphor. The deep sea was something Nahida had never been able to fathom, for lack of a better term, and such a perpetually unsolvable puzzle unnerved her – similar to this northern desert. He’d made a mental note to take this at least a little bit seriously. “All the more reason for me to investigate and clear it up,” he’d reassured her, gentling a little.

“Seek out the Lost Darshan. Present them with the drum, earn their favour and see what they know. Don’t be alone,” she’d urged him, eyes wide and sincere. He’d stepped in, taking her warm little hands in his cool ones one last time. “Don’t worry,” he’d pressed upon her again, smirking a little in amusem*nt. “I’ll be fine.”

And now here he was, speeding off towards the foggy jungle horizon, on an adventurer’s commission, as if he was one of those bumbling green-clad novices. How pedestrian. Though, if completing this one would earn him the rightful respect of the whole lot in one fell swoop, that would certainly be a perk.

He clutched the red drum under one arm, mildly annoyed at the extra air resistance. He’d have to carry it all the way, though. Katheryne had informed him it had been originally passed from the Nagarjunites to the Akademiya, then to the Adventurer’s Guild, and they’d sent it with their adventurers in order to be given back as a token of goodwill – and convinced it’d serve some important purpose, to boot. He’d be a fool to throw this to the wind, no matter how much he might want to. He just hoped he’d be able to stop lugging it around as soon as possible.

He realized he was about to pass over Vanarana’s great disc-shaped leaves, concealing the guardians of Sumeru’s dreams beneath – some of very few individuals he found more or less universally bearable. He briefly considered visiting, one last forest stop, but then decided against it. He huffed out a little breath of laughter – he already knew how it’d go. Especially if the blue Aranara who’d bonded himself to him with a flower of memory was home. Ararycan would caution him to no end, wishing to discourage him from going into ‘scary Valuka’, especially this unfamiliar northern region – and he might even be roped into a song on the red drum, or a tasteless cooking lesson with Arapacati… and before he knew it he’d have allowed himself to dawdle for two or three days while Kusanali held back her laughter while observing his dreams. No. He wouldn’t have that. He flew on.

If Ararycan ever found out he’d passed by and didn’t visit, he’d make it up to him when he got back. He wouldn’t be roped into anything now – he had an unexpected outing to rejoice in, and rejoice he would. He raced ahead, blue sparks trailing from his halo, letting out husky laughter as he swooped down to the canopy and annoyed swarms of tropical birds into taking flight, soaring back up to startle a screeching falcon, barely dodging its lashing talons. He barely felt the weight of the drum, and before he knew it, dusk was setting in and the Wall of Samiel loomed on the horizon.

He didn’t need sleep, not now. He’d had enough repose in the House of Daena. He flew on.

The portion of the Wall he passed over was its uttermost north; no sooner had he passed it or his sight diminished, irritating him with dusky, colourless veils of sand. Hadramaveth. He’d never liked the place. He shielded his eyes with his free arm, gritting his teeth as sand permeated every fold of his clothing – then giving in and flying straight up.

It wasn’t his custom. Not long after gaining his Vision, he’d learned his lesson where it came to heights and flying around haphazardly – it wouldn’t do to lose himself in the sky. Everything worthwhile, everything real was on the ground. When the ground was this much of an annoyance, however, exceptions could be made. With a blissful fading of the sandstorm’s roar, he rose out above it, into clear, starry skies. He gave a crooked smirk, looking down on it.

Then he looked ahead, further north, and his eyes widened minutely. “…Ah,” he murmured to himself. “Kusanali wasn’t kidding, was she.”

He could see it. The Sign of Apaosha. There was nothing else it could be.

Purple and jagged, pulsing in some heinous, otherworldly rhythm, it looked like a luminous wound punched into the night sky beyond the towering Temir Mountains, an unceasing stream of glimmering energy pouring down from it. It was still far away, but even from here it did a great job unnerving him.

It shouldn’t be there, defiling his Archon’s nation. Whatever it was, it had no right to be there.

He restrained himself from setting a course straight to it, however. The drum in the crook of his arm was a tangible reminder of what he’d agreed on; returning it to the Nagarjunites and hearing them out on what they knew. He might know his share where it came to the sky and powers from beyond this world, but he knew the merits of gathering information before charging in, too. With a begrudging sound, he set himself in motion again, soaring west towards the beginning of the sand-covered mountain passes where the Traveler had picked up the drum in the first place.

At first glance, there was nothing at all that caught his eye around the area; just more sand and sandstone, a few hilichurl camps. Moving north, however, he spotted something peculiar.

Strange, pale grey rock formations, pointed shards embedded in the sand under a towering sandstone arch, flaking into the wind like ashes.

He descended, curiosity piqued. And as he did so, he spotted something else interesting. A single Eremite tent, a slumbering campfire. The first sign of human civilization beyond Hadramaveth.

His feet touched the moonlit sand. He chose to investigate the rocks first, silently approaching and placing his free hand on their irregular facets.

His stomach immediately twisted in – what was that? Fear? Vertigo? Nausea?

He didn’t get nauseous. He was long past vertigo.

Fear, then.

The sensation was a specific and familiar one, he realized after a bit of thought, his hand clenched and clutched to his chest as he narrowed his eyes at the strange rock. Distantly familiar, but still.

He hadn’t yet been the Sixth Harbinger when he’d felt it last. Feeling it now… it might unnerve him more than even the Sign of Apaosha had done.

He glanced up. There it was, suspended in the high skies over the mountains, radiating its noxious energies downward. Silent, and yet just looking at it filled his mind with an otherworldly roar, like blood rushing in his ears.

He shook himself, and abruptly turned to the campsite, feet kicking up the sand as he strode uphill. He set the drum down beside himself, preferring to have both hands free in case he needed them. “Hey,” he called out, not in the mood to be courteous or wait for dawn. “I know you’re in there. Wake up, I need a word.”

His ears picked up an alarmed hiss and the sounds of someone scrambling upright, and his mouth quirked in a small smirk. It brought him a somewhat pathetic sense of satisfaction to be the one doing the unnerving, after the feeling that’d just wormed its way into his mind and body. A sorely needed sense of control. “Who goes there?” a sharp voice called back, just before the tent flap was flung aside by a muscular Eremite, dark eyes glinting. “Who are you?”

He raised his chin. “You first.”

The Eremite halted in the tent’s entrance, looking him over in the dim starlight. “…You don’t look like a tribesman, nor an adventurer from that pesky Guild…” He reached behind himself, taking up a short one-handed blade. “…But no matter who you are, this is as far as you will get. Please go back.”

Kintsugi didn’t move an inch. “Please,” he scoffed. “I just got here. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

“The desert past this point is a restricted zone under our guard,” the Eremite insisted. “As a ranger of the Order of Skeptics, I cannot let you pass, no matter what reasons you may have.”

The puppet smirked a little. “Ah, so I’ve already found a Nagarjunite. What luck.”

“‘Nagarjunite’?” The man tensed, his eyes narrowing and his grip on the blade tensing. “How dare you?”

“What, did I say something wrong? That’s what you’re called.” Kintsugi raised an amused eyebrow at the man’s affront, but he was also genuinely puzzled. “Skeptic, Nagarjunite, member of the Lost Darshan… heh, honestly, you people have too many names… I won’t judge, though.”

“‘Nagarjunites’ is just a derogatory name that those guys from the rainforest have for us!” The Skeptic stepped out of the tent, looming over Kintsugi. The puppet didn’t move a muscle, only silently craning his head up to keep looking the man in the eye. “Lord Nagarjuna is a hero who fought against the Dev alongside the divine bird’s heirs,” the Skeptic ranted. “He gained divine power through the Rite of Chinvat and put an end to the calamity. How dare they call such a great hero – and our first Vijnanapati – by his given name!”

“Are you done?” Kintsugi folded his arms, sighing. “Seriously, if it weren’t for the fact I’ve studied the Order of Skeptics…” That was a lot of extra information, though. Divine bird? The Rite of Chinvat? Nothing in the House of Daena had mentioned any of that. Of course, he knew the Akademiya was far from all-knowing. Their research could be spotty, and they’d also deliberately obfuscated information in the past. Now which could it be… stupidity, or malice…

The Skeptic had faltered. “‘Studied’? Are you a spy from the Akademiya, then?”

“I’m here to take care of a problem.” He considered the man for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “…Although I’ve heard of your fascination with conflict as the natural state of all things, so I’m not sure how much help you’re actually going to be with that.”

“Aha!” The man pointed his blade at him. “So you are the Akademiya’s henchman! We’ve tried our best to keep a low profile, but still, you’ve managed to find our trail…”

“You’re… literally camping out in the open,” Kintsugi remarked. “If this is you trying to hide, I feel sorry for you.”

The man glared for a moment, but was clearly working out some thought of his own as well, letting the barb slide. “…I believed the Akademiya was full of cowards who would never dare to step foot into the desert. I won’t lie – you’ve impressed me.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Kintsugi readily agreed. “Most of them are spineless idiots. I’m somewhat of an exception.” He glanced around. “I grow tired of this conversation. Here – I bring a token from the Adventurer’s Guild, given to them by the Akademiya. I’m told it’s important to your Order.” He picked up the little drum, showing off the Cryo mark on its head. “Does this hold any meaning to you?”

The man inspected it. “What is this shabby drum… You call this a token?”

Kintsugi blinked. Had he carried the thing all the way here for nothing?

“You don’t think you can bribe me with such a small thing, do you? Leave now, or things will get nasty.”

Kintsugi readied himself, preparing to leap into the air off the sand. “Nasty suits me just fine,” he grinned.

“Don’t you underestimate us Skeptics!” The man raised his blade, about to lunge forward, and –

– a new voice came cutting through the night air, bright and clear.

“Cease! Cease, I say!”

Kintsugi abruptly looked up.

A new figure came swooping in from the mountainside.

No bigger than Paimon, with feather-like wings, moth-like antennae and large gleaming eyes in an otherwise featureless little face, a soft reddish-pink in the moonlight – and utterly unknown and unexpected to the baffled puppet. He leaned back, locking eyes with the little floating being as it wafted on by. “…What the…”

Beside him, the Skeptic had immediately stood down, bowing his head and sheathing his blade. “Lady Sorush…! You honour our unworthy selves with your presence!”

Kintsugi’s eyes snapped back to the small being as it preened in the air above them, wordlessly trying to wrap his head around its presence and the way it was treated. He might still be in Sumeru, but these northern lands were quickly growing stranger and stranger, beyond what even Kusanali had managed to tell him…

Chapter 4: Dev

Chapter Text

“Stand down at once, Pyrrho! I shall be the judge of this matter.”

Kintsugi leaned back in curious bafflement as the small, winged being glided in between him and the muscular Eremite – Pyrrho, apparently – with confident movements, gleaming in the light of the moon and the dying campfire. The man hastily bowed deeper. “Lady Sorush,” he hastily muttered. “Why did you… You don’t have to attend to such trivial matters personally, let alone at this hour…”

“We Pari appear whenever and before whoever we wish, and our volition is not for you mere mortals to question. How dare you overstep your bounds!”

Kintsugi stared as the large man was berated by the tiny airborne being. She looked a little like an Aranara in passing, but certainly didn’t behave or speak like one. Beyond her appearance, the difference was night and day. Not to mention Pyrrho could see her, and treated her with almost exaggerated amounts of respect. “F-forgive me, Lady Sorush!”

“Hmph. Your sins will be judged, but the time for that has yet to come,” the little being allowed. She turned to Kintsugi, looking him over. “…You there. As an envoy of the Akademiya, it is only polite to state your name, no?”

He studied her in turn, still somewhat baffled by her sudden appearance and existence overall, but nonetheless not giving an inch. So… she heard me mention the Akademiya, before. She must’ve been hovering around. “…As polite as listening in on people and waiting to make your dramatic little entrance?” he remarked, grinning just a little. “What even are you?”

She hovered up a little in order to look down her lack of a nose at him. “My words and actions are not contrary to the traditions and principles of the exalted Pari, ever-vigilant guardians of this land,” she retorted smartly. “The same cannot be said for you, nameless one.”

He put a hand on his hip, resisting the urge to leap up to her level – for now. For all he knew, she’d just ascend yet higher, and they could keep up that childish little game indefinitely. More trouble than it was worth. “I’m not nameless. I’m just not giving my name to you. I’m here to inquire with the Order of Skeptics, that is all.”

Sorush waved a wing at him. “Your trivialities do not concern me. However, as for that drum you hold…” She hovered closer to inspect it. “…This item has a profound connection with us Pari, and is not something that a mortal such as you should possess. I command you to present it to me immediately.”

He scoffed, tucking the little drum under his arm a little tighter. “Not likely. I was sent to give it to the Skeptics.” He eyed Pyrrho. “Not this bumbling idiot, though. Who’s Vijnanapati around here?” He smirked at the double take the man did at the ease with which the title rolled off his tongue. “Heh. As I said, I’ve read up.”

Sorush shook her head. “You know nothing of what transpires here. One mistake would send your race tumbling into an eternal samsara, and yet you persist in your irreverent profanity. You humans are such… interesting beings.”

Kintsugi could only chuckle at this assumption – yet he held his tongue. Revelations of his own could come later. This was a time for gathering information… and a little amusem*nt, while he was at it. He raised his chin in calm defiance. “I’ll take my chances.”

“…No matter. I shall bring you to the Vijnanapati you speak of. This item would remain worthy tribute even if you should only present it to me after that meeting.”

“That’s more like it.”

“But Lady Sorush,” Pyrrho protested, “the Vijnanapati has instructed us to forbid suspicious individuals from interfering before the ritual is completed…”

“I have decided!” Sorush cut him off with a swipe of her wing. “And as a Pari, my word is law!”

Pyrrho faltered, but Sorush didn’t give him the chance to speak again. “Very well, follow me,” she carelessly threw Kintsugi’s way. “I shall take you where you wish. But gird yourself all the same. That which lies ahead is not a place that human beings can easily set foot in.”

The puppet calmly held her gaze. “That won’t be a problem.”

The Pari still looked doubtful, but didn’t seem overly concerned with his fate. “If you get lost or end up eaten by some monster appearing out of nowhere, there shall be nothing I can do for you,” she airily remarked.

Kintsugi tilted his head, getting mildly annoyed. “Just get moving.” And as the Pari did so, he shot Pyrrho one last smug look, tipping his hat. “It hasn’t been a pleasure.”

“You – !” The Skeptic balled a fist, but Sorush halted him with a look of her own, and then they’d already passed him by.

Passing under the shadow of the great sandstone arch, Kintsugi studied his new companion a little more closely. Despite her attitude and their hopefully short-lived association, he was interested in anything new. Even before his days of gathering intelligence for the Fatui, his nature had been curious, quick and eager to learn. “…Pari, huh? I’ve never heard about beings like you before.”

She kept looking ahead. “Our nature is not for mere mortals to question or understand. More may be revealed to you in time, but it remains to be seen whether or not you may comprehend.” She glanced his way. “Pray, why do you wish to present the token to the Vijnanapati?”

Now he was the one to coolly avert his gaze and look ahead. “I’ve been sent to fix the huge hole in the sky. The Akademiya thinks it’s an eyesore, and I’m inclined to agree.” He thought it best to forego mentioning Kusanali for now – he’d be careful where it came to revealing his cards.

“…Huge hole? You refer to the Sign of Apaosha, then? And you wish to quell this calamity with mere mortal coils?” Sorush let out a little scoff. “Hah, how presumptuous! It is the duty of us Pari to eradicate the Sign of Apaosha – an endeavour that I, Sorush, shall give my all to accomplish!”

“Yeah? So my job’s already being done, then?”

“I’m getting to that!” she sneered. “To quell this calamity, I must follow in the footsteps of the divine bird Simurgh, and sacrifice everything that one might call ‘Sorush’.”

Kintsugi turned to look at her as they passed through the moonlit desert, sandstone cliffs hemming in their path. A little chill ran up his spine, even though the desert’s cold did nothing to him. Then he doubtfully glanced up at the Sign, gleaming purple and monstrous up on high. “…The sacrifice of one puny little creature will fix all that?”

So eager. No hesitation, no fear. …She’s either bluffing, or lying to herself as well as me.

“Doubt me not, nonbeliever! To stand in my way is not a sin that one such as you may bear!”

Despite himself, Kintsugi had to privately chuckle at the Pari’s attitude. It was very familiar to him – the posturing, the dramatics. Anything to hold sway and keep the upper hand. He was fairly sure he’d been exactly where she was, now – and not even that long ago. He didn’t know enough about her to say for sure, and hopefully he wouldn’t be in her presence long enough to get to know her at all – after all, she was only bringing him to the Vijnanapati. Still… “…Alright, if you say so.”

“Hmph. In any case, this matter is far beyond your capabilities, and your intervention is futile… All you must do is bear silent witness as I transcend.” She tapped a wingtip to where her mouth would’ve been. “Still… do not forget to extol my virtues and laud my accomplishments. After all, even the greatest heroes shall require mere mortals like you to sing of their deeds.”

Alright, that was one ‘mere mortal’ too many. Kintsugi glanced backwards, and judged Pyrrho and his camp to be far enough behind them. “What makes you so sure I’m mortal?”

Sorush looked down on him. “Your form is like unto that of any mere human. Surely, you shall flicker and fade as one, even with that mote of light upon your chest.”

He touched his Vision. He made to speak again, but Sorush silenced and halted him with a swish of her wing, and for good reason – as far as she knew. The ground before them had opened, giving way to a deep canyon ahead, water glinting in the moonlight far below.

Sorush smugly faced him. “Were it not for my presence, you would find your careless self broken at the bottom.” She flicked her wing again, turning away. “Words of gratitude are not required. Come, allow me to reveal to you the safe, hidden path –”

“No need.”

Blue light illuminated the little Pari’s face as she faced him again. Her eyes widened to see the halo holding him aloft. “Oh! Nameless one… the ability that mote of light lends you is quite radiant indeed.”

He grinned, hovering down into the canyon. “I know. Go on, praise me more.”

“Hmpf!” She sharply turned to the side, even as she followed. “There is some merit to your ways of flight, surely… but there is still quite the gap between you and us Pari. You fly without wings, and are merely a shadow in comparison to the divine bird and her heirs.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that so.” He tipped forward without further comment, diving down into the canyon at breakneck speed, skimming over the moonlit water and the reeds and flowers that’d sprung up around the scarce source of life. He soared and spun between the striated sandstone walls, chuckling in derision as the cool night air whizzed past – but blinking in surprise as Sorush caught up with him and managed to stay by his side, soaring and tumbling right along with him, much faster than the Aranara he was used to flying with. “Nameless one! What indignity you plague me with!”

“…How amusing,” he observed in slight mirth. “Evidently, I can fly as fast as I want.”

Sorush widened her eyes in affront, but shifted her gaze to something ahead before she could berate him. “Oh! Halt, I say!” She flung out a wing, slowing and stopping. Kintsugi followed her example, jerking aside for a swift stop, his expression quickly shifting to annoyance. “What is it now?”

She gestured ahead. “To think that this place, too, has been occupied by Dev! These monsters move ever more often of late.”

He looked. Ahead was a small hilichurl camp, a mitachurl and their two smaller tribemates sitting huddled around a campfire of their own. Sorush shook her head. “It seems the Sign of Apaosha grants them the audacity to linger in these lands. My mission is indeed one most heavy…”

“You slow down for those puny vermin?” Kintsugi scoffed. “They barely pose an annoyance, let alone a challenge.”

“You so easily take on the rampaging Dev?” Sorush tilted her head. “Demonstrate, nameless one.”

He considered the little camp, lightly tapping the drum in the crook of his arm. He’d never deem this meager trio worthy of his attention. The presence of his demanding little guide wouldn’t change that. “Why waste my breath? They don’t bar our way forward.” He glanced ahead. The canyon ended in a sheer cliff face not far away, more grey crystals strewn at the bottom. “…In fact, where are you taking me? This canyon is a dead end.”

“The path here is now dotted with grey crystals,” Sorush lamented. “When I last left it, it was not yet so. Fear not. We Pari may be regarded as being one in body and mind with the land. My presence shall easily open the way.”

“Into a cave?”

She nodded. “Beyond there is a cavern, allowing us ascension to the abode of the Vijnanapati.”

He co*cked his head. “…Surely that abode also has an above-ground way in.” He wouldn’t be ushered into a cave like some scurrying rodent – not if he could fly.

“Yes,” Sorush allowed, gesturing at the cliffs. “Just over those mountains. However –” She yelped as he didn’t allow her the chance to finish speaking, darting ahead and up. “Nameless one!”

He didn’t even spare her a glance as she soared along. “Enough idle chit-chat. Let’s go already.”

“Nameless one! Heed me!”

“You’re afraid of three measly hilichurls,” he scoffed. “I won’t heed a thing you have to say.”

“Cease your foolish temerity!”

He grinned, spinning out above the cliffs and higher, feeling very self-satisfied at having taken this route over creeping through some dank and dusty cave. This was more like it. Whatever he needed to do in this Archon-forsaken desert, he’d be sure to do it swiftly, soaring out over everything, flitting from place to place unhindered by those towering Temir Mountains…

There was a soundless roaring in his ears.

He spun around, and the Sign of Apaosha filled his entire world.

Purple, oozing, streaming, glittering like stars from beyond this world, beyond all comprehension – spinning, dizzying, filling his stomach with nauseating dread. It was all he could see. It was all there was.

Sorush was no longer at his side.

He abruptly looked back, down, searching for a glint of her rosy red. “Sorush…?”

A silent pulse, up in the sky. A burst of brightness, casting its light upon him and outshining the moon. Wide indigo eyes turning back up, reflecting nothing but purple – a lurid light, approaching with blinding speed.

He dropped on pure reflex.

The flaming, glistening ball of purple energy came after him without faltering, its path curving to pursue him. He flew faster, dove lower, weaving between craggy sandstone peaks, dropping so low his elbows skidded across grainy sand-strewn stone as he twisted and tilted. Still, the hateful light followed, closing in.

He looked back, eyes wide, pupils shrinking against the wicked glare. In a last bid to stop it, he turned and pulled back his foot, feverishly balling his Anemo powers into a blackening vortex, aiming to stamp out the light –

– only for it to dart around him in a dizzying bolt of motion and strike him from behind, passing right through his halo, embedding itself into his back like a knife, a blade, like lightning itself.

His flight stuttered and he threw back his head, eyes unseeing, choking on his own breath and unable to even utter the scream lodged in his spasming throat.

Blinding agony tore through him, paralyzing his limbs, shivering through his mind, warping and darkening his vision. He desperately tried to keep flying downward, pushing through it, even when he realized his halo was flickering.

…His halo was flickering –

Down, down, down, the sand was right there –

– a second projectile slammed into him, he was sent skidding into the silvery sand, his mind gave a last faltering stutter – and went blissfully dark.

His eyes snapped open, feverishly darting around.

He was surrounded by grey, purple-lit shards of rock, spearing upwards, skewering the air. Stars, silver and blue and violet, all wrong, swimming overhead like a wavering mirage. Dead, distant cities and temples, all ruined, their debris suspended in midair as if bursting apart silently, endlessly, beyond fragmented floating isles of equally lifeless rock. That giant, staring moon…

No. No. He couldn’t be seeing this. He couldn’t be here. It’d been centuries since he…

…The snarl of the beasts, the cackling and droning of the Order, the screams of his companions. His own horrified, involuntary sobs, in the beginning. His exasperated sighs, later. Why did they even bother sending anyone with him? No one but him ever came back.

This had been his proving ground. Time and again, he’d lost his companions, had gotten himself horrifically injured, and come back stronger – only to be injured by stronger foes as he’d managed to venture deeper down. All the way up until the point where he’d been titled Scaramouche and deemed eminent enough for more intricate tasks, and he’d finally been able to leave this place behind.

He knew the Abyss as well as could possibly be conceived for a place of such roiling, distorted madness. He knew he couldn’t be back. This had to be a dream… a nightmare.

He hadn’t had very many of those since moving into the Sanctuary of Surasthana. He was a long way from home now, however.

A hiss at his back. He spun, catching a glimpse of a violet glare, viciously clawed hands, reaching out –

“Come to the light.”

He blinked. Something had shifted. The wicked glare had softened, changed colours – no longer was he surrounded by that bleak purple, but green – the green of life, the green of home.

In a grassy meadow sheltered by vast, vine-festooned canopies, there she was, calmly seated amidst the flowers. The one who’d always been there to cushion his nightmares, to break his fall. The only one he’d ever trust in this inner mindscape, no matter what it showed.

“Lesser Lord Kusanali,” he managed, willing himself to control his breathing.

She smiled, eyes glittering. “Found you.”

He hesitantly stepped forward, shivers still occasionally wracking his body even within the dream, even with her here, even through the sheer relief. “…I thought it’d be hard for you to contact me all the way out here, so far beyond the forest.”

“I thought so too,” she nodded. “But it turns out your familiar mind being here makes things a great deal easier. I’ll be here to offer advice if you need it.”

He took a seat beside her, breathing out, trying to make sense of what’d just happened. “The Sign of Apaosha, it’s… more serious than I anticipated. It’s pure Abyssal energy. I found a small being… a Pari, she calls herself. She insists she’ll sacrifice herself in order to seal it shut again.”

“The road to redemption…” she mused. “I have heard of beings like that. You’d do well to follow and aid her. The Sign burns ever brighter, it must be dealt with.”

He nodded absentmindedly, looking himself over in the meantime, touching a hand to his back. “…I was struck by some sort of Abyssal projectile. My body is out there in the desert somewhere.”

She tilted her head, as if listening for something. “Don’t worry. I’m sensing you’re in good hands. In fact, it’d be safe to wake up.”

The light started shifting. His eyes widened, and he started reaching for her. “No – Kusanali, wait – !”

She smiled. “We’ll meet again.”

The light turned blinding, and he was forced to shield his eyes instead of trying to reach out any longer. A dizzying sensation, a sense of falling, reeling, trembling, feverish – and then, voices, gradually growing clearer…

“…Lady Sorush, my lord Vijnanapati, he’s alive!”

Chapter 5: Yasnapati

Chapter Text

Purple light, green light, a gentle rosy glow, all falling into darkness equally – and then finally, wakefulness.

When he opened his eyes, he was still reeling with the remnants of feverish nightmare, struggling to focus – but gradually becoming aware of his surroundings nonetheless.

A hard, but not unyielding mattress at his back. A pillow, tossed-aside blankets. A carved sandstone ceiling. Dry air, the faint scent of incense.

Someone hovering over him.

His eyes widened, immediately flashing with panic-born fury.

“Calmly now, friend. It’s a miracle you lived. Many of us were certain you’d already passed.”

A tanned, bearded face, way too close to him. He growled, his hands balling into cramped fists, not even relaxing as the figure made a startled sound and backed away a little.

He hated waking up like this – especially after a trip to the Abyss, even if only in his mind. It was a little too similar to all those times someone with rather paler hair had hovered over his prone and restrained form, tending to him.

He swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to sit up and slam his forehead into the other person’s. “Who are you,” he demanded, voice strained.

“Ah, forgive me,” the man spoke, moving away yet further. Kintsugi immediately sat up, attempting to collect himself as the stranger went on. “I am Nasejuna, the Vijnanapati of the Order of Skeptics, we who cultivate ourselves here. One of our number found your… unconscious body in the sands nearby our settlement, so we watched over you here.”

Another figure came hovering in, smaller, rosy red. “Nameless one. I did not expect you to live after enduring the strike of that filth directly unto your body.”

Sorush. He didn’t know whether to sigh in exasperation at her presence or be oddly touched she was still here, despite having fulfilled her role of bringing him to the Vijnanapati. “I’m stronger than I look,” he remarked offhandedly.

“Most remarkable. Consider me impressed.” Sorush hovered in a little closer. “You may indeed seem feeble at first glance, but you are beginning to remind me of those humans of legend who once fought valiantly alongside us Pari.”

Nasejuna let out a stifled sputter, disguising it with a chuckle. “Lady Sorush, surely you jest…”

Kintsugi ignored the two of them as Sorush haughtily reprimanded the Skeptic for his remark, instead sitting up and taking his time to look around. He’d found himself in a bed in what looked to be a chamber carved from sandstone. There was another bed on either side of him, some chairs, some nightstands carved from athel wood… an infirmary, by the looks of it. He scoffed in derision. “I’m barely injured…” He recalled what Nasejuna had said when he’d woken. “…Wait, you thought I was already dead? How oblivious are you?” He found his hat, leaned against the side of his bed, putting it on and swinging his legs out.

“You were not breathing, my friend. Were it not for the glow of your Vision, we would have left your body for the vultures. Even in a land as storied and arcane as ours, you are most unusual.”

Ah. He supposed that made sense – his mimicry of human breathing was second nature to him, but only when actually conscious. It was nothing he was about to elaborate on, however. He stood, leaving the room without even looking at the Skeptic. “I’m not your friend.” He moved through a corridor of the same carved sandstone, disoriented but not about to turn and ask for directions of any kind. There were thin slits in the outer wall, letting in slanting sunlight – morning, he estimated. He hadn’t been out for too long, then. He was aware of the Vijnanapati and the Pari following him just a pace behind, keeping a curious eye on him.

Then he rounded a corner and was faced with an exit at last, a few steps leading down to the ground level of a massive cave that disoriented him all over again. He let out a brief growl, shielding his eyes against the light falling in from the nearby outside, taking in his surroundings.

He’d emerged from the carven interior of the cavern walls, the cave itself seemingly like a great atrium. Around and below him, wooden platforms, walkways and rope bridges made up a hidden desert settlement, its people going about their morning around him. As he looked up, he saw more doors, windows and balconies carved into the full height of the cavern walls all around, some open, some closed with worn wooden shutters. In certain places the walls were stained with age-old soot, as if a great fire had broken out and ravaged both interior and exterior at one point. He narrowed his eyes, thoughtfully observing this rare look at the community of a largely undocumented people, seeing at last how they’d managed to stay hidden so well.

…Vahumana will have a field day with this.

It was unlike any of the villages and settlements he’d been to, certainly in Sumeru. It felt… oddly like Tatarasuna, he realized with a small start. Most of the people seemed focused on practical pursuits. There were very few children present. It made sense; the Order of Skeptics had arisen from one of the Akademiya’s Darshans splitting off five hundred years ago, and presumably keeping to their ideals and occasionally recruiting others into them from the desert itself. The people varied in appearance, forest and desert ancestry intermingled; some were dressed like Eremites, others in robes similar in design to those of the Akademiya, but simpler, lighter, more suited to practical desert life – and about five hundred years removed in style, he expected.

Many of the people had looked up at his appearance in the carven entrance, but then swiftly averted their attention elsewhere as Nasejuna and Sorush joined him, perhaps not wanting to disturb the two revered figures. Only one of them, a woman in blue robes sitting at a table piled with scrolls, held his gaze just a little longer as she looked up from her reading. She smiled just a little before quickly turning back to it.

Hmm.

He turned back to the Vijnanapati. “I’m not here to stay for long,” he continued his earlier tangent. “I’ve only come to learn about your philosophies and ways of life, as the accounts of the Akademiya are sorely lacking, and as of right now, to deliver…” He faltered, let out a low growl as he realized. “…the drum…” He was fairly sure he hadn’t managed to hold on to it when he’d fallen…

Nasejuna had brightened, raising a hand as if to take his shoulder in reassurance, but simmering down a bit as he jerked away. Nonetheless, he kept smiling. “We retrieved the Korybantes, young one, don’t despair. It fell not far from your body, and was cushioned by the sand just as you were.” Nasejuna joined his side, ushering him to keep moving and matching his pace. “It is most fortunate a thing, you bringing it here, even if your road was not a smooth one.”

He turned, his mouth twisting in exasperation. “‘Korybantes’? You have a fancy made-up name for such a small thing, too?”

Nasejuna smiled, brightening. “Yes, and rightly so.”

“It’s special, then? Your… ranger didn’t seem to know what it was.” He looked around again, taking in the people even if they seemingly refused to interact with him.

Nasejuna wafted his remark aside. “It is too exalted for the likes of Pyrrho to be privy to. The Korybantes is an important catalyst for the ritual needed to forge a Laupa between ourselves and the Pari – a bond. I have searched for many years for this, and to think it now comes to me! Ah, indeed a good omen for my future plans.” He looked Kintsugi over once more. “And to think it comes in the hands of one such as you. The Lady Sorush tells me your Vision allows you the power of flight… not to mention you living through a direct strike of Apaosha’s defiled power…”

They moved out of the Skeptics’ cavern settlement and into the scorching desert sunlight, and Kintsugi immediately stared up as the Sign of Apaosha came into view, taunting him from over the cliffs. He balled his fists. His mind reeled with venomous fury at the sight of it. The Sign prevented him from rising over those cliffs. It had effectively grounded him – caged him below a certain height.

Now he was even more committed to Kusanali’s mission of clearing it up. Eradicating it. Killing it, insofar as that were possible. Nothing caged him. Only he decided where and how high he flew.

He turned, addressing the Skeptic once more. “I’ve dealt with those disgusting energies before. They will not fell me so easily.”

Sorush came floating after them, brilliant red and pink in the sunlight. “The arrival of one such as you is most auspicious, nameless one.” She considered him, uncaring of the unblinking stare he fixated her with in turn. She gave a slight nod, apparently satisfied with what she saw. “I have decided,” she announced, with a mixture of gravity and glee. “You shall have the singular honour of being my Yasnapati.”

Kintsugi blinked at last. “…Yasnapati?” He wasn’t familiar with the term, but he doubted it meant anything good. Especially with the piercing expression he could sense on Nasejuna from the corner of his eye, now.

“Do you not have such things amongst humans? Strategists, scribes, and the like? Those who exist to praise the heroes whose stories they exist in?”

He had to let out an incredulous, humourless laugh. “You want me to sing your praises? Are you serious?”

Sorush placed a wing upon her chest. “No matter how great the hero, their great deeds must be recorded and sung by others. If not, the same fate that befell ancient heroes shall befall them also… Though they may have loved violence and conflict, great deeds are still great deeds, and they deserved to be remembered.” She let out a little sigh. “Alas, those who loved conflict would be consumed by it, and once they had slain each other, they were all lost. And because there were no authors or poets to tell of their deeds, once all who had lived in such times were gone, their works were forgotten to the last. I will not be like them.”

Kintsugi had listened in mounting disbelief, mockery filling his eyes. “You won’t, will you. You’ll be remembered forever and ever.” How naive. Still, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a great idea to tell her of his immortality and regrettably perfect memory, and make himself yet more attractive to be her lackey…

“My great work shall shine so gloriously that the world itself will suffer great loss to not know of it!” Sorush proclaimed, her eyes gleaming. “Thus, I shall now give you permission to record those deeds… rejoice and give thanks, for is this not a grace that few receive from us Pari?”

He folded his arms, expression going flatter than it ever had in his life. “…This is a joke, right?” Kusanali had instructed him to aid this little creature when she’d stepped into his nightmare and shifted it to dream. It seemed like that task might just be more trouble than it was worth, however.

She hovered in closer, smugly beholding him. “Your refusal is futile. Orders given by a Pari are absolute.” She twirled past him, towards Nasejuna. “Fret not, you shall be free to do as you please once I have sacrificed myself to restore the pure skies.”

He only scoffed at her claims of absolute command – no one commanded him. He could leave anytime he wanted to. He was only here to settle his vendetta with the Sign. “…That sacrifice nonsense again?” He looked to the Skeptic. “Explain,” he demanded. “I did come to get rid of the Sign of Apaosha, and after last night I have to admit I’m even more inclined to wipe it from the sky. I hear you have knowledge on the matter.”

Nasejuna rubbed his chin, seemingly weighing his options. “Hmm… as Lady Sorush has chosen you to be her Yasnapati, I suppose it would be prudent to impart some of our knowledge. And you did say you came to learn of our ways… surely, this pilgrimage will clarify our philosophies and customs to you in ways that mere study could not…”

Kintsugi rolled his eyes. Fine. If this was the price he had to pay in order to not only carry out his Archon’s wishes and wipe the stain from this desert, but also further his own studies, then… he’d do what he had to. “In clear language.” He jerked his chin at Sorush. “The little pest was of no help yesterday, and you people love your gibberish a little too much.”

Sorush immediately bristled. “Yasnapati, watch your tongue!”

“You’d do well to respect the Lady Sorush, and the Pari in general, young one,” Nasejuna cautioned as Kintsugi glared. “They are vital to the continued existence of these lands, and indeed, all those inhabiting them, even temporarily.”

Kintsugi’s eyes remained on the Pari. “I’ll grant her as much respect as she earns.”

“Hmph. No doubt, your eyes shall soon be opened to the full extent of my glory.” She graciously spread her wings. “Discourtesy borne of ignorance is but a temporary nuisance. You are forgiven.”

Nasejuna considered the two of them for a moment, but then appeared to make up his mind. “…Very well.” He turned to the sky, gestured at the pulsing purple blot. “If the Sign must be described as anything, let us call it the water’s surface.”

Kintsugi’s face fell again. “…I said clear language.”

“The water’s reflection, while an illusion, nonetheless hides the truth within itself,” the Skeptic elaborated. “So it is with the skies. It is like a mirage, if you’ve seen those before.”

He tilted his head, a venomous glare growing in his eyes. “This is nothing like a mirage born of hot air – though there certainly is a lot of hot air here. Get to the point, Skeptic.” Only one person was allowed to waste his time with poetic analogies, and even she got on his nerves sometimes.

“It is not quite the same, I grant you,” Nasejuna allowed. “After all, that celestial sign reflects an otherworldly hellscape.”

“The Abyss,” Kintsugi guessed. No – he knew.

Nasejuna nodded. “Long, long ago, Dahri once built a facility here that connected them to realms beyond.”

Kintsugi narrowed his eyes in recognition. Khaenri’ah’s deranged ambitions. The Jester may never have been terribly chatty on the topic, but he’d pieced together that much on his own. So this had been the place where it’d all happened… right in the nation he’d decided to finally call home. Just his luck.

“…During the great disaster, which they say the Dahri started, monsters swarmed from that very facility into the nations of the world. The monsters tore open a great rift that came to be called the Tunigi Hollow, and though they were sealed away, this mysterious sign still appeared. What the sign reflects is that which lies beyond the dark rift, and though the monsters cannot enter Teyvat through that illusion, it nonetheless radiates corrupt energies.”

“A weakened veil,” Kintsugi wryly understood. “…Fantastic.”

“…They say that our very first Vijnanapati extinguished that strange sign together with the Pari, but as the power of impurity has strengthened over time, this ancient symbol has appeared once more. And should we leave it be, well…” The Skeptic spread his hands. “…Who knows? That hollow may truly re-emerge one day, and that ancient war will be reenacted.” He gave a crooked smile. “In truth, it might be interesting to live in such exciting times.”

Kintsugi could almost physically hear Kusanali’s words. Pray we don’t see such times again anytime soon. “’Interesting’,” he echoed sardonically. “Sure, that’s one way to describe it. I doubt you’d manage to find it interesting for very long, though.”

“It matters not,” Sorush piped up. “The divine bird Simurgh drank the life-giving Amrita left behind by our god, transmuting herself into limitless motes of Khvarena – soul-light.” She smugly spread her wings. “As the heirs to the divine bird, solving this problem is the mission that we Pari have. I, Sorush, will surely leave behind a work great enough to be her equal.”

Kintsugi impassively looked up at her, filing away this information. Ah, so it was about living up to some legacy. Well. He couldn’t say he hadn’t been there, either… even to the point of sacrificing everything he was. Twice, even. Of course, those had been misguided grasps for meaning and purpose that’d ultimately gotten him nowhere at all, and he was glad he’d had it beaten and psychoanalyzed out of him, respectively. Perhaps the little Pari was in dire need of the same. He’d be only too glad to provide.

Nasejuna only nodded, however, wholeheartedly agreeing with her self-destructive notions. “Of course, Khvarena’s envoy. And we of the Order of Skeptics shall surely help you see your duty through.”

“What’s with all this talk of sacrifice?” Kintsugi then bit out, unable to keep quiet on the topic. “Some solution. Five hundred years since the Cataclysm, and you still haven’t figured out a better way to deal with that filth up in the sky?” He scoffed. “Some Darshan you are.”

Nasejuna had leaned back a little bit at his acerbic tone. “Well… in truth, we Skeptics do not know the full of it, ourselves,” he reluctantly admitted, his amiable attitude visibly cooling. “All documents regarding the Sign of Apaosha have long been lost, and the traditions and rites surrounding it have also ceased to be passed down. If it hadn’t been for me constantly looking up what documents were left, there might not have been anymore left to know the Rite of Chinvat existed at all.”

The Rite of Chinvat. “So that’s the little ritual you’re planning, is it?”

Nasejuna nodded. “It is a ritual performed by the Pari that will allow us to open a path through the darkness. It is said that the first Vijnanapati, Nagarjuna, and the Pari did just that.”

“…Through the darkness,” Kintsugi repeated dryly. “You’re going to open the Sign, or the rift it reflects? And you expect to live through that?”

Sorush proudly hovered a little higher. “We must first obtain the Great Songs of Khvarena in order to initiate the Rite. They shall light the way and shield our steps.”

Khvarena. That word again… Sorush had called it soul-light, and said she was one of the heirs of a divine bird made of the stuff. “That sounds like your job,” he remarked. “So why haven’t you done that yet? Too great a task for the mighty Sorush?”

She whipped around to face him. “You dare speak to me like that, my Yasnapati? Clearly, you require a few lessons in courtesy.” As he only grinned, she let out a small huff. “Only the Pari who have been chosen as a Bloomguard can touch the Great Songs. I, Sorush, am doing my utmost to live up to that esteemed title.”

“…But you’re not. Living up to it.” He couldn’t stop smirking as she squirmed, no matter how she tried to hide her flustered state. Nasejuna took over for her, and Kintsugi turned to him in amusem*nt. “Only by obtaining the Twin-Horned Chaplet may Lady Sorush become the Bloomguard. As such she must first be acknowledged by Lady Zurvan, the First Pari.”

“But that elder of ours is… utterly unreasonable,” Sorush sputtered. “She refuses to acknowledge my dearest desire.”

Kintsugi tilted his head, taking in this first actual admission of troubled weakness from the Pari. He couldn’t prevent himself from feeling… something, despite it all.

Acknowledgement from an elder. A feeling of incompleteness without a certain item, a way to carry out a certain role she felt she was born for. The posturing, the insistence she knew exactly what she was doing – what she was worth.

My dearest desire.

…He’d be lying to himself if he said he couldn’t understand that. And he was done lying to himself.

…And it was starting to look like he did need her to wipe the Sign from the sky, as one who’d be able to lead him to these Great Songs and initiate the Rite of Chinvat, no matter how asinine. The Skeptics really did know more about these lands than he or even Kusanali did, he had to admit that much, and he’d be a fool to ignore the information he was offered.

…And… Sorush’ ‘dearest desire’ seemed, to him, right now, to be just as destructive as his own had been, not that long ago. He didn’t like that very much. He didn’t like that at all. There had to be something he could do to change the course of it all, the direction the Skeptics only seemed too happy to usher the Pari towards. In order to do so, he’d have to stay by her side.

…Damn Kusanali and the Traveler for making him allow himself that blasted, infantile empathy he’d managed so nicely to scour from his empty chest for the past four centuries.

He heaved a sigh, giving in. “Bring me to this Zurvan.” He turned to look at Sorush. “I’m your… Yasnapati, yes? Your storyteller. As ridiculous as you are… perhaps if I do the talking, she’ll be persuaded and we’ll be able to get on with it.”

He’d use her, and she’d use him. The recipe for a stable cooperation. Empathy or no, it wasn’t much different from the way he was used to seeing the world. Or at least, so he told himself.

Sorush’s eyes had widened minutely. He had to suppress his amusem*nt – for one lacking most facial features, her expressions were still an open book to him. “You would aid me thus, Yasnapati…?” She lightly shook herself, ruffling up like a preening dusk bird. “…Of course you would. Your purpose is to sing my praises and chronicle my tale, it would be a most fitting first task to persuade elder Zurvan of my qualities.” She gave a little nod. “It is settled, then. I shall guide you and allow you access to the Vourukasha Oasis, where she resides. She may yet change her mind.”

“I wish I could find the place myself, but it seems like I’m going to need you for everything, including navigation,” he sighed, glaring up at the Sign of Apaosha. Not only had it downed him, it now forced him into cooperation with this exhausting little being. “…Let’s get this over with.” He turned to Nasejuna. “And you and your Order?” he demanded. “You’d better not sit idle, either.”

“There is much I must do, Yasnapati,” the Skeptic hurried to assure him. “The preparations for the Rite of Chinvat must still be done. I must also consult the words of the ancient scribes once more to ascertain the locations of the Great Songs.” He looked back into the Order’s camp. “As for the Kory drum you brought, I believe I may now form a connection once more with the Pari who still remain in slumber. Their awakening is necessary for the Rite of Chinvat to occur.”

Sorush let out a little scoff. “Hmph. Were it that I could suffice. Those lazy louts are not worthy of being part of the Rite, nor of my glorious tale. Alas.”

Nasejuna spread his hands in apology. “Regardless, I leave the matter of the Twin-Horned Chaplet to you two. Once everything is complete, let us meet here again.”

“Sure. It won’t take long.” Kintsugi was about to turn on his heel and wait for Sorush to point the way – but then reconsidered, recalling the blue-robed woman inside the Skeptic settlement that’d glanced his way. He turned to Sorush for a moment, idly gestured for Nasejuna to stand down. “Hold that thought.” He strode back into the cavern, quickly approaching the woman still lost in her scroll. “You.”

She abruptly looked up, her eyes going wide. “M-me?”

“You’re the one that found me in the desert.”

She stammered, unable to hold his piercing gaze for long. He gave a private little smirk. Yeah – this was the one that’d found a mysterious young man in the sand at night, not breathing even though his Vision was still alive with light, but otherwise normal in appearance, and seen him carried to safety. Luckily he hadn’t shattered anything or dislocated any of his joints this time, dissipating the illusion of his humanity. He’d been low enough in the air when he’d lost consciousness. He’d learned that lesson well, at least.

“I – I’m Sosi,” she managed, clearly flustered. “A scholar here. I study the various scattered monuments our Order and the Pari left… I heard you land in the night, and… I carried you back here. You’re very light.” Her cheeks flushed a little, and she looked away again. “…Ahem… I’m glad you’re alright.”

He chuckled to himself. He knew that expression. He wasn’t unaware of his appearance and its effects on certain people, especially when his sharp tongue was silenced; he’d used those perceptions of him to his advantage numerous times in the past. However, unless there really was something he could get out of this, those days were behind him now. “I’m in your debt,” he told her instead. “If there is anything I can do in return, name it.”

She flushed brighter. “I…”

“No need to make up your mind right now,” he remarked, already turning to leave, raising his hand in a little wave. “I’ll be back at some point. See you around.”

“I… a-alright!”

He left the cave, joining back up with a slightly puzzled Sorush. “You are ready to depart, Yasnapati?”

“I am.”

“Very well. Then follow my guidance.” She seemed quite eager to set off, and he shared the sentiment. Soon enough, the Skeptic settlement was behind them as they passed through the ravine – walking, not flying for now, as Kintsugi figured he’d do well to first scout the area at a reasonable pace before he threw himself headfirst into the unknown again.

They moved along in silence, the only sounds those of the wind and the rattle of dry vegetation. Kintsugi was almost pleasantly surprised at the Pari’s diminished chattiness, but of course, that thought was shattered almost as soon as it arose. “…You still will not relinquish your true name to me, Yasnapati?”

“This again?” He sighed. “No. ‘Yasnapati’ will do just fine. It’s better if you don’t care and don’t nag me about it.”

“Hmm. It matters not, I suppose. The bond between my glorious self and my ‘singer-of-praises’ is built upon stronger matter than personal trust. The offer of your name will not be needed for our bond to endure until the moment of my transcendence, and afterward, I am ensured the tale shall not leave your lips again.”

“Singer-of-praises,” Kintsugi mused. “The title doesn’t specify whose praises, though, now does it…”

“Brazen lout, you can’t mean – !” Sorush sputtered. “Pray, take this seriously! You know not what you stand to witness!”

“You know not who you just made your Yasnapati,” he countered. “Maybe your mighty sacrifice won’t even be necessary with me entering the equation. And after you live through whatever is to come, maybe I’ll make you my Yasnapati.” He grinned foully. “I think I’ll have earned one after all this nonsense, don’t you?”

“I already said you need not interfere!” Sorush insisted hotly. “Simply witnessing my sacrifice shall suffice!” She huffed. “It is something worth celebrating that we Pari should sacrifice our lives to purify the earth!”

He grinned. “Well, you say that now, but…”

“I would ask that you keep a respectful distance from that which you do not comprehend,” she haughtily interjected. “I shall lead the way. You merely need follow me to the end.”

Despite himself, despite his lingering annoyance at being pressganged into this journey with her, he had to chuckle at having a creature so similar to Paimon at his side, of all things – loud, chatty, full of herself, and easily brought off-balance. He briefly entertained the idea of Sorush and the other floating pest interacting, and had to stifle a laugh. Just perhaps, she’d loathe Sorush even more than she did him…

What the Pari said next captured his attention even from these amused thoughts, however. “Let me take you to the place where my fated sacrifice shall take place, along the path on our way to the Oasis. Let me show you the scars left behind by a fissure that once led beyond our world’s bounds. Then, I assure you, you will want to sing.”

He strolled along, finding himself just a little intrigued despite everything. “I sincerely doubt it, but it does sound like it’d be worth a look.”

Chapter 6: Fravashi

Chapter Text

The sun had risen over the canyon’s walls, baking them as though in a clay oven.

The day was hot, the wind was filled with sand, steadily filling Kintsugi’s sandals and clothes and hair with it, and he couldn’t fly up.

Then, adding insult to injury, the traitorous wind had blown a thorny tumbleweed past him, ripping his sleeve.

It was enough to pull a string of heated Inazuman curses from his lips. Sorush had curiously turned to him. “What language, Yasnapati!”

“Listen and learn,” he’d remarked, not looking up from where he held and irately inspected his sleeve. “That’s it, we’re stopping. Those rocks look fine.”

“You finally succumb to the heat of the day?”

“Tch. I don’t succumb to anything.” He paced over to the canyon wall, taking a seat in the meager shade on some crumbled sandstone rubble, dry grass sprouting around the base of the heap. He ran his sleeve through his fingers again, then fished needle and thread from his pocket. Sorush hovered in, curiously beholding him. “What is this?”

“What’s it look like?” He began sewing up the tear. “I spend a lot of time outside. Fabric tears. I’d like for it to not get worse until I can get this to a tailor eventually.”

“No, I mean… this.” Sorush’ voice was different, and she’d hovered down to the sandy stones at his feet, where something else had accidentally fallen out of his pocket. “Why do you carry a simulacrum of yourself, Yasnapati?”

His eyes flicked up from his work, and immediately narrowed. He dropped to one knee, snatching up the object of her interest where she cradled it in her wings, poking at it. “Give me that.” He carefully, gently brushed the sand off the soft little doll in his palm, then tucked it back into his pocket with the utmost care as well. “That’s none of your business.”

Sorush had followed his every movement, clearly not expecting such tenderness from him. “You do realize you’ve piqued my curiosity, Yasnapati. I will have it satisfied. I demand you tell me the purpose of this object. In this barren land, it will not do to carry around frivolities without use.” She tutted. “How vain, bearing an image of oneself…”

“That’s not…” He let out a little growl. “…It’s not me. It’s… my little brother. I’m holding on to it for him. Keeping it safe.”

“You have come to the wrong land for that, I fear.” Sorush paused for a moment. “Pray, where is this younger brother now? Far away from the dangers of this Girdle of the Sands, I hope.”

Kintsugi opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t answer – not a quickly made-up one, not the truth, nothing at all. His throat tightened. He turned away, pulling down his hat.

To her credit, Sorush understood. “…Ah. My sympathies, my Yasnapati.”

“…Shut up.” He turned back to his sewing, and didn’t speak again. He missed how Sorush looked ahead, a troubled look filling her own eyes, her wing resting on her chest as though soothing an ache.

The sun had reached its zenith when the canyon finally opened before them, and Kintsugi’s sullen steps faltered in bafflement.

The view ahead was unlike anything he’d ever seen in this world. It was another world, bursting in, tearing through the fabric of this one.

Five great, angled spikes of jagged grey crystal, flaking like ash, wreathed in dark, blighted, glimmering purple energy, surrounding a whirling pit descending into a miasma of the same foreboding hue. The sky had gone dark and dusty overhead, only letting through a ruddy glow on the horizon and the hateful gleam of the Sign of Apaosha itself, wavering through the clouds. Blighted, broken trees bravely but miserably clung to the rocks and dunes surrounding the unearthly landmark, accompanied by very little other life. Life seemed to avoid this place. Kintsugi couldn’t fault it.

“So this… this is the rift, then,” he heard himself say. “Tunigi Hollow. The scar left by Khaenri’ah’s hubristic meddling.” The entire area felt so wrong he could barely describe it.

Sorush nodded solemnly, hovering next to him. “And the place where I will make my fated sacrifice. Witness it well.”

“I’m witnessing.” He couldn’t not. This was the Abyss, come to Teyvat, tearing up through the earth in a frozen eruption. It was haunting. “Those grey crystals,” he muttered. “I’ve been seeing them all over, but none as big as these. You know what they are exactly?”

She nodded. “Remnants of the black fire’s embers. Proof that this land has suffered great calamity. It rose from beneath the earth and scorched the land. The demons of Dev that crawled through that gap nearly turned this land into a lightless realm.”

“Until the Skeptics and Pari stopped it?” He knew he had to step forward. He couldn’t really bring himself to.

Sorush shook her head. “It was the honoured lord of Khvarena, the divine bird Simurgh. She drank the primordial waters of the Amrita, left behind by our god, before transforming herself into Khvarena of all kinds and scattering across the land.”

He glanced up at her, finding himself wanting to understand. “So… Simurgh is not your god. Two different powers-that-be.” Amrita and Khvarena. …Bloody complicated.

“Simurgh lives on in the Khvarena that has taken her place in defending this land, and sealing the painful memories that leaked out through that rift,” Sorush explained. “Our god… you shall meet her soon. She rests at the Vourukasha Oasis, the home and birthplace of all Pari.” Sorush gazed out at the giant crystalline spires. “The grey crystals, meanwhile, contain objects that are yet to be purified. When we gather enough of Khvarena’s might, we may be able to get rid of them. That is what the Vijnanapati and I aim to accomplish by initiating the Rite of Chinvat.” She turned to him. “You are awfully quiet, Yasnapati. Awestruck by the greatness of my task?”

“What? No.” He strode forward at last. “I’m trying to figure out a way to get rid of you, so I can go do it myself.” He lightly stepped into the air, hovering over the irregular, increasingly jagged dunes down to the great sealed rift, his halo a bright, pristine contrast with the blighted landscape. “I have made it my personal mission to steal your glory, you do realize that.”

“The world is built upon conflict and sacrifice,” she shot back. “Are you certain you would be up to that task?”

“How very Skeptic of you,” he remarked. “You’re just going to keep parroting everything they say? I for one am going to find another way and outdo you all. I’m good at that. I’ve even outwitted gravity.”

“And yet the Sign of Apaosha has outwitted you,” she retorted smartly.

“Until I outwit it.” He glanced her way as they floated over the dunes together. “The way it brought me down was hardly witty, either. It stabbed me in the back.”

“The powers of Dev are not known for fighting fair.”

“Hmm. So why would you?”

She made to reply, but was cut off as he suddenly tilted his head, having caught a glimpse of something at the heart of the whirling rift. Up close like this, the opaque purple miasma seemed clearer, seemed to be showing something. Different colours than that uniform purple. Something green, peeking through the clearing blight as if it’d suddenly turned to rippling glass…

He hovered right over the maw between the grey crystals, his eyes widening as he stared down. “What…”

He appeared to be hovering over a massive cavern beneath the earth, only separated from it by that glassy surface. There was a hollow tree down there, directly below him, a light blooming within its massive trunk, its roots sprawling out through a pool of luminous water, surrounded by a sea of flowers. A beacon of green, of life, lush and vibrant. All that beneath the blighted desert, away from the light… an entire paradise, somehow sealed away like that…

“…What am I looking at?” he inquired, unable to tear his eyes away. “What’s down there?”

“’Down there’?” Sorush tittered in amusem*nt. “Ah, foolish Yasnapati…”

His gaze snapped up to her. “What?” He narrowed his eyes, thinking it over. “…Don’t tell me… this is also a ‘water’s surface’? Like the Sign of Apaosha?” What had the Skeptics’ leader told him… “An illusion, hiding the truth?”

“Aha, an observation most keen! Yes, you shall be most worthy to recount my tale after this is all over.” Sorush nodded, turning away. “For now, pay it no heed. All shall become clear in time.”

“Amusing yourself, are you…?” He glanced back down, through what he could still swear was a glassy, see-through surface, even if it whirled with Abyssal purple at the edges of the pit. “…I’ll have you know I don’t take well to being deceived. If I find out I’m being toyed with in any way, there’ll be no mercy for you.”

“My Yasnapati would do well to save his strength and breath for the path ahead.” Sorush carelessly floated off across the pit towards the dunes and sandstone formations beyond. Kintsugi could do little but follow, his face darkening. “You’d best hope that road isn’t too long.”

“These matters cannot be rushed. The road shall be as long as it need be.” She kept hovering off, and far too smugly for Kintsugi’s liking at that. He huffed, looking away in annoyance, scanning the murky, jagged horizon under the cloudy sky – anything to distract from the fact he was forced to follow the whims of his bigheaded little tour guide.

Doing so, he caught just the merest glimpse of green, up on one of the step-like cliffs leading up out of the pit. He narrowed his eyes. “…What’s that?”

“Whatever do you mean, Yasnapati? Yasnapati…!” Sorush started, whirling around as he summoned his halo and rose into the air, flying over to the singular speck of green life within Tunigi Hollow. “Do not wander astray! Return to me at once! I alone can guide you reliably to the Oasis – !”

“Looks like a tree,” he mused, paying her no heed whatsoever, only too glad to agitate her as he got closer, eventually lightly landing on the sandy overhang. “A weird tree.” He stood before a stocky little shrub, its trunk looping around and in on itself in a circular whorl of bark, eventually sprouting a tuft of frayed, dusty leaves blowing in the barren wind.

“…Is this how they look now?” Sorush muttered, hovering over his shoulder once again. “How pitiful.”

He glanced her way. “I didn’t take you for the pitying sort.”

“…Never mind. I just happened to witness the undignified state of my kind, but it’s no matter.”

“This is a Pari?” He turned back to the tree. “…‘No matter’?” He gave a foul, surprised chuckle, masking his actual feelings on this sudden, sobering revelation. “Didn’t know you had it in you, little pest. We may yet get along…”

“Oh, cease, Yasnapati.” She’d slightly turned away, obviously uncomfortable. “These Fravashi trees are Pari that fought till the very end against the defilement that had been corrupting the land. Using the last remnants of their power, they transformed into this state that you see now.” She sighed. “Looking at the sight of her clinging desperately to this world… how absurd and pathetic.”

“Yeah?” He looked a little closer. “How’d she go out? Not gloriously enough for your liking, I suppose. You’re really upping the stakes for your own upcoming sacrifice, you know. You’d better not be setting me up for disappointment.”

“Hers was a meaningless act compared to true sacrifice,” the Pari spoke, turning to him in slight, huffy indignation. “Not only did she exhaust her strength to the point where she could no longer maintain her form, but she also managed to get herself tainted to the point where the Vourukasha Oasis now rejects her.” She turned again, looking to the direction they’d come from, the Skeptics’ settlement. “Legend has it that in ancient times, the Order of Skeptics would hold a ritual of purification for these Pari, so as to bring them all back to the Oasis. But nowadays, there remains no one in the Order who is able to perform such. The best they can do is but to keep these Fravashi trees alive.”

“No surprise there. More fool you for relying on them in the first place.”

“…What is more, this only prolongs the Pari’s suffering. Judging by her current appearance, she seems to have nothing left but the bitter memories she has to endure alone.”

Kintsugi beheld the stunted little tree, seemingly impassive, his arms folded. Sorush let out another little sigh, and turned to keep moving.

Kintsugi did not. He didn’t move a muscle, staying right where he was. “…Is there anything we can do.”

Sorush turned back to him. “Being compassionate is indeed one of the great Simurgh’s many noble qualities,” she began. “But one cannot survive here with merely a kind heart.”

He looked at her, unwavering. “Don’t kid yourself. I don’t have a heart.”

The Pari blinked, faltered. “…Yasnapati… don’t trifle me with baseless metaphor.” She shook herself, as though ruffling up feathers, glancing back at the tree. “…Such is our fate. Perhaps it is her wish to continue guarding this land in such a manner.”

“You’re going to cleanse this whole desert, aren’t you? Or was that all just talk?” His voice grew a little more forceful, a little venomous. “Prove it. Cleanse her memories and remove her influence to prove to me that you’re really gonna wipe out the corruption, rendering any lesser guardian unnecessary.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or I may just reconsider and send you on your merry way to the Oasis alone. No skin off my back.”

“I – !” She rushed towards him, stopping just short of his face, irately bringing down her wings. “Hmph! Fine! I shall wake her up with my power and let you listen to her dimming voice.” She turned to the tree with a little swish, spreading her wings, her entire being flaring with a flower-shaped burst of rosy light. Kintsugi curiously looked on as she displayed her power for the first time – perhaps she wasn’t all talk, after all?

The rosy light reached full bloom, dimming away after a brief flash. Kintsugi blinked – nothing had changed. He scoffed. “Some savior you are –”

Sorush hovered back to him, placing a wing on his shoulder, silencing him at once. His face twisted into an affronted scowl, and he made to pull away – but then he saw it. A little figure, translucent green, hovering at the heart of the whorl of wood and bark – a Pari. Or whatever was left of her.

She looked around in confusion, then fear. “Aahh!” she yelled out, cowering behind her wings. “Run! Run! Run!”

Kintsugi immediately looked around and behind himself. Nothing. “Run…? From what?”

“I’ll explain later!” the little spirit replied. “C’mon, quick!” And she was off, zipping away over Tunigi Hollow’s pit, leaving Kintsugi and Sorush behind. Sorush had covered her face with one wing in secondhand embarrassment. “How senseless… holding on to the impulses of a life long forfeit…”

“Shouldn’t we…” Kintsugi stared after the panicked little green specter, darting ever further away, and then simply made up his mind. He lifted off, flying after her. “Show me the way, then,” he told her, easily keeping up.

“Run, run, run…”

The little being was clearly only a fragment of a former Pari – there was nothing to run from, and nowhere to run to. Their feverish, zigzagging flight led them aimlessly over the Hollow, then eventually back to the Fravashi tree, all starts and stops and incoherent little rambles. When returned to the coils of the tree, however, some measure of peace seemed to return to the diminutive spirit. She gave a few little pants, narrow chest heaving. “…Alright… there’s no way those defiled beings can catch up with us.” She gave a resolute nod. “I’ll go and return to the Oasis.” And with that, without another word, she faded into a green glimmer – soon turning to gold, and taking another shape, floating at the heart of the Fravashi tree.

Kintsugi hesitantly reached out to it. “A… feather?”

“It is a plume of purifying light,” Sorush told him, voice oddly quiet. “The remains of her Khvarena, freed from her personal desires. It is to be returned to the Oasis’ Amrita.”

He carefully touched the plume, only startling a little bit as it faded, fragments of golden light clinging to his hand before vanishing. “…Heh. Seems like I did better than your Skeptic friends have for hundreds of years.” He turned his hand this way and that, but nothing seemed to stand out for now. Then he realized something, giving a smug little smile while bringing the hand in question to his chest. “…In fact, I may have been destined for it.”

“How so?” Sorush looked him over, puzzled, but then took note of the other golden feather, the one he’d already been wearing. Her eyes widened a little. “Pray, what is that? I did take note earlier, but did not think to ask.”

He ran the gleaming token between his fingers. “A gift, from my…” Creator? Mother? What did he say here? Did the Pari have mothers? “…What is Zurvan to you exactly?”

Sorush tilted her head. “Lady Zurvan is the First Pari, elder to all my kind. She oversees matters in the Vourukasha Oasis as well as everything that is carried out in these lands, but rarely ever leaves the Oasis herself, and has certainly isolated herself from humans.” Her eyes went a little distant, turning to the heights of the Temir Mountains where Kintsugi assumed they barred their way to the Oasis. “…She is protective, but also harsh, keeping information to herself and rarely reaching out to others unless the situation is very dire indeed. I am convinced she is out of touch with the current state of affairs, which is why I wish to sway her ways of thinking… especially about me.”

Kintsugi took all this in, as well as the growing sincerity and hints of frustration in the Pari’s voice as she spoke. Then he nodded. “Yeah. A gift from someone just like that. She gave me this and very little else.” He hovered up. “…Let’s get going.”

As they set off on their way again, he turned back to Sorush mid-flight. “So… this plume. What do I do with it exactly?”

“We must return it to the Amrita Pool at the Vourukasha Oasis. There, the Khvarena of the plume will combine with the Amrita, giving rise to a Pari once more.”

Kintsugi blinked, momentarily forgetting his flight path and just barely spinning out of the way of one of the giant grey crystals lancing up from the swirling Hollow. “…What?”

Sorush looked back. “What?”

“You said her energy was spent. I assumed…”

Sorush looked ahead again. “We Pari do not ‘die’ in the same manner as humans. Through the Amrita, we are reborn, again and again. The Khvarena that makes up our bodies is eternal and self-renewing. Such is the gift of the mighty Simurgh.”

Kintsugi let himself be guided away from the Hollow and back into the hidden gorges between the sandstone cliffs, touching down to the rocky ground and resuming the journey on foot, trusting Sorush’ judgement in staying low. He suddenly had his doubts on basically everything else, however. “…You’re even fuller of yourself than I thought.” He’d turned to her as he walked, so incredulous he was grinning with it, a baffled, wide-eyed thing. “If you reincarnate, why would you want your praises sung? You’ll get to have your heroic little sacrifice and personally enjoy the renown for it when you rise again, too?! That’s not a sacrifice at all!”

Sorush huffed, speechless for a moment. “You…! We Pari are not reborn as ourselves, ignorant misbeliever! This plume shall arise as a Pari as weak and naive as a newborn sprout – and I, when I have sacrificed myself to the heart of the corruption, shall be lucky to even leave a plume to be recovered! It is more likely for me to be scattered into as many motes of pure Khvarena as there are stars in the sky, and be showered over the land, like the great Simurgh did in ages past!”

He considered this. “Then what’s the difference between Pari rebirth and regular death?”

Sorush turned away, balling her wings into something like little fists beside her body. “You could not hope to understand! Perhaps Lady Zurvan was right on this at least – certain topics are not to be discussed amongst outsiders!”

“…Ah.” He quieted for a moment, keeping a sideways eye on his little companion as she remained turned away from him even as she guided him through the gorge.

…So there was no difference. Their life energy might return in a new body, but the Pari themselves did die as surely as anyone else. As carriers of purifying Khvarena, they were destined to spend that life energy to cleanse the land, and they considered this a great honour and personal duty – but it did take their lives. A cruel cycle indeed, but one that came naturally to them, one the Pari understood and accepted without complaint.

…Except Sorush, so adamant to make her mark and be remembered for it. So adamant to be the last Pari to possess ‘her’ life energy, at that. Almost as if claiming it for her own, desperately clinging to it.

Look at me. See me shine. Remember me. Know my name.

…He hated how much he could relate to that. Once upon a time, anyway, in a previous life. In this one, he couldn’t care less. Still…

Sorush huffily kept quiet as they passed through the desert ravine, and Kintsugi made use of the silence to continue thinking. There was an odd beauty in knowing everything that once made up ‘you’ would surely return in some other form, some other individual. Like flowers from a grave…

…The Traveler had once told him there was a sea of flowers atop the cliffs around Tatarasuna, now, courtesy of some girl – a homesick former resident, returned after the Tatarigami had been cleansed from the great furnace. He’d liked that, even if they’d been planted simply because the girl loved flowers, not in memory of anyone in particular.

…He liked to think there were flowers by the island’s seaside, too, pushing up amongst the faded remains of a small, charred cottage. And yet… and yet…

Sorush had finally turned back to him, taking note of his uncharacteristic silence, the expression on his face. “…Yasnapati, what occupies you so?”

He glanced up at her. “I was just thinking. I would prefer for some that died to have lived, even if only a little longer, rather than admire the flowers that arose from their graves. That’s all.”

She blinked, faltered, stared for a little while, even as he quietly turned away again, even as they kept moving. “…It is something worth celebrating that we Pari should sacrifice our lives to purify the earth,” she spoke then, repeating what she’d told him earlier, but her voice lacked all her usual fire.

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

Chapter 7: Nirodha

Chapter Text

After leaving Tunigi Hollow behind for the myriad of sand-strewn gorges cutting through the desert landscape, Sorush had the bare-faced audacity to lead Kintsugi to a cave opening. When they rounded the bend in the reddish sandstone walls, at first he’d been puzzled, as the opening itself had been sealed off with a crust of ashy grey crystal. “A dead end, again? You know, you’re really losing credibility as a guide, Sorush…”

She’d huffed, floating in. “Using Khvarena’s might, I shall make short work of them,” she announced. “Worry not –”

“I’m not worried,” he’d scoffed, cutting her off. “But I am doubtful.” He’d folded his arms as he glared up at the sandstone formations. “There’s really no better way than crawling through there?”

“We have a need to pass the Temir Mountains,” she’d explained with infuriating, infantilizing patience, as if he didn’t know that. “The Sign of Apaosha blocks the skies. Therefore we shall need to pass under them, instead.” She’d co*cked her head. “Frightened, Yasnapati? Of the dark, of small spaces, perhaps?”

“Tch.” He’d looked away. “…Very little frightens me. It’s just beneath me, that’s all.”

Back when he’d still been Scaramouche, but after his fall from grace as Shouki no Kami, he’d had many talks with Kusanali in the airy chambers in the Sanctuary where he’d been both a prisoner and a recovering patient. They’d discussed many things, among which his obsession with the Gnosis and godhood itself. He could still hear her.

We only yearn for the skies because we cannot fly, she’d told him, earnest and compassionate. It’d been like she’d spoken a language he didn’t understand at the time, but he’d listened anyway. Perhaps you should reflect on this, now you’ve held the sheer emptiness of the skies in your grasp.

Little had they both known, he’d make her analogy a reality not even that much later – and even in a literal sense, he’d been forced to admit she was right. Now that flying was as easy as breathing to him, he didn’t feel the need to do it all the time, or to fly too high or too far. He enjoyed it, but there was no sense in flying just for the sake of flying.

Nonetheless, now that he had spent so much time with the skies in his grasp, he was very reluctant to lose sight of them. Especially in some cramped tunnel, without knowing where its end lay – especially when forced into trusting another to get him out again. “…This better not waste too much of my time. I won’t be dragged through the dust any longer than I have to.”

“Ha, I knew you would see the merit of my ways.” Sorush swished past him and to the grey crystals, mustering her rosy light and spreading her wings, forming that glowing, flowery pattern again. It kept radiating off her as she kept her wings spread, hovering in place, gradually melting the crystals away. “Pass through, Yasnapati. I shall keep the way clear.”

“…Wait…” He hesitated, but felt compelled to step through the passage and into the cavern nonetheless. He would not be seen as weak in any way. Still… “…You don’t mean…”

She closed her wings, rejoining his side as the light died away. Immediately, the crystals surged back in, sealing their path and whisking away the cloudy sunlight. Kintsugi growled, skin prickling in annoyance born of something else. “…Great. Fantastic.” His voice wavered a little, and he inwardly cursed at himself, but Sorush hadn’t seemed to notice. “The mighty Sorush, too weak to even keep away some measly crystals –”

“The corruption is too powerful. When not battled directly, it will encroach once more,” she explained in a slight huff. “My Khvarena is mighty, but it cannot yet keep the powers of Dev at bay indefinitely, not while the Sign waxes above. Fear not, however. We shall find our way through and emerge unscathed on the other side of the great mountains.”

There was still a little light, filtering in through cracks in the mountainside too small to pass through, even for Sorush. In that gloom, they set off again, footsteps echoing between the tunnel walls. “You’d better be right,” Kintsugi grouched. “It’d just be adding insult to injury to not just be forced to follow you, but follow you into a trap as well.”

“It is you that insults me, Yasnapati,” Sorush retorted, snootily swaying from side to side at his shoulder. “This is no trap. This desert has been my home for all my days, and we Pari are at one with the land. I know the way.”

The tunnel led down, making him slide a little on the loose sand. After a few moments, the walls around them grew festooned in tree roots, gnarled, ancient things wrapping around the cracked rock, probably helping to cradle it and keep it in place. At least there was no danger of a landslide this way, he supposed. He resisted the urge to dash ahead in flight, not knowing when the tunnel would bend, instead sullenly following Sorush on foot and constantly minding his step, tilting his head to make sure his hat didn’t bump into anything.

“We make good progress,” she told him after a little while. He scoffed again. “How can you tell?”

She gestured ahead. “There is a landmark up ahead.”

He followed her gaze, his eyes widening. The cavern opened up, he realized, more light flooding in from various cracks and crevices higher up in the ceiling. It wasn’t just high, but deep as well, the ground falling away into a mass of scattered grey crystal – and one giant, haunting, frozen figure reaching all the way up from the bottom of the cave to their level. It dominated the cavern, all the scarce light refracting off it, rendering it strangely radiant in the gloom.

“A wenut,” he muttered. “Trapped in the crystal…”

“Hmm?” Sorush glanced at him as he stared. “So you call these children of an ancient dragon the wenut?” She turned back to the crystallized form of the great burrowing serpent, halted and preserved midway through drilling into the cavern. “Still, it does not have a ‘sinful form’. Perhaps it was merely unlucky to have been caught in the crossfire and sealed here.”

“‘Sinful form’?” He had to distract himself. He rose, hovering around the frozen wenut to where the cave opened into another tunnel, warily keeping his eyes on the creature’s pointy snout as he floated past. Light and shadow played across the faceted surfaces, almost making it seem like it was moving, following him with its eyeless face.

“It is of this world, not of the Dev.” Sorush caught his expression, the way he kept his attention on the creature. “However, it will not be returning to life. It has been sealed in its crystallized state for centuries. Perhaps the only fate that awaits it is gradual dissolution.”

Grim. The creature had simply burrowed through this mountain one day, finding itself trapped like this from one moment to the next, and… that had been it. It’d never wake again. It’d never get out.

“This unfortunate soul and countless others were frozen at the moment that calamity struck,” Sorush went on, filling the uneasy silence. “But many more suffered even graver fates than this poor fool, for they have already been worn away beneath the grinding passing of time itself. To this day, nothing remains of them. Not memory nor memorial.” She looked back at the wenut as they entered the tunnel. “This one only lingers because of its immense size, and the fact that it has been hidden away in this cave from the glaring eye of the sun and lashing winds. Thus, the intactness of its condition.”

Kintsugi had grown more and more tense. He wasn’t sure if Sorush had been trying to keep him occupied by talking, but it hadn’t helped one bit. Now he couldn’t get the idea of an eternity in this cave out of his head. “Tell me something else,” he gritted out.

“Oh, hmm…” Sorush considered for a moment, glancing back again. “…From what I heard my elder speak of, aside from the Order of Skeptics, there were also researchers from the forest here seeking inquiry at some point. Some of them believed the… wenut… is the mature state of a quicksand eel.” She let out a little derisive chuckle. “To hold such theories and assumptions makes one worry for the contents recorded by these humans.”

That got a little chuckle out of him too, despite everything. “Ah, but if no one ever got anything wrong, there’d be no drama at the Akademiya. All these students and scholars, so eager to find errors in one another’s work… Hah, the extreme lengths they’ll go to to prove themselves ‘better’ in any way…” He landed at last, no longer attempting to levitate through the increasingly cramped tunnel. He decided distracting himself was the best course of action. “…It’s truly pathetic. It’s a pity you’ll never witness it. Although the Skeptics do seem similarly harebrained.”

Sorush floated a little higher, as high as the tunnel allowed. “Do not look down on them. After all, it is they who will keep the splendid records of my glorious task after its completion. Surely they will become sacred texts, treasured forever…”

Kintsugi glanced back – he couldn’t quite get the wenut out of his head. He felt even more of a need to refute his little companion than usual. “…Nothing lasts forever. Even that creature will crumble to dust one day… and likewise, your records will be destroyed eventually, or copied by someone with an agenda of their own, twisting your words, obfuscating the truth, or any number of other possibilities.”

This seemed to unnerve Sorush greatly. “My deeds… I mean, the deeds of us Pari should be eternal. How can such a thing be compared to that which might part into dust and ash?” She ruffled herself. “…If something cannot be recorded properly, then there must be something wrong with the method.”

He gave a quiet, amused huff. “Granted, we could do with more stable forms of record-keeping,” he allowed. He looked up. The tunnel had started leading upwards, once again lined with roots – thorny ones, this time. He folded his sleeves out of the way, but couldn’t bring himself to take off his hat, not even to protect it. He felt vulnerable enough as it was.

The tunnel was narrowing. The ceiling was getting lower, too. He didn't like that, not one bit. He swallowed, willing himself to calm - he would not let this get to him. He was stronger than that. “Are we almost through?” he asked, in what he hoped could pass for an offhand tone. “…This tunnel grows rather tiresome.”

“Almost. We should see the light from outside soon,” Sorush assured him. “My guidance is faultless, my Yasnapati. There is no need to fear.”

He growled, the sound bouncing back to him off the crumbling, thorn-lined walls as he ploughed upwards through the scattered sand. “I'm not afraid –”

But then the Pari abruptly left this side, and his pace faltered. “– Sorush?” He hated how feeble his voice sounded, all of a sudden.

He looked up, and his stomach twisted.

There was no daylight. The way was shut.

Sorush had hovered up to the heap of collapsed rock that’d cut off their path, motionless for a moment. “…Ah. There must have been a landslide on the other side… how inconvenient…”

This place is huge… I can’t believe the landslide didn’t fill it in…

He shivered, then clenched his jaw. No. No. Don’t be stupid. “We turn back, then. Your plan failed. I’ll take my chances flying over the mountain.”

Sorush fussed over the rocks for a moment, hovered up to the tunnel’s ceiling, where a tiny sliver of light came glinting in. “Ah!” she exclaimed. “A way through. Most excellent. I’ll be but a moment, my Yasnapati.” And she pressed between the rocks, wiggling her way through, squeezing out through the smallest of passages – leaving him.

He froze. By the time he finally managed to rush forward, pressing his hands against the rocks and staring up at where she’d vanished, she was long gone. “…Sorush!” No. No, no no no. Don’t – “Don’t – ! Come back…!” His voice cracked – he sounded pathetic. Some part of him was still intact to realize it. Most of him was on fire, however. “Please – !”

No reply. Silence. The echoes of the cave. The way ahead was shut. The way behind was shut. He was alone, trapped, with only the frozen wenut for company.

He was briefly, blindly about to blast his way through with his Anemo powers – to concentrate the power of the wind and crush everything standing between him and the sky – but then he considered the state of the tunnel, the roots, the already unsteady walls. If he were to bring his foot down here, he might very well seal himself in further, or even trap himself under another rockslide. He shuddered at just the thought of it, his mind clouding further. He was powerless.

The smallest bit of light still made its way in through the small opening where Sorush had squeezed through. It was red – the sun must be setting. It painted the entire gloomy tunnel in the same bloody hue. When he saw it, something inside of him… broke.

At first he didn’t know why, but then it all came rushing in, and he knew, oh, he knew.

Red. Red like the maple leaves of the derelict mansion where he’d also been left, locked in, alone, unable to do anything but stare up at the light for the longest time. Red, flickering crimson red, like the inside of the great machine where he’d been chained in place, permanently bound, a position he hadn’t intended but hadn’t been able to back out of either. Red like he’d never left. He almost felt like he hadn’t. Had everything beyond those points been a long, delirious dream…?

The rocks, blurring, swimming before his eyes and under his shaking hands, didn’t look or feel real. Only the burning, choking feeling in his throat and chest did. Only the overwhelming dread. Only the silence. Only the fact he was alone, left behind, again.

He couldn’t move. Was he just destined to get locked in and abandoned…? Was this his unchangeable fate…?

No. No, don’t be stupid. Sorush wouldn’t… didn’t…

But then again… what could one little Pari possibly do here?

“Kusanali,” he heard himself mutter, voice trembling, hands trembling, head bowed against the rocks. “Kusanali, please.” She was listening. She had to be. She’d been able to reach his dreams, after all, despite the distance and the lack of lush forest around him. She was with him. Wasn’t she?

There was no answer. No sound but his shuddering breath.

He was alone, and so, so far from home.

Then, so sudden and so loud he fell backwards with it, there was a thunderous bang that rattled the rocks, vibrating through the tunnel walls. He came to a stumbling halt some distance from the blockade, eyes wide, chest heaving. “…Wh… what…?”

Another resounding impact, and another. More sunset fire entered the tunnel as the rocks shifted, something chipping away at the pile from the outside. “Sorush?” he shouted, in between the increasingly deafening explosions, just before he was forced to cover his ears. One after another – and then the rocks at the top of the pile slid away, light flooded the cave, and he was wrestling his way out, uncaring of the fact he barely fit through the opening yet. He clawed his way over the top of the pile, tumbling down the other side, barely getting to his feet – and there she was, rosy against the sunset. Sorush, floating right in front of him, tilting her head and looking mildly bemused, a sharp contrast to his disheveled state and ragged emotions.

“Yasnapati, whatever has gotten you so bothered? I was merely fetching some Nirodha fruit to break apart the rocks. It took me a little while to find some, yet… I did not think I ever gave you reason to doubt my capabilities so.” She huffed. “Did I not tell you? We Pari enjoy absolute mastery over these lands.”

He glared at her. He was furious – at her flippant attitude, at his own surging emotions, at the fact he had doubted her, at the fact he was stuck here following her at all. Yet, at the same time… he was outside. She’d come back for him. She’d helped. His relief to be breathing freely again was overwhelming.

He caught his breath, brushed himself off. “Forgive me for not expecting a tiny thing like you could break boulders,” he bit out. “Give me some warning next time you leave me sealed in a cave.”

She floated down a little bit. “You thought I would not return? You thought I would leave and set forth on this journey without my Yasnapati? The mere idea. How ridiculous.”

He stared at her, lost for words for a moment. Then he averted his gaze, pulling down his hat. “…Well, when you put it like that.”

Sorush immediately swooped down. “Do not avert your gaze from me,” she demanded imperiously, diving under his hat and peeking up to see his face. He furiously tried to hide his grin, but failed. “Aha! You are rightfully grateful for my aid!”

“…Don’t flatter yourself.”

She narrowed her eyes, tapping her chin. “No,” she mused. “No, I shan’t – for such doings are your task, after all. I just performed a great deed. Remember it well, Yasnapati. This was but a trifling taste of my power.”

He met her gaze, his grin turning a little malicious. “I didn’t even see it, though. Not very impressive from where I stood.”

“Then allow me to demonstrate! Watch closely and tremble at my might!” With a flourish, she spun up to the top of the partly crumbled heap, spreading her wings. “Behold!” A little light flared between her wings, and then something glowing dropped down onto the rocks, bursting apart in a deafening blast of light and heat, scattering loose rocks and breaking bigger ones. Kintsugi had already covered his ears, grinning and marveling. “You are full of surprises,” he had to admit. “It’s a good thing you’re not totally defenseless. It wouldn’t be fun traveling with a being that could be squashed by any mere hilichurl, or snatched up by a vulture…”

“You dare!” Sorush indignantly exclaimed. “You were assured I was that helpless, before? Count yourself lucky I have need of you, or the next Nirodha would be upon your head.” She snootily turned away. “Come. The sun is low, we should make camp nearby.”

“…Yeah,” he agreed, still grinning a little as he followed. “Lead the way, mighty Pari.”

“Hah, acknowledgement of the awe I inspire. Very good. I knew you would come to see and understand, with time.” She glanced at him. “Also, did I detect a hint of worry for my wellbeing? It would not be ‘fun’ if you were to lose my esteemed company?”

“…You need your ears checked.” He looked her over more critically. “Wait… where are your ears, anyway?”

Her eyes widened, and she huffed in indignation. “All the hidden truths I could enlighten you on, all the ancient mysteries I could uncover, and that is what you ask?! Hmph, foolish Yasnapati – !”

He chuckled. “Oh, shut it.”

She didn’t; if anything, she got louder. He didn’t find himself minding too much, however. After being eaten alive by silence and solitude in the tunnel, even if it probably hadn’t been for nearly as long as it’d seemed to him, he found the sound of her voice to be just a little less grating and annoying. He managed to quietly turn away halfway into her rant without her really realizing, pulling down his hat to hide a much softer smile.

They made camp on a rocky ledge just outside the sandstone gorges, overlooking a river cutting through a lower-lying canyon, nurturing a rare bloom of bright green athel palms and the rusty orange leaf-tufts of mountain dates. Kintsugi swooped down to gather some dry branches, which Sorush ignited with her last Nirodha fruit just as the purpling evening sky started cooling into darker hues of blue, the stars coming out overhead.

“I can only carry a limited amount,” she explained. “The noble Nirodha blooms from veins of crystallized Amrita flowing through the rock and the very soil, reaching out from the Vourukasha Oasis itself. As such, the plant and its fruit have a connection to the Pari, and I can carry around its essence to aid me in times of need. It is not limitless, however.”

Despite himself, Kintsugi found himself interested as he leaned back on his hands beside the little fire, keeping away the chill of the desert night. Cold couldn’t make him sick or harm him in any other way, but he could still feel it, and he’d gotten used to the warmth of the rainforest – and he’d had his share of cold back in Snezhnaya, anyway. Sorush stuck close to the fire’s warmth as well, her feathery, flowery nature seemingly disagreeing with the cold as much as his own did.

He looked up at her for a moment, considering her bond with the Nirodha and the ever-present Amrita in the soil. “You really are connected to this land,” he mused. “…You know, you remind me of the spirits of the rainforest. The Aranara. They speak to the trees, travel through the soil, and guard the rainforest…”

“The Aranara? Hah. What a carefree breed,” Sorush idly remarked.

“You think so?” He gave her a sideways glance. “You’ve met many, then?”

“I – !” She faltered. “I know of them! Lady Zurvan does regale us with stories, sometimes. They just never happen to concern anything useful…”

“…Like how best to become powerful enough for your sacrifice to be extra meaningful?” He gave a little smirk upwards to where she floated, not even trying to keep the mockery from his voice. His smile widened as she turned away, huffing and folding her wings. “I told you – do not deign to speak of matters of which you know nothing.”

“It very rarely accomplishes what you set out to do, you know.”

“I said –”

“…Yeah, and I’m telling you I do know a thing or two about these matters, little pest.”

She turned back to him, expression flat from what he could tell from her eyes. “You speak from experience, Yasnapati?”

He held her gaze. “Yes.”

“Elaborate. Seeing as how you are right here before me, I do not find myself willing to believe you have ever truly sacrificed yourself, let alone in the way I shall lay down my life and existence.”

“…No, I don’t think I will. Elaborate, that is.”

She tilted her head in annoyance. “As you said earlier yourself; I did not see it. Therefore, it does not sound very impressive from my standpoint.”

He let out a soft growl as she used his own words against him. “Fine. I once had the chance to give up my identity to become very powerful and achieve what I thought was my own dearest desire. It wasn’t. It was stupid and cruel and would’ve damaged far more than it’d have fixed. That power was better off in other hands – ones that could actually handle it.” He huffed at the memory of being Shouki no Kami – what he’d thought would be ultimate freedom was in fact just another snare, the most inescapable set of chains he’d ever known, binding his body, mind and identity to the Doctor and the Akademiya. Not even his memories had been safe – not even when he’d thought he could finally lose them amidst all that other knowledge.

And if the Akademiya had actually succeeded in pumping him full of forbidden knowledge like they’d planned, things would’ve been even worse. He might’ve had to be purged from Irminsul completely, like Nahida had done to the spreading blight just after his fall. Best not to dwell on that, he decided.

…It was no wonder being reminded of being locked in the helmet got him worked up.

“…Then later, I attempted to lay down my life and existence, as you put it, in order to save those dear to me. I could not. They died anyway. Later, I learned I could make far more of a difference by living than by erasing myself.” He glanced up at her. “That’s what I live by now.”

Sorush was quiet for a while, contemplating this. “…You have had a very eventful life, Yasnapati. I am not certain whether or not I truly believe everything you speak of, but I will take you at your word for now.” She floated down to look him in the eye. “But merely because you happened to be unsuccessful in your attempted sacrifices, does not mean I will meet failure in the same manner. I will follow in the noble footsteps of she who made the mightiest and most radiant sacrifice. It is my heritage. I will successfully lay down all that I am, and restore these lands and the skies above.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” he shot back. “Sacrifice is only warranted if you have something to atone for, some score to settle. Why give up everything for a heritage? You have nothing to do with what Simurgh did five centuries ago. Her deeds don’t dictate yours.”

“I have everything to do with Simurgh’s sacrifice. It formed us Pari, and it continues to define us to this day. The Skeptics recorded it well. What remains of their texts is in full agreement on this.”

He pulled back a little, incredulously tilting his head. “…Wait, you’re basing this on what the Skeptics say?”

“Their records –”

“No, no,” he cut her off, with the beginning of a grin. “You seriously think they know more about the Pari than the Pari?” He had to laugh. “…How are you even flying? You’re so dense!” He immediately cringed at himself for a moment – that was a Cyno-worthy one. He must still be a little loopy from escaping the cave. Still, his point remained.

“Zurvan does not tell us anything!” Sorush fumed, balling her wings into little fists again. “Perhaps the Pari carelessly forgot their own past! Some of our number take matters far too lightly – the Skeptics at least keep their records!”

“Tch.” He flapped a dismissive hand at her. “You trust what a bunch of humans writes down and passes on for five hundred years? With those meager little lifetimes, and in these desert circ*mstances? You really did inherit a bird’s brains…”

She glared down at him. “You are a scholar yourself, no? Why be so dismissive towards the investigation and record-keeping of the Skeptics, if you’ve sworn your own life to the pursuit of knowledge in the Akademiya’s name?”

“I’m in Vahumana, which basically means I study the ways in which humans have been ridiculous throughout history, and continue to be.” He laid himself down beside the fire, taking off his hat and folding his arms behind his head. “Their hearts are so full of fascinating contradiction. The Skeptics are no different. It’s attempting to find the logic within their nonsense that interests me. But sometimes, there just is none.”

Sorush calmed a little, merely giving a little scoff of her own. “You have a staggering amount to learn about the human heart and mind, Yasnapati. It is good you are with this ‘Vahumana’. May they enlighten you eventually.”

“Mm.”

They fell into a strangely companionable silence for a moment, the crackle of the fire and the chirping of sand crickets taking over where their heated bickering had left off. Kintsugi found himself smiling up at the stars as cinders drifted up. He was actually starting to enjoy the little pest’s company. Not that he’d ever tell her directly, of course.

It did make the matter of her upcoming sacrifice a little troubling. He was sure he’d get through to her with his superior logic eventually, though. It was only a matter of time.

Then Sorush broke the silence and his musings, looking out over the nighttime river canyon. “Yasnapati.”

“…What is it.”

“I demand to know –”

“Hm?” He looked over to her as she lightly shook her head, sorting out her thoughts, visibly rephrasing whatever it was she wanted to know. “What?”

She gave him a sideways glance, faintly lit by the fire’s glow. “…Why do you not share your given name even with me? Surely, you must find me deserving.”

“…Ah.” He turned back to the sky. “That again. I told you to give it a rest.”

“As one of the exalted Pari –”

“Just say you’re curious,” he cut her off, amused despite himself.

She huffed, turning away again. Then her wings drooped. “…I am.”

He chuckled. Yes. There it was – the telltale fondness that spelled nothing but trouble. He was about to make a fool of himself. “…Alright,” he sighed, despite his own better judgement. “I’ve been nameless for most of my life. I got used to it. Only very recently was I finally given a real name of my own, and now that I have one, it’s… strange to be called by it. Invasive.” He searched for the right words to express the still-new feeling. “…Intimate. Like the other person can reach… right into my chest. So, I only give my name to people I trust completely.” He looked over to her. “That is a very small number. You’re not among them.” He’d always found it best to be blunt and honest.

Sorush was not deterred. She tilted her little head, curiously beholding him. “But I might enjoy this rare privilege one day?”

He chuckled, laying back down. “Why would I bother gifting my name to someone who’s going to sacrifice herself in the near future? I see very little point in that.”

She instantly narrowed her eyes, balling her wings again. “Ah! Insufferable Yasnapati – !”

And as her exclamations and his quiet chuckles rose into the desert night alongside the campfire’s whirling embers, as the Sign of Apaosha pulsed overhead and the slow river flowed underneath… a tall form beheld the duo from atop the cliffs, dark against the stars.

A feathered cloak was drawn tight around a scarred, tattooed body, keeping out the cold. A shaggy mane surrounded a sharp, beaked mask like a wild sunburst. A massive curved blade glinted on the figure’s hip, a hand large enough to match idly toying with it.

“Dada nunu, odomu…”

Chapter 8: Vourukasha

Chapter Text

Whirling darkness, purple light, and lifeless rock beneath his feet. Off-kilter stars overhead and a dying wind howling in his ears.

Kintsugi clambered to his feet, breathing picking up. The Abyss. Again. He must’ve fallen asleep beside the little campfire after all – he hadn’t intended to, but the day had taken it out of him…

…and now he was having a nightmare again.

“Wander not astray.”

That voice…!

Raspy, breathy, echoing – monstrous. He whipped around at once, a ball of storm in his cramped hand even if he knew this was a dream. He’d spent enough time fighting things with voices like that, once upon a time.

Nothing. There’d been nothing behind him – just more lifeless, crumbling floating islands in the endless darkened void. He knew he wasn’t alone, though.

He narrowed his eyes. That damned Sign of Apaosha. It physically restrained him from flying too high, and it influenced his dreams, too…

“Just let me wake up already,” he snapped. “I don’t have time for this.”

“No time even for me?”

His eyes widened at once. That was another voice altogether. As soon as he heard it, lush grass bloomed from the heart of the barren island where he stood, and from one moment to the next, she was before him – small, unassuming, looking up at him from where she sat, cross-legged in the grass.

“…Lesser Lord Kusanali.” He stiffly joined her. “I thought I wouldn’t be ending up in the Abyss anymore now you’d found my dreams.”

“My reach is still spotty, it seems.” Her eyes didn’t leave his, her smile a little tighter than he remembered. “No matter. Tell me, how fares your journey?”

He folded his arms, looking to the side. Greenery had overtaken the entire dream – but he still had the sense the Abyss awaited just outside the rainforest glade where they’d ended up, as if the cover of the leaves was as fragile as a soap bubble. “I’m still following the Pari around. No real progress yet.”

“Are you close to the Vourukasha Oasis?”

He looked back to her. Her eyes were luminous, piercing and unblinking. He tilted his head, thinking for a moment. “…When did I tell you about the Oasis?”

She mirrored him, tilting her head as well. “I can see your destination in your mind. Very little remains hidden from me.” She was still smiling, but it seemed a little stiff and restrained, not as lively, curious and enthusiastic as the little Archon he knew. “…Lesser Lord Kusanali, are you alright?”

She blinked at last. “Ah. It is a little tiring, trying to reach you all the way out in the desert. Do not worry for me.”

“…Alright.” He paused, looking away again, considering what he knew of their current environment in the desert. “We should be close. Sorush tells me we’ll arrive today.”

“Very good. Make sure to tell me all about it. There is much there I wish I could see for myself. I can feel… my power surging there. It is a very interesting place.” She blinked again, looking up at something he couldn’t see. “Ah… but for now, I think it would be good for you to wake up.”

He frowned. “Why…?”

Some other voice began to get through to him. “Yasnapati! Yasnapati…!”

Sorush. She needed him – there was clear alarm in her voice. He widened his eyes, snapping out of the dream at once.

“Yasnapati…!”

He shot up from where he’d been lying on the rocky ledge beside the campfire. Or at least, partly up.

There was a blade at his throat. A dagger, the way it sat in its wielder’s hand – but going purely by size, it was a curved sword, gleaming, gripped by a handle of yellowed bone. He froze at once, his eyes going wide as he furiously looked up at its wielder.

He was fairly sure the massive hilichurl was smirking under his beaked mask. “…Olah.”

Sorush was frantic by his side. “Yasnapati, be careful – !”

Kintsugi stared up at his assailant, his blue-green mane radiant in the morning light, his feathered cloak falling along the side of his body. “Why aren’t you getting Nirodha fruit to bombard this one with?!” he gnashed out.

“I – ! This one might see it as a threat if I leave, and take your head in an instant, Yasnapati! I think we should not risk it!”

He grit his teeth. “Fine. I will, then.” His halo flared to life, yanking him out under the hilichurl’s knife, backwards and up, sending out sharp windblades the whole way. To his surprise, the hilichurl reacted just as quickly – skidding to the side, shifting his grip on the blade and slashing it through the air, sending out little whirls of Anemo himself. Kintsugi darted aside, marveling despite himself. “Not bad…!”

“Dada kundala,” his opponent called back, in a similar tone. “Yeye, nye biat!”

“I don’t speak your language,” Kintsugi gnashed, still flinging out windblades, but the hilichurl was surprisingly nimble for his size. Despite his attacks, his towering opponent mainly seemed to want to communicate something to him and Sorush both. “Biat ika!” He raised an arm to the skies, still rapidly dodging Kintsugi’s attacks and giving as good as he got. “Biat nini!”

“I don’t know what you’re saying!” the puppet shot back, zipping in close and attempting to close his hand around the hilichurl’s throat – the creature might be trying to communicate, but the way he’d been woken up left no room for argument. The hilichurl was going down.

A minute tilt of the head, just before his hand could strike home. “…Dada kuzi.” And just like that, he’d missed, and the hilichurl leaned his entire body into the movement and whirled out of the way, feathery cloak flying. Kintsugi slid past him across the sandy rock, eyes wide in surprise, turning around and about to lunge back in – but the hilichurl had taken out a pale, round shape from a pouch at his side, and was now inflating the Anemo slime in his hand, lifting off. The creature outstretched his free hand as if in greeting. “Mosi mita!”

Kintsugi rushed in, gritting his teeth. “No, no you don’t –” But the hilichurl had pinched his Anemo slime, and with a wheeze and an overpowering gust of wind, it abruptly deflated, dragging its master with it in a flash, swirling and gusting away into the verdant river canyon and its countless hiding places.

Kintsugi touched down, completely baffled at what he’d just seen. He stared down into the canyon. “What the…”

Think. Be a Vahumana scholar for a second. Cause and effect. Culture. Cultural differences.

Sorush rejoined his side, as stricken as he’d been. “That was… a very lucky encounter, Yasnapati! With the way he threatened you, I was certain this would end ugly for at least one of you…”

“…He was trying to tell us something,” Kintsugi mused. “’Mosi mita’…”

He’d heard at least that one before. Hilichurls had never interested him much… but he remembered one especially dull, dreary day in Zapolyarny Palace when the Doctor had dismissed him from the lab early, and he’d limped his way into the library to waste the rest of his day as he’d had no other plans, nor anyone he’d wanted to see or to see him in the state he’d been in at the time. He’d idly flipped through Hilichurlian linguistics, not really retaining anything – other than that one. ‘Mosi mita’. That one had amused him.

‘Eat meat.’ A well-wish, contrasted by its matching insult, ‘mosi gusha’ – ‘eat grass’.

A well-wish?

The hilichurl hadn’t actually attacked them, he reasoned. That giant knife hadn’t touched him once, and neither had its resulting swirls of Anemo. The rude awakening might just have been to get his attention or establish dominance, force him to listen, until he’d swooped out from under the blade and shown what he was capable of.

And when he’d done so, the hilichurl had even seemed appreciative, and more insistent on making himself clear.

Kintsugi shook himself. “If it was anything important, he can tell us again later in a way I’m more willing to listen to,” he muttered.

“What was that, Yasnapati?”

“…Nothing.” He turned, letting out a careless sigh. “Let’s get going. The day’s just started, but it already tires me.” As he strolled away into the gorges cutting off their view over the canyon, Sorush glanced back briefly, troubled by the interaction.

“That hilichurl,” he began after a beat. “I’ve never seen one like that.”

“They are… wanderers. Rogues, swifter and stronger than the others. They do not belong to any tribe, but do seem to train and teach their lessers at times.” Sorush willed her attention back to the road ahead, straightening herself into her usual prideful posture. “The lesser Dev seem to respect them greatly, perhaps even see them as heroes of their kind. If they could record and preserve epics, surely those wanderers would feature largely in them.”

He had to smirk a little at that. A hovering wanderer, wielding the wind to slash through the air? Was everything in this desert a hidden mirror of himself, one way or another? “I see.” A new puzzle… another issue to keep him occupied.

He was already rather occupied, though. He still felt rattled from the way he’d woken up – and not just because of the hilichurl and his knife. In fact, that was the lesser of his troubles. Physical annoyance, he could deal with. Mental, on the other hand, had always been more of a weakness.

He’d dreamt of the Abyss again, and Nahida’s presence had somehow completely failed to bring him any comfort, not the way it usually did. The Sign of Apaosha must be interfering in one way or another, still – or was it the way she’d seemed so focused on his mission, and not at all on him? Her eyes, so unblinking. Her smile, somehow cold. Was it him? Had he wronged her somehow, in a way she felt reluctant to tell him about? Was something going on back in Sumeru City she didn’t want to burden him with? He couldn’t help but worry, quietly fretting over the person he valued and trusted most in this world, his thoughts etching a frown onto his face as he walked.

If it weren’t for Sorush by his side, he’d have felt rather lost right now. He was silently glad he did have some company. Kusanali had told him herself, just before he set off: Don’t be alone. As usual, she’d been right.

…Not that Sorush needed to know any of that.

They moved through the gorge, a journey where he mostly kept silent and gladly let himself be distracted by Sorush’ prattling about the challenge of Zurvan’s stubbornness. “You would do well to address the elder with respect, Yasnapati, or we shall be even further from our goal of obtaining me the Chaplet. I have personally been most lenient about your attitude… perhaps too much so…”

“But you don’t respect her. Why should I? You should know by now I’m nothing if not honest.” He’d grinned a little, despite everything. “…Alright, alright. But only because I want the Sign gone as much as you – I’ll finally be able to leave this dustbowl.”

They found two more coiling Fravashi trees on their way, Sorush rendering the residual Pari inside visible and Kintsugi managing to placate their spirits, once by showing off the gust of wind resulting from his takeoff from the ground, reassuring her no monster would approach her tree with this kind of power nearby, and once by gently collecting all the fragmented shards of golden Khvarena that’d already split off from the Pari’s essence, letting her slip into a peaceful slumber before transforming into a full plume of purifying light.

It was a bittersweet affair. He quietly tucked away the golden plumes, holding some mixed feelings within himself, thinking of the Aranara, seeds and sacrifice without fanfare, unappreciated and unsung, yet no less important.

They came across a few hilichurl camps, but they were all devoid of hilichurls. It was as if the creatures were under orders to clear this path…

And then, just after Sorush had once again assured him they were almost at their destination, the gorge described a gentle curve, and he could look up and ahead. His eyes widened at what he saw there, just before his face fell into a frown. “…This is a joke, right?”

She’d turned, hovering ahead of him. “Whatever do you mean?”

He irately gestured ahead. “Pest, we’re headed straight for the Sign.”

The Sign of Apaosha was right up ahead of them, closer than ever, pulsing a noxious, radiant purple between the walls of the gorge. The ground led up at a rocky incline, so the blight sat nestled in the sky between the cliffs and the slope itself. Sorush let out a derisive little laugh, keeping up her tempo. “Most keenly observed. Now, follow.”

“Haven’t we been avoiding it this whole time…? Staying out of range of it was the reason we went under the mountains, crawled through this gorge like a bunch of insects –” But he was soon forced to cut off his indignated grumbling and start after her, eventually activating his halo to keep up with her in flight. The slope led them up higher and higher, rendering him able to see more and more, and his next words of irritation died in his throat as he caught up with his little guide, and saw what she wanted him to see.

He faltered. There wasn’t just the purple of the Sign – there was green light, too, coming up to meet the downpour of purple from below. Two opposing forces, heaven and earth.

Then Pari and puppet both ascended out between the gorge walls, and he came to an abrupt, hanging standstill in the air, slack-jawed, almost limp as though his strings had been cut all over again.

The view ahead was utterly dominated by a single tree – the broken, hollow stump of a clearly supernatural colossus, comparable to the base of the Divine Tree itself. Its roots sprawled, overgrown with moss and lesser plants and even other trees, hung with flowering vines, snaking through the water of a massive oasis atop a plateau overlooking the surrounding landscape, only overshadowed by the Temir Mountains ahead and behind. A lush sea of flowers bloomed between its roots, blue and turquoise and golden, a lush paradise of colour, life and light, directly below the Sign of Apaosha, directly opposing its foul influence. For this was where the green light originated; emerging, spewing, blasting straight up from within the hollow trunk with what seemed like either desperation or determination, holding back the purple tide.

Sorush twirled and proudly spread her wings, just ahead of him. “Impressive, is it not? It is our homeland, after all.”

Vourukasha Oasis. “That light…” He faltered, narrowing his eyes, realizing. “…Wait.” He’d seen this before. In Tunigi Hollow, when he’d looked down through the glassy surface at the heart of the blasted grounds, he’d seen it – the giant hollow tree directly below him, sending up green light. His eye was drawn upwards, meeting the Sign of Apaosha directly overhead. “…What?!” Had he somehow looked down through the Sign – from the Sign?

He shook his head, throat feeling strangely tight. That was the sort of sense the Abyss didn’t make, either. It was unnerving to see that sort of logic here in Teyvat. The sooner they wiped it from Sumeru’s skies, the better.

Sorush had hovered ahead, unbothered. “This tree is the Harvisptokhm, the sacred form of the god that has granted us Pari life.”

He landed, feeling like he should take things a little slow, not just barge into the Oasis right away. He tilted his head, lifting his hat to keep looking up at the tree. “…That’s a god? I’ve seen other gods, but none of them looked like that.”

Sorush drooped a little. “That is because our god cannot… be considered alive.” She accompanied him as he walked, approaching the great plateau where a sandstone arch connected it to the gorges they’d emerged from. “Five hundred years ago, our great god gave all to quell the power of the disaster afflicting this place. But she was stained with corruption, and could not be reborn in a purer plane.”

He gave a nod, connecting the dots. “Like the residual Pari, before we remove their personal wishes from their Khvarena.”

“Yes. And like them, her divine consciousness continues to wander the mortal plane.” Sorush gestured a wing at the luminous water of the Oasis, seeming more vibrant and colourful the closer they came. “Our great god left us with the sanctified waters of the Amrita, and the Lord of Verdure caused the Harvisptokhm to grow from them, thus anchoring our god to this realm.”

“The Lord of Verdure,” Kintsugi muttered, not bothering to keep the quiet admiration and affection from his voice. Kusanali. Just what couldn’t you do, in your previous life? Just how powerful will I see you grow in this one…? He nodded. “…Of course.”

Sorush glanced at him, the slightest bit annoyed at his reverence for the Dendro Archon as opposed to either the Simurgh or her Lord of Amrita. She continued, just a touch more pompous than before. “The Vourukasha Oasis has been nourished by the Amrita, and even the Khvarena that defends this earth gains its unending power by the grace of its waters.”

Kintsugi gazed up at the flow of green light surging up from the Harvisptokhm, expression critical. “Your god looks to be struggling,” he observed.

Sorush folded her wings in indignation, but couldn’t refute this point. “Her power maintains the seal over the dark hollow. …I fear that the Sign has emerged here due to being attracted to her power. If it were not for the presence of the Harvisptokhm, the defilement surging forth from that hollow would have infected the entire world… but it is also due to performing this duty that the tree has deteriorated so much.”

Kintsugi looked the tree over again, his feet now sinking into the lush grass as its first roots towered over him, little bluish lights spiraling from his every step like tiny fireflies. Dewy grass tickled his legs, moist air enveloped him for the first time in days. The place was humming with Dendro energy, the power of life itself, and for a moment he felt like he’d come home – but he could also see the tree wasn’t doing well. It was splintered halfway, for one, and riven with cracks and splinters in many places. Sorush shook her head by his side. “…I do not believe that I could ever bear to be reduced to such a state. That is why I must leave a legacy of heroism behind for all to remember before it does happen…”

Kintsugi gave her a sideways glance, expression flat. “Keep going on about that and I’ll join Zurvan in banning you from doing anything.” He looked around. “Let’s go find her already.”

“I… I know where she is.” Sorush reluctantly hovered forward. Kintsugi followed, amused, his hands folded behind his back as he strolled further into the Oasis, closer to the luminous water. “You’re nervous,” he snickered. “After all that talk…”

“I – ! Impossible! Do not second-guess me frivolously, Yasnapati!”

He let out another little chuckle, but then their path led them through the shallow water, and his attention was on it. Normally he’d have hovered over it – he hated getting his feet wet – but this water, he’d been curious about. Its surface shimmered with azure and gold, and motes of light swirled around his feet as he walked. Amrita. He didn’t really feel any different, but that might be because he wasn’t alive in a traditional sense. For all the Aranara insisted he was, he’d never really fully agreed with them – and this water had partly given rise to the Pari, after all.

He couldn’t wait to tell Kusanali about this.

He looked up at Harvisptokhm, now truly towering over them, a path leading through lush grass and between blue flowers into the embrace of the roots closest to its trunk. “Is she in there, then?”

“We’ll merely pass through,” Sorush replied, voice just a little tighter. As they walked, Kintsugi marveled at the plethora of strange plants, delicate forms in blue and turquoise, green and gold, all previously unknown to him. He might be Vahumana, but he might just describe all of these and rub his discoveries in Amurta’s faces, too – even if other scholars might never be able to come here and confirm his findings…

There were animals here too, squirrels and cranes, little forest foxes bounding away through the flowers, even shroomboars – animals that never could’ve gotten here through the desert. Vourukasha Oasis was like a patch of rainforest, precious and isolated, a distant jewel.

Then he realized there were other Pari present here and there as well, tiny colourful figures flitting over the grass and overhead between the towering roots, paying them no heed as they went about business of their own. Sorush didn’t greet them either. Kintsugi simply observed her, still following, considering once again how the little beings seemed to be the polar opposite of the Aranara in every possible way. He supposed it wasn’t his place to judge. He often wished he could go without interaction as well.

As they passed into the shadow of the roots, they found water there too, and here Kintsugi did decide to fly, passing under the massive boughs between rotund, springy plants that seemed to be all fruit, under curtains of ivy, and finally out into the open air again, faced with a little leaf-shaded arbor under one of Harvisptokhm’s mightiest roots. There, between a collection of little standing stones, was a single hovering Pari, this one a very pale bluish-green, her wingtips ending in faded purple, crowned with an equally purple leaf wrapping around her head. She barely acknowledged him as he came flying in, but turned to Sorush at once as she rejoined his side. “Well, if it isn’t Sorush. Such a rare guest.”

The other Pari gave a stiff little nod. “It has been a while… elder Zurvan.”

Zurvan tilted her head. “Elder? Well, if you call me that, then you should follow Pari norms and cease consorting with those humans whose hearts are heavy with their ulterior motives.”

Kintsugi gave a little smirk, letting it play out for now – getting between the two before the right moment would be more trouble than it was worth, he could already tell. However… Zurvan appeared to be making sense. That was exactly what he’d thought of the Skeptics – Nasejuna, at least.

“I haven’t gone against our norms,” Sorush protested, sounding younger than she’d ever done to him. “I have only made contact with humanity to find a way to extinguish the sky-fire, just as the divine bird did.”

Zurvan didn’t move a muscle, did not approach, merely kept her eyes on the other Pari as she shrank down under her elder’s gaze. “And is that why you have learned all that claptrap about sacrifice from the humans? We Pari care nothing for such foolishness.”

“Isn’t it our duty as Pari to sacrifice ourselves in the battle against the defiling impurity?” Sorush shot back, almost petulant.

“Await the call of destiny, Sorush,” Zurvan told her patiently. “Only humans rush in blindly.” Kintsugi gave a little smirk at that. That sentiment, he could appreciate. It was a very conflicting feeling, considering who Zurvan reminded him of.

Sorush wasn’t having it. “This destiny you speak of is a nebulous thing,” she protested. “I cannot simply be expected to sit and wait for it!”

“And that is precisely the danger,” Zurvan warned her. “The Chaplet you seek contains the highest authority over Khvarena. In giving it to you, I may as well be handing the power of Khvarena over to those untrustworthy humans.”

“Can’t you just have more faith in me, elder?”

Kintsugi decided he’d had enough. He folded his arms, his eyes on Zurvan. “Alright, you’ve clearly gone through this song and dance often enough,” he drawled. “Don’t bother putting on the same old charade just for me.”

Zurvan turned to him at last. “Well then, little one. You came with Sorush, yes? This is not a place that ordinary humans may visit lightly.” She tilted her head, inspecting him a little better. “…Hmm. Although you do not seem to fit that description entirely. Well, in matters of courtesy, I suppose you shall introduce yourself first.”

He held her gaze. “You can suppose all you want. I am Sorush’ Yasnapati. No need for details beyond that.”

“Her Yasnapati? …How interesting. She might have had a little misunderstanding somewhere, though.” The Pari elder let out an amused little laugh. “Only heroes who have forged bonds with Pari and pilgrims who have come to genuflect before our god may enter.”

“I don’t genuflect,” he told her bluntly. “Not before gods or otherwise.”

“I shall take it that you are Sorush’ companion, then. Hehe, it has been several hundred years since outsiders last visited our sea of flowers.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t let any of the Skeptics in?” He gave a mocking little chuckle. “They seem inordinately fond of genuflecting to your lot.”

Zurvan scoffed. “Hah! I shall not permit such discourteous folk to enter our hidden realm. In the past, we Pari did indeed fight alongside their ancestors. We even lived here together. But many years have passed, and folly has grown strong amongst them. Even the traditional rites have become utterly forgotten.” She turned a sharp eye on him. “But you… well. Why do you not tell Sorush who you really are, hmm?”

He faltered for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I sense it on you, child. You have not been truthful with her. Amend this.”

Sorush looked between the two of them. “Elder Zurvan, what… what do you allude to?”

Kintsugi turned to her. It was true – he hadn’t told her everything. He hadn’t thought it necessary. “I don’t think we need this.”

“If she is ever to become Bloomguard, there cannot be doubt or mistrust between you,” Zurvan warned him. “Nor shall I tolerate anything but purity and truth in this Oasis.”

He growled. “You just planted that mistrust yourself. And if you’re really that all-seeing, you know I’m hardly the epitome of purity. Why are you letting me stand here at all if purity is a requirement?”

“You already know that, as well. I cannot very well go against the wishes of your ward.”

He grit his teeth, balling his fists. Sorush’ attention was squarely on him, now. “…Yasnapati…?”

“I’m not human,” he grit out. “I’m an immortal puppet, created by the Electro Archon just after the Cataclysm, and now the protector and right hand to the Dendro Archon. She sent me to deal with the Sign. There. Happy now?”

Sorush was staring at him. It was all he was aware of, even as Zurvan gave a satisfied little nod. “Yasnapati… surely…” She shook herself. “…The Lord of Verdure herself sent you…? N-no, surely this is a mistake… a joke? Why would one such as you…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he ground out, quietly hating Zurvan for forcing the truth out of him. Knowing Sorush, knowing how alike they both were, knowing the fears and sense of inferiority her grandiose posturing masked, he knew exactly what she was feeling now. He knew how he would’ve felt – betrayed, unworthy and ridiculed, useless in the face of someone more important and powerful, the same way he’d done when Kusanali had wiped the floor with him and he’d been forced to admit he should be looking up to her, instead of the other way around.

He glared at Zurvan as he addressed his little companion. “…I’m just Kusanali’s lackey. That’s why I got used to you ordering me around so easily, little pest.” He hadn’t minded humouring her – in fact, their banter had started to amuse him. He knew what he was worth by now. Seeing her view of him shift completely, growing companionship turning to defeated distance, was harder.

Sorush shook herself again, speechless, before turning away with drooping wings. Kintsugi clenched his jaw again, fully turning to Zurvan. “Well? What will it take for you to give her the Chaplet?”

“You certainly seem more trustworthy than those blind and foolish Skeptics,” the elder Pari mused. “Perhaps you really might equal the great deeds of those that came before. Very well. It is decided. I shall give you a chance.” She gave a little nod. “Go out and bring Rashnu and Mihir here. Two Pari – Sorush knows where to find them. They should still be enjoying their beauty sleep right now. This will serve as final proof of your trustworthiness, and I will be able to entrust Sorush with the Chaplet.” She fixated Kintsugi with her gaze. “Do help her out.”

He bristled. “You’re giving out tasks? We don’t have time for any of this –” He gestured up at the Sign directly over the Oasis, but was then interrupted by Sorush herself, her back still turned to him. “I don’t need help, elder Zurvan.”

“You alone will not be able to reach and awaken them,” Zurvan addressed her. “Not even if I gave you the Chaplet now.”

“…Wait,” Kintsugi interjected, utterly incredulous now. “So we don’t even need those two to get the Chaplet?”

“The Chaplet can be given to her at any time,” Zurvan replied. “But to solve the issue of the Sign of Apaosha, we will need their strength. And in order for Sorush to be worthy, she will first need to complete this pilgrimage.”

“You’re just holding her back unnecessarily.” His eyes held a venomous glint rivaling the Sign of Apaosha itself. “…I know others like you.”

Sorush gave a little twitch of her wings. “I do not need you to defend me, Yasnapati. Just… follow when you will. I shall wait up ahead.” And she hovered off, slow and dejected, her pride visibly shattered. Kintsugi gazed after her for a moment, but then chose to turn back to Zurvan, shoving his indignation at the new mission aside for a moment. “…Why did you make me tell her?” he demanded.

“I told you already. Lies are not tolerated within this Oasis.”

“I wasn’t lying,” he fumed. “I just chose to omit some… useless facts.”

“Nor can there be mistrust or doubt between you, if you are to have any hope of succeeding,” Zurvan went on, unperturbed. She scrutinized him again. “Sorush is a good petal at heart. Do not mind her tough talk. She was born after the dust of the previous catastrophe settled, and hasn’t witnessed the war of old. Hence, she holds many fantasies as to how things were. You are much like her, child. Your eyes… they are very bright, much like the light of her Khvarena.”

He folded his arms. “I know. That’s also why I know what you are to her.”

“Oh?” Zurvan’s eyes took on an amused glint. “Pray, do tell me.”

“You think you know her better than she knows herself. You think you can just dictate the course of her life regardless of her wishes, decide what does and doesn’t make her worthy, and you have the bare-faced gall to insist you have her best interests at heart.”

“It was the Skeptics who filled her head with all this nonsense concerning sacrifice and personal renown.”

“But it was her who chose to believe it and make it her own,” he insisted.

“…So you agree with her aspirations of sacrifice and scattering herself to the wind?”

He hesitated. “I…” He knew what he said. You can make more of a difference by living. That’s what I live by now. He also knew what he thought about Zurvan’s restrictive methods. “…I think she should be free to live the way she wants. I bet you never thought to ask her, really ask her.” He folded his arms, glaring at the little purple-crowned Pari, feeling like he was looking at a much taller figure – though one garbed in the same hue.

“You see me through a lens of your own making, young one. Are you truly only able to contextualize matters thus? How small.”

“You told me you knew I was impure and flawed.” He’d be the first to agree. He grinned, knife-sharp and humourless. “I’m a selfish bastard. It’s gotten me far enough so far.”

“…And yet, the little ones have chosen you to entrust with their plumes of purifying light. Most curious. Very well. Your role has already been decided; it may just be what is needed at this time.” Zurvan gave a tranquil nod, gesturing. “Go now. Find Sorush. She will show you to the Amrita Pool, where you can cleanse yourselves before setting off on your pilgrimage, and unburden yourself of the light you carry.”

He growled softly. “No need to order me around, elder. I was going to do that regardless of what you’d say.”

Another nod. “Very well. Your reasons matter not.” The Pari elder outstretched a graceful wing. “I advise you to familiarize yourself with our Oasis as long as it grants you access. Rest. Recover. Be welcome.” She tilted her head. “And I would never presume to give you orders, envoy of the Lord of Verdure. Everything you do here should be done of your own free will.”

He stared at her. I hate you, he thought. “Hmph,” he said, right before activating his halo and darting off to go find Sorush. He wasn’t much of a singer-of-praises, but he now felt a steely determination to be her Yasnapati in his own way, if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter 9: Sunyata

Chapter Text

Kintsugi skimmed around the entirety of Vourukasha Oasis, but didn’t manage to find Sorush anywhere amongst its roots and waters, delicate canopies and fluttering mayflies of pure, luminous Khvarena. All he really managed to do was startle the other Pari, who sped out of his way as soon as they spotted him, remaining out of his reach as if he were a mere human, lumbering and unwelcome.

It made him feel some type of way to be treated like that, to be seen as human for a change. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. He decided that besides everything else, he wasn’t really up for dealing with those thoughts right now, and settled for sitting down in the dewy grass by the waterside, watching the mayflies dart over the shimmering Amrita. He tried to ignore the pulsating Sign of Apaosha overhead, and eventually let Vourukasha’s animals be drawn to his calm indifference.

He huffed in quiet amusem*nt. They, at least, treated him like usual. Foxes, birds, squirrels – they all tentatively approached and gathered around him, even without him offering any food, just his calm company. Misguided little creatures. Still, he wouldn’t judge. When two round little birds perched on his shoulders and another on his hat, he didn’t chase them off. When a fox crept in and laid its head on his lower leg, he simply placed a gentle hand between its ears.

That was how Sorush eventually came to find him again, hovering up behind him.

“…Envoy of the Lord of Verdure.”

He didn’t look up. “Could’ve sworn we settled on ‘Yasnapati’ last time. Make up your mind, pest.”

A furious little bout of silence. Then, strained: “I was wrong to style you thus. You are deserving of more respect than the mere title of ‘Yasnapati’ implies. Why did you not enlighten me on the truth of your position at the high court?”

He had to scoff, amusem*nt bubbling up within him, almost bitingly bright. “I told you, it’s not that big a deal. I don’t command that much respect, nor do I care to.” Not even Kusanali herself would care to. These Pari could really stand to loosen up. “And I did tell you I wasn’t mortal. That I didn’t have a heart. You haven’t seen me eat. You could’ve taken any of those things seriously and asked follow-up questions, but you didn’t.” He turned, making the bird on his hat flutter and hang on for balance, grinning as he looked up at her. “What, you liked me better as a nobody?”

“I – ! Do not deign to put words into my mouth – !”

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t be the first,” he reassured her, endless amusem*nt to his voice. “…I myself did too, at one point. Might still prefer it some days, in fact…”

She irately twirled over to him over the flowers. The fox in his lap briefly lifted its head. “You still wish to aid me in my quest? Do not mock or belittle me, envoy.”

A smirk, ever so subtle. “Only if you stop disrespecting the Archon’s right hand.”

Her eyes widened. “That is the last thing I wish to be doing! Tell me, in what way am I being uncouth?”

“You are to address me by the name we settled on. Yasnapati. C’mon, say it.” He had to bite back something that was almost a giggle. Seeing the huffy little Pari so torn between wanting to respect him for his position, and him annoying the living daylights out of her, insisting on what was essentially a demeaning title, was nothing short of hysterical. “It’s not that hard. Even you should be able to get it right,” he goaded her further.

“…Yasnapati,” she gave in, partly defeated, partly cautiously elated. “You still wish to accompany me in obtaining the Chaplet and enacting my glorious sacrifice?”

Don’t know about that last part. But he wasn’t about to directly oppose something of that much importance to her – not until he truly had to in order to prevent it. Until then, he’d rely on the tried and true tactic of underhanded manipulation and suggestion, which had gotten him mostly good results other than the odd fall from grace.

“Sure,” he idly agreed, outwardly. “Nothing’s changed. We’re both still who we always were.” He gently eased the fox off his lap and rose, wiping the dew off his clothes the best he could. “Regrettably, fortunately – I’m still figuring that out myself.” He looked up at her. “Now. I’m apparently covered in Pari dust. Get it off me.”

“Of… of course.” Sorush nodded at once, hovering ahead. Kintsugi heaved a sigh, minutely shaking his head. It’d take some time, but he knew he’d get her back to her old self soon enough. It’d take more than some words from her elder to redefine her. He could speak from experience there, too.

…What was this feeling? The little Pari was rattled so easily, like she didn’t know who she was. Always posturing for the Skeptics, for Zurvan, for him. He liked to think he’d seen some of her true face, but…

…He just wanted her to be herself. That’s what this feeling was.

…Did he have a fledgeling again? An actually winged one, this time? Wayward and small and in need of some guidance? Why did he want to be the one to provide it? He’d barely known her for a few days. This was ridiculous.

You understand what pain is perfectly well, even without a heart. You’re just burying your feelings.

He really needed to actually talk to Nahida. He hoped he’d have a chance next time he dreamed, instead of her simply asking about his mission and insisting he wake up quickly.

He followed the Pari as she led him away from the stump of the Harvisptokhm, towards the striated sandstone cliffs of the surrounding Temir Mountains rising up in the southwest. He decided to needle her some more, just to see if he could bring out her old self again. “Now, you know that flagrant disrespect was what I liked about you in the first place. One of the exalted Pari, flawed to such a degree… ah, delightfully amusing.”

“Y-Yasnapati, please.” Sorush folded a wing over her face in embarrassment.

“What? Too many mixed messages? Respect me, don’t respect me, respect me by disrespecting me…” He laughed, husky and a little foul, hovering up as they reached the water and they passed over it, holding on to his halo as they approached and then entered a narrow cave opening. “…Do what you want. Not because of me, your elder, or the Simurgh. I don’t care.”

“Then…” She glanced at him, then ahead. As barren as the cave opening seemed from the outside, it quickly grew lush and cool around them, roots lining the walls, blue-green vegetation carpeting the ground, and glimmering swarms of Dendro crystalflies fluttering out of the way of their flight. “…Then let the future Bloomguard guide you to the heart of Vourukasha, and witness the miracle of Pari rebirth.”

“Mh. Decent…” He looked ahead. “Not much guiding needed here, though.” The tunnel was very straight-forward, no forks in the road anywhere. He caught himself breathing a sigh of relief, being enclosed by cool, life-giving moisture like this, even if he wasn’t bound to the weaknesses of organic life at all. His time in Sumeru had made him soft. He couldn’t find it in himself to really mind. He’d take the desert’s discomforts; he was used to that much, at least.

Sorush dramatically spread her wings, seeming a little bit more like her old self still. “Behold the life-giving Amrita, the priceless gift our god herself left behind to nourish the desert, creating all life you see around you!” she tried again.

“Better still,” he had to admit. “I’m beholding, oh mighty Sorush, I’m beholding.” Ahead was a shimmering pool, carved into the rock underfoot, enveloped in vegetation, swaying weeds even sprouting from the bottom of it. Amrita – more pure, more concentrated than the luminous stuff outside, he sensed. There was one single Pari hovering near the edge, turquoise as his Anemo powers. “…Who’s this?” To his relief, the Pari did not back away or zip off as soon as she saw him.

“I am Fedhri,” the tiny feathery being replied in a clear, pure voice like a little silver bell, bobbing in the air as though curtsying. “I’m in charge of looking after the Amrita Pool. Are you the outsider offerer the flowers sing of?”

He co*cked his head. “Offerer, huh?”

“Yes, a valiant outsider who is bonded to a Pari. It’s been centuries since this land last witnessed something so wondrous!”

“Tch. Tone it down, little thing.” He glanced over to the water, striding in towards it. “…I carry three plumes. Somehow. They vanished when I touched them. What do I do?”

“The Amrita is all that is needed to wash away the deepest regrets and sorrow,” Fedhri spoke. “With its nourishment, one shall regain their pristine form as the Khvarena’s familiar.”

“A Pari,” Sorush supplied.

“I got that much,” Kintsugi replied, but he bit back a smile at her remembering his preference for clear language. “Alright. So… I get in?”

“If you also wish to wash away your own sorrows and enjoy the Amrita’s blessings, by all means, outsider!” Fedhri curtsied again, stretching out a wing to the shimmering water. Kintsugi chuckled. “I very much doubt that can be done. But, alright…” He stepped forward, removing just his hat and the small, soft doll from his pocket, slipping his tired, dusty body into the pool, sand-filled clothes and all.

Immediately, three golden lights separated from him, dissolving into the water, swirling within its crystal scintillations. He leaned back to try and follow them, treading water within the pool, then impulsively dunking his head in as well – he might as well clean himself completely. The golden particles swirled around him for a moment, and then started coalescing into three separate points of light again.

Khvarena and Amrita, melding together, gaining life, gaining sentience before his eyes. Three tiny figures, pink and blue and orange, gaining shape, drifting to the surface like little flower petals around him as he resurfaced as well, opening their eyes as he blinked, spreading their wings and hovering up with scarcely a ripple. Humming quietly, testing their voices for the first time.

Three new Pari, just like that. He followed them with his eyes as they lifted off and twirled out of the cavern, gently humming the whole way. “Not gonna… welcome them? Name them?”

“Hm?” Sorush turned to him. “Why would we do that? They are aware of their tasks, and setting about them right away. They will spend some time strengthening themselves within the Oasis, and then go out to preserve this land, as is the inborn duty of all Pari. As for names… they know theirs, and will tell us if we need to know.”

He rested his back against the rocky pool’s steep edge. “Huh. Must be nice.” He imagined it – being born with a name, not having to rely on anyone to give you one? Being born with a purpose no one could take away? “…Must be nice.” He stared into the middle distance for a moment, then blinked, looking up at Fedhri. “I don’t feel anything. Amrita must not work on beings like me.”

“You need not think, offerer. You need merely allow the Amrita to ease your sorrow.”

“Allow it,” he huffed. “Are you saying I’m clinging to my sorrow?”

“It is not my place to say, valiant outsider.” Fedhri humbly folded a wing before her body. Kintsugi turned away again, laying his head back, staring up, trying to clear his mind. He was actually curious what the Amrita could do. It couldn’t hurt to try…

…He closed his eyes, letting the water wash over him, envelop him.

Something was happening. A gentle, warm presence ebbed and flowed all around him, like a mother’s careful hand wiping away his tears, even if he wasn’t crying at the moment.

…Was he?

It’s alright. You can let go.

It wasn’t exactly a voice, barely even a concrete feeling. Just… warmth. Just care. Just compassion.

For a moment, he panicked, his breath hitching. His sorrows were a part of him, part of his memories. He was clinging to them. He didn’t want to let go. His memories made him what he was, and he’d fought very hard to restore all of himself to the state he was in now…

…but…

“We’re family now. We’re gonna be together for ever and ever!”

A bittersweet sting. It hadn’t lasted. Barely weeks after that point.

…and yet.

He blindly clenched his jaw, resisting still. Don’t you meddle with my mind. Don’t you alter my memories. I will not have it.

…Child, centuries of resentment have made you alter them yourself. See…

The water swirled around him, and even as he balled his fists where he’d braced them on the edge of the pool, he could feel the bitterness fading. He could feel, for just a moment, how elated he’d been when he’d first heard those words. Family… He’d believed it, really believed it, and it’d been true. His fledgeling had meant it. It’d been true. ‘Forever’ hadn’t lasted long, but…

A faint smile graced his lips, despite everything.

“You’re a human as far as I’m concerned.”

More than elation. Euphoria. For a moment, he’d known what it was like to feel his heart skip a beat, because someone had seen a heart within him. That’d been real, too. Without the bitter veil of hindsight and centuries of memory, the moment came back to him as it had been, crystal clear as the Amrita, untainted and true. He’d been so happy. All he’d needed was a reminder.

His hands slid away, and he allowed himself to drift on the water’s surface like the newborn Pari had done, aimless as a flower petal. His face was upturned, but his cheeks were still getting wet…

“A puppet? What’s he doing here…”

…He’d been so happy. He’d forgotten how he’d felt in those moments themselves, letting them be clouded by everything that’d happened after. But now the waters were clear. Now, he remembered. Now, the sob that left him was a happy one, purely a happy one, for the first time in centuries…

…Even his long centuries with the Fatui hadn’t been devoid of little happy moments, although he hadn’t been equipped to enjoy them at the time. He’d closed off his heart in self-defense, a little tighter each time he inevitably got hurt, but there had still been people looking out for their seemingly youthful recruit, especially when he actually had been young. Snezhnaya had been shockingly cold, and there had been those insisting he dress up warmly. There had been those that’d taught him Snezhnayan dances and shared their fire-water during long rounds of nightly guard duty, roaring with approval as he’d managed to outdrink them all, even if he hadn’t understood a thing about it back then. Of course, that was before he’d gotten it through everyone’s heads that companionship was something that no longer held any meaning to him, and he’d started keeping everyone under his thumb so viciously they wouldn’t dare dangle it in front of him ever again…

Child, there was so much you never allowed yourself to see…

“…Set him free…?”

“…I do not wish to assert control over him.”

This feeling.

That voice.

His eyes snapped open. Happy tears turned to horror.

The next thing he knew, he was in the air, drops of luminous Amrita flying like rain as he sprinted out of the cavern and back out in the open, halfway up the Harvisptokhm before he remembered the Sign overhead and settled for landing, hunched over like a gargoyle, on one of the massive roots arching over the Oasis.

…That voice.

He stared ahead, unseeing, the words and their inflection replaying over and over in his mind. The feeling that’d gotten through to him through the Amrita’s crystal clear lens, the way he must’ve felt in the moment itself, lingering within his chest, refusing to die down.

Hope. Understanding. The sense that she must’ve wanted the best for him, why else would she –

…Had he really felt that way, in that moment? Before the sadness and the fear and the utter devastation at being all alone in Shakkei Pavilion had set in? Had he trusted her?

…Had she really sounded like that? Thoughtful, and saddened, and… like she was acting in his best interests…?

No. No, he wasn’t ready for that. He’d be staying far away from the Amrita from now on, thank you very much. He shook himself, wrapping his arms around his knees, barely looking up as Sorush rejoined his side. No comment. “I got rid of the plumes. I had enough. Time to dry off.”

“Very well, Yasnapati.” She seemed to sense this was not the moment to rib him. She gently nudged him instead. “I brought you your brother’s item. Regrettably I was unable to lift your hat.”

He looked. He’d left the little doll at the side of the pool. He quickly took it from her wings, holding on to it with uncharacteristic quiet instead of tucking it away at once. “…Thank you.” He’d go back for his hat later.

He looked up at the Harvisptokhm, that great tree that’d rooted in and grown from the Amrita. There was something to be said for that motherly embrace, that wiping away of sorrow and fear, but he was fairly sure he preferred the present. He’d accepted it, the bitter and the sweet. He accepted the fact that this little doll was not the original, that he’d burned the original, and this one would always remind him of that fact.

“It is a rather… interesting object, Yasnapati. I shall not pry. Still…” Sorush kept her eyes on the little doll, fidgeting with her wings, tilting her little head. Kintsugi managed a small, slightly sly smile, simply waiting as he held on to the doll, slowly drying in the oasis sunlight.

“…It is nice, and soft, and pleasant to hold.”

He tilted his head. Of course you’d think so. Damn it all, I really do have a feathery fledgeling. “Heh. That’s the first thing I’ve heard you say that made any sense at all.”

Her eyes immediately widened. “And I have yet to hear you say a single thing that does not make me want to complete this pilgrimage on my own!”

“And forego the singing of praises? Hah, as if you’d move an inch without anyone observing.”

“You understand,” she haughtily agreed. “I am glad to have such a diligent Yasnapati. Are you taking notes, scholar?”

“My memory is perfect. There’s no need.” He glanced at the cave entrance to the Amrita Pool. He really ought to be fetching his hat; he felt naked without it. Still, he didn’t feel like approaching that pool again so soon. “…So, when do we set off?”

“As soon as you are ready, of course. The sooner, the better.” Sorush idly twirled through the air, wings outstretched, weightless as a flower petal. Kintsugi still couldn’t settle on whether she was flowery or feathery, or a perfect blend of both.

Then she faltered, looking down. “…At least, after I rectify this.” And she was off, hovering down towards a certain part of the sea of flowers surrounding Harvisptokhm. Nothing in particular stood out to him there – perhaps the way the blue vegetation formed spiraling swirls against the grass, as seen from above. He followed anyway, for lack of anything better to do. “What is it now?”

The Pari lingered at one of a collection of larger flowers he now saw dotting the blue swirls, lighter blue in colour, all still closed in bud. “This is a sunyata flower,” she explained, indicating one with her wing. “Most common amongst us Pari. I believe that young Sefana has been tending to them. However, these are not in good shape. I shall aid her in caring for them.” She opened her wings, letting her Khvarena shine forth, and the bud opened, unfurling its golden throat. Kintsugi looked on as she flew along the entire spiral of blue leaves, opening all the sunyatas as she went, glowing all the way, and visibly a little tired as she returned to his side – but as the last sunyata opened, the entire blue spiral blossomed with smaller, glowing turquoise flowers as well, as though in celebration. Sorush glanced up at the Sign of Apaosha directly overhead. “The dark corrosion expands yet, and these sunyatas were but a few amongst its many victims… The other flower ponds have not been spared. Sefana must be in quite the fluster at the moment. I suppose restoring them may serve as a suitable diversion upon my great work.”

“There’s more, and you want to take care of them too?” He co*cked his head. “You do know I want to be setting off soon. I won’t carry you.”

“You startle pointlessly,” she flapped a wing at him, already flying off, assuming he’d follow – which he did without further complaint. “My powers are more than enough to easily rescue the sunyatas.”

“So you say. I’ll be the actual judge of it.” He followed her around to the other side of the giant tree, where she descended to another collection of half-grown sunyatas. There was a Pari tending to these, dark blue and golden, seeming very dejected. “Such terrible strength,” she was sighing. “Resistance may as well be futile…”

“Pull yourself together, Sefana,” Sorush scolded her as she descended. “What is with all this fear and trembling?”

The blue Pari looked up with wide eyes. “Wait, do my eyes deceive me? …It’s you, sister Sorush! You’re back! Ah, the sunyata flowers are saved!” She faltered. “You won’t suddenly leave again, will you? You won’t be gone for a long, long time, right? Right?”

“Cease your fretting, Sefana. My comings and goings do not concern you. What is important is that I and my Yasnapati have come to make up for your failings.”

Kintsugi had landed behind his little companion, folding his arms and observing with a small smile. Such fire. And even crediting him…? There was very little he could do for the flowers.

“I pursue the great task of extinguishing the Sign of Apaosha, and shall surely eliminate this dark corrosion and rescue all our flower ponds. But remember, Sefana, this was on account of your failings!”

“I… I know it’s my fault…” Sefana hung her wings, even more dejected now.

“I don’t think this’ll help her care for the flowers in your absence,” Kintsugi remarked. Sefana turned his way, eyes wide again – she’d been so preoccupied with Sorush she’d barely seen him. In her defense, he did suppose he was wearing a lot of blue, blending in with the surrounding vegetation.

“Such immaturity,” Sorush scoffed, making him grin. “It is the duty of one senior to give pointers to their juniors. How can I speak softly to them in the face of such errors?”

“Sixth of the Pari Harbingers,” he muttered to himself, trying very hard not to laugh. Had he made such a ridiculous, yet vicious figure? He supposed everyone under him had been just as nervous. “What’s so important about these flowers, anyway?”

Sefana blinked, spreading her wings. “The sunyata flowers are not the most precious thing within the Oasis, but they are exceedingly dear companions to our people. Many Pari spend time with these flowers after they’ve finished their work for the day. It would be like a human growing up alongside those creatures that go ‘meow-meow’ and ‘woof-woof’…”

Kintsugi lifted his chin, understanding, looking at the sunyatas with new eyes. Like pets… He supposed that made sense, considering the Pari’s flowery nature. More flower than feather, then; that answered his earlier question.

“What a shallow, coarse analogy,” Sorush flapped at Sefana. “The importance of the sunyata flowers is far beyond such. Your choice of words still requires some work, Sefana.”

“I understood,” Kintsugi supplied.

Sorush ignored him, carrying on. “To put it more clearly, both sunyata flowers and Pari hail from the dewdrops of the Harvisptokhm,” she explained. “And that makes us family.”

The puppet looked at her for a moment, then back to the flowers, his gaze lingering longer this time. “…I see.”

Sorush ended up begrudgingly cleansing all three other remaining meadows of sunyata flowers while Kintsugi fetched his hat and spent some time by himself, insisting she was showing Sefana and the other flower-tenders what true Pari strength looked like, but almost exhausting her Khvarena in the process. The rosy Pari was forced to admit she was tired afterwards, and that it might be a good idea to put off departure from the Oasis until the next morning. Kintsugi had grinned, and foregone all grace; his ‘I told you so’ was a gleeful and resounding one.

They mostly steered clear of the other Pari as night fell. Kintsugi had constructed himself a little campfire well away from any vulnerable vegetation, and was now grilling a fish with some Harra fruit he’d been grateful to find growing in the Oasis.

“So… not all Pari exist to sacrifice themselves. Some look after the Amrita. Some after the sunyatas.”

Sorush curiously beheld his fish. “Not everyone’s existence can be as meaningful and elevated as my own.”

Ah, this kind of talk… He looked up at the Pari with a knowing half-grin. He was willing to bet the Skeptics found her most interesting and important, the way the Fatui had found the Kabukimono interesting and important, and had filled his young head with grandeur. “…Let’s focus on getting you that Chaplet, first. You can’t be important without a proper hat, I should know.”

“Hmph. The Chaplet will merely accentuate my importance.”

“Oh, that’s a good one. I think I’ll hang on to it.” He fingered the brim of his own headgear. “…So… I have to ask. You see me as Kusanali’s right hand, but do you have any idea what she’s like these days? What if I told you she’s a child and I dictate her bedtime most evenings?”

“Yasnapati!” She sounded downright scandalized. “Surely not!”

“Surely yes. In fact, I’m a little worried. She’s probably making excellent use of my absence to fill up the Sanctuary and her stomach with candied nuts.” He pulled apart his fish, seasoning it and enjoying his own meal, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. “…On the positive side, if she gets good and nauseous, maybe she’ll lay off on the disgusting things, if only a little…”

“You… you are awfully familiar with the Lord of Verdure.”

He grinned up at her. “Jealous?”

“N-no! The future Bloomguard does not get jealous – My spirit is pure and unsullied –”

“…You are astoundingly flawed,” Kintsugi observed, his smirk fouler than ever. “It’s honestly fascinating to witness. What complete hypocrisy from a being claiming to be inherently purifying.” He’d almost thank Zurvan for pulling the truth from him – this added openness did feel good, in the end. He couldn’t help but chuckle as Sorush lost herself in wordless sputtering.

Don’t be alone.

…I’m not, Kusanali. I’m not.

His smirk turned a little softer. Just a little.

Sorush had furiously attempted to find words for her agitation for a while, but had gradually given up and eventually taken note of his sudden quiet, her mind returning to their original topic and piecing together what he must be thinking now. “…You seem troubled yourself, Yasnapati. You care for her a great deal. Do not deny it to me.” Her own voice held just the tiniest hint of triumphant malice, but it quickly melted with her next words. “You worry for her, do you not? Surely the Lord of Verdure, childlike or no, can hold her own…”

“…My dreams have been weird since I got here. She usually visits them when things get ugly, but lately… it hasn’t been the same. She hasn’t been the same.” He finished eating, pensively staring into the fire instead. The words had left him so easily. “Maybe it’s the Sign.”

“The Sign of Apaosha is subdued here, under the great dome of Harvisptokhm’s power. Your slumber should be as it was, your dreams purified, as long as you remain here.” Sorush’ words had come rather easily, too.

“Hmm.” He idly tossed a few loose fishbones into the flames. “Here’s to hoping.”

Vourukasha’s nightly sounds weren’t quite like those of the rainforest, but after two nights in the desert it was still good to once again be surrounded by soft birdcalls, the myriad sounds of frogs and insects, and the gentle flow of the Amrita. The Khvarena mayflies silently zipped around the Harvisptokhm, their glow softening the stars.

Kintsugi lowered himself onto his side, laying down with his back to the dying fire, facing the direction where the sandstone cliffs opened to the desert outside of the Oasis as if silently guarding the Pari’s home. Before Sorush could turn away to let him rest, however, one hand came up, offering her something without looking up. “Made you something.”

She hovered closer, tilting her head, inspecting it in the mayflies’ light. “…Pray, what is this…?”

“You liked the doll.” He blindly waved the small offering at her. “Hurry up, pest, my arm’s getting numb.”

She reached out with her wings, carefully taking the item. Her eyes widened as she recognized the little cloth sunyata flower, its minute petals soft with a stuffing of bird down he must’ve pilfered from the various nests around the Oasis as she’d been busy cleansing the flower ponds – and the fabric itself, an awfully familiar deep blue, darker on the petals’ outside, lighter on the inside. She took note of the robes draped over his reclining form, just a little shorter now, their neat hemming looking rather new. “…Yasnapati…”

“Enjoy. Goodnight.”

She quietly pressed the little gift to her chest. “Goodnight,” she murmured. “May your dreams have returned to normal, and may the Lord of Verdure be unharmed.”

“Thanks,” he just barely muttered back, the faintest of smiles just out of sight.

…But when he actually did fall asleep, he didn’t dream at all.

Chapter 10: Asipattravana

Chapter Text

The first destination on their pilgrimage to earn the Twin-Horned Chaplet was not far from the Vourukasha Oasis at all; in fact, it could almost be seen from the roots of Harvisptokhm itself. It did feel completely different from the balmy Oasis, however, even despite the similar presence of rare bodies of water in the desert.

“Rashnu and Mihir,” Sorush had grumbled early that morning before they’d set out, as Kintsugi indulged in the chance to fix himself a mushroom omelette, fried on a flat stone – he’d take what he could get while he could, out in this desert. “Hmph. The last time we convened was many years ago now. I know not if they are still as they were before…”

“The two Zurvan is sending us out to find, right?” Kintsugi poked at his eggs, slightly surprised at how alright the Pari were with him snatching them from birds’ nests.

“Verily. Two shameful excuses for Pari, even as I saw them last. Rashnu guards the great Tree of Barsom, a shelter for warriors returning from their trials. Mihir watches over the nearby Asipattravana Swamp. None have seen them in far too long. One would begin to think they grow remiss in their duties…”

“Well, one way to find out. No sense wasting time guessing instead of going out to see,” Kintsugi had reasoned, ribbing her a bit for his own amusem*nt. “Don’t tell me you’d rather sit idle and believe yourself superior than actually doing your own duties.”

“Hmph! I shall show you dutiful, Yasnapati!”

Now, seeing Asipattravana Swamp for himself, Kintsugi had to admit Sorush might be right. This place did not look like one guarded by the purifying Pari at all.

The swamp was lifeless and decrepit, the only vitality present in the writing thorn roots crampedly clinging to the walls of the canyon that held it, and bridging island to sandy, rocky island. The shallow waters in between were murky with silt and slime, and choked with the corpses of birds and mummified crocodiles, the forces of corruption having strangled the life from them where they sat. All other plants had withered around the banks. And the air…

The air was filled with a dusty, greyish purple fog, creeping up between the thorns in hazy clumps as though alive. It might very well be. Kintsugi knew that colour; it was not of this world.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he wryly remarked, looking down at the place from a low-lying ledge on the canyon’s sandstone cliffs. “Hardly a Pari’s guarded ground.”

“Stop making such disgraceful noises. Would I lead you wrong?” Sorush folded her wings, glaring at the fog. “Such trivial trials. They pale in comparison to the sacrifice that I must offer up later.” She shook her head. “Mihir. That foolish familiar of thorns… It should have been her task to keep such wicked powers from running rampant upon the earth.”

Kintsugi warily eyed the fog. “Dev,” he presumed, using the Pari term for Abyssal influence.

“The power of the purple mist shares a source with the demons of Dev, yes,” Sorush nodded. “Under the Sign of Apaosha, the powers of the two forces warring here ebb and flow… We Pari should be dauntless, willing to fight till we ourselves are torn to shreds! But Mihir? Hah.” She gestured dismissively. “I shouldn’t wonder if she searches for some way to protect herself even now, conducting some loathsome struggle.”

Kintsugi let his eye wander, his expression tightening a little as his gaze fell on a coiling Fravashi tree, lower down near the filthy water. “A Pari fell here. Is that her?”

Sorush turned and hovered over, rendering the little restless spirit of her former sister visible with her Khvarena. “This is not Mihir,” she shook her head as soon as she laid eyes on the Pari.

“Ah, finally, at long last,” the little spirit sighed. “Please, show me that flower… you know what I’m talking about, right?”

Kintsugi blanked for a moment, but then impulsively took the little plush sunyata flower he’d made for Sorush from his pocket. For lack of pockets of her own, Sorush had insisted he carry it with him instead. “This…?” He felt a little foolish – this probably wasn’t what the spirit was looking for, but it was the only flower he currently had on hand.

To his surprise, the little spirit nodded. “I extend my gratitude.” She closed her eyes and folded her wings before herself, just before fading into a golden plume. Kintsugi gave a quiet, solemn nod in return, collecting it. To the Amrita you go, as soon as we ourselves return there. He turned to Sorush. “You know where we can find Mihir, then?”

She scoffed. “She must’ve found some position equal in seclusion and defensibility, before using a grey gate to seal both the Dev and herself in.”

Kintsugi thoughtfully narrowed his eyes, looking around in search of any corrupted grey crystals, but couldn’t yet see any through the coiling fog.

“…It is no difficult matter, saving her,” Sorush mused. “Perhaps I might even call it trivial. All the same, the state of this place tells me that she shall not hold out long by herself. How pitiful…”

“Yes, yes,” Kintsugi sighed, motioning for her to get on with it. “How do we find her in this fog, preferably in one piece so we can bring her back to Zurvan?”

“Mihir’s cowardly self might be unable to fulfill her duty, but the thorns remain. So long as I lend them some of my strength, scattering this defilement should cost me but a little effort.” Sorush hovered over to the coiling thorn branches dominating the canyon, lingering at a particularly vigorous section of branch, green sap still shining through tough bark. The branch was even flowering somehow, fiery-looking blooms, savage as the thorns themselves.

Sorush turned to Kintsugi, gesturing at the thorns. “When I scatter the fog, Yasnapati, the filth that has long been assailing Mihir shall burst forth once more. She has done a meager job of sealing the rifts threatening to open here, but only partly. The Dev linger still. We must tear open these rifts from this side if we plan to rid this place of their influence, like unto reopening a wound to remove an offending object…”

“Danger incoming,” Kintsugi translated. “…Alright.” He cracked his knuckles, rolled his shoulders. “I’m ready.” Ripping open the diseased fabric of reality with literal thorns? Why not. Par for the course. He grinned a little to himself. Definitely a commission a regular adventurer from the Guild could’ve dealt with, yes. Great thinking, Akademiya.

He was prepared to take care of any physical threats that were flung his way, as had been his custom for longer than he cared to remember, but was then pleasantly surprised as Sorush hovered up and opened her Khvarena to a strange, luminous bloom higher up on the thorny branch. “I have girded myself with Nirodha fruit,” she explained, returning to the green thorn. “I am prepared as well.” Without delaying any longer, she shone her rosy light on the thorn, lending it her energy – and it sent a radiant beam straight into the nearest clump of murky fog, scattering it apart like dust.

Snarls immediately answered her challenge. Two slender, skeletal bodies surged from the reopened rift, rending claws and slavering maws racing towards the puppet and the Pari. Kintsugi was in the air instantly as well, more than ready for this familiar threat.

Rifthounds. He’d seen his share in the Abyss. Weak, but he despised them with a passion, something he was vigorously reminded of as soon as they reached him. He flung out windblade after windblade, cutting into their partly-there bodies, stunning and driving them back, but unable to stop them from diving into nothing and emerging right behind him. He instantly, instinctively flung out a hand, fingers curved into claws, trying to summon the Electro he’d wielded in the Abyss to instantly fry anything that came too close – but coming up short, and failing to pull back in time. As one rifthound fell to his windblades, the other sank its teeth into his wrist, snarling and slavering, wildly shaking its head and puncturing his false skin.

“Yasnapati! Move away!”

His head snapped up. Sorush was right overhead, her little body glowing with amber light. He instinctively kicked out his feet, ripping the rifthound off his arm at the cost of deep scratches, flinging it away – and Sorush followed, dropping two Nirodha fruits in quick succession. In a blast of fire, smoke and splattering swamp water, the beast burst apart into howling components.

Kintsugi landed, clutching his arm, hissing through clenched teeth. “…I hate those things –”

“You are injured, Yasnapati.” Sorush descended, inspecting his arm. “You… you are hollow.”

“Yeah.” He turned his damaged arm this way and that. The hound’s teeth had torn the wrappings around his wrist, breaking through his false skin and cracking it, revealing his arm’s hollow inside through the punctures. “I told you, didn’t I? Puppet.” He shook the injured limb, violet venom seeping from the wounds. The sooner he got it out of his system, the better. Settling into him as it was now, it caused a pounding ache to radiate through his body from his arm, and a sense of impending doom to pervade his mind, worsened by the weight of memory. He knew this feeling far too well. He’d spent so much time in the Abyss with this venom coursing through his body, gradually corroding him, feeling pained and miserable.

He experimentally hovered his uninjured hand over the wounds, gathering Anemo energy into a little vortex. He grinned in pleasant surprise as the suction pulled the venom out and upward, tinting the swirl purple and somewhat relieving the pounding pain. “…Heh.”

He needed to work on his reflexes – the past wouldn’t serve him perfectly. But there was something to be said for the present, as well.

He turned to Sorush. “I’m ready to continue. Hit the next one.”

She nodded at once. “Very well. Yasnapati, stand and behold my capabilities. Do not try to disperse the enemy all by yourself – this is my noble mission, after all!”

He chuckled a little. “Alright, do your thing.”

She huffed at his flippancy, but then hovered onwards, pressing deeper into the swamp and selecting another thorn from the coiling branches overhead. Its resulting burst of Khvarena dispersed another cloud of purple fog up ahead. This time, Kintsugi was better prepared, and also left space for Sorush to loose her Nirodha fruit as requested. He experimentally sent windblades into the resulting explosions, making use of the sparks to fan them into true fire as he struck. This time the snarling beasts were kept at a distance, disintegrating in the flames before they could do any damage. With their demise, the Abyssal influence in the canyon lessened even further, and Kintsugi felt like he could breathe a little easier. “This works,” he observed. “Let’s keep going.”

When the next cloud dispersed, Kintsugi was briefly distracted by the grey crystals embedded in the rock wall it’d been concealing, his eyes sharpening at this sign Mihir might be near. Sorush immediately called him out. “Pay attention, foolish one!”

He gnashed in frustration as the rifthounds were upon him at once, barely dodging their slashing claws and snapping fangs, his airborne agility only just enough to dodge their darting, teleporting forms. Sorush zipped around overhead, trying to find a safe way to drop her Nirodha. Kintsugi decided to take a risk, kicking one hound away and sending windblades after it, hitting just as Sorush sparked the explosion – and leaving his own back open to the other two beasts. Teeth sank into his shoulder, making him screw up his face in pain and in reaction to the splintering sound of his breaking skin. “Ugh – !” He blindly reached behind himself, grasping the creature by the neck, flinging it away into the murky water for Sorush to deal with. The other hound had latched on to his leg, sending numbing waves of venom up his body. This elicited a wild grin from him, his eyes filling with a furious blue glow. “Have it your way.” He brought his foot down, sending up a blinding burst of white water and azure Anemo energy, as well as a rain of loose rifthound parts.

Sorush shielded her face in something like awe, hesitantly peeking through her wings. “How radiant, my Yasnapati! We may press on!” She turned to the grey gate they’d uncovered with barely concealed excitement. “Mihir should be hiding behind there, gasping raggedly. Follow me!”

“Just a second.” Kintsugi sank down once more, pulling the venom from his body the best he could, but unable to stop his limbs from drooping, his jaw from tensing in pain and unease. “…Alright,” he still uttered. “Let’s keep going.” He tried putting weight on his leg, but realized he’d be forced into a limp, and decided to hover up in order to follow the little Pari as she opened the grey gate and passed through.

“You look worse for wear,” she observed as they entered the gloom of the desert cavern. “I could ease the pain brought on by the Dev using the purification of my Khvarena.”

“Save it,” he ground out. “You might need it. I’m used to this – let’s get to Mihir first.”

“…Very well.” She looked up. “She should be just ahead.” She hovered on, rounding a root-lined bend in the tunnel, and halting in apprehension. Kintsugi joined her, following her gaze to another swirling clump of corrupted fog, this one centered around a tiny floating figure, seemingly barely alive, wings drooping miserably. “Is this…”

“Mihir.” Sorush sounded almost unnervingly calm, inflection flat and unimpressed. “How very piteous, infested with corruption and helpless.”

The Pari they’d come to find was pale orange, crowned with a garland of thorns, gasping weakly amidst the Abyssal influence and not responding to their presence in any way. Kintsugi, unable to fully rid himself of the very same blight coursing through his body, shivered a little just seeing it, his shared otherworldly fever seemingly worsening at the sight of another’s misery. His jaw tightened further. “Come on, let’s get her out already.”

“Why of course, I shall save her. Yet I have not heard her repent! I shall hear her repudiation of her obduracy and her supplication for my aid…”

“Sorush.” He turned on her with narrowed eyes and clenched fists, still hovering, legs dangling uselessly. “Shut up. Help her.”

She looked him over, seemingly snapping out of a little of her personal grandeur. “…Well, then… if you say so, my Yasnapati. Fulfilling your wishes is indeed within my purview.” She selected a particularly vigorous thorn from the roots lining the tunnel walls. “Just the thought of doing this for Mihir… hmph, she’d better properly thank us later.” She still had the decency to look to Kintsugi for a moment. “Are you prepared?”

“I’m not gonna get any better.”

“…Very well.” She sent her Khvarena into the roots, the beam of pure life easily dispersing the mist…

…and summoning the monsters into the cavern.

As Mihir slumped into the suddenly clearer air, the filth coalesced into two small, skeletal shapes – and another, far larger one with jaws the size of Kintsugi’s arm, purple-maned, fiery-eyed, and immediately turning on the puppet.

He widened his eyes. A giant rifthound, in close quarters where he could barely maneuver, with this much venom already in his system…

…Well. Nothing worse than what he’d been through before.

His one regret was wasting all that Anemo energy on a smaller rifthound. Now, all he had were his windblades, and all the agility he could still muster, using it to zip around and blindly let loose hails of radiant arrows, trusting the wind itself to guide them to his enemies as they yelped and howled with frustration. He purposefully put some distance between himself and Mihir, wanting to lure the hounds away from her, and then between himself and the smaller hounds. “Take care of them,” he bit out to Sorush as he darted past her, stringing the larger hound along. She nodded, flying in while they were still distracted, barring their way with Nirodha sparks. Kintsugi just managed to fan them – but his scattered focus cost him dearly.

The giant rifthound had surged after him without hesitation, growling deep in its throat, rushing through the tunnel and leaving him barely any room to move. He could finally focus his attacks on it, but his blades and arrows barely kept it at bay at all, even as its smaller kin burst apart behind it. Kintsugi could feel his strength draining rapidly, inwardly cursing his prior dependence on Electro – he wouldn’t hold out for a day in the Abyss now. “Take Mihir,” he shouted, voice tinted with pain and frustration. “I’ll draw this one out of the cave!”

“Yasnapati – !” But he’d already darted off, tightly tucking his arms against his body to streamline himself, soaring out into the open with the rifthound in rapid pursuit, slavering and snarling. He looked back, spinning this way and that to throw it off, but it only narrowed its eyes in greater interest.

His halo weakened, his vision growing fuzzy with the corruption coursing through his body. He erratically rose and fell over the murky water as he darted into the swamp, weaving over and under thorns, then gradually dropping lower, lower…

…the rifthound caught up with him, relentlessly lunging in.

Jaws closed around his already splintered leg, cutting, crushing, twisting. He let out a shout as he was snatched from the air and twisted into a savage roll of the wolfish creature’s body, slamming into a nearby rock wall with enough force to dislocate both shoulders, and flung bonelessly to the ground on wet, muddy sand. He could only stare up at the creature in wild fury, eyes wide, teeth bared, his entire lower body burning with agony and venom as the beast tore its jaws away with a snarl, preparing to rush in for a killing blow –

– and then there was something even larger, emerging from the water behind the rifthound.

A pale blue maw, bigger than the rifthound’s whole head. A bony, ridged skull, a razor-sharp horn surging with Hydro energy. A bulky, scaly body bearing a great swaying fin, dragging itself from the water with sheer, lumbering determination, a hunger, an instinct…

Kintsugi could barely process what he was looking at, but some part of him managed to recognize it as a crocodile. Monstrous, warped, emanating far more power than any regular animal ever should. He wasn’t complaining, though. Most of him lit up in savage elation as the gargantuan reptile came crashing down on the rifthound, its massive jaws closing around its neck and dragging it, yelping and howling and struggling, into the water. Howls turned to desperate snarls turned to pathetic squeals, and then there was just the deafening, spine-chilling snap of bone, and the sloshing of the murky water as it rolled back in over the two creatures.

With the blight of corruption gone from the swamp, the natural forces of this world were very swift in their vengeance indeed.

Kintsugi took a deep, shuddering breath, staring out at the ripples and bubbles. Then his gaze dropped to his own ruined body.

The rifthound’s jaws had punctured and shattered his leg on both sides of the bite, sending deep cracks fanning out from countless puncture wounds that let him see right into his own hollow interior. A few shards crumbled away before his eyes, falling in. Purple venom came seeping out into the muddy sand, making a mess of his legwarmers. Sand and water had also gotten in through the punctures, oozing into his knee and ankle joints, making them grate and scrape under his skin. He grit his teeth, resolving not to think about anything for a moment – and gave a resolute jerk of his shoulders that popped his upper arms back into their sockets. He hissed in brief agony, before relaxing into a more manageable, steadily pounding pain. At least his arms were of use again.

He wasn’t getting up. He could be dizzy and miserable right where he was just fine.

“…Yasnapati!”

A little rosy speck came hovering in over the water. Another figure, pale orange and thorny, followed at a slightly slower pace. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to focus. “You got Mihir out. Great.”

“Do not get near him,” Sorush warned the other Pari, barring her with an outstretched wing. “Lest the defilement that emanates from you touches him…”

He had to chuckle at that, gesturing at all the venom all over him and seeping out of him. “Don’t worry, I’m as defiled as I could possibly get.”

She tsked, hovering in and spreading her wings over him. Her Khvarena shone forth, and he could feel some of the sting being taken out of his infected injuries. He relaxed, just a little, the sensations of dread lessening. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, outsider,” Mihir spoke, her voice quiet and as exhausted as he felt himself. “If not for you and Sorush, I would have needed much time to gather my strength… and even then, I am unsure if I could have stood against the rising filth on my own.” She still respectfully kept her distance. “The Sign of Apaosha could be seen all too clearly, even from the bottom of the valley, but thorns can only crawl upon the ground, never to reach the sky – not even the reflection of the skies on the earth…”

“Hmph. Of course,” Sorush replied. “After all, I am the one who is destined to make sacrifices and extinguish the Sign. This is my Yasnapati, a willing instrument recording my great work.”

Kintsugi’s eyes flashed in warning. “Say anything like that again, and you can go find Rashnu and carry out the Rite of Chinvat on your own.”

“…a valued companion, fighting valiantly against the Dev by the side of my exalted self,” Sorush amended after a beat. Kintsugi narrowed his eyes, but ultimately let it slide. It did help that she still hadn’t closed her wings, her rosy light still easing his pain.

“Rashnu,” Mihir quietly uttered. “I see. So you have something to request of her and me, Sorush.”

“What?” the rosy Pari snapped. “Have your senses gnarled into tumbleweed during your imprisonment? Your sinful form, stained with defilement… you should thank me, Mihir. If it was not for our elder… ah, whatever.” She ruffled herself, closing her wings at last, looking a little worse for wear herself. “We do this to obtain the Twin-Horned Chaplet. For that reason, you must return with me to the Vourukasha Oasis.” She looked her fellow Pari over once more, seeming doubtful. “…If that is even possible as you are now. If you had been shattered in battle, that might have been worth a song… but stained as you are, you can hardly be counted as one of us. If it were not for my coming to your rescue, you would likely have continued some pathetic struggle here, till the world forgot you, and you utterly faded away.”

Kintsugi blinked, his body exhausted, Sorush’ words puncturing something in his chest as surely as the rifthounds’ fangs would have. The Pari kept surprising him with their ruthlessness. Kusanali and the Aranara had made him far too soft.

“…Those are the words of the human who has befriended you, Sorush,” Mihir then spoke, slightly shaking her head, her wings still drooping with fatigue.

“He is no ordinary human,” Sorush replied snootily. “He is the Vijnanapati of the Order of Skeptics.”

“Yet he did nothing to help you cleanse this swamp,” Kintsugi remarked dryly, the mere mention of Nasejuna grating at him. He turned, addressing Mihir. “Can you come along to the Oasis or did we just risk our lives for nothing?”

“I must perform a cleansing pilgrimage,” the orange Pari replied in her soft voice. “And all will be well.”

“How long will that take?” He critically looked her over. “Will you even survive it?”

“She merely needs to return to the Oasis on her own,” Sorush explained. “For the sake of obtaining the Chaplet, let us escort her. She knows this road well, but in her weak and helpless state, were she to be attacked along the way, I doubt there will be anything left of her.”

“Mh.” Kintsugi painfully pushed himself up, not putting any weight on his shattered leg; it might very well snap off below the knee, the way he’d let himself be mauled. The thrum of the venom had faded into the background, but it still ate away at him. His throat was tight with pain. “…I think I’m in need of a cleansing pilgrimage myself. Let’s get going.” He summoned his flickering halo, hovering in place for a moment to see if it’d hold up at all – if not, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Fashion a walking stick and somehow hobble back up to Vourukasha’s towering plateau…? But to his relief, he hung in the air relatively stably, and the two Pari soon joined him. Neither he nor Mihir were terribly fast, and Sorush tutted and grumbled the entire way back up the canyon walls and across the rocky terrain beyond.

“It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” he eventually spoke, eyes fixated on the distant glow of the Harvisptokhm. “We’d have no use for you as a Fravashi tree, nothing but a memory.”

“We Pari do not require remembrance,” Mihir replied quietly. “Perhaps being forgotten might even be for the best.”

He tilted his head, surprised at this polar opposite from Sorush’ thinking. “Hm?”

“If the day comes when none mention us again, then surely the entire earth must have been purged of all calamity. There will be no more sacrifices to be sung of, for there will be no more sufferings to be remembered.” She let out a little sigh, her eyes closing briefly as she hovered on. “I believe that shall be a wonderful day.”

He had to smile at that, small and fragile. “…Yeah. I think you’re right.”

“That day is yet distant,” Sorush replied. “Let us not waste daylight with idle musings.”

“Thank you for walking this difficult path with me,” Mihir still uttered, ever so quiet, further softening Kintsugi’s expression. “I believe that the road shall be far smoother ahead.” She looked up. “I can already see the Harvisptokhm.” Some measure of hope and longing entered her voice, making him doubt the Pari’s constant claim of not needing aid or attachment of any kind. He knew homesickness when he saw it. “We’re almost there,” he encouraged her, just as quietly. “Let’s get you home.”

Once they returned to the Oasis, the three of them headed straight for the Amrita Pool. Kintsugi had a plume of purifying light to return, and as the resulting newborn Pari hovered out of the verdant cavern, he gratefully sank his legs into the cleansing waters. He still didn’t fully trust the pool, but nothing strange seemed to befall his thoughts as long as he didn’t completely empty his mind, so he supposed it was alright for now. The cleansing effects were certainly welcome.

He let out a sigh of relief as all the rifthound venom drained from his wounds, and the filthy sand from his joints, all of it vanishing within the Amrita. Mihir, too, seemed relieved, and visibly regained some of her strength from the shimmering waters as she basked in the pool’s luminous aura. “I have completed the cleansing pilgrimage,” she spoke. “The wind and waters here are good, and wondrous energies cycle here… for now, there is no need to worry about the defilement.”

“Hmph. It will not be so for long,” Sorush huffed, folding her wings. “Soon, my Yasnapati and I will stand before Tunigi Hollow to cleanse the greatest defilement of all… be thankful that you and Rashnu may be there to look upon that great deed, Mihir. For now, I am but one step closer to obtaining the Chaplet, but when I do…”

“…then we still have to get to the Great Songs,” Kintsugi interjected, amused at her getting ahead of herself. “That’s what the Chaplet is for. They will facilitate the Rite of Chinvat, not the Chaplet, and not you.”

Sorush floated up a little higher. “Tis so! Still, it is my deeds that shall shine the brightest. My end shall be glorious, radiant, like that of the divine bird Simurgh. My infinite motes of Khvarena shall cleanse the world of its impurity… That which Mihir has done cannot be compared to what I shall yet accomplish.”

“Yet there was only one Simurgh, and there is only one Sorush,” Mihir murmured.

“There has to be a way that doesn’t involve sacrifice,” Kintsugi finally spoke aloud, voicing what he’d been thinking for days now. He idly swished his legs through the water. “It shouldn’t be a requirement just because Simurgh did it.”

“You speak but empty words,” Sorush waved him away. “My mind is made up, my heart set. I will not be moved.” She petulantly closed her eyes, turning away from him, yet still lingering by his side as he let the Amrita do its work, even as Mihir eventually left the cavern to meet with Zurvan and discuss her return from the swamp.

“…Even so,” Sorush eventually spoke up, and Kintsugi blinked open one eye, glancing up at her with a slight smirk. “Yeah?”

“…Present me my item, Yasnapati.”

“Which item would that be?”

“The item you gifted me.” She turned to him fully, eyes impatient, wings gesturing irately. “Do not dally needlessly, you know very well of what I speak.”

He dug into his pocket. “You mean this?” He waggled the little cloth sunyata flower at her, grinning wider as she snatched it from his hand and cuddled it to her chest. “Thought so,” he chuckled. “Even the mighty Sorush needs comfort, hm?” He could understand. The day had been filled with corruption and monsters. He settled for folding his arms as the Amrita did its work, only holding on to himself in the barest of ways.

When Kintsugi’s wounds had been fully cleansed – although not healed, he would still have to hover instead of walk while his body recovered on its own – Sorush handed him the flower back to hold on to, and the both of them went out to see Zurvan as well. Mihir had gone off to her own dwelling within Harvisptokhm by then, and the First Pari was once again alone. She turned to them at once as they approached. “Well now! If it isn’t Sorush and her Yasnapati. You sure did bring Mihir back quickly.”

Sorush folded her wings. “Hmph. Whether it be foolish Mihir or ignorant Rashnu, I will personally save them and bring them back to our sea of flowers. I shall prove myself to you, elder, mark me well.”

Zurvan folded one wing where her mouth would’ve been, her eyes crinkling in mirth. “It is not me you need to prove yourself to, child, but the Khvarena itself. …It matters not. I believe you will be traveling to the Tree of Barsom next, yes?”

“Indeed. Only Rashnu remains to be retrieved.”

“I advise you to first pay a visit to the Skeptics you idolize so much, Sorush. You shall have need of an item they hold.”

Kintsugi fixated her, not at all pleased at the prospect of crossing the desert gorges back to the settlement again. That, and one other factor. “You’re keeping information on them to yourself. I can tell.”

“Do not accuse me rashly, child. You need only ask.”

He thought back to the Lost Darshan’s cavern settlement, hidden from the world, one of the most defensible places he’d ever seen. Yet, those window-studded cavern walls had been stained with soot, top to bottom, faded with age but clear enough to his eyes. A signifier of an important point in their history, he suspected. “…There was a fire there, long ago. What do you know?”

“Ah… right to the heart of that ancient pain. Very well.” Zurvan spread her faded wings. “Several hundred years ago, there arose one ranger in the Order of Skeptics who doubted the veracity of their story of origin, becoming convinced their first Vijnanapati had hidden the truth. He chose to turn to the forces of the Dev, turning against everything the Skeptics originally stood for, even waging war upon this very Oasis in order to obtain our Great Songs of Khvarena. He planned to reverse the Rite of Chinvat, breaking the seal at Tunigi Hollow and letting the darkness pour forth. We Pari repelled him and his monstrous allies, together with those Skeptics still loyal to their original cause, and I personally sealed the Vourukasha Oasis to any outsiders. When the betrayer could not reach us here, he turned to the Skeptics’ current settlement, setting a great fire and destroying much of their livelihood, as well as their knowledge, history and records of their sacred rites, crippling them forever.”

Kintsugi took in the story, thoughtfully settling in the grass, mindful of his shattered leg. “This is why they barely know anything useful. …Heh, no wonder they think conflict is the ‘truth’ of this world, if they turned on themselves to that degree… or did they already believe it, and this idiot was convinced to do it by those ideals, looking to spice things up…?” He looked up at Zurvan. “…What was the betrayer’s name?”

“Klingsor. He was of Dahrian descent.”

Khaenri’ahn. “…Very interesting. I’ll be sure to investigate what the Skeptics themselves have to say about him, too.”

“There were many great fools in the past,” Sorush mused. “Surely, this ensures the Skeptics of today know better. They already labour to restore the radiant knowledge of old. I am convinced they may soon live amongst us once more, elder. I shall open your eyes to their worth.”

Kintsugi tilted his head, looking at her for a moment, then exchanging a knowing glance with Zurvan. He might not like the elder, but in this case, he had to agree with her upholding the seal on the Oasis – and, just maybe, feel a little flattered he’d been the exception to it.

“Stay as long as you wish before you set off to the settlement,” the Pari elder spoke at length. “I shall be here when you return with Rashnu. The hour of you becoming Bloomguard grows ever nearer, Sorush. Trust in the Khvarena that nourishes and guards all things; that is all.”

The rosy Pari nodded stiffly. “Thank you, elder.” And with that, she was off.

Kintsugi remained under Zurvan’s wings, not feeling like getting up just yet. He stared off into the desert hills beyond the Oasis for a moment – and then spotted a lone, tall figure, standing out against the sky in the distance. He glanced up at the Pari elder. “We met a hilichurl out in the desert,” he spoke quietly. “I think I’m seeing him now.” He nodded at the silhouette just as the figure turned, revealing the barest hint of a long swishing cloak in the distant, trembling air, distorted with heat. “He didn’t seem out to actually harm us. Tried to communicate.”

“When such an effort is made, a similar effort to listen seems appropriate.”

“…Did you know they’re as much Dahri as they are Dev?”

Zurvan looked down at him. “I do know. I am one of few here that do. Do you think the Skeptics, or indeed even fledgling Pari like Sorush, are ready for such insight?”

He gave a little chuckle. “I suppose not.”

“Your eyes are bright, young one. I advise you to keep them open.”

“Must I say it again?” He sighed, but he was smirking, too. “No need to order me around. I was gonna do that anyway.”

“Hmm.” Zurvan’s eyes were not as easy to read as Sorush’, but he could swear there was a smile in them now. “There may be hope for Sorush, and indeed all of this land, yet.”

Chapter 11: Barsom

Chapter Text

The Skeptics were quite distressed to see him again.

He supposed it was the overall state of him, though, not his mere presence. Not long after his arrival, the shouting kind of gave it away.

“Yasnapati, you are wounded! Horrifically wounded…! And… floating…?”

“Congratulations, you have eyes,” Kintsugi had remarked, dryly beholding the gathering scholars and rangers at the cavern settlement. “Any of you have any bandages? I’m filling up with sand.”

As he, Sorush and Mihir had returned from Asipattravana Swamp and settled back into Vourukasha Oasis for a bit, Kintsugi had used most of the remains of the day to fix up his clothing. The swamp’s rifthounds had torn right through the wrappings around his wrist, his haori where it covered his shoulder, and both his legwarmers, and he had a lot of mending to do. Fortunately, the fabric had been completely cleared of all the purple venom after his dip in the Amrita, the white and blue once again pristine. He’d managed to restore his clothing to a presentable state, but not his body. For lack of any medical supplies, he couldn’t even seal off all the holes that’d punctured his arm, leg and shoulder. He wasn’t about to stuff them with leaves or anything of the sort – he’d rather keep them open than stoop to that.

At least his sleep had been free of Abyssal nightmares. Nahida hadn’t shown up either, though. He’d been looking forward to telling her about his adventures, and the Oasis – but it appeared that’d have to wait. He truly wondered what was going on with her…

He and Sorush had set off back to the Skeptic settlement early the next morning, and soared through the desert much faster than on their way to the Oasis – Kintsugi knew the way this time, they didn’t get caved in, and he flew the whole way, not stopping for anything. There was little point. He couldn’t walk, and barely even stand.

Now, here he was, hovering before them, enduring their stares and murmurs as he and the rosy Pari let themselves be ushered into the settlement, Sorush quickly joining Nasejuna to discuss their next plan of action. Kintsugi idly floated into the cavern, waiting on his bandages.

He hadn’t really missed humanity much. They were always so fussy about anything even remotely different from them, even here in this land of myths.

As soon as she heard he was back, Sosi was the one to insist on treating him. The blue-clad scholar that’d found him in the desert when he’d first arrived here came hurrying towards him, but promptly dropped everything as she saw his injuries. “Y-Yasnapati –”

“I’m not human,” he wryly remarked. “I don’t usually share it with people, but there’s really not much of a choice at this point. Don’t worry, I’m not bleeding out. I just want to bandage everything to keep the inside clean. It’ll all heal on its own.”

“You’re… not human…?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” he huffed. “You should’ve realized as much when I fell out of the sky and survived the night without taking a single breath.”

She picked up her supplies, quietly joining his side and beginning to wrap him up, her hands slightly shaky. She appeared thoughtful; he could sense as much even with his face stubbornly turned away, refusing to really acknowledge her. Then, halfway through tending to his leg, she spoke up again. “You wish you were human, then, Yasnapati?”

“…Just do as I asked. Get someone else to do it if you’re too disgusted.”

To her credit, she kept going. He glanced at her, somewhat pleasantly surprised. Well, well. “Have you thought about what you want from me yet?” He’d offered her a favour for having carried him to the Skeptic settlement instead of leaving him, senseless in the sand that first night after the Sign of Apaosha had struck him from the sky. He was somewhat curious to see what she’d come up with – and somewhat amused at putting her on the spot, as well. Humans could be such funny little creatures.

Sosi silently shook her head, flushing as brightly as the last time he’d seen her, her hands faltering for a moment. “…I’ll give it some more thought, but there is really no need, Yasnapati. The… the aid you offer the Lady Sorush is more than enough already…”

“Alright,” he sighed, voice airy. “Whatever you say.”

When he’d been properly wrapped up, all his injuries shielded from the elements, Sorush and Nasejuna came to find him and Sosi both. The Vijnanapati seemed most pleased to see him again. “Honoured Yasnapati, welcome back. My sincere thanks for all your aid to the Lady Sorush and her task. My sympathies for your injuries – but I am pleased to see you are sturdier than most.”

“I’m not doing it for you.” He narrowed his eyes where he sat. “No need for thanks or praise. Zurvan tells me we need an item you hold. It’s the Kory drum, isn’t it?” He scoffed to himself. “I knew I shouldn’t have left it here.”

Sorush twirled up by Nasejuna’s side. “Ah, that is where you err, Yasnapati! We not only have need of the drum, but of the Skeptics’ aid in person, as well!”

“Lady Sorush,” Nasejuna addressed her. “Allow me to explain to him the true history of Barsom and the Kory drums.”

“Story time, is it?” Kintsugi folded his arms. “Joy.”

“This is no idle yarn to be told after tea,” Nasejuna replied. “It is the tale of our meeting with the Pari, and the long years of war we have endured here in this land thereafter.”

“I think I would prefer an idle yarn.”

The Vijnanapati was not deterred, even though Sosi had to stifle a little laugh by his side. “…Long ago, our predecessors worked to quell the disaster that occurred in this land and formed a profound friendship with the Pari,” he began. “Barsom’s familiar had a preference for music, so we crafted Kory drums for her. During the ceremony where our bonds with the Pari were made official, five drums had to be gathered and played according to scores.” He produced a weathered scroll, unfurling it for Kintsugi to see. “Though the Kory drums are long lost, the drum scores have withstood the corrosion of the sandstorms. As you can see, they have been almost perfectly preserved.”

“Congratulations, you’re a community of scholars doing your jobs.” Kintsugi let out a sigh. “Five drums, is it… let me guess, they’re out there in the sand somewhere…”

“We shall find them and reunite them once more!” Sorush piped up, fiery and zealous, once again being surrounded by reverent Skeptics clearly inspiring her. “All shall be as it was of old, when all five drums were played together!”

“Words shall nary describe the true magnificence of such an occasion,” Nasejuna sagely agreed. “When the Kory drums sounded, all things reverberated in unison. It felt as if their sound could freely traverse space and time… Those who witnessed it were all shaken to the core. Even the elements themselves were stirred.”

Kintsugi had to smirk at Sorush. “I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”

“Foul Yasnapati. I do not think such a thing is even capable of afflicting one such as you.”

“…No. But just for this occasion, I can imagine what it feels like.”

Nasejuna sighed, wisely ignoring their banter. “It’s a shame that we Skeptics failed to pass on our legacy, resulting in the loss of all the Kory drums. And however loudly we cried out, Barsom’s familiar would never again utter a word in response.”

The puppet shifted where he sat, testingly moving his aching leg. “That’s Rashnu, then? The Pari we’re out to find? Why wouldn’t she respond just because the drums are gone?”

Sorush swayed over to his side. “The Pari and the Order of Skeptics both value tradition and ceremony, so there is routine to our actions.”

“Shouldn’t have lost the drums, then.”

“This is hardly a peaceful land. That such things would happen is little surprise.”

“Mh. Seems every step of the way is gonna be a hassle. Well, what else is new.”

“That is so,” Nasejuna agreed. “We will need to collect all the drums and play them according to the score… Thankfully, I have never once given up searching for the lost drums. I have been gathering the relevant clues even before your arrival.”

Kintsugi narrowed his eyes, smiling just a little in faint approval. “Finally, something useful from your mouth. And then, of course, there’s the drum I brought from Sumeru City. The Akademiya gave it to the Adventurer’s Guild, apparently. How did it ever end up in the rainforest in the first place, though…?”

“…Ah… that would’ve been Aryadeva, that ridiculous old goat. An elder amongst the Order who left for Sumeru City to work on his… light novels, the dratted things. There was a disagreement between him and the Order, and he retaliated by stealing the one drum we did still possess. It is most fortunate that you have brought it back, Yasnapati.”

Kintsugi sputtered out half a laugh before he caught himself. “What…? That’s… that’s ridiculous –” These weighty Skeptics, with their ancient legacy and all-important god-given tasks, being thwarted by an old man choosing light novels over their heritage…

“Yes, yes,” Nasejuna replied, visibly ashamed and a little flustered. “We all still regularly curse his name…”

“To get to the point!” Sorush interjected, raising a wing to Kintsugi, motioning for him to not press the matter further. He acquiesced, but not without maintaining a foul grin. “We have a need to find the full set of Kory drums and play them in unison. The Vijnanapati postulates they are hidden near the great Tree of Barsom itself. Therefore, the current matter at hand is escorting Nasejuna and three other Skeptics there to complete the ritual of Rashnu’s awakening.”

“Three?” Kintsugi inquired. “That still makes only four Skeptics, for five drums.”

“You shall also play one, Yasnapati. So it is decreed.”

“…By you?” He folded his arms, beholding the little Pari in amusem*nt.

“What if it were? You are but my honoured follower.”

He grinned, with no small hint of smugness. “If this is a ploy to have me trip over some complicated score in front of everyone, I’ll have you know I have some experience in the musical arts. I accept.”

Sorush sputtered, but Nasejuna clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Excellent, most excellent. Then it’s settled. We shall set off first thing next morning. Yasnapati, you would honour us by spending the night by our fire.”

“I have nowhere else to go. I accept that offer too, I suppose.”

That evening, the other drum players were selected, all of them scholars who’d extensively studied the ways of their ancient forbearers and the Pari, and were familiar with the drum scores. Sosi was among them, the other two being Afsaneh, a muscular Eremite woman, and Parviz, an older, but tough-looking man who could’ve passed for an Akademiya scholar still doing field work in his sunset years. The five of them and Sorush had dinner together, Kintsugi not saying much but electing to observe the little group he’d be escorting to the Tree of Barsom. For an Order claiming conflict was the truth of the world, they were more harmonious than most of Sumeru combined, he mused. For all of Kusanali’s efforts, forest and desert were still separate and often at odds with one another in most places – but not here. Here, academics and Eremites had blended over the course of five hundred years, out of necessity perhaps, but to a degree yet unheard of elsewhere. If conflict in one area could lead to harmony in another, was conflict still the truth of the world?

He kept these observations to himself, of course. He wasn’t keen on the resulting discussion. He’d save the interviews and note-taking for his thesis until after the business with the Sign was dealt with.

As he eventually laid himself down in one of the beds within a cliffside chamber, there were no windows through which he could see the pulsing purple of that Sign, but he could still feel it – much more clearly than during the nights he’d spent directly underneath it. The influence of the Harvisptokhm must be formidable indeed, even in its splintered, beleaguered state.

He could only hope he wouldn’t –

“In the end, all shall return…”

Purple light. Claws, reaching out for him. An immediate flurry of windblades in retaliation – but they sailed right through the air, striking no opponent, but careening off into the murky distance.

His eyes were wide, his chest heaving with unnecessary breath. The Abyss. The thrice-damned Abyss, again.

Every night, ever since he’d been struck by the Sign’s foul projectile. Every night save those he’d spent in the Oasis.

“I’ve had enough!” His voice was somewhat choked. His teeth only grit tighter in powerless fury at that. “Get out of my head!”

“Patience, patience. I am here.”

His eyes widened in slight mania as he recognized her voice, as her green eyes caught his gaze like a beacon. “Kusanali…!”

“Calmly, now. You’re safe. I’m sorry for letting you be startled.”

He sank down, eyes still wide and dazed, a hand clutched to his chest. Greenery took over the dream around him as it’d done before, but it didn’t feel real at all, not the way it usually did when the Dendro Archon visited his dreams. “…I was wondering where you were. The Abyss is all over this desert, messing with me, messing with my head…” He shook his head, trying to center himself. “The Amrita is not much better… I have to keep it together.”

“I believe you can do it. You were chosen by the Pari, I believe you can see this through.” The little Archon smiled at him, looking him over with something like appraisal. “You’ve been to the Oasis. Tell me everything.”

“…I’ve been wanting to. I found out you actually created it in your past life, Kusanali. As the Greater Lord, you grew a giant tree from the remains of what I think was Egeria, the former Hydro Archon. Historically and location-wise, it lines up.” He caught his breath, calming down further, even managing a small smirk. “This desert is quite the fascinating battleground – Vahumana won’t know what hit them once I publish my essay.”

“Good, good. Yes, the energies there are quite potent, aren’t they? I’m glad I connected to your mind, allowing me to see and feel so much.” Nahida paused, lightly steepling her fingers at her chest, looking thoughtful. “And the Great Songs? The Pari’s Chaplet?”

He huffed out a little breath. He’d hoped to discuss his thesis and the historical and elemental relevance of the Oasis a bit more – maybe his thoughts on the Skeptics as well. No dice, it seemed. “…Tomorrow, we set out to complete the tasks that’ll earn Sorush the Chaplet. Then we’ll go find the Great Songs.” He supposed it made sense – she’d sent him here to deal with the blight, first and foremost. His thesis was secondary. “Don’t worry. We’ll have the skies clear before you know it, Kusanali.”

She let out a quiet little laugh. “Very good. I don’t think for a moment you’ll let me down. Now, rest well. Be still and know: you’re almost there.”

“…Kusanali.”

She faltered for a brief moment. “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you? I may not be there with you, but you know you can tell me anything, right?” Her matter-of-fact behaviour was really starting to worry him. “Say the word and I’ll come back –”

“There is no need for any of that,” she reassured him. “Just see to your tasks here. I have faith in you; now have faith in yourself.” And before he could do or say anything more, she’d brought her hands together, and his dream had gone dark. He was alone, the only thing he could still see the faint glitter of stars both above and below him, strewn across something like the sky, something like the soil beneath his feet.

Empty. Dark. Alone.

“Kusanali!”

…He woke up, wide-eyed and panting, attempting to fly out of bed but halting just before he could smash into a sandstone wall. He forcibly calmed himself, steadying himself when he landed without thinking and his shattered leg almost gave out, then slowly sinking down onto the bed once more, his head in his hands, his eyes still wide even as his gaze rested on the floor. “…What…”

…She didn’t feel like herself at all. Something was going on. She didn’t tell him. Couldn’t tell him?

Another thought occurred to him – had occurred to him far earlier, in fact, but he hadn’t allowed himself to actually consider it, actually let it get through to him. It curdled dread low in his stomach, unlike anything he’d felt in a long time.

No. No. That couldn’t be it. He’d spoken to Nahida, his Archon, his guardian. She was with him in this desert, the way she was always with him, no matter how far he ventured. She’d explain everything as soon as she could. She had her reasons. She had to.

He finally lifted his head from his hands, painfully cradling his leg and pulling it back onto the bed, slowly stretching out on his back again. He didn’t close his eyes. He’d rather stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night.

As a puppet, Kintsugi could do without sleep just fine, certainly for just one night – but Sorush could still pick up on his exceptional grumpiness as they eventually set off the next morning.

Kintsugi had taken to guarding the little group of Skeptics from above, flying up as high as he dared without engaging the Sign of Apaosha, and scouting ahead as far as he could. He didn’t need a sunny disposition of any kind for that. Sorush had tried accompanying him, but had soon returned to Nasejuna’s side as he’d brushed her off one too many times, huffily exchanging his grouchy moods for the Vijnanapati’s ceaseless, honeyed reverence and praise.

Up in the air, Kintsugi felt like he was trying to keep a battalion of gormless Fatui grunts safe. That hardly ever went well. If he lost any of these, however, he wouldn’t be going back to get more to play the drums. He’d just have to try and play them all at once somehow if they died – maybe his Anemo powers would do the trick…

Flying ahead and back a few times, he’d made sure the road was cleared of flying serpents, hilichurls and any other vermin, thoroughly discouraging everything from posing a threat to the Skeptics the best he could.

There was no clearing the way completely, though, not with the way Tunigi Hollow had worsened.

He’d widened his eyes to see it. The dark purple energy wreathing the grey crystal spires had thickened, coiling around the central rift, reaching up to the sky, wafting towards the Sign of Apaosha as though calling out, yearning. The same silent roar that filled his mind when looking at the Sign now emanated from the Hollow, too. Things were getting uglier. He and Sorush should close up the Sign, and fast.

As the little group passed the Hollow and gave the rift itself a wide berth, he chose to rejoin them. To his annoyance, Sorush still hovered at Nasejuna’s shoulder near the Kory drum and the crossbow he’d tied to his back, preening at the elaborate nonsense he was pouring out at her. His mouth twisted as he caught the Skeptic prattling about ‘destined missions’ and ‘radiant sacrifice’. He let out a sharp tsk, firmly deciding against listening to those two for now, and descended closer to the back of the group, letting himself be greeted by Sosi and Afsaneh.

There was something else he’d wanted to do, anyway.

“The coast is clear,” he informed them. They respectfully touched their chests, bowing their heads. “Our thanks, Yasnapati.”

He hovered a little closer, keeping up with them, expression going a little flat at the reverence with which they looked at his halo, the way his feet hovered above the sand – the pity at his shattered leg. “I don’t want to indebt myself to you further,” he remarked, voice just a little cutting, “but I’m gonna need some pointers on your history. If you care to give out any information at all to someone working with the Akademiya, of course.” He couldn’t forget why the Skeptics had named themselves that way – they’d separated themselves from everything the rest of Sumeru believed rather thoroughly.

Sosi, however, nodded at once. “Ask us anything, Yasnapati. One bonded so closely to the exalted Pari cannot be denied any fragment of the truth of these lands.”

That was easy. “The soot on the walls of your settlement. Zurvan told me there was a fire in the cavern, long ago. Set by one of you own rangers turned betrayer.”

“Yes,” Afsaneh nodded, having listened in. “Our histories are muddled so far back, but there are tales of a monstrous betrayer allying himself with the Dev, forever fragmenting our connection to the Pari, costing us their trust, and erasing much of our past. Our Order was never the same. The marks upon our settlement remain as a reminder.” She narrowed her eyes, glancing back in the direction of the settlement. “Shame and eternal darkness be upon the name Klingsor.” She spat upon the sand.

Sosi ruefully shook her head. “It is the greatest of mercies that Lady Sorush has turned to us again now, helping us redeem ourselves, taking such a liking to our Vijnanapati. And it is doubly fortunate that he has such affinity for recovering the ancient scriptures and meeting her halfway. He labours tirelessly, his eyes ever on the Sign of Apaosha.”

Kintsugi’s eyes flicked to Nasejuna, gesturing animatedly as he conversed with Sorush. “…Indeed.”

Evening fell as they arrived at the mouth of the cavern with the frozen wenut at its heart, allowing them a secluded shelter from the elements and any dangers that might lurk out in the desert night. The Skeptics pressed on until they were before the mighty creature itself, making camp on the ledge overlooking the cavern depths. Kintsugi didn’t like it one bit, and chose to make himself comfortable higher up in the cave where he didn’t have to see the glimmering crystal corpse. He grit his teeth, pushed down all his pains and aches, and tried to think of anything but the last time he’d been in here. At least this time he wasn’t alone, and he knew there was a way out. That helped a lot.

To her credit, Sorush joined him, quietly nestling into the sand covering his ledge. He let out a quiet scoff, handing her her cloth flower in a silent agreement, a given by now. She pulled it close, folding her wings around it.

He couldn’t help it. He spoke up. “Have fun with Nasejuna?”

She blinked, looking up from her wings at his quiet, yet scathing voice. “Is something wrong, Yasnapati? Where is this suddenly coming from? I was but spending time with the Vijnanapati, discussing the road ahead, and rightfully receiving praise for those steps which have already been carried out successfully.”

“…Hmph.” He stubbornly stared at the cavern ceiling, unable to put into words why her being glued to the Skeptic’s side irked him so much. Nasejuna had been the one to put them on the right path, get them started on the road to eradicating the Sign of Apaosha, digging up the ancient rites and the rough locations of the Kory drums… and yet…

“…How can you be so close to someone who’s so eager for you to sacrifice yourself?”

He hadn’t even finished speaking before he cringed at himself, uncontrollably so. Hadn’t he himself spent hundreds of years at the side of someone actively torturing him on the regular? Hadn’t he been just as eager to throw away everything he was – and not for nearly so noble a goal as Sorush, who only wanted to restore her homeland? “…Wait, don’t answer that,” he added, a vicious bite to his voice that was really only aimed at himself. “I know how much you love their pretty words. You’d do anything for a lick of praise. If Zurvan won’t give it, you’ll look for the next best thing, won’t you?”

“…Y-Yasnapati…”

“I bet you don’t even know who you are outside their views of you. Mihir has the swamp, Rashnu the Tree, Fedhri the Pool and Sefana her flowers, but you… you feel the need to grasp for the Chaplet just in order to feel like you have a place to occupy, to belong –”

Sorush pushed her wings down, lifting off from the sand, staring at him in baffled horror, incredulous hurt. “Yasnapati – !”

He just couldn’t stop. Something in him wanted nothing more than to shut up, stop this, but he just couldn’t. “I just tell it like it is,” he grinned, a savage, heartless baring of teeth. “If you can’t handle it, that’s your problem.”

Her eyes widened. After another beat, she abruptly turned in the air, rapidly floating down, to the Skeptics – to Nasejuna.

Kintsugi scoffed, laying himself down again. Of course. He’ll have just the saccharine praise and affirmation to smooth this over.

He felt more hollow than ever – even more so as he saw the sunyata flower abandoned in the sand. After a brief hesitation, he picked it up himself, cradling it in his hands as he settled in for a night of blankly staring at the rock wall in front of him.

Eventually, as morning arrived outside, the Skeptics awoke and pulled him from his empty fixation on the echoes of the cave. He didn’t get up or even really move at all, however – not while they talked, not while they had breakfast, not while they dismantled their campsite. He only looked up as Sorush quietly came hovering in, his eyes minutely widening in surprise before he suppressed it.

He didn’t let her speak, flapping a dismissive hand at her instead. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go ahead and check for trouble.” He carefully lifted his legs off the ledge, letting himself fall into a hover, gladly leaving the cavern ahead of the Skeptics.

Sorush didn’t follow, not even to chew him out for his insolence. He both hated himself for that – for reasons he didn’t care to examine – and was mildly relieved he at least didn’t have to see that annoying hurt in her eyes.

He’d told her nothing but the truth, the way he’d seen it all along. Not his fault she couldn’t get over it.

When their heading through the desert gorges towards Vourukasha Oasis appeared to be clear, he headed back, planning to catch up with the Skeptics –

– and spotting his mistake just in time.

The hilichurl. The ridiculously tall hilichurl in the feathered cloak, lying in wait above the gorge, ready to jump down onto the small group while his back had been turned. Kintsugi hissed between clenched teeth, kicking off of the air and speeding in as fast as he could – but not in time to stop the creature from jumping. “Heads up, idiots!” he shouted out, his voice raw in the dry air.

The Skeptics were quick to react, taking out their short blades and halberds, and Nasejuna his crossbow – but the hilichurl swiftly darted past the scholars, immediately going for the ranged Vijnanapati. In the split second he had left, Kintsugi had to both admire the creature’s strategy and completely agree with him – he, too, wished he could just snap Nasejuna’s neck, more often than not. But an agreement was an agreement. A blink later, his hand collided with the hilichurl’s throat, and he lifted the tall, muscular being off the ground, choking and probably swearing in that raspy tongue, clawing at his immovable arm.

“Beru si – ye biat – mosi gusha –”

“What grass?” the puppet inquired, just a little amused despite it all, effortlessly keeping the hilichurl aloft. “Yeah, me again. Just give up.”

The creature stopped struggling for a moment, the beak-like mask suddenly fixated on his shoulder where he’d mended his clothing over his injuries.

He hadn’t restrained the hilichurl’s arms. His mistake.

A blue-dyed hand shot out like lightning, hammering his shoulder. He couldn’t help it. The jolt resonated up his arm, making him open his hand and release the creature. “Ah!” He hissed between his teeth, screwing up his face, immediately trying to recover –

– the hilichurl was going for Nasejuna yet again, blade drawn, his huge form towering over the Skeptics, pushing the others aside as they came at him with their blades and halberds. Nasejuna raised his crossbow, but too late, too late…

“…Stay back, foul creature!”

Sorush rose up before the Vijnanapati, wings resolutely spread, Khvarena blazing rosy and bright, startling the hilichurl for just a moment – but widening her eyes as it turned out this wouldn’t even slow him, let alone pose a hindrance. The blade still rose. The Pari tightly closed her eyes, turning her head away.

The blade struck, and stayed right where it was.

Sorush blinked open her eyes at the strange sound of its impact. That had not been flesh – not hers, and not Nasejuna’s.

There was a hovering figure in front of them both, laboured breath wheezing through yet another hole in his body, right beside his wildly pulsing Vision.

“…Yas… Yasnapati…!”

Kintsugi didn’t reply, only focused on staring down the hilichurl, eyes blazing with pain and rage. “Piss off.”

“Yeye, mosi gusha, mosi tiga – ! Ika biat, ika nini biat – !” The hilichurl furiously tried to free his blade, clearly swearing up a storm now, but Kintsugi only raised a hand and summoned a particularly biting vortex. The hilichurl stepped back, raising his hands in concession. The puppet grasped the blade’s bone hilt, expending some effort dislodging it from his hollow body, but eventually managing – and sending it spinning up over the cliffs with a blast of Anemo. “There. Go deal with that.” He was too tired and in too much pain to fight the creature right now. The hilichurl also seemed strangely defeated, reluctantly turning away, still grumbling as he inflated his Anemo slime and ascended over the cliffs. Kintsugi watched him the whole way, his eyes narrowed and his hand pressed to his newest injury and the inner workings glinting within, even as the Skeptics fretted over him, already taking out new bandages. He only looked up as Sorush joined his side, expression going flat. “What do you want.”

“I… I thank you, Yasnapati, for coming to mine and the Vijnanapati’s aid.” It was stiff, and she didn’t hold his gaze, but something in her voice made him soften a little bit, even if only on the inside. He scoffed. “No sense in letting you be skewered. Your end will be far more glorious, of course.”

“I… yes. You are most right.” She drew herself up, glancing back at Nasejuna, busy dismantling his crossbow to sheathe it on his back once more. The Vijnanapati brought his hands together in thanks as well, smiling in a way that made Kintsugi’s skin crawl. “Many thanks, Yasnapati! The Lady Sorush chose most excellently when she selected you!”

Kintsugi scowled through his pain. “What an excellent protector of his bonded Pari he was, hm?” he murmured, only for Sorush’ ears – wherever they might be.

“The Vijnanapati is… only human. This is why I have chosen you to accompany me during the entirety of my task, Yasnapati.”

“And how very honoured I am,” he mocked, but something in him unwound at having her talk to him again at all. Shrugging out of his haori for a moment, he allowed Sosi and Parviz to bandage his chest over his torn bodysuit, once again more to keep the sand and filth out of the gash than anything else. It was a temporary measure – faster than sewing up his bodysuit to do the same trick. “Let’s keep moving.”

“You don’t require rest or further aid, Yasnapati?” Parviz inquired, concern on his weathered face. Kintsugi shook his head. “I’m used to pressing on like this. I’m assuming it’s going to be this way until I manage to deal with the Sign, or die trying.”

“How flippant, Yasnapati,” Sorush snapped. “And you deign to criticize my upcoming sacrifice?”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he bounced back. “If I fall, it’ll be atonement. You’re just throwing your life away.”

Nasejuna had been rather quiet, but now joined them again, to Kintsugi’s annoyance. “The Lady Sorush has made her wishes quite clear, and she is an inspiration to both our Order and her fellow Pari, following the example of the great Simurgh unlike any before her.” Sorush immediately preened at his words. Kintsugi held back bile. “…Shut up, Skeptic, before I decide sifting through your documents myself would be worth ridding myself of you.”

“Of course, Yasnapati,” the leader of the Order agreed smoothly. “There is no need to repeat what everyone here already knows intimately.” He looked ahead, then scanned the sky. “I estimate we shall reach the great Tree of Barsom come nightfall…”

Kintsugi did not hide his heavy sigh in any way. It’d be a long day.

Coming out of the gorges and seeing the plateau where the Vourukasha Oasis should’ve been was a very strange experience.

When he’d come here first, only Sorush at his side, the Harvisptokhm had awaited him, spewing green lifelight up at the violet roar of the Sign of Apaosha, its roots sprawling through the pools of Amrita and the Pari’s glimmering sea of flowers. Now, there was nothing of the sort before them at all – only more desert, scraggly dune grass and cactus-fringed rock formations, laid out underneath the Sign. Zurvan had hidden the Oasis from any outsiders exceptionally well. Perhaps the Skeptics didn’t even know its exact location at all. No wonder the place was mythical.

Sorush was silent on the matter, respecting her elder’s wishes. Kintsugi, too, tried not to let his eyes linger too much and possibly give anything away as they passed around the edge of the plateau, crossing over a sandstone arch over the river gorge leading to Asipattravana Swamp. Towering cliffs were ahead of them, treacherous paths snaking up in hairpin upon hairpin around rock formations and gnarled mountain date trees, diving in and out of the wind-worn sandstone. “An ancient route of pilgrimage,” Sosi informed him. “Warriors guarding the outskirts of the Girdle of the Sands passed this way, paying their respects to Barsom’s familiar as they went. None have come this way for a long time.”

“Let’s hope the way is still clear. I’m not carrying anyone up there.”

“I think it is. I sense the path rejoicing to be walked once more,” the scholar smiled. “With your protection, Yasnapati, this desert is regaining its life, and soon its glories of old.”

“…Your ways of thinking are highly creative.” But he stuck with the Skeptics as they passed through cave after cave, lighting their way with his halo.

Constantly hovering was burning through his Vision’s energy – his energy. Not having slept for what amounted to two nights wasn’t doing him any favours either – and that wasn’t even mentioning all the wounds he was now riddled with. He could feel his mind descending into its old pragmatism, pure dogged perseverance at any cost, accepting and muddling through any hardship.

Kusanali would want me to rest, maybe even come back.

…No. Kusanali was very adamant that I continue. The Sign is a very serious problem – just look at the way the Hollow worsened… it must be so serious she can’t even afford to worry for my wellbeing the way she usually does…

…That is, if it was her at all.

He briefly closed his eyes. He’d rather believe the end had finally won out over the means in Nahida’s eyes for once, than face the fact he might not have been speaking to her at all ever since he’d gotten here. Because if it wasn’t her… then just what had been wearing her face all this time, infiltrating his mind…?

…Either way, he wasn’t sleeping tonight either. Not a chance.

Emerging from the last of the caves and atop the towering cliffs at last, he immediately took note of the shift in vegetation. Instead of colourless dune grass and orange-tufted mountain dates, everything had taken on a soft pink hue – and not because of the warming light of the setting sun. The fluffy grass clinging to sheltered corners of sand and rock really was as rosy as the cherry blossoms of Inazuma. The dark pine trees growing in number a little further on really did bear strange, wafting pink foliage, flowing in the wind, scattering much like those very same sakura petals, softly showering down onto the shifting sand under the Skeptics’ feet as they ploughed upwards along the path of pilgrimage. The cooling air bore a subtle fragrance, warm and welcoming, slightly sweet.

Kintsugi hovered slightly higher and already looked ahead, scouting for any danger – but what he caught sight of first was their goal. Beyond the rocks and smaller pines, something far bigger rose up, gradually coming into view against the subtly glittering sky.

The great Tree of Barsom wasn’t nearly as big as the Harvisptokhm, nor as overwhelmingly impressive as the Divine Tree, but there was something about its dark, weathered bark, its windswept overall shape, the soft shower of pink constantly snowing down from it. Kintsugi had the sense it really did contain a spirit of its own, something alive and protective, making up for the glaring absence of the Harvisptokhm and its Oasis behind them. It softened the landscape, providing a sense of shelter even before they properly reached it. Even the incoming night’s cold didn’t seem so bad as he arrived at its roots before all the others, seeing how they formed something akin to a cavern of rough bark and lush, flower-strewn grass.

He turned back. The tree’s outer roots were also lined and overgrown with that soft rosy grass and other unique flora, most of it in warm shades of pink and orange. Some of the roots were outstretched towards splintered stumps, hollow as if they were meant to hold something.

Sorush joined his side, hovering ahead of the incoming Skeptics. “This is where the Kory drums used to be held,” she informed him. “And so it shall be again.”

“You sense her?” He wasn’t in a mood to waste or mince words.

She tapped a wing to her chin, looking up at the great tree. “…Rashnu is there, but…” She let out a soft sigh. “Let us draw nearer. I fear that returning her to the Oasis may not be so easy a thing.”

They entered between the roots again, just as the Skeptics reached them and came to a relieved halt, taking off their equipment and beginning to set up camp in the tree’s embrace. “We shall make our effort to reunite the drums in the morning,” Nasejuna declared. “For now, let this tree once again provide sanctuary for pilgrims and warriors, as it was of old.”

Kintsugi beheld them for a moment, his halo lighting the group until a small, carefully controlled fire was started, the smoke easily escaping between the great roots. “I’ll keep watch,” he announced, hovering off and settling down near one of the Kory drum stumps without fanfare, quickly starting a little fire of his own just to keep warm. He didn’t look up as Sorush joined him, but a faint smile did curl his lips. He took out his little doll and the sunyata flower, setting them side by side on the nearest of the great tree’s dark roots, and then took out his needle and thread again to begin mending his bodysuit by the firelight. “You’re also forgoing sleep, then?” He wouldn’t utter how quietly pleased he was to see her exchange Nasejuna’s company for his. He wouldn’t.

“For a little while,” she murmured, settling down on the root and taking up the small blue flower, idly toying with its cloth petals. “I must be rested in the morning. So should you, Yasnapati. The task that awaits us is a considerable one. Will you keep watch all night?”

His hands stilled, and he stared up into the starry sky for a moment. The desert wind stirred the sand, and the Skeptics’ little fire crackled behind him. The Oasis was far away, out of reach. Home, even moreso. “…Yes. I have no need for sleep.” The last thing he needed was more of Kusanali’s cold gaze, or doubts of the kind that shook his entire mindset and resolve. He’d rather just ignore the entire issue as long as possible. As long as he kept to his mission, she’d understand, he knew she would. “Don’t start worrying about me now, little pest.”

She stubbornly kept her eyes on him. “You will heal of your grievous wounds on your own strength?”

“I’ve recovered from far worse,” he chuckled, returning to his sewing, unflinching as the mending fabric shifted across the gash in his chest. “With or without help.”

She blinked, tilting her head. “But you did have some aid, sometimes.”

“I really preferred healing on my own to… being helped.” Repaired. Strapped down and scorched shut. Sometimes with a surprise reopening if the old maniac was bored, or just happy to see me again, only the Archons know. He glanced up at her. “Stop fussing. Let me work. If any more sand gets inside me I’ll be too heavy to fly tomorrow.” Sosi’s bandaging had been skillfully applied, but it couldn’t keep out the entire desert.

“As you say, Yasnapati.” And she fell silent – but she didn’t leave his side, merely snuggling up on the roots as he fixed up his attire, then undid the rest of Sosi’s bandaging, emptied himself out the best he could and then reapplied the coverings. He was pleased to see he was healing, even if just a little. His leg didn’t seem on the verge of snapping off anymore, although he still couldn’t stand.

At least he could let his Vision rest, even if not his mind. It pulsed a soft, vigilant blue throughout the night as he stared into the fire, one hand loosely, idly curled around Sorush’ tiny slumbering form without ever directly touching her.

The Skeptics were up with the first light of dawn, shaking him out of his meditative nighttime reverie, and Sorush out of sleep. She was quick to ruffle herself up and rise from his side as if she’d been just as vigilant as he had all night. He quietly chuckled to see it.

After waiting for them to get ready for the day, he was irked to see Nasejuna approaching, weathered scrolls clutched in his hands and that useless crossbow on his back. He’d taken the one remaining Kory drum off his shoulders, having set it in its proper spot at the roots of the Tree of Barsom. “Lady Sorush, honoured Yasnapati, please do me the honour of following,” he spoke, folding a hand before his chest and bowing lightly. “Hidden treasures may be found closer by than we think.”

“Well, yeah,” Kintsugi replied impatiently as he rose into the air and hovered along with the Vijnanapati as he strode away from the tree, across increasingly sandy terrain towards the cliffside curving around to the west. “Didn’t you say all the drums were near the tree?”

“This one is the closest, Yasnapati. You need only follow me.” Nasejuna’s expression brightened as they approached the cliffs. “Yes, just as the documents indicate…”

“A grey gate,” Sorush observed. “A cavern entrance.”

“You are most observant indeed, honoured envoy. We shall need your help to break the seal.” Nasejuna shook his head. “Grey crystals, this far from the accursed rift of Tunigi Hollow… we used to be able to freely pass through, but now…”

“Fret not, Vijnanapati. I shall make short work of them.” Sorush spread her wings, her light parting the crystals like water, allowing her two companions to pass through into a verdant cavern filled with slanting beams of sunlight, inexplicably nurturing green grass and leafy bushes, even if there were also some more grey crystals scattered around.

As Kintsugi’s halo further lit the sandstone walls, he observed some ancient paintings, done in a pale pigment. A tree, five elemental symbols linked to it. Further in the cavern, where sand won out over grass, a Dendro symbol had been painted in dark green. He hovered over to it. “The drums. They all have an elemental symbol on the head?”

“Verily, they do,” Nasejuna nodded. The floating duo looked at him, and he blinked as he understood. Kintsugi folded his arms. “I’m not digging.”

“…Of course, honoured Yasnapati.” The Skeptic leader soon knelt down, digging into the sand with his bare hands, to Kintsugi’s smug satisfaction. It didn’t last long; the man’s face soon lit up, and he hefted another small red drum from the sand, identical to the one the puppet had brought back to the desert except for the Dendro symbol on its head.

“That was easy enough,” Kintsugi nodded. “Where to next?”

“You shall be able to find them as long as you follow these notes.” Nasejuna set the Dendro drum aside, taking out one of his weathered scrolls. “I shall leave it to the two of you.”

“Wait.” Kintsugi unfurled the scroll, looking it over. It was a map of the area – he recognized a few landmarks. Tunigi Hollow and its whirling rift. Vourukasha’s empty plateau. Asipattravana Swamp, the Tree of Barsom. On it were four circled locations – all rather far apart, and… “None of these remaining ones are ‘near the Tree of Barsom’, you…”

“They are near,” Nasejuna interjected. “For one such as you, who flies as the Pari do.” He spread his hands. “Surely, retrieving them shall not be so difficult a task.”

Before he could snap at the man, or do something even more rash and impulsive – no matter how satisfying – Sorush spoke up. “It shall be little issue. It is as nothing to me, the future Bloomguard, and one of my Yasnapati’s caliber.”

He shut his mouth. Are you saying that because you fish for his approval, as always, or because you actually believe in the two of us…? He shook himself, choosing to let it be. “…How do you Skeptics even know of these locations?”

Nasejuna turned to him. “They were detailed by those of our Order who were there when the drums were lost. We believe these indicators are rough estimates of their whereabouts.”

“How did they know? The drums were lost. By definition, they shouldn’t have known their locations.”

“…That exact information was also lost.”

He huffed out a little laugh. “Figures.” Skeptics. So many pretty words, but they are and always have been ridiculous, it seems.

The drums were lost, but their general locations were known… it was almost like the Order of old had forewent looking for them for some reason, letting them lie.

…Not his problem for now, he decided. He took another look at the map, memorizing the indicated locations. “Alright,” he sighed out, handing it back to Nasejuna with a bit more force than necessary, almost making him drop the other scrolls he carried. “I do wonder, though, whatever would you have done without me…”

“The nature of this world is conflict,” the Vijnanapati replied smoothly. “It stands to reason it would supply one capable of giving us Skeptics and the Pari more of a fighting chance.”

He grinned. “But if we succeed in sealing the rift, won’t that be harmony?”

“All harmony is won by conflict and will ultimately devolve back into conflict, Yasnapati.”

“Mm. We’ll see.” He looked to Sorush, answering her little nod in kind. “We’re off. Do try not to get yourself killed until we can play these drums. After that, I couldn’t care less.” He turned and flew, but not before catching a glint in Nasejuna’s eyes that matched his own – irritated, resentful, bordering on outright hatred.

Well. It figured, with the way he’d been treating the man. He found he couldn’t care less about that either, though.

Their first stop was upriver from Asipattravana Swamp. Luckily their entire route was low-lying enough for them to rapidly fly there, arriving no later than late morning.

The map had indicated a spot halfway between the river’s source higher in the Temir Mountains and the swamp itself, and flying in, Kintsugi spotted the glint of sunlight on rushing, palm-fringed waterfalls. “Any idea what we’re looking for?” he asked Sorush. “If the drum was submerged, or washed away…”

“There is another cavern, Yasnapati,” she observed, pointing a wing to the north, where shadows gathered amidst a coil of thorny branches climbing the waterfall cliff, offshoots from the ones Mihir had commanded in Asipattravana. “We might find the Korybantes in there.”

“Hm.” He kicked off the air, soaring into the cavern, only slowing when he ran into the first twists and turns of the tunnel that followed. Soon, the light of his halo glinted on something that made him halt altogether, though – a water’s surface.

The tunnel had ended in a cavern with no further exits, submerged up to their level. Silvery light came streaming in from gaps in the sandstone ceiling, illuminating the cave and clearly showing the both of them that the majority of it lay underwater.

Kintsugi hovered out over it, staring down. Below the surface, thorny roots coiled around and between the walls, connecting multiple levels of sandy stone – and framing yet another series of ancient murals, shimmering in the wavering aquatic light. The paintings led all the way down to the bottom, to a dark opening crowned by a pale blue Hydro symbol.

The puppet groaned. “Down there? Seriously?”

Sorush twirled at his shoulder. “Is there a problem, Yasnapati? Surely you are capable of venturing underwater to retrieve the Korybantes? If memory serves, humans are capable of such, moving their limbs to push forward like unto birds in flight…”

He turned to her, expression flatter than ever. “I’m hollow.”

“…Oh. Hm.” She tapped her chin in thought, narrowing her eyes in consideration. “…Well…”

He folded his arms, glaring down at the water, gnashing his teeth and ultimately acting even before she figured it out. There was no point in delaying this. He shrugged out of his haori, put aside their two dolls, and let himself drop into the water from above. Sorush exclaimed in shock, but he didn’t care.

Normally he’d float, his body being too light and containing too much air to sink properly, even if he attempted to swim down. No matter how strong he was, he was always buoyed back up. It’d been a source of much bafflement and quite a bit of fun back on Tatarasuna, as well as smug vindication over the odd Fatui grunt thinking they were funny pushing him into Snezhnaya’s freezing rivers or into an ice fishing hole before he’d been a Harbinger – but it wouldn’t serve him very well now.

Fortunately – he grit his teeth just thinking it – he was full of holes at the moment, though.

His clothes and bandages were quickly soaked, allowing the water to rush into his hollow body through his injuries, unpleasantly filling him up and rendering him heavy enough to sink. He let it happen, allowing himself to drift down, oddly feather-like, swiftly approaching the bottom.

He didn’t need to breathe. Still, the sensation of both internal and external pressure was unnerving; oppressive, even aside from the rush along the edges of every single one of his wounds. He didn’t like it one bit.

He glanced up, smirking a little despite it all. Sorush was frantic at the surface, a rosy glimmer darting this way and that, probably blabbering up a storm. He kept that amusem*nt close to his chest as he grasped on to whatever aquatic vegetation and errant thorns he could, dragging himself closer to the darkened opening all the way at the bottom, stirring up the sand as his feet eventually touched down.

The roots coiled with him, all the way to the tunnel’s dead end. And there it was – a small red drum marked with the Hydro symbol, somehow preserved, much like the two other drums, buried in the desert sand for Archons knew how long. The Skeptics of old really did make them sturdy.

He grabbed hold of it, pushing off of roots and rocks and whatever else he could to claw himself back to the main cavern and upwards by any means possible, no matter how undignified – all that mattered now was getting back to the surface. When he flung himself halfway up the ledge where Sorush hovered, he was beyond exhausted, lying there like a dying fish as the water drained from every hole in his body, gasping for breath he didn’t strictly need. The drum was before him, an absurd trophy. The things I do for you, Kusanali. He raised a hand, not even looking at Sorush as she fretted over him, reaching out with hesitant wings. “Not. A word.”

“The… the Hydro symbol on the Korybantes signified something far more literal than I had originally thought… it makes one wonder about the remaining two…”

He lifted his head, pushed back soaked hair as he flipped himself over into a sitting position, all the water streaming into his legs. He absently kicked up the uninjured one to eventually let it drain from the punctures in his bad leg. “The remaining two… remind me again.” He quietly braced himself.

“We have found the Korybantes titled Vedana, Rupa and now Samjna. The remaining ones were named Sankhara and Vijnana – their heads bear the symbols for Electro and Pyro.”

“…Marvelous.” He was grinning mirthlessly. Why not, hm? Why not see what this desert could throw at him in terms of electrocution and incineration, too? He swallowed thickly, barely caught his breath through exhaustion, residual pain and the extra weight of the water. “Can’t wait to get going.”

They arrived at their second location just after midday.

It was yet another desert cave, this one filled with grey crystals littering the floor and walls, and, indeed, crackling with a type of energy that made his hair stand on end. He had to wonder how the Kory drums had managed to end up hidden in caves perfectly matching their specific element – or were they supernatural enough to influence their caves, perhaps even create them around themselves? The Samjna drum he’d temporarily set down outside hadn’t seemed elementally charged at all, though. He could only hope the same would be true for the Sankhara drum.

He’d quickly pinpointed the nature of this cavern’s problem. Sometime over the course of the hundreds of years since the loss of the drums, it’d come to house a population of giant scorpions, scurrying in and out of many openings in the rocks. Cautiously flying in without alerting them beneath him, he quickly spotted the true monster at their heart – all pale, bone-like armour and throbbing violet light, overcharged with Electro the way the monstrous crocodile in the swamp had been with Hydro.

“These beasts,” he muttered, beholding the creature from a safe distance, for now. “What are they exactly?” Bones on a scorpion… he’d seen many things during his long life, but that struck him as especially wrong.

“The consecrated beasts came to be by feeding on the remains of greater lifeforms,” Sorush explained in a quiet voice. “The majority of beasts absorbing these greater powers were slain by the overwhelming nature of that power. Only a few among their number ascended to these new forms…”

Kintsugi had gone very still. He’d seen that before. He’d seen living beings be slain in droves by the decaying remains of a ‘higher power’. “Tatarigami…”

“What was that, Yasnapati?”

“…Nevermind.” He shook himself, feeling far from stable. The consecrated scorpion scuttled about beneath him, electrifying the air with its mere presence.

…In this case, the remains must be those of the dead god the Pari revered. Egeria’s Amrita, suffusing the land in pools and crystallized veins and the Harvisptokhm’s sheer influence…

…Best not to think about it too much. “You know where the drum is?”

“I cannot sense it, Yasnapati. We shall need to search. Take care, however, not to –”

The consecrated beast’s head snapped up. Its claws opened and closed rapidly, stinger surging with violet energy. Kintsugi dryly glanced at his Pari companion. “Whatever you wanted to say, it’s too late now.” Waves of Electro trembled through the air, and Sorush trembled with it. “Get out of here,” Kintsugi demanded. “This is not gonna be pretty. Go, I’ll find you once I have that stupid drum.” His voice grew more pressing as the scorpion approached. Sorush looked between him and the creature. “What if you have need of my help? Do not fret. With me to shield you, simple thunder is nothing to be afraid of!”

“I’d rather you not have need of mine.” He blew her backwards with a gust of Anemo, exclaiming as she went, and then darted forward himself.

There might’ve been writing on the walls before, leading his way to the drum’s hidden location, but it was all covered up by grey crystals now. All he could do was dodge the claws and stingers of the smaller scorpions, and the Electro emanating from the giant one, even as it stabbed its stinger into the soil and electrified the entire cavern. He grit his teeth; how he wished he could just bring his foot down and kill the whole nest, but he didn’t trust his body with that much Anemo energy at the moment. He didn’t want to exacerbate his cracks unless he really had to.

The creature hissed, lunging forward with both claws, forcing him up higher into the air. He barely had time to look around. As the stinger came up, he danced to the side, barely preventing his robes from catching on the creature’s many razor-sharp bony ridges and dragging him backwards. He ascended, out of reach of anything but the pure Electro thickening the air, battering him in waves, stinging in his wounds like acid…

…it was a familiar pain, this wild violet energy. It was as familiar to him as air, and he could actually feel his injuries closing up a little bit in the rhythm of the scorpion’s pulse, recharging him from the inside out. He was made to house and conduct this element, after all. He gave a little chuckle; Dottore had sometimes used it to heal and recharge him as well, and as painful as that’d been, this comparable feeling was almost comforting in its familiarity…

…and as the scorpion’s stinger pulsed again and again, letting loose its vicious, luminous venom, he suddenly spotted the pale violet marking on the far wall, instantly darting in and digging up the sand as fast as he could, even as both the giant and the smaller scorpions came swarming in. His breath rasped in electrified lungs as he finally hooked his fingers under the buried drum, yanking it from the sand, flying up as fast as he could and kicking off those scorpions that’d managed to cling on to his legs, attempting to stab into his false skin but failing to break it. He let out a foul chuckle, flinging out his free arm and clearing a path with a wild, triumphant gust of wind, darting out of the cave right past the giant scorpion and snatching a frantic Sorush with him as he went.

“Yasnapati! You have the Sankhara drum!”

He victoriously spun through the air, diving down to retrieve the Samjna drum where he’d safely set it down near the cavern entrance, cradling both to his chest with his good arm. “Tch. Doubt me, will you?”

She struggled free from his gentle grasp, soaring along with him into the early evening air. “Forgive me for being cautious of the power of the consecrated beast…! And, perhaps, concerned with your choice of words two nights past.”

Ah. Now she wants to talk about that? “What of it.” He instantly closed himself off, his sense of victory dulling as he flew on.

“…I was doubtful of your willingness to continue this quest, that is all. The efforts you expend in my name contradict your words, putting forth such critique of my great task.” She pointedly avoided his eyes, keeping hers on the landscape ahead.

“If you don’t like what I have to say, go pick another Yasnapati. I don’t think I’ll be any good at singing your praises anyway.”

“That is merely because you have not yet witnessed my sacrifice! I assure you, when you have, you shall be inspired, moved to radiant feats of poetry unlike any yet penned by the likes of humanity –”

He briefly closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. “Sorush. Give it a rest.” He looked at her, suddenly feeling very tired. “I said everything I had to say. I know you’ll never see it my way – not until… ngh.” Until what? Until Nasejuna reveals himself to you the way Dottore did to me? It was some sort of agony, seeing her treading the innocent and naive Kabukimono’s path, walking right into the clutches of one wanting to use her, discard her like some pretty and unique, but ultimately disposable toy. But the Kabukimono had not seen this for centuries, and so he knew his words would never be enough to make Sorush see, even if Nasejuna did have some nefarious plan and Sorush’ sacrifice wasn’t just the way of the Pari. Even if there was something more going on than him seeing everything through a lens of his own making, as Zurvan had said.

All he really knew was one thing, simple and personal. He spoke it at last, feeling foolish and childlike. “…I just don’t like the idea of your sacrifice, that’s all.”

Her eyes softened. “And that is precisely how I know I chose my Yasnapati well. Your songs of me shall ring pure and true, and stand all the tests of time.”

He huffed out a defeated breath, closing his eyes again. “Hah. You’re a cruel one, Sorush. A Pari right after my own lack of a heart.”

Evening had fallen by the time they arrived at the wide, expansive cavern corresponding to the map’s location of the Pyro drum – Vijnana, as Sorush called it. It was more of an overarching expanse of sandstone than a true cavern, open on multiple sides, the last fiery light of day slanting all throughout it. Stalactites hung down from that ceiling, rocky ledges dotted the trunk-like pillars extending down to the sand. Kintsugi looked around, setting down the two drums he’d already collected. “I’d pictured something far more imposing. Dangerous.” The Pyro drum had had him rather apprehensive – but there was nothing here. No wall paintings, no fire, no monsters. “How are we supposed to find the drum…?”

“I remember this,” Sorush declared, shushing him with a gesture of her wing. He frowned, letting out an annoyed sound, but motioning for her to go on. “The ‘bright flame altars’… We merely need to light them all. It is no difficult matter.”

He looked up and around. There were man-made structures atop the rocky ledges, he noticed now – square, squat, indeed much like altars. “…Will it really be that easy?”

“Try it for yourself and you shall see,” Sorush smugly replied. “Let us see how observant you are.”

He glared at her, collecting some dry grass and twigs to start a small fire, then turning a leafy branch into a makeshift torch and hovering up slowly enough to not blow it out instantly. The ‘bright flame altars’ appeared to still contain some kind of flammable fuel, as they lit up easily. After making a round through the cavern and igniting them all, however, nothing happened. He glared at Sorush again, harder this time. “If you’re making me do this for some kind of pathetic amusem*nt…”

“I would not dare waste your time, Yasnapati. It is imperative we awaken Rashnu and obtain me my Chaplet as soon as possible.” But there was a hint of mirth to her voice regardless, and it fanned his annoyance like wind to the very flames he still clutched in his hand. He growled, wordlessly warning her. She glanced up at him, her own eyes narrowing in glee. “Do you have need of a hint, perchance?”

“…Yes.”

“The flaming seeds of hope are like candles in the wind,” she waxed, twirling through the sunset air. “One must be quick to seize upon that which they cast, and give one’s surroundings more than a passing thought…”

His eyes flicked around the cavern, then upward. The altars were fairly high up, and ‘that which they cast’ – the shadows – mostly fell on the cavern ceiling.

The stalactites. The scattered altars cast their dancing shadows from all around, making them join up, intersect at a certain point…

He instantly dropped down to the sand directly below that point, digging while pointedly ignoring Sorush. His hands quickly caught on the rope-bound edges of the final Kory drum, pulling it up, his sense of triumph dampened by his annoyance with her. “Was that really necessary, pest?”

“Permit me a moment of amusem*nt.” She came drifting down to him. “Your expression… it is a thing of delight.”

He scowled at her. “You’ll come to like it far less if you keep this up.” But somewhere deep down, he was biting back a grin, a laugh even. He quickly turned away before Sorush could notice anything of the sort, taking flight and snatching up the two drums he’d set down – two in one arm, one in the other, he could just hang on to them all. “That’s all of them.” He rose, reorienting himself – he could see the cliffs of Barsom in the far-off northeast, silhouetted against the purpling sky.

“There is no time to lose,” Sorush agreed. “We must return to Barsom. The Skeptics await.”

The small group of scholars rejoiced immediately upon their return, having hurried out from their sheltered camp at the first glint of Kintsugi’s halo in the darkening sky. Cheers and excited chatter rang out as he flew around the great tree, setting down the Kory drums in their proper places. Soon, each of the Skeptics had taken up position at their respective drums, admiring them and testing out their sound.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Nasejuna smiled, eyes fixated on his own Vijnana drum. Kintsugi, having lightly landed and now leaning on the Vedana drum he’d carried here from Sumeru City itself, gave a curt nod. “Let’s get this over with.” He knew the score to his own drum; this wouldn’t be hard.

After a brief countdown, all five players brought their hands down onto their drums, letting palms and fingers dance across the painted skins, letting the instruments ring out into the purple, glittering desert night. Their individual rhythms and the varying sound of the drums themselves intermingled, synchronizing, forming one single, complex, pulsating beat, reverberating through the air, the sand, the rocks… the roots of the great Tree of Barsom, stretching out towards each of the drums in turn.

Coils of luminous green started to rise from the drums, bouncing off the skins as they were played, lighting up the Skeptics’ and Kintsugi’s hands like fireflies. The puppet’s eyes widened as he saw it, spiraling into the air, over to the tree’s roots, up into its massive trunk. Slowly but steadily, a great symbol carved into the tree lit up with the same verdant glow, and he recognized it as pure Khvarena.

Then, with a last flourishing crescendo, the drum scores all ended at once, the symbol gave a last shuddering flare, and everything went silent and dark.

All that remained was a faint little rasping sound, like…

…like the smallest, quietest snore?

Kintsugi furrowed his brow, pinpointing the sound, lifting off and letting his halo light the way. “…Rashnu?”

Nasejuna peered through the darkness. “Ah! Barsom’s familiar has answered our call!”

Sorush joined Kintsugi’s side, hovering in towards the tiny figure just before the formerly glowing symbol carved into the tree. “This is Rashnu indeed, but…”

Kintsugi inspected the Pari, holding back an amused grin. She was a warm, dark tan, with wingtips and eyes as pink as the grass and petals of Barsom, and crowned with an equally pink mushroom cap – and by the looks of it, just waking up and still very groggy. “Perhaps a repeat performance might do?” he suggested.

“So… noisy,” Rashnu murmured, rubbing a wing across her eyes. “So… sleepy.”

“I might have thought this would go differently,” Sorush mused. “A moving reunion with the Skeptics after so many years… no?”

Barsom’s familiar blinked, slow and bleary. “You are Sorush. I recognize you…”

“That’s right,” Sorush preened. “This is my Yasnapati, and that is the Vijnanapati of the Order of Skeptics.” She pointed down.

“The Skeptics… Yasnapati…” Rashnu yawned, lethargically flapping a wing at them, the other still rubbing her eyes. “I do not wish to know… about these human affairs…” She yawned again, slightly turning away. “Humans and their drums… are so noisy. I threw them into different places so I could… sleep in peace…”

Kintsugi stared, unable to hold back a sputter of uncontrolled laughter. “…What? So this was all a misunderstanding?” Oh, this was rich. “The drums were never lost… you just wanted to sleep?” All of Nasejuna’s ado and fretting and ceremony, the Skeptics’ reverence… all for a Pari who simply found them exactly as exhausting as he did…?

Nasejuna stared up below them, face slack with bafflement. “How…? But our documents recorded this so very clearly… nor did Lady Sorush say anything against this…”

Sorush shook her head, hovering in closer. “…You must have slumbered too long here, Rashnu, muddling your memory of these affairs. Surely the scattering of the Korybantes was meant to select those who might clear the trials… with those who could not solve such a small problem proving unfit to call themselves Yasnapati. For how then would they aid me in my great work of extinguishing the Sign of Apaosha?”

“The Sign…” Rashnu gave a sleepy sigh, barely keeping her eyes open. “…I’m so tired… but this is not the time to sleep.” She seemed to gather some resolve. Sorush nodded. “Yes… you see, my Yasnapati’s aid alone is not enough. Rashnu, I need yours as well.”

“Ah… I get it,” Rashnu nodded back. “It was Zurvan who…”

Sorush drew herself up. “She, too, approves of me, of course!” She slightly spread her wings. “Alright, Rashnu, will you come with me to the Vourukasha Oasis?”

Rashnu gave a slow blink, stifling another yawn. “Well, it is not impossible.”

Kintsugi had been forced to press a hand to his mouth, biting his lip behind his fingers. It was all so much less serious than the Skeptics had led him to think. What else might they be wrong about…? What else might not be nearly as grave?

Nasejuna stepped up again. “Barsom’s familiar, please wait. I have many queries regarding the Skeptics’ traditions…”

I’m sure you do. Spiral into a crisis of faith, worm.

“Human business…” Rashnu pondered tiredly. “…Later, perhaps. We can talk later. Perhaps after I… sleep for a bit. Maybe then.”

“Uh…”

Sorush hovered down to the Skeptic. “Vijnanapati, do you not have other things to attend to? We can save your business with Rashnu for another day.”

Kintsugi slowly and silently followed, trying to contain himself, trying not to give away his thoughts on Rashnu possibly sleeping another few centuries before even remembering she’d promised to enlighten Nasejuna. Who could blame her?

“…Yes,” the Skeptic nodded after a moment, albeit reluctantly. “I shall… return to the settlement with the others in the morning, awaiting your return… If we stick to caverns and the less conspicuous paths, we should be able to avoid that monster of the Dev… I shall study the documents regarding the Great Songs once more, and aid you in reaching their locations once you return to me there…”

“Sounds great,” Kintsugi managed, feeling he had to get out of here before he burst into outright laughter at the man’s baffled misery. “We’ll be off, then. Hang in there.” It was clear he didn’t mean a word of it.

Sorush nodded, turning to her fellow Pari. “Come on, Rashnu, time to go.”

“Together… now…?”

Kintsugi reached out, gently ushering her into forward flight. “Now. It’s not far. I’m sure you can sleep again soon.” He bit back a grin as this seemed to propel her on a little bit, escorting her towards Vourukasha’s plateau as the Skeptics saw them off, not knowing what to think after having seen a little more of the Pari’s true nature.

As soon as they left the Skeptics behind at the Tree of Barsom, Vourukasha Oasis started reappearing from nothing ahead of them, the Harvisptokhm rising up like a beacon of life Kintsugi realized he’d sorely missed.

He glanced to the side. Rashnu was blinking slowly and flying slower, seemingly waking up anew every few moments and moving in starts and stops. Sorush wasn’t much more present. “Ready to receive your Chaplet, little pest?”

She looked at him. “I was born for this, Yasnapati.”

He gave a wry smile. He’d thought the exact same thing, once. Even if he had been right, he was glad things had played out the way they had, and the object in question did not define him any longer. He didn’t voice it, merely sighing instead. “…Alright. Let’s go.” He recalled the fact he hadn’t dreamed at all when in the Oasis, smiling just a little. “…Then maybe all of us can get some sleep, after.”

Chapter 12: Khvarena

Chapter Text

Upon arriving back at the Vourukasha Oasis, despite it being nearly midnight, Sorush went straight to Zurvan, dragging Rashnu and Kintsugi with her.

“You promised I could sleep,” the pink-crowned Pari complained, wings drooping. Sorush barely looked back at her. “And you may,” she replied. “After I obtain the Twin-Horned Chaplet.”

“You really did promise, though,” Kintsugi echoed, expression flat. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“Can’t you wait a little longer for something so mundane as sleep, Yasnapati, in the face of the glory of my life’s pursuit? My dearest desire? The radiant gleam of full mastery over Khvarena?” They reached Zurvan’s resting place, the rosy Pari’s eyes wide and glittering with expectation. “Elder Zurvan! We return, with Rashnu!”

The pale purple Pari had awoken already, beholding them with calm sagacity. “Rashnu, Sorush, Yasnapati. I welcome you all.” She looked them over, nodding in satisfaction. “You have done well. And while this might sound rude, you have exceeded my expectations.”

Rashnu drifted in the air, humming a little in affirmation, practically asleep already. Sorush tightly folded her wings before herself, however, triumph lighting up her eyes. “You will see me in a different light now, I trust, elder?”

Zurvan’s eyes narrowed in mirth. “You and your Yasnapati have aided one another in many ways, elevating eachother to ever greater heights. You both have done well.”

Kintsugi gave a smug smile, folding his arms as he hovered. “Please, do go on.”

Zurvan only chuckled, turning to him in slight, amused admonishment. Sorush, however, floated a little higher, gesturing animatedly as she spoke. “…Now, it may seem strange to say so, but I believe myself and my Yasnapati to be of the same root and stem. Indivisible. And just as the heroes of legend should have many helpers, my Yasnapati’s works shall also count for my glory.” She turned to him. “Therefore, Yasnapati mine, feel free to add your deeds to my hymn, for thus shall my great deeds seem all the greater for it!”

“You always know just what to say,” he snarked back. “By your leave, your grace.” His mind wouldn’t let go of that indivisible, however – it both coiled around the emptiness in his chest and cut him deeply, all of a sudden. He just wished he didn’t agree with her on the sentiment. It’d bring him nothing but more pain…

The rosy Pari let out a little cough. “But let us not speak of things unrelated. Just as we agreed before, elder, you can give me the Twin-Horned Chaplet now, yes?”

“Well, we did agree,” Zurvan nodded. “But I can’t give you that Chaplet.”

Sorush jolted. “W-wait! Are you going back on your word?”

Zurvan folded a wing where her mouth would’ve been, tittering in quiet laughter. “Hehe… now, the Chaplet is the symbol of Khvarena’s recognition. How could it be given away based on private whims?” She spread her wings, looking up at the Harvisptokhm, luminous in the desert night. “Amidst the countless motes of Khvarena created by the transformed divine bird, only we Pari have been blessed with intelligence. It is thus that we are able to communicate with the remaining consciousness within the mother-tree and guide the power of Khvarena.” She looked back to Sorush. “But not all Pari may possess such authority. Only the Bloomguards, those who prove worthy successors to the divine bird’s aspirations and have the courage to see that wish through, may gain the Chaplet, the crown that contains wisdom.” She motioned the younger Pari forward, waiting until she’d wordlessly left Kintsugi’s side. He watched her go, hovering wary and alert, never taking his eyes off her. It took all he had not to reach out or speak.

“Come, then,” the Pari elder intoned as Sorush joined her. “Pray along with me to the invincible Khvarena. If you have been acknowledged, then our god will grant you the Chaplet herself.”

The two of them linked their wings, and Zurvan began reciting the words of an ancient hymn Kintsugi couldn’t understand. After a beat, Sorush joined her in a hushed voice, their words soon reverberating through the Oasis’ vibrant nighttime air. Birds and beasts woke and lifted their heads, sensing something was afoot. Other Pari, too, emerged from their hollows and hovered in to watch, little specks of colour filling the air like so many flower petals – from those born from the most recently reincarnated plumes to Sefana, Fedhri and Mihir, the latter hovering in more closely to float beside Rashnu. The glow blazing up from the Harvisptokhm itself seemed to intensify, every groove and gnarl of its weathered bark gleaming, shining brighter.

Something like an ethereal birdcall came cutting through the air, skipping Kintsugi’s ears entirely, arriving straight into his mind. Beside him, Rashnu harshly startled awake, looking around with wide eyes until Mihir outstretched a calming wing. Everything seemed to go hazy and distant, all light diffusing into blooms of colour, making it impossible to focus on anything –

– and then the world slid back into focus, and all he could look at was Sorush.

Motes, then flurries of amber light came rushing towards her from all around – the soil, the air, the luminous Amrita, every blade of grass. She closed her eyes, buoyed higher by it, its overwhelming currents lifting her wings – and then concentrating upon her brow and forehead, forming into a rosy, petal-like crown that matched the rest of her body perfectly. The light burst outward like a much stronger version of her previous flower-shaped Khvarena with the abrupt spreading of her wings, and as it died away in sparks beyond counting, something of its power remained.

Sorush’ wings came down, her eyes blinked open – and she lifted a wing to her forehead, testingly feeling at the crown, the Chaplet, as her eyes widened in shock and amazement. “I… I…”

“…So, the Chaplet just grows out of your head,” Kintsugi observed, examining her closely as the other Pari came hovering in from all around. “Now we both have proper headgear. You look… a little less pathetic, I suppose…” He hoped he could keep both worry and pride well out of his voice.

“Haha! Of course! I am far more formidable now!” Sorush exclaimed, clearly vibrating with excitement. She looked around, greeting her fellow Pari. “I am the destined Bloomguard, after all! The Khvarena has acknowledged me… now I need only offer myself as a sacrifice to extinguish the Sign!”

“…And there you go, ruining the moment,” Kintsugi sighed. He did back away to allow the other Pari in, however. The younger ones marveled at her in their soft, clear voices; Rashnu, Mihir and the other more seasoned ones nodded and touched their wings onto the new Bloomguard in pride and quiet approval. It was a delicate scene, like a whirl of flower petals, murmuring like leaves in the wind under the brilliant desert stars, Zurvan and the Harvisptokhm looking on like silent guardians.

“You are ready to perform the Rite of Chinvat,” Zurvan ultimately spoke, parting the group of Pari to hover in towards Sorush. “If, of course, you can gather all five Great Songs of Khvarena. Only then may you pass through the darkness and extinguish the Sign of Apaosha.”

“Nasejuna has knowledge on their locations,” Kintsugi supplied. “How reliable his word is remains to be seen, however.”

Zurvan seemed surprised at this. “To think any human has such knowledge… I thought that it had been lost.” She co*cked her head. “I once traveled alongside human heroes to cross the darkness through the Rite, and cleanse the impurities tainting the mother-tree,” she entrusted them. “But when that happened, I was the one who personally used the Khvarena to repair the seal that held the darkness at bay. Later, I was also the one who fused the strongest Khvarena collected there into the five Great Songs, which I used to purify the land.” She shook her head. “The Skeptics should not have knowledge of the Great Songs’ existence at all, if they merely relied on their traditional records.”

Kintsugi had stilled. “…Maybe one of the heroes you traveled with was very fond of keeping records? Nasejuna keeps mentioning all the ancient documents he has access to. He also knew the locations of the Kory drums, despite Rashnu very much wanting to keep them hidden.” He glanced at Barsom’s familiar, already drowsing in the air again.

“Hmm.” Zurvan’s eyes had darkened a little. “All the same, with Sorush having obtained the Chaplet and awakened to its full capacities, I do not believe such documents shall be needed at all.” She turned to the newly crowned Bloomguard. “Do you sense of what I speak, Sorush?”

The rosy Pari had been rather quiet as Zurvan had spoken, her eyes darting around, turning this way and that in the air as if searching for something, or listening to something only she could hear. She gave a slow, understanding nod at her elder’s question. “…Yes. Having obtained the Chaplet… I believe my bond with the Khvarena has deepened to such an extent… that I can sense the Great Songs, however dimly.” Her eyes brightened. “One shines most brightly. It must be very near.” She turned to the Harvisptokhm. “Elder, if I may…?”

Zurvan’s eyes narrowed warmly. “The Great Songs were scattered across the land. Only one was hidden by me within the waters of the Sunyata Lake here, kept away for a future time of need. Now that you have obtained the authority to touch the Great Songs, you can first go to obtain this one.” She folded her wings. “As for the rest, you shall have to seek them out yourself. Safeguard them well,” she warned emphatically. “Do not let them fall into the wrong hands.” And with that, she outstretched a wing, as if giving them her blessing to go forth. Sorush immediately surged forward towards the Harvisptokhm, following her new senses to the call of the Great Song. Kintsugi went with her, curious despite himself – and with no small amount of fresh worry now they’d entered this new, weightier stage of their mission.

Their path led into the embrace of the Harvisptokhm’s roots, curving over and around them like a verdant cathedral, overgrown with lush and bioluminescent vegetation, twinkling like stars under the massive tree. Underneath was the luminous Amrita, fringed with grasses and reeds. Sorush led them deeper and deeper, until the waters below plunged to such an extent he could no longer see the bottom.

She spread her wings, and something down there stirred, slowly rising to the surface.

As it properly came into view, Kintsugi blinked in surprise. He hadn’t known how to picture the Great Songs at all, but whatever he could’ve expected, this hadn’t been it.

The Song slightly resembled a Pari, winged and floating, but it was much bigger, and comprised of luminous green energy – pure Khvarena. Its face was featureless, and it did not appear sentient – or if it was, it seemed to be slumbering, or adrift in endless meditation. It radiated life energy, limitless potential. A spherical shield of amber light surrounded it, humming warmly, yet unyieldingly barring Kintsugi’s way as he tentatively reached out a hand.

“Do not attempt to make contact, Yasnapati. Only a Bloomguard may touch the Great Songs.” Sorush hovered up, pausing for a moment – but then effortlessly breaking through the barrier, to her own momentary bafflement. She took a breath, then reverently spread her wings to the Great Song.

The luminous green form briefly mirrored her, and then faded. Its energy swirled around for just a moment before flowing into the Pari, making her ruffle up and instantly float higher. “I… I grow stronger,” she uttered, wonder to her voice. “Its Khvarena… flows together with mine, like water with water…”

“Good for you,” Kintsugi heard himself murmur, feeling himself float slightly outside of himself, senseless like the Great Song had seemed.

Sorush grew stronger, her Khvarena richer, more capable of cleansing the land’s impurities. More ready for her sacrifice which would seal the rift at Tunigi Hollow once more. Like the Simurgh before her.

…Like Zurvan before her.

That realization startled him back into his mind and body, breaking through his growing, silent despair. Zurvan had just told them she’d performed these rites herself, when the rift had been newly formed. And she was still here, very much alive.

…Maybe it was the difference between repairing the seal and cleansing the rift once and for all. Maybe a Pari did need to die for the latter.

It didn’t mean he was giving up his quiet personal quest of preventing Sorush’ sacrifice, though. He’d keep trying and looking for alternatives until the end. Even if he knew it was a fool’s errand. He might as well accept he’d always be a bit of a fool.

“…That pretty new hat of yours may be a perfect match colour-wise and offer you the power we need, but you’d better not become too dependent on it.” Don’t let it define you. That way lies only heartbreak. I should know.

She turned to face him, her back to the deep pool of Amrita, Vourukasha’s luminous foliage twinkling all around them in the night air. “Pleasing to the ear, your words are not, but I shall take it that you praise my majesty nonetheless.”

He had to grin. “Tch. Still the same petty little Pari.” Good.

She snootily flapped a wing at him. “Already I outshine all others of my kind. Yet more radiant still must I become. Indeed, I already sense three other Great Songs, calling out to the destined Bloomguard, shining through rock and root, water and crystal…”

He tilted his head, folding his arms, smirking a little. “So we don’t need Nasejuna at all? He’s dug up all those documents for nothing now you can just sense them? Oh, that’s good.”

“Verily, we can let him rest at the settlement for now.” She tilted her head, as though searching for something. “…Yet we may have need of him later. The remaining fifth Song… it is buried very deeply indeed, surrounded by metal and fire, an intricate labyrinth of ancient make… I do not feel we could reach that one in a straightforward manner. We may have need of the ways of humans then.”

“That one can wait, then. I could do with some time without listening to his blabbering on top of yours.” He looked back to where the Harvisptokhm’s roots led outside. “Where do we start?”

“The closest of the Songs…” She narrowed her eyes, then brightened. “…Come. You need only follow me and record mine accomplishments.”

“…In the morning.”

She faltered. “…What?” She shook herself. “I mean… that is… pray, what are you getting at, Yasnapati?”

“Rashnu’s not the only one who needs sleep. I haven’t slept for two nights, Bloomguard. And while I could technically keep going just fine, I get the sense it’d be strategic to grab a little rest while we can.” He was already hovering out of the roots, headed for the spot near the Amrita waterline where he’d spent the night earlier. As Sorush followed, sputtering and protesting, he was pleased to see even his little campfire was still there. It didn’t take him long to relight it. “…Will you shut it? I won’t be able to sleep if you keep going on like that, and then it’ll take us even longer to leave.”

“You who always boasts to be greater than humanity! Requiring no food or rest!”

He grinned at her, leaning back on his hands, stretching out his cracked leg in the grass. “You who also needs sleep, but is, as of now, overexcited about her fancy new hat.”

“It is the legendary Twin-Horned Chaplet, you brazen lout,” she sputtered. “I have earned it well, you should owe me more respect –”

He tilted his head, mimicking a closing mouth with his fingers. She let out a sound of quiet fury, but did fall silent. It seemed she would rather let him sleep now than pass out on her in the morning, after all.

He laid himself down, but couldn’t resist getting a last word in. “And who was it that defeated the swamp’s rifthounds and carried all those drums, hm? I say we share that Chaplet…”

“Oh, cease –”

“…but seeing as I already have a hat, I’m willing to let you have it,” he finished, grinning out over the Amrita outside of her view.

And as she grumbled, bartered her flower from him and reluctantly laid herself down with it, he quickly slipped into sleep, for the first time in three days, catching up on some actual rest at last – dreaming of nothing but bursts of rosy light, bittersweetly slipping through his fingers wherever he turned.

The first place the Chaplet pulled Sorush towards was near the waterfalls plunging into Asipattravana Swamp, reached after flying all morning until the sun was high in the sky. The call of the Great Song flawlessly led her through the root-lined caverns honeycombing the cliffside, using her Khvarena to coax the roots into uncurling and opening up previously inaccessible passages Kintsugi never would’ve considered, eventually ending up leaving him behind to venture through hollows too small for him to follow. He didn’t like it one bit – but soon enough, there was a burst of Khvarena rolling through the tunnels and coursing up the roots, and he knew she’d obtained the Great Song. Soon enough, she rejoined his side, and he could sense her power had increased yet again. “That little hat is really something, hm?”

“Little hat!” she bristled, spreading her wings and showing off how much bigger her burst of light was now. It washed over him, warm and soothing like sunlight, scented like all of the Oasis’ flowers. He backed away a little, flapping at her. “…Stop that.”

“Is your gaudy choice of headwear anything like my formidable Chaplet, Yasnapati? Then hold your tongue!”

He couldn’t help himself from seriously considering this for a moment as they left the caverns. He had put on his first hat as a kind of shield, trying to hide from the world and anyone who wanted to really look at him from that moment forth. It had made him feel just a little stronger, the immediate effects of being less approachable. “…Maybe, just a bit. But if it’d let me gain power like your Chaplet, I wouldn’t be here helping you right now.”

“You would be labouring towards restoring these lands yourself, I trust?”

“Pfft. Your dreams are far too small. I’d be overthrowing the Dendro Archon and aiming to rule the world.” He grinned. It’d been long enough. He could joke about it now, he was fairly sure. The scandalized look in Sorush’ eyes was worth it, anyhow. “One such as you…!”

He folded his arms as they hovered back into the open air. “Yeah? What’s wrong with me?”

“You…! You… the mere idea of you on the throne of the Lord of Verdure…” She flapped and sputtered for a bit, barely even setting a new course based on what the Chaplet let her sense. Then, her eyes flicked back to him. “…Let it suffice to say it is a good thing you are not. That you are here instead, humbly aiding me in my great task.”

He had to restrain his quiet chuckles, his shoulders silently shaking as he followed her. “Ah, yes. Of course. You are most right, Khvarena’s envoy…”

And as she preened and set a course to the southeast, he could even manage to set aside his growing worries in favour of enjoying traveling alongside her for just a little longer.

Their next destination, reached at fiery sunset, made his face fall and his mood plummet deeper, however.

“This place? Again? What is it with you and passing through this disgusting graveyard all the time?”

They’d passed into a very familiar cavern, weaving through thorn-lined tunnels and ultimately arriving before the crystallized wenut yet again – and Kintsugi could swear it grew more unnerving and disturbing with every consecutive time he saw it. “I know how much you like monuments that last forever, but even you have to see how disgusting this is –”

“Hold your tongue, Yasnapati,” Sorush murmured. “I am attempting to listen.”

His expression went flat. “The Song should be close. What’s there to listen for?”

“It is hard to discern precisely because it is close!” She tilted her little head, turning in the air with swishes of her wings. Then, abruptly, she descended to the base of the wenut’s frozen body where it came bursting from the cavern floor. Apprehensively, Kintsugi followed. “Where are you going? Gonna give it a hug?”

“It seems to have… embraced the Song,” she replied, considering the crystal corpse from a few angles. “Elder Zurvan must’ve found a way to embed the song underneath… I have to grant it to her, this is ingenious…” She shook her head. “The sheer delicacy with which this has been done, the mastery and precision of the use of this Khvarena… and the sheer force of said Khvarena…”

“What happened to you? Any more praise from your mouth, and I’m gonna be sick. What’ve you done with the real Sorush?”

She turned to him. “There will be reason to praise me instead, soon enough. Even though my Khvarena shall be applied with less refinement, its overwhelming power shall be no less than that of my elder! Behold!” And she spread her wings and let the full force of her Khvarena shine forth, rose-red and glorious, flowing through the cavern and spiraling up all around the giant frozen wenut – beginning to dissolve the Abyssal grey crystal of which it was comprised. Kintsugi could only widen his eyes in something like awe and stare up as it crumbled and flaked away into nothing, finally granting the ancient serpent rest, letting it dissolve right in front of him. With it went all the other grey crystals in the cavern, until it was only sandstone that remained, warm gold and brown and natural, making it feel like the cave itself could finally breathe freely again.

And before them, where the wenut had been, was now a darkened hollow in the cavern floor. Sorush descended at once. Kintsugi followed after a brief pause, soon catching the telltale amber-and-green glow of the Great Song they’d been looking for.

As Sorush reverently approached it and invited it to join the Khvarena already swirling within her, she could barely hold back the wisps of rosy light that escaped her, as if her power was growing too big for her body. Her eyes were sharp and determined as she returned to his side. “Three of the five Great Songs have joined up within me. I truly approach the splendour of the mighty Simurgh – Yasnapati, do not take your eyes off me. My tale unfolds as we speak.”

“That was impressive,” he had to admit, even if only because it was just the two of them in the cavern. “I would warn you not to let it go to your head, but it was already too late for that when we first met.”

She folded a wing before her chest as they hovered up and made to leave the wenut’s cavern. “You once said you would only give me that respect I earned. Clearly, I have earned it in your eyes. I only have as much pride in myself as is rightful and reasonable, as the most dutiful Bloomguard in recorded Pari history…”

He fondly rolled his eyes, quietly smiling away as they moved through the tunnels towards Tunigi Hollow, trusting her to guide them to the last Song they’d be able to reach themselves. He was looking forward to Nasejuna’s reaction when he found out he hadn’t been needed this whole time, and all his research had been for nothing…

…but was rudely snapped out of his musings as they emerged back into the Hollow’s dim, bloodied sunset light, and something huge immediately cut it off by dropping down in front of them.

Kintsugi was immediately on guard, wind whizzing in his palms as he barred Sorush’ way with an outstretched arm, his eyes narrowing viciously. “What do you want?”

The wild-maned hilichurl just stood there, silhouetted against the cloudy sky, looking at them through his beaked mask, long arms hanging loosely by his sides. His gaze seemed to shift to Sorush exclusively, the wisps of Khvarena emanating from her as she, too, was very much on guard. Then he outstretched one of those giant, painted hands in what seemed to be a reverent bow, bending at the waist and lowering his head until he was at their level, staying that way for a moment. Sorush startled. “You… you would bow to me, foul Dev…?”

“Dada, odomu. Kuzi, odomu.” The hilichurl’s voice was as reverent as his posture. “Upa celi lata. Kundala, biat nini. Kundala, biat ika.” It sounded like a plea, a request.

Kintsugi narrowed his eyes further. He’d heard some of those words before. “Biat…?”

The hilichurl straightened out at once, making him startle. The giant hands gestured out behind him, where Tunigi Hollow’s shadow-wreathed crystal spires clawed at the sky, the purple energy glittering brighter than the dying sunlight. “Biat! Biat tiga, biat nini!”

Alright, so ‘biat’ was bad, dark, Abyssal. Those gestures seemed desperate. The gestures towards Sorush’ Khvarena, much more positive. “…Right…”

The hilichurl gave a nod, seemingly relieved to finally be understood, even if just in the smallest of measures. Then, the moment was instantly ruined when he abruptly drew his blade, slashing the air between them, making Kintsugi and Sorush startle backwards. “Nye movo celi lata ika lawa!” He spread his arms, curving his free hand into claws, stomping a foot. “Ika lawa, kundala!”

Kintsugi snatched up Sorush, flying up and over the hilichurl, kicking away a grasping hand as it reached after them. “That’s more than enough gibberish,” he called after the creature as it kept yelling out those same words, running after them, slashing his blade – but not sending out swirls of Anemo like the first time they’d run into eachother. “Ika lawa, kundala! Kundala!”

Sorush wiggled free, faltering, looking down at the hilichurl. “Would it that we could understand…!”

“Abyss bad, Khvarena good. Simple enough. We agree. He just needs to learn to be reasonable about telling us, and maybe telling us something we don’t already know while he’s at it.” Kintsugi looked back at her, but kept flying. “Come on. You’re taking us to the fourth Great Song, don’t get distracted on me now.”

“He seems so distraught,” Sorush observed, but then turned back to follow, and then guide her Yasnapati, leaving the hilichurl to his frustrated dances. “…Yes. You are most right. I believe…” She reoriented herself. “…I believe our journey will take us very close to the Skeptics’ settlement indeed…”

“Oh, great. I’m not spending another night in that hollow cliff. Those rooms make me feel like a stored vegetable.” He folded his arms as he flew, letting her guide him though the canyons back the way they’d initially come. He meant it. He’d woken up in those sandstone chambers twice – once with Nasejuna hovering over him, once after being abandoned in the darkness of an empty dream by Kusanali. He’d had enough. He’d resigned himself to not sleeping outside of the Oasis; there’d be no reason to stay in the settlement either.

“That will be fine, Yasnapati. I should like to stay outside as well. The might of my current Khvarena will require some meditation to fully master, and it would not do to startle the Order.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

They soared along, passing the settlement, returning to the river canyon south of it where he’d insisted on flying up and over the mountains in the first place, getting him shot out of the sky by the Sign of Apaosha. When arriving, he spotted the hilichurl camp Sorush had challenged him to clear out. It was empty. This wasn’t the first time he’d been struck by this desert’s surprising lack of hilichurls, save the one they kept running into. Not for lack of their settlements, though. They just seemed to be avoiding them somehow.

Something was afoot, and he didn’t like it one bit. He was almost glad their journey was coming to an end – even though that also meant he was running out of time to talk Sorush out of her ridiculous sacrifice.

His Pari companion had turned, gesturing to the grey gate they’d run into their first time around as well. “The Song calls to me from there. Follow, Yasnapati. Watch me obtain yet more glory and grandeur!”

“Knock yourself out.” He followed as the grey gate melted away, taking note of the fact it stayed open this time – just like the total dissolution of the wenut corpse. Sorush really did have the power to win out over the Abyss, now. And she was set to grow even stronger.

He glanced up, into the echoing heights of the cavern. “You said this was a way up into the settlement, right?”

“Verily. Soon enough, those spiraling paths shall lead to their walkways and dwellings. We, however, have a need to descend…” She flicked her wings out, sending forth luminous wisps of Khvarena lighting the way, melting yet more grey crystal and eventually ending them up before a wall of giant impassable boulders, held in place by mighty coiling roots. To anyone else managing to arrive here, it’d just be another rock wall. Sorush, however, was fixated upon it. “The Great Song is just beyond.”

“It’s not grey crystal,” Kintsugi observed. “You can manipulate the roots, but…” He hovered backwards a little. He wasn’t keen on a cave-in.

“No matter! Its call is clear and strong, and I shall reach it!” She spread her wings, summoning all her Khvarena, letting it surge into the roots and coaxing them into movement, undulating and retracting…

…and immediately shaking up the entire wall, and then the ceiling as well.

Kintsugi’s eyes widened, just before all hell came down upon them. “Sorush – !”

Darkness fell, in the shape of tons of stone, earth, rubble and dust, thundering down, billowing up.

Light flared amidst the chaos. It was immediately buried, yet it did not falter, shining rosy and bright through every gap in the pile that remained, tinting the dust.

Then it flared stronger, stronger still – and erupted through the heart of the heap, flinging aside boulders and smaller debris alike, unveiling the two figures underneath, covered by a shining shield of pure Khvarena.

Kintsugi’s Vision was pulsing madly, one hand clawing at his chest, his eyes huge as he stared around, then back at Sorush. Her expression wasn’t much less stunned. As her Yasnapati spoke, his voice was nearly broken. “…Did you know you could do that?!”

“I…! Not as such…!”

“Remind me again why I follow you, little pest?! I thought we were just talking your sacrifice, not everyone around you, too – !”

She blinked, turning to the sight ahead, visibly tuning him out at once as she saw. Amber and green, fragile yet overwhelming, slumbering yet alive. The fourth Great Song, weightlessly drifting on the air. She hovered forward as though drawn in by a magnet, and Kintsugi’s rant faltered. “…Sure, why not. Apparently we can count on them to protect us from just about anything, even when you’re too out of it to spot the obvious risk.” He knew his words fell on deaf ears. Sorush was far too preoccupied with absorbing the Great Song to really hear him, and he was talking more to distract himself than anything else, anyway. Caves, more caves, cave-ins, and the prospect of following Nasejuna underground for the last Great Song. The unresolved business with the hilichurl. Whatever was going on with Kusanali. …Sorush.

As Sorush returned to him, her entire body was still glowing, as if she was struggling to keep all that Khvarena inside of her. He couldn’t keep the worry off his face. “…You’re not going to explode, are you?”

“I do not intend to fade before the predestined moment,” she replied, her eyes radiant, her posture more confident than ever. “Come. Let us emerge from this cavern – with me at my current strength, spending the night in the open should pose little challenge.”

“Well, if you insist. Just because you’re making total sense for once.”

They spent the night atop the cliffs towering over the Skeptic settlement, just shy of the heights that’d draw the attention of the Sign of Apaosha. It was an angry violet blot in the northeast, pulsing and emanating darkened clouds, pouring its filth down onto the Vourukasha Oasis. Kintsugi pointedly ignored it, cross-legged by their little fire, choosing to vigilantly keep an eye on Sorush as he cleaned out his wounds and reapplied his bandages once again.

She was hovering in place, eyes closed, wings spread, gently radiating Khvarena as she meditated. Wisps of it escaped her, tracing half-formed shapes through the air like the northern lights he’d seen in Snezhnaya. The ghosts of flowers and feathers formed and dissolved around them both, flickering off the sand, drawing in the odd moth. Every now and then, the Pari subconsciously formed a spherical shield around them both, flickering and fading alongside everything else visibly going through her mind and being projected out into the world. He tried not to feel too much about the fact she was clearly thinking about keeping the both of them safe – the shields neatly encompassed them both, not only fit for nor centered on Sorush herself.

Four out of five. Just what would the final Song do to her? Just what awaited after? Where exactly was the last Song, anyway, buried deep in an ancient labyrinth of metal and fire…?

Even if he’d have trusted things enough to let himself fall asleep, even without Kusanali’s strange behaviour, he was fairly sure his mere worrying would’ve filled his slumber with nightmares anyway. No. He’d rather guard Sorush, and never speak a word of the fact he had.

The Skeptics and their Vijnanapati returned at dawn.

“Lady Sorush…! Your present form is most astounding indeed!” Nasejuna reverently rested a hand on his chest in a deep bow, the newly returned drum players following suit, as well as everyone who’d emerged from the settlement to greet the Pari and her Yasnapati. “Gazing upon your mighty form, I know in my heart that you must have been crowned the Bloomguard, acknowledged by all!”

Sorush preened like she’d never preened before, slightly turning this way and that, showing off her gleaming wings, radiant and barely controlled wisps of Khvarena, and of course the Chaplet. “Startle not, humans,” she demured. “This was my calling from the beginning.”

“Of course, of course,” Nasejuna simpered as the others admired her in hushed tones. “Such majesty is only to be expected of the honoured envoy, one who shall obtain the Great Songs of Khvarena and extinguish the Sign!”

“Indeed, your words are most suited to be inscribed in the hymns that shall be written in mine honour!”

Kintsugi couldn’t stand it for one more moment. “We already found four out of five of the Great Songs,” he offhandedly informed the Vijnanapati, folding his arms while barely even looking at the man, trying his hardest not to give away his utter, monstrously smug satisfaction.

The man startled. A shock coursed through the gathered Skeptics.

“A miracle!”

“The ways of the Pari outshine us all…!”

Nasejuna stepped closer. “How can this be…? I was certain…”

“Like you were certain that Rashnu had some grand, earth-shaking reason not to talk to you anymore other than simple fatigue? Like you think you know the history of this desert better than the Pari themselves, even though Zurvan calls you untrustworthy?” He lifted his chin as Nasejuna made to speak, silencing him with a venomous glance. “Not only that. She said the Skeptics shouldn’t even know about the existence of the Great Songs.”

“She…!” Nasejuna opened and closed his mouth a few times, fish-like, as various murmurs coursed through his Order, more Skeptics joining to see the altercation by the moment. Sosi stood not far from her Vijnanapati, clearly not knowing what to think. “…Yes, it is indeed true that the ancient rites have stopped being passed down through our Order. If I had relied solely on our traditions, I suspect that even the Rite of Chinvat might still be shrouded in mystery. But I gained access to a large batch of long-lost documents from a very learned scholar. That was where I learned about the Great Songs. Those documents recorded a great number of things that the traditional hymns of our Order have never written of. That also inspired in me the desire to reform our Order.”

“A very learned scholar?” Kintsugi pondered, eyes narrowed, hand lifting to his chin in thought. “One that might’ve seen Zurvan create and hide the Great Songs, five hundred years ago?”

“Perchance. His name has faded, but his works have proven invaluable.”

“No, they haven’t. We’ve done just fine without a lick of his input or yours, you insignificant pest. The Chaplet enables Sorush to hear the Great Songs without any need for human meddling.”

Sorush came between them, spreading her wings. “Enough! These sideshows are not fit to be written into my songs. If you so wish to tell truth from falsehood, then let us go and see for ourselves rather than quibble here.” She turned to Nasejuna. “We have need of you and this scholar of ages past to find the final Great Song. It calls to me from a place I cannot reach, enveloped in metal and flame. I command you to guide us, Vijnanapati.”

He bowed deeply. “Since it is your command, great envoy, allow me to lead the way. I know the place of which you speak. Although I have not been to those underground ruins myself, I am as familiar with them as I am with this settlement.”

“Seeing is believing,” Kintsugi muttered foully. “You’d better put your back into it, Skeptic.”

Nasejuna gave an airy little laugh. “Well, the Great Songs are items that I do desire to win, especially after all that effort…” He coughed a little. “…Well, let us not speak of unrelated matters. Allow me to get ready, and then come with me, Yasnapati, great envoy.”

The Vijnanapati took only a little time to refresh himself after his journey back from the Tree of Barsom, seemingly very eager to set out. He led them to Tunigi Hollow once more, heading north into a pass that quickly closed up into a long cavern, host to increasingly intact ruins from a civilization Kintsugi vaguely recognized – one too ancient to have a name anymore.

As they descended between crumbled pillars, half-walking and half-sliding down a sandy slope to the remains of a weathered tiled floor, Kintsugi caught something shifting in the light from the tunnel entrance behind them. He turned back.

The hilichurl was standing between him and the last light, motionless, simply watching them. Sorush nor Nasejuna had noticed a thing.

Kintsugi hovered for a moment, spreading his arms in silent question. The hilichurl solemnly shook his head, looked at him one long moment more, and then turned his back and left. There was a sense of wary disappointment and resignation to him.

The puppet rejoined the others, possibly feeling even worse about following the Skeptic underground than before.

Nasejuna was prattling on about the ruins around them as he struggled down the sandy slope, then up another to pass through an ancient doorway. “Scholars from various different nations agree that architecture of this design once belonged to a civilization that spanned all across Teyvat, sharing knowledge and all their discoveries, before eventually meeting their end… one wonders what truths they once held, what they saw, what they knew…”

“They were thoroughly destroyed,” Kintsugi remarked flatly as he hovered along. “Let’s hold off on the knowing of forbidden things until after we complete the matter at hand.”

“Astute as always, honoured Yasnapati! Indeed, let’s keep our wits about us.” Nasejuna struggled through the sand as they entered root-lined tunnels, half sandstone, half collapsed ancient architecture. Deeper and deeper they went, and a few times Nasejuna needed Sorush’ help in clearing away the roots, letting them coil out of the way in thorny arches and loops.

Then, there was the first of the batteries, embedded in the sand in a bend in the path, flickering orange and yellow. Then the massive, rust-covered cogwheels, half-buried and discarded. Then, the wires dangling from embedded anchor points on the walls and ceiling, still weakly zapping and sparking with some ancient power – but not as ancient as the architecture that’d come before.

Kintsugi knew this technology. His face had scrunched up in disgust at the first sight of it.

Khaenri’ah.

Nothing good ever came from looking too closely into them.

Metal and fire, Sorush had said. “…Where are you taking us, Skeptic?”

Nasejuna did not look back, only eagerly moving forward as more metal littered their path. “If the documents I have read are accurate, the place we’re set to reach was used as a manufacturing center, and it was owned by the Dahri warrior band known as the Schwanenritter. According to these records, they resisted the monsters that surged forth from beneath the earth during the Cataclysm.” He strode forward even more purposefully. “Ah, but that’s not important right now. We are merely one step away – knowing that we are so close to collecting all the Great Songs, it’s enough to make one’s heart race!”

Kintsugi rolled his eyes, but then faltered in the air as he saw what was coming up ahead. The tunnel had opened up into a greater cavern, containing a tangle of collapsed metal walkways suspended from those same thick black wires – all leading up to a great, segmented, circular doorway, half-lost in thorny roots and grey crystals – but clearly an entrance to whatever Khaenri’ahn facility this would turn out to be.

Nasejuna had great difficulty traversing the walkways, having to swing and jump across a few times, as Kintsugi refrained from lifting a finger in his aid – maybe, just maybe, he’d stoop to catching the man if he fell, considering the depth of the cavern, and the mess of metal pipelines down there.

This really was an extensive facility. He really didn’t feel like going inside.

But he’d come this far, and so had Sorush. He didn’t really have a choice at this point.

Eventually, the Skeptic reached the doorway, wobbling and panting, but triumphant. “Well then,” he beamed, gesturing at the rusty mechanism to the side. “Let me help you open this door. The final Great Song awaits!”

Sorush eagerly joined his side, but Kintsugi hesitated a little. Nasejuna turned to him. “What? Are you afraid, now that we’re here?” There was a smugness to him that he hadn’t let on before. Kintsugi immediately bristled. “Forgive my surprise at your aptitude with machinery of which you should know nothing, Skeptic.”

“But of course! While you were away, I was making preparations the entire time.”

“That doesn’t make sense. There’s no way any of this was in your hymns or documents.”

“Some of our founding members were of Dahrian descent. There is much that lives amongst us still.” The Vijnanapati had turned to the doorway, tracing his fingers along the metallic segments, then turning to the mechanism to the side, fiddling with the angular symbols.

One of the door’s segments hissed open. Ancient, stale air wafted out, carrying the scent of metal and dust, and the folly of centuries.

“Long have I prepared for this moment,” Nasejuna muttered, rubbing his hands together. “The fateful hour is close at hand. Follow me, Khvarena’s envoy, honoured Yasnapati.”

And although their moods couldn’t differ more – one lost in dreams of grandeur, the other as wary as he’d ever been – the two of them followed the Skeptic into the bowels of the facility, swallowed up by ancient history, and definitively out of sight of the surface world.

Chapter 13: Dahri

Chapter Text

“Hah! There we go. Inside at last!”

The Vijnanapati’s excited voice rang out, bouncing off worn metal, making its way through stale, stifled air buzzing with ancient energy, chambers upon sealed chambers of buried secrets that should never see the light of day. It was a realm of rust and artificial yellow lights blinking behind scratched glass, mysterious devices that looked long dead but might yet be awoken to some terrible effect.

Kintsugi, Sorush and Nasejuna hovered and stepped into the ancient Khaenri’ahn facility, looking around and trying to make sense of what they saw.

“This looks like a main hall,” Kintsugi observed, hovering in place, letting his uneasy eyes glide across the complicated patterns crisscrossing the metallic floor around a central, circular design, and the three strange, inert devices also standing arranged around it. The far walls and its closed doorways were covered in cornered heaps of sand, grey crystal, and tangled thorny roots – even here, there was an interplay and constant struggle between forces from this world and the one beyond.

Right now, though, their focus must be on the ancient technology underneath it all.

Nasejuna had told them as much, gushing about it with enthusiasm bordering on obsession. He’d brought them right to the heart of the problem, even moreso than the Sign of Apaosha itself – the ancient follies Khaenri’ah had unleashed from deep within this very facility were ultimately responsible for the rift at Tunigi Hollow, responsible for the death of the god that was now the Harvisptokhm, responsible for the Simurgh’s sacrifice and the Pari’s birth.

As much as Kintsugi hated venturing this far underground, in overly eager company he did not fully trust, he had to admit it was only fitting that the last of the Great Songs of Khvarena had ended up right here at the beginning of it all.

“What’s next?” he forced himself to ask, very unwilling to rely on the Skeptic in any way, but completely at a loss himself – and Sorush was also still staring around with wide eyes, overwhelmed by their new metal world, so different from the sandstone and plant life she was used to.

“Hmm, let me think,” Nasejuna pondered, a hand at his chin as he narrowed his eyes, studiously peering at the ruin. “This place was used as a manufacturing center, and it was owned by the Dahri warrior band known as the Schwanenritter. According to my records, they resisted the monsters that surged forth from beneath the earth during the Cataclysm.” He let out a laugh, snapping out of his musings. “Ah, but that’s not important right now. Whatever the case, my notes say that the Great Song we must claim here is at the very bottom of this factory. We will need to use the elevator to reach that location, which means that activating said elevator is our present problem.”

Kintsugi tilted his head, scanning the room. “…Elevator?” His eye fell on the circular design at the very center of the floor, emblazoned with the eight-pointed Khaenri’ahn star. It seemed important, the circle resembling the seams of a moving mechanism. “Is that it?”

“The very thing, my friend. Sealed for now.” The Skeptic strode over to the three devices surrounding the lowered elevator. “These relays must power it, but they are without energy cells now. Perhaps we can come across some when we venture further into the facility.”

“Your notes tell you as much?”

“They bestow upon me some familiarity with this place, even though I have never set foot here myself.”

Kintsugi was about to erupt into an irritated tirade, his preparatory intake of breath wheezing through the covered cracks in his chest, but Sorush was just speedy enough to cut him off. “We shall surely find them, Yasnapati. My tale has progressed too far for it to be halted now, least of all by something as trivial as these energy blocks.”

“…Here’s hoping,” the puppet grumbled. He looked around again. “Skeptic, you can say ‘venture deeper’ all you want, but all these doors are shut. Doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere fast.”

Nasejuna paced around some more, brushing sand and dust off some smaller devices poking up from the grid of crisscrossing channels that covered the floor. Most of them were also covered in grey crystal. “Ancient power still surges here. If we dispel the crystal covering these relays in the correct pattern, it should flow all the way to the doorways… Could I trouble our great envoy to do as much?”

Sorush hovered in. “Oh? You almost sound like you presume to command me.”

Nasejuna quickly raised his hands in reverence. “…Oh no, no, of course, I would never dare do such a thing, oh great envoy. Yet this is a great task that only you may accomplish! Please, guide us!”

Kintsugi had looked on in amusem*nt as the Skeptic groveled and tied himself in knots to get Sorush to do the simplest thing – but then he saw how many such relays there were, covered in plaques of grey crystal, and how Sorush preened and hovered off, expending burst after burst of her Khvarena to permanently dispel them. “Hey, hey, stop,” he protested, hurrying after her. “There’s way too many. We need that Khvarena for the Rite, don’t go throwing it away all at once.”

She huffed at him, flapping a wing. “Hmph. Yasnapati, you fret over-much. All places are accessible to those who use Khvarena.”

Nasejuna tailed her, studying every relay uncovered, twisting and turning and fiddling with them, trying to redirect the flows of ancient energy through trial and error. “This one, great envoy, if you would… oh, and that one over there…”

It was a painstaking, clumsy process, and Kintsugi had already had enough of it. He rolled his eyes, deciding. “This isn’t going anywhere,” he bit out, lifting off higher. “That door?” He gestured at the one they were trying to direct the energy to.

“Yes, Yasnapati, but –”

“I’ll take care of it.” He flew over, pulled back his least injured leg and unleashed a vicious, vindictive burst of Anemo that rattled the depths of the facility, letting sand stream down from the walls and ceiling, cracking the nearby grey crystals, and utterly demolishing the steel doors until they were bent and deformed, leaving a gap more than big enough for all of them to pass. “There,” he panted, grinning a little wildly – even wilder as unnervingly sharp pangs of pain started getting through to him. “It’s open.” He glanced down. His cracks, inflicted upon him by the giant rifthound of the swamp and only just beginning to heal, had splintered deeper and further once again. He shook it off. No matter. Nothing in this desert was a serious match for him, and this facility was deserted – it had to be, it’d been sealed up for ages.

Sorush joined him, eyeing his injuries with some unease. “Yasnapati, you –”

He dismissed her. “Don’t be ungrateful. Go on.”

“…Very well.”

Nasejuna bowed as he passed, smiling insipidly. “Nothing less than expected from our honoured Yasnapati! Do not expend your energy rashly, though –”

“Shut up,” Kintsugi unceremoniously cut him off. “Move.” The puppet jerked his chin, letting the Skeptic go ahead. As both his companions had passed, he let his eyes wander through the room one last time.

The facility ought to be deserted – and yet…

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he still felt like they were being watched, somehow.

…Must be his own personal dislike for enclosed underground spaces. Nothing more.

He narrowed his eyes, tried to put it out of his mind, and followed the others.

Beyond the door lay metal hallways half-encrusted with sandstone and roots, glimmering bioluminescent plants and sparking, half-decayed machinery. Scattered boxes and crates of tools, covered in cobwebs – this place looked like it’d been left in a hurry. Despite himself, Kintsugi looked around and took it all in with some interest. What would some of his Vahumana colleagues have given to be him right now…? This might be the most valuable historical material he’d come across in all his five centuries of life. A Khaenri’ahn facility – the facility – abandoned during the Cataclysm…

If not for the pressing matter at hand, the worsening rift at Tunigi Hollow, the searing Sign of Apaosha and the struggling Harvisptokhm, he might’ve stayed and unraveled these findings just a little further.

As matters stood, however, all he could do was hover after Nasejuna and Sorush as they rounded each corner, the Skeptic alternately clanking across metal and ploughing through sand. Then, abruptly, Kintsugi darted out in front of them.

The Skeptic raised an eyebrow. “…Yasnapati…?”

He flapped at the man. “Shh.”

Voices ahead. Raspy. Familiar.

Hilichurls…?

“…Wait here.”

He cautiously hovered ahead, rounding the next corner, looking out from behind a formation of grey crystal – but the tunnel was empty.

There were scattered footsteps, however. The remains of a small, hurriedly extinguished campfire, the ashes still hot as he leaned forward in the air and tested them with a touch.

He looked up, narrowing his eyes in a glare. They weren’t alone in here.

He returned to the others, shaking his head. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing I can’t clear out, anyway.” His legs were cracked, but he didn’t need to walk, and he still had his hands.

“That is most reassuring to hear, honoured Yasnapati,” Nasejuna smiled, pressing his hands together in thanks. “We should be most glad to have your protection even aside from the great envoy’s.”

He eyed them both. Sorush could shield them and dispel Abyssal corruption, but only really fight if she had Nirodha fruit available; Nasejuna had already proven himself a terrible, overly nervous shot with his crossbow, even though he still insisted on lugging the thing around on his back. If there was any trouble, he’d have to be the one to step up. He sighed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s keep going.”

It was getting hotter in the metallic corridor. Soon, uncomfortably so. It reflected back and forth on itself from the rusted, crystal-covered walls, stirring some all-too-familiar memories within Kintsugi’s mind. Then, around another corner, the source of the heat suddenly came into view, flooding the corridor with blazing light like a subterranean sunset.

“A furnace,” Kintsugi murmured, hovering closer, unable to help himself.

It was enormous, looming up in the room that’d opened up before them, taking up the entire far wall; a giant fiery eye within what looked like a disembodied ruin golem head, connected to the facility’s deeper levels by means of huge pipes, constantly weeping a stream of molten metal through a grate in the floor. The metal must somehow be cycled back up, as the stream appeared truly endless. “How is it still in operation?” he couldn’t help but wonder.

Nasejuna stepped in by his side on the broken walkways, looking down on it alongside him. “This giant furnace is used to make a substance known as azosite. It is the core of this entire factory, and the energy blocks we have need of are derived from it. This is how I know we shall find them here.” He looked at the furnace in admiration. “It must also run on azosite, which would explain how it’s still going. It is the famed Khaenri’ahn perpetual energy source, after all.”

“But a furnace requires upkeep,” Kintsugi reasoned, intimately familiar with the subject. “Perpetual energy source or no, there are many other parts that should’ve given out ages ago.” He looked around, also thinking of the hilichurls he’d heard. “No one should have been able to get in here…”

“Well, there might be some paths in here that we’re not sure of,” Nasejuna pondered. “Perhaps others have taken an interest in this technology over the centuries, and tinkered with it – traveling scholars, those forward-thinking inventors from Fontaine, perhaps even the Dev themselves.”

Kintsugi gave a small shudder. He knew a former scholar interested in ruin tech. Had he ever…?

Then Nasejuna let out a short laugh, breaking off the puppet’s thoughts. “…Surely, now that I consider it, the Great Songs might have been stolen by now – were it not for the fact that only Lady Sorush may touch them!”

The Pari in question gave a haughty twirl. “Hah! Worthless worries,” she brushed it off. “The Great Songs of Khvarena are my destined inheritance. That any others might taint them with their touch… inconceivable!”

“Indeed, indeed, it is so,” Nasejuna simpered. “But we must press on, if you are to claim your destiny.” He looked around, scanning the room. “For although this furnace both runs on and refines azosite, I do not see any energy blocks around for us to take back. Most peculiar indeed…”

Sorush nodded, dismissing his musings. “Come then. Let us continue on.” She hovered down along the broken walkways, into the most intense heat of all, closely followed by an increasingly uneasy Kintsugi – even aside from the possibilities of someone being in here with them, meddling with their objective, he wasn’t fond of this kind of fire and heat, especially anywhere near his flowery little companion. He surreptitiously positioned himself between her and the great furnace, shielding her the best he could. Nasejuna clambered after them as fast as he could, and as Kintsugi glanced back he found the Skeptic observing him keenly. “…What?”

“Oh! It is nothing, honoured Yasnapati. One would only think it unwise to venture so close to the furnace…”

“I’m fireproof,” he informed the man, with no small measure of satisfaction as he saw his eyes widen in something like – jealousy? Dismay? “Tried and tested,” he smirked as he turned away, leaving the furnace behind into cooler passages.

Passages that led them deeper and deeper, along stairways and half-collapsed tunnels, sandy slopes littered with barely-active, sparking machinery, and lined with thorny roots, blooming with fiery flowers here and there. Kintsugi took some comfort in the ever-present manifestations of the Amrita suffusing the land, even at this depth. “We won’t even need the elevator to get to the Great Song’s level like this,” he grouched. “Where are you taking us?”

“According to the texts, there is a proving ground ahead – a chamber the Dahrians once used to test their machines. There should even be an incomplete prototype of a giant machine amongst them. I certainly expect we shall find suitable energy blocks for the elevator there.” Nasejuna gestured as he spoke, ploughing through the loose sand filling the corridor. “The copied Dahrian records in my notes say that this place was once modified for use as fortifications from which the monsters could be attacked, although it didn’t see much use in that regard.” He gave Kintsugi a sideways glance. “Strange, isn’t it? Why would the Dahrians, who triggered the defiling disaster, create machines to fight monsters?”

Sorush let out a little scoff. “They must have seen the error of their ways and repented as soon as possible. Yet, unsurprisingly, their efforts were not enough. They were only human, after all. Only the divine may stand against the defiled.”

Kintsugi kept his mouth shut, although it did curl into a little smile. At the start of this little adventure, Sorush had annoyed him. Now, that exact same attitude aimed at Nasejuna was nothing short of delightful.

Then his expression fell. They’d arrived in a new chamber with a sealed door on the far side, the floor once again filled with crisscrossing channels and relays. Nasejuna hurried in, inspecting them. “…Yes, it is as I thought. The problem once again lies with the relays. The energy from the central chamber isn’t reaching them. We need to find a way to connect them… in fact, it looks like we must return there and fix all the relays after all –”

Kintsugi grit his teeth as the man blabbered on – a waste of time, promising the wasting of even more time. Both his legs were shot through with fresh cracks, sending jolts of pain up and down his body – but his annoyance with Nasejuna burned brighter still. He made up his mind, resolutely hovering in. “Stand back, worm.”

“Yasnapati, you mustn’t – !”

He’d already pulled back his leg, but Nasejuna’s useless cry only made him stomp down harder. Splitting gales howled through the chamber, making sand fly and roots split asunder, and just like that, the door had been blasted open by the sheer power of his Vision and his will.

That would, however, be the last time he’d be capable of anything like that for a good long while.

The pulse of his Vision was weakened and faltering, overcome with the reckless use of elemental energy. The cracks in his legs had spread up to his thighs, the existing ones deepened, once again offering him a glimpse into his own hollow limbs. His hands were shaking, his eyes wide and nearly sightless as he stared down at himself. Then he shook himself, gritting his teeth, looking up. He did not need his legs. They had to keep going. The Sign waited for no one. None of this would matter if they could just get to the last Great Song. They just had to –

– the chamber ahead was much bigger than he’d expected.

It was an arena, he realized as he peered up through the settling dust, clearly recognizable even wreathed in massive thorn branches as it was. A giant platform, a fenced-in ring, surrounded on all sides by raised balconies like spectator seats. The ring was overlooked by an eight-pointed star dominating the far wall – not just a symbol of Khaenri’ah’s might, but a weapon. He could tell. He knew one when he saw it. That must be the prototype Nasejuna has spoken of.

The Skeptic in question had unexpectedly halted, hanging back. “Great envoy, honoured Yasnapati, I fear that this is as far as I may attend you.”

He glanced back. “What’s the problem this time?” he drawled.

“According to the texts, the road ahead is full of perils that no ordinary mortal may bear. Once you go in there, you shall be within the proving ground. Now that we have inflicted such great damage upon the ruins, the defensive mechanisms within the proving ground must have been activated.”

Kintsugi stared at him, feeling the wind stir around his twitching fingertips. “They what?!”

“A thousand apologies, honoured Yasnapati!” The man folded his hands and bowed his head. “I did beg you not to expend your power!”

“You shut your useless flapping mouth,” he seethed. “You should’ve told me sooner!”

Sorush flitted in, spreading her wings between them. “Nasejuna is but a mere human, envisioning great difficulty ahead where there need be none,” she began. “As a Bloomguard, nothing is impossible. I shall prevail here, Yasnapati, and you alongside me. That is how it must be. My tale shall be told!”

“Please,” the Skeptic managed. “Allow me to stay here and await your return.” He gazed into the room, indicating four pillar-like devices rising around the arena, dimmed yellow lights at their apexes. “I believe those lesser cannons hold the energy blocks we need. My crossbow will be useless, but they shall be no match for either the great envoy or her Yasnapati.”

Kintsugi gestured at himself, the cracks coursing up his legs. “Are you serious? Are you that incompetent, or are you actually luring us into a trap?” Knowingly letting him activate the facility’s defenses while he was in this state… then again, the Skeptic had protested against him blasting open the doors by force…

…He didn’t trust Nasejuna, not one bit, but what motivation could he have to betray them? The only true evil within the Order of Skeptics had lived five centuries ago, and died with Klingsor, the betrayer who’d turned to the Abyss…

The man was truly groveling now, but Kintsugi silenced him with a quick, dismissive gesture before he could whine out anything, coherent or otherwise. “You’re certain we need the energy sources from those cannons?” He turned to Sorush before Nasejuna could begin to answer, judging her more capable. “You can’t sense any others?”

“I cannot sense any energies of that kind, Yasnapati. We Pari are only attuned to the natural world.”

Kintsugi bit back both his pain and searing irritation. “Fine. Let’s get it done, then.” He gathered his strength, lifting off and propelling himself into the room with more force than necessary. Sorush struggled to keep up.

He eyed the giant weapon looming over him now with some nervousness. His body was durable, but in his current state… and foolish though the Khaenri’ahns had been, their machinery was and still remained mighty.

As soon as he came within a dozen yards of the ring, the lights on all four pillars lit up in unison, and tracking beams of light danced through the chamber, all eventually finding and centering on him.

He grit his teeth and darted in, praying his agility would be enough. He spun and spiraled through the chamber, gradually making his way in, waiting for the blast to come.

He’d originally planned to make the lights cross, make the cannons fire on one another, but they triggered before he could reach the proper position. No matter – as fast as they were, blast after blast of bright golden energy missed him as he flew, and he was free to land at one of their bases, fingers scrambling across the metallic surface, looking for any seam or opening from which to extract its power source –

Foolish. Foolish. Of course the makers of this place had taken precautions.

He pulled back his arm in agonized reflex before the pain itself even got through to him, or the yellow crackle of the ancient energy setting the cannon ablaze; then the pain did get through, and he felt his fingers splintering under the strain, the tiniest and most delicate of shards flitting away as he clutched his hand to his chest in protection. “Ah – !”

“Yasnapati…!” Sorush joined him, peering at his hands. “Do not be tempted! We must wait for these mechanisms to exhaust their power…”

“You think?” he bit at her, curling a stinging fist to his chest, hating himself for his rashness, the frustrations he’d allowed to build up with Nasejuna’s fumbling, the sense of being led into a trap without having any clear evidence for it. He was supposed to keep a level head and see this through – no one else was going to!

A rumble coursed through the ring. The cannons had gone dormant for now, but two doorways had slid open just outside, and now the fences were lowered to let in two hulking figures, their singular eyes flaming just as brightly. Ruin guards.

“It seems we must also defeat these Dahrian machines!”

He was in the air again already. “Just stay out of my way,” he growled, eyes narrowed, Vision flaring and pulsing as he gathered his power. He’d done this dozens of times since mastering his Anemo powers.

Fighting these things was second nature by now. He could do it with his eyes closed, going by sound alone. Both of them tramped in and he could just hover there, baiting one into a stomp and the other into a swing of its overly long arms – and dodging both, almost lazily. Wind arrows detached from his halo, embedding themselves in their shoulder joints, as vulnerable as his own. A few windblades to follow up, and the arms dangled uselessly…

“Most excellently done, my Yasnapati!”

He only grunted. …Are you watching, Arabalika?

The ruin guards both rotated their torsos on their hips, shifting gear to another method of attack. Six points of blazing light bloomed, promising a barrage of fiery missiles.

He grinned at that, sharp and dark. He knew what to do with fire. With sharp, precise movements of his wrists, he sent out razorlike blades of air, fanning the flames on the inside, igniting the inner workings of one ruin guard, making it blaze up bright as an underground sun, and then the other –

– and his movements hitched.

He’d turned to the second ruin guard as the first had toppled and crumbled, quick as lightning, his movements practiced – but the miniscule cracks in his fingers had ripped all the way through to his already damaged wrist where the rifthounds of Asipattravana Swamp had gotten to him, and he’d faltered for just a moment. Just long enough for the ruin guard to complete its firing sequence.

He stiffened, crossing his arms in front of himself, bracing for impact – but then something small and rosy was before him, spreading her wings, forming up a shield of pure Khvarena blocking all six strikes.

He clutched his freshly injured wrist as the shield fell away, panting, meeting Sorush’ wide eyes. “Are you unhurt?” she inquired.

“I have not been unhurt for days and will be hurt for the foreseeable future,” he gnashed out, but then let out a somewhat calming huff, forcing himself to nod at her in grateful appreciation, before darting back in and finishing the ruin guard with his remaining good hand. As it fell apart in a jumble of parts on top of the other one, he immediately looked around – what was next?

The pillar-like cannons had lit up again. He groaned, mustering up his strength to dart up as fast as he could at just the right moment, letting them all fire at one another as he’d originally planned – but Sorush had stayed by his side, forming up the shield again, narrowing her eyes against the artificial glare. “Fret not. Such puny tricks will not penetrate the Khvarena barrier!”

“We can let them destroy one another,” he reasoned, eyeing the cannons with just a hint of nerves. Would the shield hold up?

“We need only outlast this decrepit technology, Yasnapati. Pace yourself well. There is no need for further risk.” She faced the danger with determination in her bright eyes. “This is my tale. It is up to me to protect the one who will remain to tell it.”

Kintsugi opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the cannons had all fired in unison, letting loose a barrage of blinding light onto Sorush’ barrier. Simply staying put in the shield was nerve-wracking – but the shield held, and he could feel a hint of awe creeping into his expression as he saw her maintaining her hold over it, her wings spread wide against the onslaught. “Not bad,” he allowed as the attack petered out and the dust began to settle. “I suppose I’ll have a few praises to sing after all this –”

– the ground shook.

He turned around, dread settling into his stomach.

A ruin drake came tramping in, a hulking monstrosity of rust and yellow fire, quickly lifting off on jets of flame. Suddenly, the air was a whirl of cinders, acrid with the overwhelming stink of burning fuel.

It was quite a bit smaller than the one in the rainforest, the one the scholars had designated the Aeonblight Drake, but still fearsome – especially in Kintsugi’s current state. He had his doubts about even being able to face another regular ruin guard, much less this. He still clutched his injured hand to his chest; he’d fought one-handed before, but this was not the Akademiya Extravaganza, and this was not an annoyed General Mahamatra putting up some juvenile challenge. This was real, this had him suddenly feeling small, and overwhelmed, and scared.

He wasn’t nearly as strong as when he’d left Sumeru City all those days ago. This desert had been chipping away at him, whittling him down, eroding him, and now he was so close to breaking – physically, and mentally as well, if he really were to let the fear take hold…

He caught himself just staring up at the thing as it loomed over him, winding up its first attack.

“…Yasnapati!”

Sorush was in front of him before he could blink. Granted, even blinking might’ve been a sluggish reflex for a moment there. Nevertheless, the drake’s ruinous tail swipe collided squarely with her Khvarena shield, making her flinch and the shield splinter into glittering shards. “Gather your senses, Yasnapati! This is not the moment to sink into reverie – !”

No. No it wasn’t.

Right.

He blinked and narrowed his eyes, flitting his gaze over the thing’s design. He’d seen this before, only bigger. Glowing wing cores. He knew this.

Two rapid swipes of his good hand – forehand, backhand, and two windblades went sailing right for the glowing cores, colliding in a flicker of sparks and making the machine falter. Two more, and the cores burst in a shower of ancient energy, sending the thing crashing to the ground. Before it did so, however, the wings turned towards him, firing off a sputtering salvo of shrapnel, chasing him down as he tried to escape and striking him in the shoulder before he could get out of range, making him throw back his head and shout out his agony, clutching the injury.

…Clutch it with his good hand. His fingers sank right down into the tear and touched onto his exposed shoulder joint, staining them with a smattering of the indigo fluid sustaining his inner workings, but the stricken arm had been useless already. He grit his teeth, managing a grim smile. This was fine. This changed nothing.

“Yasnapati…!”

“Stay out of range,” he bit at his Pari companion. “Shield yourself.” He gave her a sharp glare, made sharper with pain. “Don’t let the Great Songs die with you, little pest.”

She gave a quick nod. “Y-yes…!” She looked around, quickly flitting off towards the giant weapon overlooking the arena.

He turned back to the drake as Sorush kept a safe distance, understanding the notion of bullets. He raised his chin, anticipated the thing getting up, and swept up his arm to summon a splitting gale right under it. The cutting surge of wind rattled its inner workings, dislodging multiple vital components, making the thing falter again.

It still had its shrapnel-spitting wings, though, its cores reigniting and gradually helping it lift off once more. He eyed it warily, ignoring his searing, split-open shoulder, his arm feebly articulating in ways it shouldn’t as he circled the thing. Another gale, as fast as his good arm could muster –

– the drake lifted off like an inverted avalanche while he was still yanking back his arm and gearing up to dart away, and spun around to whack its massive tail right into his chest. Parts rattled around inside it, but he –

– he was sent out skidding across the floor, slamming into the arena’s fencing, curling up into himself as his false skin splintered and shards dug into his own glistening inner workings. His body locked up, his vision blurred. Sorush was shouting something in that bright voice of hers, but he couldn’t make it out.

A shield would be really nice right now –

“Sorush,” he heard himself rasp out, struggling upright on legs that didn’t work. “I need –”

“Patience, Yasnapati, I am attempting –”

A glance up. She was busy with the thorny roots wreathing the far wall, those massive representations of the Amrita down here, and he recalled how she’d commanded those closer to the surface to move aside with her mastery over Khvarena. If she could coax them into movement now, wrap them around the drake, skewer it…

…No time, no time. The machine was up and running, although clanking and faltering in alarming ways, acrid smoke rising from its back. He grit his teeth, willed himself back into the air, gathering his remaining energy. His movements were sluggish, however, and he couldn’t seem to –

“…Sorush…!”

“Patience!”

And everything happened very fast.

The drake was upon him at the same instant he managed to summon up a gale underneath it, dislodging enough of its gears and fanning enough of its inner fire to finally force it into a standstill. Its wings still came forward, however, and he was too out of it to dodge the barrage of bullets coming his way, taking a devastating upward sweep of them to the torso – some ricocheting off, some lodging into existing cracks. Some struck his throat, fracturing him further.

A number he couldn’t parse struck him right in the head.

Something cracked, a previously flawless surface going weak and fractured like an eggshell, sitting precariously over an inner membrane, barely keeping together.

From one moment to the next, his eyes went glassy, unblinking.

The drake crumpled, but then so did he, soundlessly thudding to his knees. They shattered further with the impact, laying bare his joints. He barely felt it. The pulse of his Vision faltered, dimming abruptly.

…He hated going down this far from the sky.

A little rosy form was before him, frantically waving her wings, frantically shouting something he couldn’t make out. He saw her looking up. Golden lights were dancing over them both. She spread her wings, closing her eyes in ultimate concentration, enveloping them in the fragile bubble of her shield.

Blast upon soundless blast of light thundered upon the shield, none of it harming him further. Enough harm had already been done, however. He was still attempting to push himself up, but his movements were so slow, and he only ended up slumping over onto his side –

His feverish, senselessly wandering gaze caught the shield shattering.

And an underground sun beamed down upon them. The eight-pointed star of Khaenri’ah, dominating the far wall between the dormant roots Sorush had failed to wake.

The giant, incomplete prototype had activated at last.

The light came down for longer than he could grasp, but Sorush, her little chest heaving, mustered up her strength the whole time as well, eventually casting up another shield. Right after, the whole world burned, and all he could do was lay there and stare at it, barely having the faculties to blink or close his eyes. He was just a broken doll, his strings cut, waiting to be burned away into ashes…

The shield shattered, and waves of ancient energy washed over him, sparking through his inner workings. Some semblance of sensation returned to his twitching fingertips, but the world was darkening so fast…

Sorush was shouting something again. Someone was running in. Robes. Bearded face.

Nasejuna…?

The experiment was a failure. Subject is to be returned to the workshop for repairs…

Wrong scholar. Nasejuna couldn’t repair him like Dottore had.

“…doesn’t look good, honoured envoy, not good at all –”

“…Nothing is impossible with the power of Khvarena! Before I absorb the last Great Song, I shall bequeath part of it to him…”

His eyes wandered, one last time. There was a figure in the entrance to the proving ground, emerging behind Nasejuna now the Skeptic had finally entered it. It stood out to him, even from this far away.

Wild mane. Beaked mask.

…No, that couldn’t be right…

It didn’t matter anymore. His eyes slid shut, and his mind was carried far, far away.

Nasejuna was collecting the energy blocks from the extinguished cannons, looking back at Kintsugi’s crumpled body every few seconds. “Why did you not shield him, revered envoy?”

“I – !” Sorush flitted to and fro, desperately trying to regain her dignity, but finding it rather hard in the face of the crumbling of her Yasnapati. “I was attempting to command the roots that wreathe this place – but they were much slower to wake than I thought –”

“I see.” The Skeptic finished storing the luminous yellow blocks in his robes, looking down at the downed Yasnapati. “It may not be the best idea to move him at this time.”

“We must! I demand it!” Sorush frantically gestured with her wings. “I demand we take him to the Great Song so that he may be recovered.” She briefly closed her eyes. She wasn’t even sure Khvarena could bestow healing upon beings like him – unsure whether it could do anything but purge Abyssal corruption.

It had to, she decided. Her tale had advanced too far for her Yasnapati to be unable to tell it. She pointed a wing at his fallen form, the pulse of his Vision so slow and subdued. “Carry him, Vijnanapati. The Bloomguard commands you.”

The Skeptic bowed at once. “As you say, Lady Sorush.” He crouched down, carefully slipping his hands around Kintsugi’s waist and knees, scooping him up against his chest until the puppet’s head lolled to rest against him. His eyebrows rose minutely. “…Sosi was right. He is very light.”

“He will not be a burden,” Sorush nodded, unable to banish the urgency from her voice. “Let us depart.”

Nasejuna strode forward at once, almost disregarding her, Kintsugi’s bad arm slipping off his chest and dangling uselessly. The Skeptic’s eyes were bright, almost fevered. “You need not say a thing, honoured envoy. There is no time to be wasted.”

He was drifting away, way away, in a manner he’d been trying to avoid for days.

He hadn’t slept anywhere but Vourukasha Oasis for a while, and for good reason. He hadn’t wanted to end up here.

The purple light and Abyssal imagery lasted only for a blink, however, retracting from his gaze behind a wall of rainforest undergrowth and the towering trunks of epiphyte-covered trees – like something slimy and insidious pulling back within its deceptive shell.

He turned. His body obeyed him; his legs supported him. There was no pain whatsoever. It was almost unthinkable, after the days of constant, splintering hurt.

Nahida was before him, sitting in the clearing with her little legs folded to the side, smiling up at him with unblinking, clover-pupil eyes. “Welcome back.”

He didn’t speak, merely narrowing his eyes.

She patted the spot next to her. “Come, sit with me. Have a rest. I sense you’ve earned it.”

Her presence overwhelmed him, despite everything, despite his days of mistrust. He missed the rainforest. He missed the Divine Tree and the Sanctuary. He missed his Archon.

Don’t be alone.

Despite everything, he sat down. He stubbornly looked away, hiding his face.

“Calm your mind. It will all be over soon.”

Chills coursed down his back at that. At her voice. That matter-of-fact, almost emotionless tone.

Nahida had trouble understanding the emotions of others sometimes, but she’d never sounded like that.

He turned back. “You’re not her.”

She tilted her little head, but her smile did not shift, nor did the look in her unblinking eyes. “Hmm?”

“You’re not her.” Everything in him tensed up, his mind screaming at him, his whole being gearing up for another fight he couldn’t afford to pick. “You’re not my Archon. You never were.”

She toyed with her little hands, steepling them before her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He’d known from the beginning. From the first dream he’d had in this Girdle of the Sands where the real Nahida had warned him her power might not reach, the first dream he’d had while knocked out by the lurid purple light that’d ripped free from the Sign of Apaosha that accursed night. He’d known because something had been wrong from the start. He stared at her. “Say my name.”

Her eyes narrowed minutely. She did not speak.

“Kusanali knows my true name. I haven’t heard it since I left Sumeru City. Say it.”

A shift in her posture. Still no reply.

He stood, stepping back, staring down at her. “I knew it.” He willed himself to control his trembling. “You were never her.” He went back over all their conversations, everything he’d told this treacherous image of the one he trusted, so unwilling to look past that trust now that someone had finally, finally managed to earn it. Foolish. Blind. You’d think I’d have learned by now. “Your insistence on dealing with the Sign.” Perhaps not in the way he’d assumed. “…All your questions about the Oasis.” He shook his head, mind reeling, dreading what might come next. Still, he wouldn’t shy away.

“…Who are you, really?”

“Finally, we are here,” Nasejuna uttered, having slotted the final energy block into the devices controlling the elevator in the facility’s main hall. In response, the circular seam in the floor lit up, ready to carry them down into the facility’s depths. “The preparations I made were not in vain.”

He knelt down, carefully taking up Kintsugi’s limp body once more where he’d placed the puppet on the sand-strewn ground. “Now we need only use it, and we shall reach the deepest section of the elevator.” He kept an eye on Sorush. Her eyes hadn’t strayed from her Yasnapati.

It was almost as if she didn’t fully trust him.

They stepped onto the elevator platform together, and the Skeptic could barely contain himself as they descended – and kept descending. A narrow metallic shaft gave way to a grand chamber, and the small platform locked into a greater floor, their way leading down and down and down along alcoves upon alcoves containing deactivated ruin machinery, screens and control panels – the truth behind the Cataclysm, at long, long last! The final piece of the puzzle was almost within his grasp…

He looked down at the delicate, featherlight body in his arms, cracks coursing through its limbs, chest, throat and vaguely pained-looking face.

…If only he could free up his hands already.

It wouldn’t be long, now. He had full faith in that.

Sorush had flitted down to her Yasnapati, fretfully inspecting him, hovering to his pocket and adjusting something that’d been about to fall out – pushing down a little figure of pale cloth with her wings until it was securely hidden once more, patting it with a surprising amount of care. She returned to the Skeptic’s shoulder, expectantly looking at him. “How much further, Vijnanapati?”

Nasejuna barely acknowledged the Pari beside him, instead only looking down, unable to keep his smile off his face. “Not long at all,” he muttered, seemingly only to himself.

Nahida had risen from the grass. Kintsugi had withstood the urge to back away, but only just.

“Who am I, you ask?” She laughed, a horrible sound that didn’t match her voice, her face or anything else about her. “Who am I?” She fixated him, her eyes glinting with dark amusem*nt. “My name is Klingsor, descended from ancient Dahri. The honour is mine.”

Kintsugi froze, his eyes widening as his mind stuttered.

Klingsor.

He felt himself shaking his head, trying to make sense of it. “…You can’t be,” he uttered. The shadow from the Skeptics’ past, from the dawn of their Order, the one who’d cost them the Pari’s trust, gotten the Oasis sealed up and set fire to their history… “…Impossible –”

A raspy, mocking laugh from that dainty throat. “Is it?”

“Klingsor lived five centuries ago,” Kintsugi reasoned, feeling reason slip away from him with every passing moment. “He devastated the Skeptics and almost destroyed Vourukasha Oasis, but he was –”

“– mortal?” The thing wearing Nahida’s face smirked, scoffed. “Ah, mortals. Their fleeting existence. A temporary affliction. The Abyss granted me salvation. The Abyss led me to the truth and set me free.” A hand rose, suddenly toying with violet energy, the harmless stubby fingers suddenly flickering to razor claws, then back again. Far from human. Something more, now.

“You’re still here.” He realized he’d instinctively started pacing, circling his enemy, ready for anything – anything but striking first. The thing still looked like Nahida. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t, no matter how seriously he was beginning to take this.

It didn’t matter anyway. This wasn’t the waking world.

“I am still here. This world requires guidance. Correction.” Klingsor had dropped all pretense, getting up, slowly walking and gesturing, completely ignoring Kintsugi’s battle-ready demeanor. “It is most fortunate that you are here. The gathering of that foul soul-light is almost complete. Soon it shall all be rent asunder and the Rite of Chinvat shall be reversed, the way I failed to do all those years ago.” The thing glanced his way, fixating him with one horrible emerald eye. “You shall not be able to protect the Bloomguard in your current state, nor impede my follower.”

Nasejuna. His breathing picked up, although he carefully kept his expression level. All along, he’d been right to mistrust the Skeptic. …All the Skeptics? No, surely not – Sosi, Afsaneh and the others had spat upon Klingsor’s name and memory with such conviction. Only Nasejuna had been interested in Khaenri’ahn technology and expressed interest in the ‘exciting’ times an unsealed Abyss might bring. He should’ve been wary there and then. Humans were foolish beings, but they were rarely that foolish. Nasejuna had willfully led them in the wrong direction.

…Sorush was alone with him. His flowery fledgeling. She was alone with her betrayer, the one using her for his own ends.

Now he knew how Niwa had felt in his final moments, failing to protect him from the Doctor.

“You begin to understand, ‘Yasnapati’,” Klingsor chuckled darkly. “Good. You accept there is no standing against the Abyss –”

“Joke’s on you,” he abruptly bit out, cutting the creature off. “Waking up when I shouldn’t is a personal talent.” He wouldn’t let this end the way it had for him. This was exactly what he’d been trying to prevent, during his entire journey by the Pari’s side.

The thing laughed, unconcerned. “Do you really think you can wake up, vanquished as you are? Do you think your body will accommodate your mind in its current state? My follower took the utmost care to render you unconscious. It was not easy. He had to break you down bit by bit, starting days ago, sending you into danger with the Bloomguard… he was even forced to let you do part of the breaking, yourself, in your foolish hurry to rush through the facility… He read you as easily as scripture.”

Kintsugi balled his fists in a way his fractured hands wouldn’t be able to tolerate anymore in the waking world, gnashing his teeth. “Shut up. I’m getting out of here –”

“…Death would have been preferred, of course, but fret not,” the creature continued, ignoring him. “Your body will be within reach of my physical form soon enough.” Nahida’s form spread her hands, smiling, and behind her there was a shadow of dark, purplish claws, crackling with otherworldly energy. The rainforest finally melted away, giving way to a shattered sky, a crumbling and lifeless world flooded with purple light and drunken stars. He was once again stranded in the Abyss, left to die.

“Peace be with you,” Klingsor mocked, enraging him. “It shall all be over soon.”

The elevator had reached the bottom of the facility.

Sorush, Nasejuna and the unconscious Kintsugi were unfathomably deep – deeper than anyone had ventured in the past few centuries. Their surroundings were a mess of collapsed sandstone and crushed machinery, still-flickering screens and tangles of thorny roots.

Nasejuna had rushed forward, almost disregarding the puppet in his arms in his hurry. “How fascinating,” he breathed. “These devices… these screens… this must be where the deed was done, where the rift was opened…” He turned in place, taking it all in. “My notes say that a path into an underground realm still deeper down than this may be found nearby…”

“Vijnanapati, focus on the matter at hand,” Sorush pressed him.

“…But that is not a place we can reach at present,” he conceded. “We are nearly there. You need only follow me, honoured envoy.”

He strode through the chamber-turned-cavern, leading the Pari into one last tunnel, lined with razor spikes of grey crystal. Before long, a familiar amber glow greeted them, and Sorush took in a sharp gasp of recognition.

The last Great Song of Khvarena was before them. She instantly soared in, passing the Amrita shield and spreading her wings to its slumbering form, gradually taking its light up into herself. Nasejuna looked on as she glowed, wreathing herself in rosy light, like petals unfurling – and an ethereal birdcall rang out through the chamber, screeching out its mournful majesty, even this far from the sky.

Sorush had been overcome with the power she was absorbing, but still managed to direct a stream of it to Kintsugi’s senseless body, setting it aside for him just before she unified completely with the Song –

– but then, just before her gift could reach him, Nasejuna opened his arms and unceremoniously let go of the puppet.

Kintsugi landed onto the rocky ground with a sickening thud, his head jolting, lolling to the side and laying still. A small trickle of indigo crawled down his splintered cheek as the Khvarena dissipated, fading into the air.

Sorush sharply turned, eyes wide, speechless with incredulous fury. “Vijnanapati – ! What is the meaning of this?! You dare…!”

Nasejuna barked out a laugh, shaking his head, his expression shifting into something Sorush had never seen on him before – irreverence. Mockery. “Hah! Well. I’ve done it now, haven’t I? I’ve blown my cover.” He chuckled. “But ah, it is such a liberating feeling, to no longer have to grovel and nod before your little idiot self and your infuriating Yasnapati.”

Sorush looked between Kintsugi and the Skeptic, ultimately breaking through just enough of her shock to flit over to her companion, enveloping them both into a Khvarena shield almost purely on instinct. She was trembling, unable to still her shaking wings. “…V-Vijnanapati…”

The Skeptic glanced at them both, unconcerned, pacing right past them. “Well! Where should I begin? Even I’m not very sure.” He chuckled. “I’d love to tell you all about my plans. Dead people tell no tales, after all. But I’d wager you’d not like to hear of such convoluted matters much.” He fixated her with dark eyes. “Why don’t you just hand the Great Songs over? That’ll save me time.”

Through the fevered racing of her heart and the uncomprehending roar of her thoughts, Sorush realized Nasejuna was stalling. Why?

That was the least of the whys going through her mind now, however. Nasejuna – the man who’d welcomed her, lifted her up amongst the Skeptics, believed in her when she’d all but given up on herself. The man who’d compared her to the great Simurgh, told her she’d be able to save everyone and be praised in song for eternity…

She blinked back tears, spreading her wings over her Yasnapati, the one who’d mistrusted the notion of sacrifice from the start. Who’d mistrusted Nasejuna from the start. She narrowed her eyes within the shield, still trembling, unable to order her thoughts. “…Zurvan told me to not let them fall into the wrong hands.” She sounded pathetic. She was pathetic. …She wanted her elder.

“Bah!” Nasejuna spat resentfully. “Sideshows, all of that, compared to my plans! I’ve been playing house with you imbeciles this entire time, just to get to the Songs!” He paced, faster now, growing agitated. Sorush fought the impulse to cower, feeling so small, all her dignity stripped away along with his reverence. Nasejuna went on, not done breaking her down yet. “Coming up with the Rite and luring in the attention of the Pari was already a pain in the neck, but you were truly useless! Your constant failure to obtain the Chaplet had me on the verge of giving up! If it hadn’t been for your Yasnapati…” He eyed Kintsugi, crumpled up on the ground within the wavering shield. “…Now, it won’t please you, but I am very grateful,” he chuckled. “All that is left now is to release the seal on the Abyss… and the wars of old will begin anew.” He let out a sigh. “Oh, the expectation! Does it not kill you inside? Shame, then, that you shan’t see that glorious sight…”

“You turned your back on your duties,” Sorush managed. “How could you…”

“Ah, but have you not considered other possibilities? The Skeptics’ documents are a pile of raving-mad myths, while Dahri records are factual, precise!” He gestured around at their surroundings, the remains of technology far beyond either of their comprehension. “This is the truth which I discovered with my own hands, despite the Akademiya attempting to erase it and the Skeptics mistaking it for myth. The Dahri called the Sign of Apaosha the ‘Sign of Truth’, believing that it reflected the ‘reality’ beyond our skies… A reality I intend to uncover! That is my plan – to bring truth without mercy to this unjust world!” He rounded on her again, holding out a hand. “Now then. My great work requires all five Great Songs of Khvarena, so hand them over. If you come quietly, perhaps I might spare you.”

Sorush’ quiet trembling had gradually shifted from shock and horror to a shadow of her former pride and grandeur, feeling herself fill with indignated rage. “No,” she uttered, softly – her eyes wandering to the thorny roots lining the walls, thick and strong, alive with Amrita. “I shall not. I shall never.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Nasejuna gloated. “I’ve come prepared.” He looked back, where a tall, dark form slowly loomed up from the underground gloom. He half-turned, bowing in respect as the figure passed him. “…My apologies for the wait, O Priest of the Dark Hollow.”

The form emerging now was monstrous, letting out a raspy chuckle as it slid into the light. It floated above the ground, towering in its slender stature, wrapped in weightlessly trailing robes – and far from human. Four hands with clawed fingertips spread before Sorush’ wide eyes, and a horned, mask-like helmet obscured the face. Behind its head was a luminous violet halo, aglow with points of fiery red, electric purple and deep blue.

It fixated Sorush and Kintsugi, beyond amused. “Some lost lambs,” it observed. “Let me cleanse you of your sins.”

Darkly glittering energy swirled around one of its four hands. A vague trail, like smoke, like mist, connected the thing to Kintsugi like a leash, even through the Khvarena shield. Like Khvarena had been born into the world to defend it from Abyssal blight, so the Abyss could puncture and defy Khvarena…

“The Sign of Truth helped connect the both of us, that first night, all due to his own arrogance,” the being rasped out. “It has been most helpful.”

Sorush’ mind raced. Her Yasnapati’s darkened dreams, vanishing under Vourukasha’s glow, the might of the Harvisptokhm. The Oasis had kept this being at bay.

She was Bloomguard. She held all that light, now. The might of their goddess, of the Simurgh. More of her mighty ancestor had been united in one place than ever before – united within her.

The destiny Nasejuna had spoken of might’ve been a lie, but the powers she’d been entrusted with weren’t. She could still make a difference.

She took a deep breath, twirled up and out above her shield in the blink of an eye, and spread her wings, letting the full force of all the five Great Songs shine forth and illuminate the gloom.

Nasejuna shielded his eyes with an enraged cry, and Klingsor involuntarily did the same, clawing the air with two of his four hands, flinching back in the face of her soul-light. He quickly whipped back around, reaching out, but Sorush stared back unyieldingly – the massive roots wreathing the wall behind her stirring, waking, so much more easily than within the proving ground now she held all five Great Songs.

Klingsor hesitated, hovering back a little with a calculating glare. Nasejuna raged. “Your eminence, don’t be discouraged by this gnat!”

The Bloomguard’s Khvarena still blazed. The dark leash around Klingsor’s wrist caught her glow, flickering, diminishing.

On the ground, Kintsugi stirred, no matter how feebly. His Vision pulsed just a little brighter.

Something was happening.

A sensation was getting through to him, his dream-self, unmarred by any stain or injury – the sensation of the hard ground, rocks poking into him, absolute agony splintering up his legs, his wrist, denting his chest and making his face feel like a cracked egg.

Kintsugi gave a razor-sharp grin nonetheless, fixating Klingsor’s dream-form, now shifted to his Abyssal self. It was a relief. The betrayer didn’t deserve to wear Nahida’s shape – he could never do it justice.

He was far more familiar with beings like this, anyway. Fighting them had become part of him. It was almost comforting.

“You know the first rule of existing in Sumeru?” he inquired.

The Abyssal being snapped its attention back to him. “Pray, enlighten me,” it sneered.

Kintsugi looked over the thing’s shoulder. A light was blooming, blossoming, opening up beyond his captor. It was rosy as sunrise. “Never underestimate the little ones.” And he summoned his halo, and spun past his enemy’s outstretched claws and out of his reach, into the light, embracing the agony like an old friend.

Waking, he was greeted with total chaos.

Sorush had woken the roots, snaking and stabbing through the cavern, but also already burning, crackling with scorching electricity, and cut apart by luminous blades of water not unlike his own windblades. Klingsor gave as good as he got, and his Abyssal power seemed to match Sorush’ mastery of Khvarena, the two opposing forces coming to a direct clash at last.

“Scour thy soul!” the Abyssal being snarled, casting up all four hands and bombarding the roots with fire, but Sorush interlocked her wings, protecting herself inside a cage of bark. Within it, her eyes fell to Kintsugi as he feebly pushed himself up with his one good hand, smoke washing over him where he lay. “Yasnapati!”

He could barely move. His mind was a blur. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d fallen from Shouki no Kami’s helmet, landing head-first from that great height.

His limbs were hollow, but his torso and head held more vital components. When he’d fallen, his head had been ruined almost beyond repair, and he’d been in a coma for over two weeks. Now, the drake’s bullets had cracked his face and forehead, dizzying him, making it hard to think. The world was hazy before his eyes.

He could, however, make out a few points of flashing, glaring, brightly coloured light, growing clearer with each blink. And knowing what Klingsor had looked like in the dream…

He supported his light body on his bad hand for a moment, sweeping up his good one, curved into the most vicious claws he could still muster.

A splitting gale shot up through Klingsor’s violet halo, reacting with the Pyro, Hydro and Electro imbued into it all at once, triggering a flashing, sparking, fuming chain of elemental reactions, unleashing an explosion of smoke and high-pressure steam. At the same time, as the Abyssal being reared back and let out a spine-chilling shriek, Sorush balled her roots around him, doing her best to crush him.

Kintsugi let out a breathless little laugh, making out just enough of the madness to know they were on the right track.

Then the wooden cage burst apart, burning with Klingsor’s fury, and Sorush only barely managed to shield herself in a bubble of Khvarena – taking her shield off Kintsugi in the process.

Klingsor, breaking free, seized his chance immediately. He descended on the barely-there puppet like a final curtain call, mustering up a gleaming blue Hydro blade and stabbing it right through Kintsugi’s chest, emerging from the puppet’s back as three other clawed hands pulled him in.

Kintsugi let out a strained gasp, incapable of much else at this point. Indigo ran down the blade, bleeding into the back of his haori.

“Your sins are forgiven,” the Abyssal being hissed into his ear, yanking back the blade, and, with a flick, passing it right through Kintsugi’s wrist as well as the puppet attempted to lift a hand. The hand in question went sailing towards Sorush, coming to a halt in the sand, to her horrified fury.

His one remaining hand clawed itself in the sand, struggling to keep supporting his weight, fingers flexing blindly as his fevered eyes darted around the chamber, breathing fast.

Sorush reacted at once, Khvarena surging. The roots writhed, freeing themselves from the wall, curving protectively around Kintsugi’s faltering form and wrapping themselves around Klingsor once more as well, forcing him to violently free himself and back away, hissing. “Do not fight your salvation!”

Sorush didn’t reply, only intensifying her attack. Klingsor backed away further. “Your atonement has barely begun!” But rage though he might, he was driven off more and more, eventually backing off even past a cowering Nasejuna, hiding behind some machinery. Seeing his most powerful ally retreat, the Skeptic widened his eyes. “Your eminence – !”

“We shall return,” the being hissed. “This is not over.”

Sorush protectively spread her wings over Kintsugi. “I agree,” she proclaimed. “As long as the Sign of Apaosha burns, this is not over! My Khvarena shall outshine it, and you shall never direct my steps again!”

Nasejuna didn’t speak. He merely raised his crossbow and fired at the unprotected Pari, her physical body still as delicate as a rose petal.

Sorush’ eyes widened as she spotted the arrow’s glint.

And blue light flared near the sand-strewn floor of the chamber, one last time.

It wasn’t a coordinated move by any means. It wasn’t an attempt to catch the bolt, or redirect its path with Anemo. It was instinctive, a desperate move in the face of seeing Sorush threatened – and Kintsugi’s last remaining burst of Anemo didn’t manage to raise him up enough to catch the bolt with his hands anyway. Instead, he only came far enough to have it strike him squarely in the forehead, shattering his broken skin, lodging in and toppling him backwards.

Sorush screamed, high and shrill.

Klingsor cast one glance at the heaving, thrashing roots, and melted back into the shadows of the deep. Nasejuna cast one glance at Kintsugi’s still-moving body, still attempting to right himself, went pale as bone, and ran.

Only then did the puppet truly collapse, thudding into the dust, twitching fingers going still.

His Vision dimmed, its pulse slowing, but it did not go out.

It was some time later, and Sorush had stopped trying to shake him or call out to him, when another presence crept into the deep chamber.

The Pari’s gaze whipped up immediately, her wings straightening where she’d had them pressed to her face in shuddering despair. The roots stirred.

“Olah, tomo.”

A towering form came all but tiptoeing in, striding over so delicately it stunned Sorush for a moment. “You… you followed…?” Then the giant hilichurl crouched down, reaching out painted hands to Kintsugi. Her eyes flashed, even though her voice still quivered. “Do not – ! Do not touch him, foul beast of the Dev!”

He looked up at her, unimpressed, flapping a hand. “…Beru nye, celi lata.” He scooped up the shattered puppet, cradling him much more securely than Nasejuna had done, carefully folding both arms onto his punctured, still slowly leaking chest – then taking note of the missing hand, and retrieving that as well. “Odomu nini, dada nunu.” He fixated her, heedless of her increasing agitation. “Movo. Upa. Muhe.” And with that, he strode away, and she was forced to follow.

Her worldview had been turned upside down. Nasejuna betraying her, a hilichurl reaching out to offer aid – she could take it all in stride. She found the only thing that currently mattered to her was the fate of the one being carried away.

Chapter 14: Chinvat

Chapter Text

Under his mask, the wandering rogue smiled faintly as he walked.

Long strides through the sand-filled canyons, confidence putting a spring in his step even under these circ*mstances. The body in his arms barely weighed a thing. The only trouble was the chattering little being by his shoulder.

“…You’d better be careful, foul one of the Dev! You have the Bloomguard’s eye on you – if you lose even a shard of him –” A little hitch in her breath. “I… I shall have you know you hold my most honoured Yasnapati, the one who shall tell my tale after all this is over –”

He couldn’t understand her words. Only the brimming emotion in her voice. He did understand that, but it wouldn’t help a bit now. He’d flap at her if only he could free up a hand, but the one in his arms was too fragile for that.

It did not matter. He was the one who wandered everywhere, saw everything, did everything, and lived to tell the tale and protect the others. He’d protect this one too. A blabbering little distraction that didn’t fully trust him wouldn’t be an obstacle.

He glanced down at the one he carried, the one he’d mentally dubbed ‘odomu nini’ – the little friend who wielded the storm, but who’d been too blind and stupid to see who had brought the other storm, the one darkening the desert sky; the biat nini, the cursed clouds that came from deep within the earth. The naive little being had let the bringers of the storm trick and overpower him, break him down and split open his forehead. The wandering rogue had plucked out the crossbow bolt, inspecting the fragile form in mild wonder; the way he was obviously still alive somehow, the flow of his indigo blood slowing and stopping.

The odomu nini was foolish, but strong, a fighter and survivor to rival his wandering self – probably the last hope for these lands, the key to saving them, and certainly the best of influences to the little celi lata. The rogue looked up at her, the ‘little star’; the fire that did not burn, the light of life itself, the little rosy winged one. She never parted from the fragile one’s side, never stopped watching out for him.

She cared a lot for her companion. Maybe if the odomu nini were to wake up, she would stop blabbering in his ear. Still, it did not matter.

He’d tried to tell them, to show them. He had seen the cursed enemy speaking with the weak little man wielding the crossbow, under the stars, between the rocks. He had known then there’d been a blight amidst the humans the same way there had been all that time ago, and he had tried to share his knowledge the way he did with his other odomu, the ones who did understand. But humans were foolish, even those without a heartbeat.

The odomu nini floated between life and death, and the celi lata’s light was all but spent – but both would recover, and grow strong again. All the light lived inside her, now. None of it had fallen into the cursed enemy’s hands. That was the most important thing. The curse was growing in strength, but they’d probably have enough time before the ground and the skies tore open like they had in the past. And now, at the very least, they had seen. They had seen that he’d been right all along, trying to kill the weak little man, trying to warn them away from him. Now, they would finally be on his side, and maybe things wouldn’t end up like they’d done before.

The rogue couldn’t help but reminisce a bit, striding through the gorges.

He’d been there, then, long ago. His memories were jumbled and blurry, but he’d been there when the earth and sky had torn open for the first time, spewing forth darkness and monsters, that much he did remember. His goals and desires had seemed so clear, then. He carried them with him the best he still could, regardless. A sense of protection, a wish to protect this land and those of his own kind that dwelt within it on his way, in this wandering, wild existence he had now.

The humans, the odomu nini and most of the little flying ones were all idiots, blabbering and struggling without understanding. Still, the rogue would do his part in protecting this land they inhabited. He would not let a curse like that take hold again if he could help it.

Through the sand-filled canyons he walked, a path familiar to him, the way to the great tree he remembered. He still remembered, even though it’d vanished into thin air all those countless moonrises ago, when the cursed one had first made his move and the little flying ones had started keeping out everyone else to protect themselves.

He’d always kept an eye on the area where it had been. He’d known how important it was, the importance of the little ones that dwelled there, and no matter where he wandered, he’d always taken care to circle back to it. When the darkness had stirred again, he’d constantly stuck close, as much as he’d been able to while also taking care of his own kin.

Now, with the celi lata by his side and the odomu nini in his arms, the great tree was once again visible to him. Mighty, shining, resisting the cursed sky in all its glory, as it should be. His smile widened under his mask. Yes. It was different, struggling, not nearly as tall – but still strong. That was good. All would be well. He was sure of it.

The celi lata followed his gaze, faltering in her flight. “You… you can see the Oasis? You are being let in…?” She sounded shocked and confused. More blabbering. It did not matter. Action was what counted.

“Stop – I command you – you shall not befoul the sacred –”

“– beru nye, celi lata,” he benignly silenced her, striding into Vourukasha on long, strong legs. He sensed her wariness. Why was she so cautious? He clearly showed his allegiance now. He and his kin did not lie.

Sand and stone gave way to dewy grass and flowers under his bare feet, the air growing rich and moist, filled with the scent of life. He breathed in deep, relishing it.

The little flying ones fled and hid before him; all but one. He didn’t even have to venture all that far before she approached him head on. This must be the strongest, or the bravest, or the most foolish, he reasoned. Either would do.

She was purple and weathered, with a sense of deep wisdom about her. The rosy one jolted, moving forward a little, but ultimately too reluctant to leave her shattered companion behind.

The giant hilichurl gave a slight bow to the purple Pari elder, and she bowed back, folding a gracious wing before her chest.

“…I see. Let me lead the way, then, wandering soul. And… my gratitude.”

…

Cool. Comfortable. Relaxed.

“Yasnapati.”

Supported on all sides. Cradled.

“Yasnapati, present me my item.” A pleading little voice, weary, not expecting a reply. As if the one asking came here every day, hoping against hope.

His head was pounding. Not nearly as much as he remembered last, though.

Every bit of him felt fragile, spun through with hair-thin fractures. He felt tender, new, like a fresh branch in spring, barely any bark to speak of…

His fingers twitched, but only those of his left hand.

“Yasnapati…?”

His eyes blinked open.

He looked right into those of Sorush, floating above him as he lay cradled in a network of mossy branches, probably of her making. Another beat, and he realized he lay suspended just above the Amrita Pool, suffused with its golden, purifying aura. He minutely moved his head, looking around, lying prone as he was. His hat was beside him in the branches. It took a moment to even take note of the state of her – speechless, eyes wide, wings trembling.

He huffed out a little breath, managing the smallest smirk. “I just had the nicest dream.”

Her trembling increased as she heard his voice, raspy with disuse. “The… The blessed Amrita is known to banish all sorrows, it –”

“Oh, nothing fancy,” he chuckled. “Just you saying ‘please’ for once.”

She blinked, eyes going glossy. “…Please…?”

His smirk widened, even though he still couldn’t really get up or move much. “‘Please present me my item, Yasnapati,’” he cajoled.

She didn’t speak. She just launched herself at him, coming to a rest against his collarbone, pressing into him. He managed to lift his good hand, cupping it over her little body. “Ah, you Pari. So emotional.” He chuckled, slightly jostling her as it rocked his chest, then dug into his pocket and prodded her with the little cloth flower. “Here.” He paused as she wordlessly accepted it, swiping it in with one wing. He briefly lifted and inspected the hand that wouldn’t respond. The one Klingsor had cut off – but had now been reattached and tightly bound with some boldly patterned, vaguely familiar scrap of cloth. His fingers were limp and unfeeling – the reattachment hadn’t yet taken fully. Eh. No matter. “…I bet you’re feeling pretty embarrassed right now.”

She burrowed into him some more.

“There, there. You deserve it.”

She let out a little sound against him, part annoyance, part self-loathing. A blend he knew all too well. “…I’d rather be sealed into the grey crystals right away,” she lamented quietly, muffled into his bodysuit. “Or find myself a cavern to slumber undisturbed for eternity, till everyone I know ceases to exist…”

“I know the feeling. This desert still needs us to do a thing or two, though.” He stared up at the cavern ceiling. “Needs you to finish some things. Something about your glorious destiny as a Bloomguard – you may have mentioned it, I forget, remind me again…”

She grumbled in ashamed annoyance. “I know, I know, but…” She balled her wings into little fists against him. “…How am I supposed to live with the sheer embarrassment of being fooled by Nasejuna?” Before he could speak, she lifted a wing, though not yet her head. “Anyway, now that we’ve collected all the Great Songs of Khvarena, you can go to Mihir or Rashnu if you want to solve the anomaly in the sky. Whatever the case, please leave me alone and pretend you never heard the things I said.”

Kintsugi couldn’t keep still. He was silently shaking with laughter so badly it rattled his still-fragile body, as well as hers where she burrowed into him. Sorush retaliated with a feathery punch he barely felt at all. “Be silent, Yasnapati! Mock me not!”

“Forget what you said, hm?” He made the effort to sit up a little in her branches, looking down at her properly as he cradled her in his good hand in turn. “Forget all about your valiant fated sacrifice, shall I?”

“Awww, stop! Please stop!” She hid her face, jerking her wings away in indignation. “Stop patronizing me!”

His fingers tightened minutely, almost involuntarily as she made to move away in a huff. She stopped immediately, sensing the shift within him. “…Yasnapati?”

It’s over. …It’s not over, it’s far from over, but you’re not listening to that vermin anymore. You overcame him, you escaped him, you didn’t let him do irreparable damage. You’re not going to sacrifice yourself after all.

I’m so glad you just get to feel foolish instead of shattered to the point of wanting to unmake yourself.

I’m so glad you’re still here.

You did so much better than me.

He looked down at her, unmistakable warmth in his gaze, unable to keep all of it to himself. “You did well, little pest.”

“…Really? You genuinely mean to praise me?”

He let out a huff. “Just this once. Don’t get used to it.”

She visibly relaxed, some of her old pride coming back to her. “I have no need of the Vijnanapati’s praises to know I am… glorious,” she remarked, although with a slight sense of wonder, obviously realizing it for the first time herself. “I… I did well.”

“I do suppose I’m alive because of you,” Kintsugi allowed with a half-smile. He looked around, glanced at the fabric around his wrist. “But I highly doubt you carried me here. Who else helped us?”

Sorush blinked. “The foul one of the Dev. The one we encountered earlier, seeming so agitated about the Sign of Apaosha. It appeared he followed us into the bowels of the Dahri facility.”

He sat up a little more, testing the limits of his body. He was pleasantly surprised – and by her words, as well. “The hilichurl,” he mused. “I saw him in there while I lost consciousness. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me.” He thought back to their earlier encounters. “He did try to kill Nasejuna. Heh, I agreed with him even then, but I guess I really should have listened.”

“Zurvan allowed him into the Oasis,” Sorush went on, huffy and indignated despite everything, glaring at the tunnels leading from the Amrita Pool to the sea of flowers.

“How scandalous.” He picked up on her subdued outrage, however. Something was off. “…How long ago was this?” he inquired, growing uneasy. How long had he been out…?

“…A week ago, Yasnapati.”

A week. He should’ve expected as much. When he’d fallen from Shouki no Kami, he’d been out for more than two weeks as his mind and body mended from the ordeal. This hadn’t been nearly as bad, but Nasejuna and Klingsor had still managed to break him down quite a bit.

A week. That was less than ideal. “Tunigi Hollow must be a complete mess.”

She looked away from him. “It is.”

“You didn’t perform the Rite of Chinvat without me.”

“We… we require your aid, Yasnapati. As Bloomguard, I am mighty, and the other Pari will also offer their strength, even the least of them… but the Hollow, it is… not devoid of the dark ones, either. The powers of the Dev are ever growing, leaking into this realm. It was our intention to wait for you in particular. We place a great deal of trust in you.”

He scoffed. It figures. “Am I supposed to feel honoured? You let me recover and wake up just to immediately go and break me again, did you?”

She flinched at his tone, glaring at him as she balled her wings – but she couldn’t keep it up for long, letting out a sharp sigh and deflating. “I personally did not wish to go without you, either.”

“I’m still broken. I can only use one hand.” He unwrapped his wrist and peeked underneath his own wrappings – the unresponsive hand hadn’t yet reattached fully, his wrist still ringed with a thin line of separation. “See?”

“I do not wish to go alone!” She rounded on him. “Is that so hard to understand?”

He stared, his words dying in his throat. He blinked, finding he did understand. When he allowed himself, that was.

She’d have all the other Pari alongside her, lending her their aid and support. Yet, without him, she still felt ‘alone’.

“…You really did get attached, didn’t you… foolish Pari…”

“Hmph. As if you did not, Yasnapati. I clearly recall you rising up with the last of your strength, taking the arrow Nasejuna intended for me.” Her voice wavered a little on that last part. Nasejuna’s betrayal had thrown Kintsugi’s stubborn, unyielding support into sharp relief, despite his continuously abrasive choice of words. His actions spoke so much more loudly.

“…Involuntary,” he still brushed her off, just a little uneasy. “A final spasm. I was too far gone to have done that consciously.”

She let out the tiniest scoff. “I find it very hard to take you at your word there, Yasnapati.”

He cleared his throat. “Doesn’t concern me whether you do or don’t. Believe what you will, it’s all the same to me.” He opened and closed his good hand, paused for a moment, then took up his hat and gathered the energy of his Vision. His halo appeared without any trouble, and he slowly and carefully hovered up from the bed of roots Sorush had conjured up for him. They retracted back to the walls of the Amrita cavern with a soft creaking, leaving him hanging above the Pool itself.

He hovered over to the grass, and carefully descended onto it. For the first time in days – weeks, really, now – he put proper weight on his legs again, sinking his feet into the grass. It was uneasy, but he had to quietly admit to himself it felt wonderful to walk again. His first steps were wobbly and fragile, his legs still shot through with shallow, hair-thin cracks, but he quickly regained confidence in his legs and balance.

He realized only now that Fedhri, the teal Pari usually watching over the Pool, wasn’t here. Everything was so quiet. It was a little unnerving – but not enough to unnerve him. Not just yet.

As Sorush joined him, he took off his sandals without a word, sinking his bare feet into the dewy grass. She made no comment. He quietly smiled under his hat, then wider as he realized just how long he’d been floating without that very hat, unable to hide a thing. He felt complete again, in more ways than one.

Most of that feeling could be attributed to Sorush having let go of her sacrificial tendencies, however. …Not that he’d tell her that. They were far from out of the woods yet, anyway. No sense in admitting just how attached he’d really gotten.

As they stepped out into the Oasis, the first thing Kintsugi did was tilt up his hat and stare at the Sign of Apaosha directly above the Harvisptokhm. It blotted out the sky above the plateau, having spread between the Temir Mountains like a bloodstain, a blot of violet night in broad daylight. Otherworldly stars glinted within the rift. The Harvisptokhm’s green glow was diminished, faltering, exhausted. He could empathize.

They’d have to hurry.

The rest of the Oasis was just as quiet as the Amrita Pool had been. Only as they approached Zurvan’s place of rest did the other Pari emerge, colourful petals amidst the water and vegetation of Vourukasha, gathering around them in nameless anticipation as they halted and Zurvan herself emerged, too.

The Pari elder did not seem overly concerned, despite the anxious expectation of every other Pari around her as they spotted Kintsugi and Sorush approaching. Their arrival seemed more significant than ever before – a signal something very important was about to start.

“Ah, if it isn’t Sorush and her Yasnapati,” Zurvan nodded, extending a wing to Kintsugi. “My gratitude and commendations for helping Sorush obtain the Great Songs.”

“Despite some accidents,” he remarked. He glanced around. Yes – even Fedhri was here, hovering over the water.

“Whatever the case, the result is desirable. I was right to entrust the mission to you. Without you, the Great Songs of Khvarena might’ve been robbed away by those with ill intent.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you know?”

She chuckled behind a wing. “I might’ve been on to something when I disparaged the short-sightedness of humans, no?” She sobered, just a little. “I sensed that the followers of the dark hollow were making their play, but I did not expect them to have corrupted even the leader of the Skeptics.”

“It happened once before, with the Abyssal betrayer,” Sorush spoke then, surprising Kintsugi with her forceful tone. “And now it happens again. One would think even short-lived humans would learn from their past. I do not understand how Nasejuna could err so, throwing in his lot with Klingsor.”

“History becomes legend, and legend becomes tale,” Zurvan sagely replied. “That’s how traditions live on. But forgetting is also part of the story. The more you cling to the idea of tradition, the more you only selectively remember the story you desire and eventually become lost in the maze of tales.” She gestured to the Harvisptokhm. “In a world where things are being forgotten every hour of every day, what we engrave on the ground is far more reliable than what we sing to the wind.”

Kintsugi tilted his head, pondering her words – Pari history was engraved into the land itself, which couldn’t possibly lie. Scholars engraved fact in stone and on paper. He, himself, would never forget a thing, imbued with eternity as he was. He looked up just in time to meet Zurvan’s eyes as she addressed him again. “That is why I trust you, for you’re forthright and never seem to concern yourself with other people’s judgement.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a little, gently nudging Sorush. “It seems you’re not yet done being berated, although indirectly.”

The rosy Pari turned away, tightly folding her wings around herself. “Elder! Please just let bygones be bygones!”

Zurvan chuckled softly. “Indeed, we must look ahead at present. The only thing we can do now is enter the Harvisptokhm to cleanse it and wake our god.”

Kintsugi blinked. “Wait. We’re going to enter the Harvisptokhm now?”

“Of course,” Zurvan replied. “Did you think that the Rite of Chinvat was to be performed inside that dark hollow? Even Pari wouldn’t be able to stand the defilement within.” She shook her head. “Inside the Harvisptokhm lies a giant lotus, Gaokerena, and our god’s consciousness slumbers within it.”

Kintsugi narrowed his eyes. Gaokerena. He could swear he’d heard or read that term somewhere before. If he had some time to think, he was sure he’d be able to recall where – but he didn’t have that luxury right now. He filed it away for later.

Zurvan went on. “By cleansing the defilement, our god will wake, and the Flower of Sanctity will bloom once again.” She gazed up at the Harvisptokhm’s radiant green energy, faltering but still resisting. “The Amrita will rid the land of all its impurities. Convoluted as these processes may sound, I believe they shall constitute no hindrance to you.”

Kintsugi folded his arms, the fact that his feet were on the ground once again giving him some confidence and comfort. “We’ve come this far,” he shrugged. It had to have meant something.

“That is the spirit, young one. Go now, with the others, to Tunigi Hollow. You need only bring over the Great Songs. They will awaken the huge trees that suppress the darkness and purify the contaminated mud in the depths. After that, you can then perform the Rite of Chinvat and thus open the path into the Harvisptokhm. And once you are inside, the Chaplet will reveal to Sorush the great deeds of ancient heroes.”

Sorush jolted. “What…?”

Zurvan spread her wings, as if this fact should’ve been plain. “Since all memories related to Khvarena will return to the Harvisptokhm in the end, these memories will never fade no matter how legends are retold and changed.”

Sorush’ eyes were wide, startled, making her look younger than ever. “I’ve never heard of this!” This changed everything – her wish to be remembered as herself, her fear of falling in some nameless struggle like so many other reincarnating Pari…

Zurvan chuckled quietly. “Hehe. The Chaplet was originally a part of the Harvisptokhm. You will know when you get there.” She gestured in the direction of Tunigi Hollow, and a colourful whirl of Pari followed the motion of her wing, ascending, waiting for the Bloomguard and her Yasnapati. “Now, please go and extinguish the Sign of Apaosha. We will meet again when Amrita falls from the sky.”

As they and their quietly chattering entourage of little spirits set a course through the canyons away from the Oasis, Kintsugi couldn’t shake off the unique sense of tension overcoming his whole body now. He doubted the challenge ahead could be any worse than so many things he’d already lived through – and yet, and yet…

…It wasn’t just about him, this time.

“Zurvan seemed very calm about all this,” he remarked. “Isn’t this the biggest challenge you Pari have faced in centuries?” Isn’t it almost too late?

Sorush didn’t seem to fare much better, her flight just a little wobblier through the slight shakiness of her wings. She and many others had swooped down earlier to gather Nirodha fruit to later use to fiery effect, but it hadn’t seemed to reassure her. “This must be what she meant by awaiting the call of destiny, not rushing in blindly,” she mused, although not with a great deal of certainty. “We did our utmost. We have gathered the Great Songs and shaken off deception and betrayal. Now is the hour – if we do not succeed, it shall be too late for everyone.”

A sobering thought. If the darkness really did burst forth here, the next – last? – line of defense would be Nahida herself. He didn’t like that thought one bit – even less than the idea of all these Pari essentially sacrificing themselves anyway.

“What’s this kind of talk supposed to be,” he scoffed. “Is the mighty Bloomguard doubting herself?”

Sorush’ eyes glinted, just a little. She straightened out, stabilizing her wings, narrowing her eyes in renewed determination. “…Never.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Arriving at Tunigi Hollow, they needed every ounce of bravery, however.

When he’d come here for the first time, Kintsugi had been able to hover right to the glassy heart of the rift, perhaps even descend and stand on the glittery purple surface. Not so now.

Tunigi Hollow was reaching for the sky, a whirl of nebulous purple ascending from the heart of it, wreathing around the shards of grey crystal stabbing and splintering out almost over the Temir Mountains themselves.

“The rift will open by itself if we let this go on.” Kintsugi was very certain of it. He could sense the Abyss, bubbling and clawing just beneath the fabric of reality, deforming it from the other side. Its presence grew ever more clear to him as they approached.

As they descended just outside the circle of the giant crystals, Mihir and Rashnu approached through the whirl of lesser Pari. The lot of them were a whirl of petals fluttering before the darkened storm; but the two Sorush had fetched from Asipattravana and Barsom carried themselves with a calm dignity, tangibly more experienced and powerful than the rest.

Mihir briefly bowed her head. “We have awaited this moment for a very long time.”

“My apologies for the delay,” Kintsugi snarked. “I was busy coming back from the brink of death.”

“I’m so tired,” Rashnu complained. “I want to… go back to sleep…”

Sorush balled her wings, drawing herself up. “Hey, that’s not fair,” she bit back. “I’m the one who’d been labouring hard all along, and you didn’t do anything!”

“That’s not true,” Mihir countered. “Waiting is also an important job. In fact, acting is only momentary while waiting is eternal.”

Kintsugi folded his arms. “We already have one Zurvan full of faux-wisdoms, we don’t need another,” he informed her.

Mihir turned to him, unaffected. “That’s just the philosophy of us Pari. But now is not the time to discuss philosophies,” she agreed with the unspoken tension in his eyes and stance. “What matters is the Great Songs of Khvarena. They are finally gathered in one place – one Pari. Ready to be placed where they need to be at last.”

Sorush smugly spread her wings, showing off the massive, luminous blossoming of her Khvarena, catching the attention of all the other Pari. “We are more than prepared for what lies ahead!”

Kintsugi smirked a little, looking away. As jittery as she’d been before… did his presence make that much of a difference? He supposed it made sense, having lost Nasejuna’s unquestioning support…

“In that case, let us remove the seals from all five great trees,” Mihir nodded. “Then you can gather the power of Khvarena with the Great Songs. But be careful,” she cautioned. “Since the filth has been building up for centuries, I have no idea what will emerge once we begin.”

The Pari began moving in on the closest of the great grey crystals, jagged and hollow, and Kintsugi followed, gazing up at it, tilting his head. “…Wait, these are trees?”

“Trees grown by the Simurgh herself,” Sorush nodded. “Filled with her Khvarena, originally… but centuries of defilement have overcome them, extinguished their power and encased them in grey crystal. Only the Great Songs may restore them to their original state and potential.”

“And you never thought to tell me?”

“You did not ask,” she smartly retorted.

“Oh, ha ha.” He realized he was talking out of nervousness. He decided to stop.

Mihir turned to him. “Are you ready, Yasnapati?”

“Are you?” He folded his arms, only watching as Mihir nodded, outstretched a wing to Rashnu, and together hovered over to the nearest of the trees. “This one is… the smallest of the sealing trees,” Rashnu informed them on a yawn. “Just right for… mm, gaining a foothold of cleansing Khvarena before anything too big can come through from the other side…”

“Only the strongest flowers may grow in a crack in the rocks, but they will pave the way for more,” Mihir added. “This must be the first. Once it emanates the power of Khvarena, we shall set out to revive the others in turn.”

“…Sounds good to me. Do whatever you have to.”

It occurred to Kintsugi he was about to fight for a cause most, if not all, would deem universally ‘good’, if there was such a thing. It suddenly hit him he’d been doing so for a while now. It was almost… heroic. It was very hard to reconcile that with how he’d come to think of himself.

He blinked, looking up. They’d arrived within the hollow of the crystallized tree, surrounded by its cold, lifeless shadow. Within was only sand.

Mihir and Rashnu performed a swaying, weightless dance in the air, gathering their innate Khvarena, spreading their wings – and something shifted, unfurling like nightfall, stalking in like a hidden predator.

A silent echo bounced between the silvery crystal walls, its purple edges lit by a glow from beyond. The wings of the Pari drooped just a beat before Kintsugi clutched at his head and groaned – his eyes widened, unseeing, conjuring up visions of shattered stone and broken cities, a staring, baleful moon and drunk stars overhead. It was so close. Phantom pain of every injury he’d ever suffered down there shimmered across his skin like desert mirages. The memory of Abyssal venom flooded his senses. Falling. Falling into the Abyss.

It was almost here. Any longer, and the darkness would burst forth, claiming this desert for its own – gaining a foothold to once again wash over Sumeru, bringing black rain, the ‘memory of death’, and all those other warnings the Akademiya’s scholars and even the Aranara still carried with them…

Mihir turned to Sorush, struggling to stay afloat, her eyes narrowed with strain and determination. “Bloomguard… call forth the roots of the Amrita. Hurry, before any foul creature makes it through.”

Sorush nodded, gathering her cleansing light – and the sand stirred, giving way to gnarled roots, shot through with feebly glowing gold and green. They must’ve lain dormant below, even here – connected to all the others, going back all the way to the Oasis itself…

“Place the Great Song,” Rashnu urged her, sounding even more exhausted than before.

The Bloomguard didn’t waste time with words. She simply spread her wings, gathering a similar gold and green between them, calling forth more light from the whorl of roots – and then the soul-light snapped in place between them, withdrawing from Sorush, finding a home at the heart of the petrified tree, and exploding outward, washing upward and enveloping it altogether.

Grey crystal gave way to living wood and bark in waves of shimmering light. New branches sprouted from the revived tree, blossoming into rosy tufts of leaves like those adorning the great Tree of Barsom, up and up and up, defying the lifeless grey sky, the ever-waxing Sign of Apaosha overhead, and the great rift beneath.

Kintsugi stared, turning to take it all in, marveling despite himself – it was alive, presumably mortal, vulnerable, and yet so much mightier than the grey crystal it’d replaced. It’d survived the petrification of five centuries. It’d come back to life, completely wiping away the omnipresent sense of dread, replacing it with fresh, lively air and morning dew on its leaves.

“How about that,” he murmured. He realized part of him hadn’t believed it could be done at all. Seeing life return to something lifeless baffled him.

Somewhere deep down, another part of him was strangely embittered. Where were you, back then? Where was this cleansing power when there was more venom than blood in my system, all those times I clawed myself out of the Abyss, only to be greeted by Dottore’s scalpels and shock therapy? But he didn’t utter it. They still had quite the task ahead.

“Now that I’ve placed the Great Khvarena, everything around here seems to have recovered,” Sorush spoke in self-satisfaction, looking around with similar wonder. Her own glow had diminished somewhat now she’d let go of one of the Great Songs, but she still hovered proudly, the Chaplet resplendent upon her head.

“With the Great Songs’ nourishment, these trees will be able to regain their former glory,” Mihir nodded. “But with the Hollow’s seal removed now, the filth from the past has been freed, too.” She looked ahead, to the four remaining petrified trees. “Rashnu and I will accompany you and the others, safeguarding your path as much as we can while you place the Great Songs. But the Rite won’t be able to continue if you dally too long and cost us too much of our Khvarena. So please, take care of the other unsealed trees for us as soon as you can.” She wearily looked out across the Hollow. “They will be gathering darkness continuously now, preparing to let through bigger and bigger entities of defilement.”

“Leave it to me,” Sorush readily agreed. “It’s the Bloomguard’s job to fight such defilement!”

Kintsugi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be overeager.” This is not a game.

Mihir turned to him. “Whether it is Sorush, myself, or any of us,” she began, “all Pari have a duty that they must undertake. But you are different.” There was a smile in her mismatched, scarred eyes. “You have come to help us out of the goodness of your heart. For that, you have my thanks.”

He was frozen in place for a moment, staring at her. Then he pulled down his hat, turning away. “I don’t have a heart, let alone a good one,” he remarked. “Save your thanks. You’ll jinx it.” With that, he lifted off, aiding Sorush’ flight with the current of wind in his wake. “Come on. No time to lose.”

She accompanied him on their way to the second tree, the great central rift swirling as they rounded it. The many-coloured whirl of lesser Pari trailed behind them, slower, following Mihir and Rashnu. “They’re so weak,” Kintsugi observed. “Why are they even here?”

“It is as Mihir said,” Sorush replied. “Strong roots and flowers must first gain a foothold before the weaker ones may follow. We must be the vanguard. They will follow and attempt to aid us.” She paused. “They may be weaker than you or I, but every mote of Khvarena will be of value.”

“Mh. We’ll see.” The presence of the other Pari made Kintsugi’s chest feel tight and uneasy – moreso than Sorush’ presence already did. He didn’t like having allies on any battlefield. He’d always lost practically every ally he’d ever had, and whereas he’d give his all to keep an eye on Sorush, he couldn’t do the same for this many other Pari. A number of them would fall. And even when he’d vehemently maintained all life was worthless, he’d never truly believed that statement.

Even when the Pari themselves maintained sacrifice and rebirth were their predestined fate, he would never agree, deep down.

There was nothing he could do but try and get this all over with as soon as possible. He gazed up at the petrified tree ahead in order to get started on just that. He spotted the glimmering breach within its hollow, crystallized form, then faltered. “This one looks like it’s being… corroded by something.”

Sorush followed his gaze upward to what looked like a bulbous ulcer of jagged crystal and whirling Abyssal energy, almost at the very top of the splintered tree, sending down tendrils of darkness. “Yes. I shall not be able to place the Great Khvarena until we clear it away.” She pressed a wing to where her mouth would’ve been. “Just imagine, Yasnapati. Had you not been capable of flight, you might not have accompanied me to the places of my greatest deeds at all…”

Kintsugi gave a brief scoff at the idea of a mere ground-dweller – perhaps even a mortal – attempting to fill this role. “So I was made for this, hm?” he suggested. He found he liked that idea a lot more than the purpose he had originally been made for. “Born for this purpose, simply waiting idly until you came into my life to guide my steps…”

“Stop it, Yasnapati,” Sorush groaned, humiliated by his clear mockery of her earlier grandiose attitude. “Surely we moved past all that…”

“You’re right. Focus on the matter at hand, Bloomguard.” Kintsugi landed at the base of the ulcer, wincing at its surge of darkness as it washed over him. He scanned the Hollow – was any Abyssal filth emerging yet? Glittering rifts had opened at the base of all four petrified trees…

Then he faltered, having spotted something emerging right below them, just as Mihir, Rashnu and the others arrived at the base of their tree.

A cackling laugh resounded across the Hollow, cutting through the suddenly still air, even the wind gone quiet as though the world was holding its breath.

The Pari below had attempted to suppress the tree’s rift and what lay on the other side, but their efforts hadn’t been enough. With the powers from beyond pushing in now the seal had been undone, something had slipped through, the first of many; a Pyro Abyss mage. It cackled and danced within its shield, waving its staff over its head and summoning ring upon ring of flames, scorching the grey crystal and making the vulnerable Pari back away and shield themselves with wings and Khvarena – but they weren’t nearly as strong as Sorush. Their strength lay in sealing the corruption, not fighting it head-on. Little voices cried out in alarm, their colourful forms scattering like birds, trailing embers and burning petals even as others kept tending to the rift the best they could.

Kintsugi tensed up in rage and alarm at once, ready to drop down – but Sorush recaptured his attention. “Yasnapati! All effort will be meaningless if we fail to shatter this core!”

He growled, turning back to her, reluctantly returning his attention to the corrosion in front of them. “Hurry it up, then!”

Below, more filth coalesced from the unchecked breach in the form of two small rifthounds, malicious jaws snapping and growling as they chased the fleeing Pari through the air. One after another, the brightly coloured little beings barely escaped, wings ripping and Khvarena shields shattering, little voices crying out in fright. Two more hounds slipped through the breach, slavering and growling, pursuing immediately, soon followed by an Electro mage gleefully joining its Pyro brethren.

Kintsugi turned back to them again, even if it meant leaving Sorush and their path ahead – but then a swift blade of wind came sailing in and collided with the cackling mage’s fiery shield, without him having lifted a finger. It created a burst of flame engulfing one rifthound, making it yelp and howl in frustrated agony. More blades collided with the other mage’s shield, creating explosive reactions with the flames that made both hounds and Pari scatter amidst showers of flying sparks.

Kintsugi’s gaze shot up, narrowing and scanning the horizon, the boundaries of the Hollow. He knew those windblades, so similar to his own. Where – ?

He didn’t have to search at all. What he was looking for revealed itself readily and eagerly – and it wasn’t alone.

They came sprinting from the shadows of the grey crystal, emerging from sandstone tunnels, hollering war cries and kicking up dust under bare, clawed feet – hilichurls. Mitachurls, samachurls, smaller underlings with clubs and torches and bows – and, there –

– the tall, wandering rogue that’d insisted on saving him and carrying him back to the Oasis, cloaked in dark teal, ferociously slashing his dagger through the air. The one who’d wanted to kill Nasejuna. The one who’d been right all along.

Kintsugi watched, strangely mesmerized, as the rogue reared back to dodge flames and snapping rifthound jaws, sending out windblades and using both the razor edge and the massive hilt of his weapon to cut, slice and hammer his foes in rapid, practiced succession.

That one’s always had plans of his own. He really ought to give the hilichurls more credit – or those cleverest among them, at least. Clearly, a hidden battle had been going on here long before he’d arrived and stirred everything into overdrive by assisting Sorush. Hilichurls might be ‘Dev’, but they were a part of this world, standing against the Abyss as surely as anyone else that wasn’t completely insane.

The rogue was ordering the others around, sending out archers and element-wielding samachurls and muscular mitachurls to the other trees to stem the gathering tide of monsters about to pour forth there. Hydro samachurls swirled their staffs overhead, summoning rainclouds and ruining the initial Pyro mage’s shield, stranding it on the ground at the mercy of the others. It still summoned its flames, but to no avail; the rogue’s giant dagger put a swift end to its life. He turned and raised it up at Kintsugi at the tree’s apex, crying out across the Hollow in triumph. “Odomu nini! Muhe, muhe!”

Kintsugi huffed out an incredulous laugh, staring just a moment longer, but then turned his own windblades to the corrosion core with renewed vigour, rejoining Sorush’ strained efforts. “No sense in letting their efforts go to waste,” he reasoned, gritting his teeth as he hacked into the defiled ulcer, sending up a spray of grey splinters and dust. Sorush spread her wings over it, tending to the dark energy at its heart, soon extinguishing it to a faltering flicker, and then to nothing, loosening its hold over the tree.

The Abyssal creatures below them put up a vicious struggle, despite the hilichurls’ efforts. Two more mages slipped through the breach, Cryo and Electro this time. That familiar sense of venomous dread emanated up at them, and for just a moment Kintsugi stared down, shivering – but then he leapt off the jutting ledge at the tree’s apex, catching himself with his halo right above the gathering horde, joining the fray and instantly sending out windblades to explode both Cryo and Electro outwards, reacting with the samachurls’ showers of Hydro. Explosive lightning and icy shards went flying, striking the remaining rifthounds, making the rogue turn around and let out a rough shout of recognition at him joining in.

Kintsugi only returned a sharp, tense smirk, gritting his teeth and giving it his all, dodging jaws and elemental projectiles and sending back wind arrows, clearing the way for Sorush’ light.

The lesser Pari had initially withdrawn behind the hilichurls upon their arrival, but now more and more were joining back in, summoning up thin shields of luminous Khvarena, protecting the hilichurls and buying them time in combat, offering their cleansing gifts to nullify the rifthound venom before it could take hold.

As he fought, Kintsugi marveled at it all, despite himself. “You Pari had human warriors as partners before, didn’t you,” he managed to utter, darting around, just barely dodging his opponents, downing one small rifthound, then another, breaking through a mage’s shield, even as Electro made his hair stand on end and narrow his eyes against the purple glare. “You have them again. They may even be the same people.”

“These foul Dev – ? How could they possibly…?”

“They are the people of Dahri, you dense little thing,” he snapped, sending out a windblade to counter an Electro projectile and fizzling it in midair, a shower of purple sparks. “Cursed into this state during the Cataclysm! Maybe they remember and that’s why they’re helping us now!” Shimmering Cryo came his way, lodging in the remaining cracks in his wrist and flooding his entire arm with freezing cold, making him hiss and clutch it before retaliating. “You still haven’t figured that out?”

Sorush faltered, then huffed in annoyance even as she worked to summon up the Amrita roots within the petrified tree. “I wasn’t around back then! And Zurvan never thought to tell me!”

“You probably just didn’t ask,” Kintsugi snarkily threw back. Just then, he had to shield his eyes as Sorush called forth the second Great Song as if to spite him, and the emerald pulse of Khvarena raced up the tree, reviving it, making it bloom up at the sky, throwing back and diminishing the Abyssal creatures attempting to corrode it. Rifthounds let out frustrated howls, mages let out strings of dark words as they witnessed the breach closing – this way in had been cut off. Only three remained.

The Abyssal creatures fled and slunk away towards the still-dark side of Tunigi Hollow, quickly shaking off any pursuing Pari and hilichurls – it was safer to stay with the makeshift army they made up now, instead of going after the monsters without backup. Some were disappointed, others celebrated the fact they’d made it this far, the Pari twirling and the hilichurls doing loose-limbed little jigs. Kintsugi looked around with a tight smirk of satisfaction, clutching his cracked wrist as it thawed – but then he faltered.

There were a few golden plumes of purifying light within the hollow of the tree, as well as some motionless hilichurl bodies. Some of them had fallen to the dark horde after all.

Sorush saw him looking, spotted the way he tensed up. “They knew what they were getting into, Yasnapati.”

He abruptly turned to her, but couldn’t find the words. He knew she was right. That didn’t make it easier in the slightest.

Mihir joined them, eyes soft with understanding. “Soon there shall be no more of this.” She looked around. “Soon, this corrupted land shall take them in, and give us back newly budding flowers. But until then, there is much to do. Look to the living, Yasnapati.”

Kintsugi closed his mouth, and did as the thorny Pari asked. There was plenty to see in that regard, he had to admit. All around, their mismatched little army was tending to its injured, Pari cleansing the hilichurls’ defiled wounds and samachurls healing them, and even saving some damaged Pari the fate of turning into a plume of light – for now, at least.

One of the samachurls approached him, apparently intending to do the same for him. Kintsugi glared for a moment, but then gave a slight shrug, holding out his arm. “…Why not.”

He was given a sharp inspection, little blue hands turning his wrist this way and that with some curt garbled babble – but the small healer didn’t manage to mend anything. He pulled back on his own as that became apparent. “Not alive enough, got it.”

Sorush joined him, looking him over. “Will you fare well enough up ahead, Yasnapati?”

“The two of us are the strongest here,” he reasoned matter-of-factly. “If we don’t make it, none of the others will either.” He’d scarcely said it before the trees ahead surged with darkness, their breaches suddenly coming alive with increased Abyssal energy. “…Oh, why not.” He flexed his good hand, more than eager to fly off – but all too aware he wouldn’t be able to take on what awaited. Not with Anemo alone.

Most fortunate, then, to suddenly find himself surrounded by those wielding all sorts of other elements.

He eyed his unexpected new allies. “Keep up.” He searched for words for a moment, but then simply gestured to follow. How strange – commanding others once more, but without knowing any orders they’d understand.

The rogue caught his eye, nodding. “Movo!” he echoed, rallying the others. He faltered as Kintsugi hovered up to his eye level, however. “…Odomu nini?”

Kintsugi pointed at the hilichurl, then at the middle of the three trees ahead. Then at himself, and the nearest one, leaving no room for argument with the sharpness in his eyes and gestures. “Spread out. Make it easier for us when we get to the later trees where Sorush will have less Khvarena.”

“Yasnapati, I can hold my own.”

A sharp glare. “Why take the risk?” You’re not planning on sacrificing yourself anymore. I will not lose you to a stupid mishap instead.

The rogue had bristled just as much as Sorush as soon as he’d understood his meaning, but ended up nodding again in the end, giving out more orders to his kin before storming off across Tunigi Hollow. Kintsugi and Sorush were left with a smaller number of hilichurls, ready to follow them in turn. Kintsugi briefly looked at them, again feeling the urge to command them as though they were his surbordinates – but they weren’t.

Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe by ultimately following the rogue, they’d end up more fortunate than his own subordinates had usually done.

He resolved to stop wasting time, taking off and soaring out ahead and above them, leaving them to shout out their own war cries and kick up the dust in their effort to keep up.

They chased down some straggler rifthounds on their way to the third tree, Sorush finding a use for her Nirodha fruit without the risk of shattering anything important and Kintsugi fanning their sparks into flames. He took a dark, vindictive glee in the hounds’ agonized yelps as they attempted to teleport away, yet inevitably burst apart into bony fragments – it was a way to avenge the fallen Pari and hilichurls. He hadn’t really known them and they had always been fated for death, but it somehow felt different here.

He sprinted through the air, chasing down the next bunch, pelting them with windblades from above as Sorush kept up with him. “Think you can handle the next one?” he asked her as an aside, gesturing at the tree ahead. “The Amrita roots responded more slowly to you the second time. You are gonna have less and less Khvarena to work with.”

“The Chaplet itself is lending me its aid,” Sorush replied, but he could sense her snootiness was even more of a mask than usual. “You make such a fuss of meaningless trifles, Yasnapati. Haven’t we faced the darkness numerous times already? Dealing with those Dev will be a simple matter!”

Kintsugi didn’t even have time to think ‘famous last words’ before they surged into the hollow of the third tree and all its darkness was upon them.

He’d been aiming to cut off the rifthounds’ path – but they had allies of their own here. This breach had let through three giant hounds, serrated jaws dripping with venom, making Kintsugi rear back to avoid flying directly into their maws. His eyes widened – one of these had cost him the use of his leg for days on end, and only let itself be downed by an equally monstrous consecrated crocodile.

Multiple Abyss mages also provided spots of lurid, colourful light nearby, dancing and cackling. Kintsugi attempted to dive past the rifthounds and use their elemental shields as fuel for his windblades, but could barely dodge all three sets of snapping jaws and was chased up into the tree’s narrow apex, pursued by two of the smaller whelps as the bigger one readied itself for the arrival of their allies. He spun and swerved, managing to make it back outside the jagged spire, searching for Sorush –

– and just managing to find her strained, shielded form at the hollow tree’s heart, working to summon up the Amrita roots, just as the first volley of elemental arrows came raining down on the Abyssal creatures snapping at her shield.

Kintsugi didn’t even look up to find the archers responsible. He simply dove in, adding slash after slash of whirling Anemo to the elements provided by the hilichurl archers he knew had taken position on the ridges behind him. Cryo, Pyro and Electro exploded outward and reacted with one another, skewering yelping rifthounds with shards of ice, dispelling and ricocheting off mage shields, and he had to grin, sharp and wild – it was like wielding the elements directly all over again, in a way he rarely got to. It was almost like being Shouki no Kami again.

His Vision sputtered. He glanced at it, barely angling himself away from an incoming rifthound, giving an annoyed tsk. “We’re doing it for a noble cause this time,” he rolled his eyes. “Calm down, I’m not losing myself.”

Darkness bloomed beneath him and at the other two corrupted trees. More and more Abyssal creatures were gathering, and Sorush rejoined him, narrow chest heaving as she maintained her shield, fending off a Cryo projectile as she continued calling for the Amrita roots below – but to little avail. “I cannot gain a foothold amidst all this filth,” she complained. “Yasnapati, aid me!”

“Don’t just look at me, we know how well that went last time,” he remarked. “You’re gonna need to look at them, too.” He jerked his chin, indicating the other hilichurls now arriving at their tree under the cover of the archers – the samachurls and mitachurls, providing healing and muscle, and their Pari companions.

The Pari still outnumbered the hilichurls, Kintsugi noted, even if some had followed the rogue to the other trees. He darted over to them, providing cover and fanning every element he saw being used the best he could – but his best was not enough in the face of the whirl of rifthounds that’d been let into the world here. One after another, brightly coloured Pari were caught and crushed in darkened jaws, bursting into plumes of light with desperate little cries, and there was nothing his rage could do about that.

They will be reborn in the Amrita, some voice echoed though him. They never truly die.

They do, he mentally growled back, remembering how distressed Sorush had been about losing her identity upon death, even if her light would live on. All that’s really them does. And I won’t allow it to happen to her. He couldn’t protect them all. But he could protect Sorush, and help her save as many of her kin as she could.

He returned to her, turning his back to where she worked to call up the roots, determined to defend her even if she had shielded herself. He surged out into every direction, but always swiftly returned to her focused form, her rosy glow amidst the darkness, taking some measure of warmth and comfort from her even as he exhausted himself. A giant rifthound coiled in so close to him windblades were no longer enough, and he had to throw a physical punch with his good hand to keep it at bay – and then another closed its jaws around his side, making his false skin crack and crunch, decorating him with a double row of weeping puncture wounds spilling both blood and venom. Its frontmost teeth reached all the way to the center of his chest, making him stare down at it in furious horror even as his body locked up in shock.

The bright pulse of purifying life came just in time, forcing the beast to recoil with a pathetic, strangled sound, mixing with his own wheeze as windblade upon desperate windblade parted its head from its body. Kintsugi gladly let his assailant thud lifelessly into the sand as he clutched his cracked side, turning to see the Great Song shining amidst the Amrita roots under an equally ragged-looking Sorush. Above her, the great tree came to life with the crackle of living bark, the glorious unfurling of branches to a lightening sky overhead. Pink petals showered down, so fragile, yet so powerful.

“Come!” she urgently called out. “We must press on –” Then she saw his injuries, her eyes widening. He landed, glaring at her, daring her to say something. She held her tongue.

“I can stand, I can fight,” he ground out, taking some vindictive comfort in still having functional legs for once. He pressed his good hand to his injuries, sucking out the venom with his own conjured vacuum, flinging the whirling glob of darkness into the sand. Then he abruptly turned to the many injured hilichurls around, beginning to do the same for them even as the remaining Pari and samachurls also tended to them.

“There is more purity than defilement, now,” Sorush managed, joining him. “More life than death! Three out of five trees live again! The tide is turning!” She made to tend to his injuries, cleanse the remaining venom – but was interrupted by another, flower-crowned Pari hovering in.

“Spare your Khvarena,” Rashnu stilled her, spreading her wings over Kintsugi instead. “The tide, it turns, yes… but the Dev know this as well.” Her eyes were even more tired than usual. “Do not celebrate just yet…”

“The land itself shall aid us! I can already feel it,” Sorush replied, a fire to her voice that made Kintsugi look up in some surprise, almost admiration. “The revived trees reach out to those still encased in crystal. Even the plumes of light of the fallen still assist us. We will prevail, Rashnu.”

“Only if we’re quick enough,” Kintsugi murmured, darkly glaring at the two remaining trees. He couldn’t feel the surges of Amrita and Khvarena in the soil and air. He could only see the darkness ahead, and hope enough of their allies were still alive over there. He swatted at Rashnu, disrupting the flow of her energy. “That’s enough cleansing. We need to move.” He rose, shaking himself – he was in pain, but his body still obeyed him. He still was only short the use of one hand, and in quite a bit of meaningless pain. Sorush wordlessly joined, and the Pari and hilichurls below also followed as they took off.

At the fourth tree, utter chaos had broken out. Kintsugi struggled to make sense of the carnage, the whirl of blood, venom and darkness, the flash of elements in the darkened cloud emanating from the breach. Plumes of light lit the hollow tree like a golden galaxy. But at the very heart of it, the towering hilichurl rogue was still alive, still giving it his utmost, hacking and slashing at mages and rifthounds and a strange, equally towering knight covered in plates of fused armour over glittering blue-purple skin, stabbing at the hilichurl with a long lance.

They were evenly matched; as Kintsugi came flying in, the rogue was trying his utmost to get past the lance and hack away at the joints in the knight’s armour, but was parried at every turn and eventually beaten backwards and almost impaled once more, the weapon plunging into the sand by a hair. The rogue only managed to get away by inflating his Anemo slime and lifting into the air, slashing his dagger and sending out windblades seeking out the knight’s weak spots, a few of which found their targets, sending dark ichor seeping out over the armour – but then the knight outright threw his lance, aiming to skewer the hilichurl. The rogue abruptly let go, falling back to the ground and forced to let his slime twirl away out of sight, swearing and growling in his own rough tongue as the knight came stomping in amidst the darkness and swirling swarms of rifthounds.

Then the knight faltered – a splitting gust of wind had shot up beneath him, tearing loose a few clanking bits of armour. Before he could even spot his new attacker, Kintsugi had already darted around him, wrenching up one arm and ripping free a part of the knight’s breastplate, then leaning out of the way as the hilichurl plunged his dagger in. With a guttural shout, the knight staggered and sank to one knee, clutching at his chest as he bled out.

Kintsugi gave the rogue a curt nod, then turned back to where Sorush had begun her work. The rogue sprinted along as the puppet joined the Pari.

“No dying,” Kintsugi bit at him as they both protectively flanked Sorush, back to back and only focusing on their immediate surroundings as they sent out their luminous blades of teal and azure. Both tried to block out all the other fighting, killing and dying that went on beyond their small bubble of rosy light and swirling shadow – their joint focus had to be Sorush right now. “If you fall, who’s going to command your lot? Not me, that’s for sure.”

“He cannot understand,” Sorush managed, her voice strained and breathless. Kintsugi’s eyes flared in warning. “Save your breath, pest.”

The rogue let out a hoarse little chuckle, massive hands grasping a rifthound by the jaws and flinging it into the surrounding grey crystal hard enough to shatter. “Dada kundala, odomu!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kintsugi managed to shoot back, his own hands more than full with everything whizzing at him from the other side. He had the faint sense the rogue was mocking him. It only fanned his inner fire.

Between them, Sorush didn’t seem to be making much headway. Her Khvarena flared and sputtered, fizzling and almost dying amidst the flood of darkness. “I cannot,” she gasped. “I cannot… summon the roots… my Khvarena, it is…” She struggled, her voice strangled in a way that sent a chill up Kintsugi’s back. He envisioned tendrils of corruption making their way into her small body – he almost expected her to start coughing any moment now.

Tatarigami…

His eyes widened, the chaos around him shifting with his perspective – it was as toxic to her as it was nightmarish to him. All sorts of old phantoms took hold, blurring together.

While in the Abyss, he’d been hurt over and over, but at least his body had been able to withstand the shadows and the venom. He’d lost almost all his companions over and over, but at least he hadn’t cared about them for a very long time. Now, however…

…was he about to lose a fledgeling again after all?

Then something struck the rogue from the side, making him cry out and fall to one knee. Kintsugi whipped around, seeing another shadowy knight with a bow as tall as its body, its massive arrow having gone right through the rogue’s unprotected side. The hilichurl attempted to get up, readying his dagger against the approaching knight, but Kintsugi could see his strength failing as blood gushed between painted fingers. The puppet’s eyes darted around – they couldn’t fail now! They were so close, it’s be ridiculous if this were to be the end –

– a fiery light cut through the Abyssal darkness, a hail of flaming arrows hammering the approaching knight’s back, skewering rifthounds and disrupting mage shields alike. Vaguely, Kintsugi caught shreds of chanting and drumbeats on the desert wind.

He looked up.

Beyond the hollow of the tree, figures had appeared over the sandy ridges and rock formations, and he briefly struggled to place them; after having been surrounded by Pari and hilichurls, mere humans suddenly looked strangest of all.

The Skeptics had come.

Their chanting wasn’t mere ceremony; all around, faltering Pari seemed to regain their strength and Khvarena, fluttering up higher, mustering stronger shields and soul-light. It was much like how the Kory drums had reinvigorated Rashnu, waking her from her age-long sleep; and Sorush, too, perked up and turned her eyes to the ridges. “The Order! They come to our aid! Their rites – they do remember!”

“About time,” Kintsugi snarled, Vision pulsing madly with a wild combination of rage and relief. “They weren’t all in Nasejuna’s pocket, then? You’d almost think so with the way they’re hanging back, they can’t expect a few arrows to be –” But he was soon forced to eat his words; they were coming down the ridges, sprinting and sliding through the sand, swords, halberds and bows at the ready. He recognized Pyrrho as one of the first, muscular and burly in his Eremite garb; Afsaneh, one of the warriors who’d accompanied him to the Tree of Barsom, and even aged Parviz and scholarly Sosi in her blue robes, one wielding a halberd, the other a short sword.

It was true; every Skeptic regardless of profession was necessarily also a warrior. This was their origin – surviving the barren desert, fighting by the side of the Pari. This is what they’d kept alive through the centuries, what every single one of them had trained for. Now was the time for them to finally spring into action.

The monsters around them were forced to divide their focus between hilichurls, strengthened Pari and the newly arrived humans, granting Sorush some respite. And before Kintsugi even knew it, the Skeptics had thrown themselves into the heart of the battle, mingling with the hilichurls and arriving even at his and Sorush’ position. Sosi fought fiercest of all to reach him, surprising him again – such a feeble human, professing to be a scholar, capable of such deeds?

“Yasnapati,” she panted, her blade dripping with ichor, but her arm also already bleeding from infected bite marks. As he watched, a teal Pari joined her, tending to her wound, giving her some relief. “We heard such a commotion from the Hollow – we sent out scouts, we could scarcely believe what they told us – I can’t believe now is the time to make use of everything we learned, everything we are!”

Kintsugi didn’t dare move from his position at Sorush’ side, not while the hilichurl rogue was still struggling to his feet behind him, but he still sent out a vicious hail of windblades over Sosi’s shoulder to fend off an approaching Abyss mage. He gave a thin smile as a hilichurl wrestled it to the ground, a Skeptic finishing it off with his spear right after. “I didn’t think we’d ever meet again,” he remarked, eyes narrow with focus as he glared around. “Seeing what Nasejuna did.”

“…What?”

“You don’t – ? Tch, of course you don’t know.” He clicked his tongue. “He tried to kill us and steal the Songs when we were underground.”

Sosi’s eyes flared with indignation. “Impossible!”

“He speaks truth, scholar!” Sorush managed. Sosi’s eyes snapped to her, her words dying in her throat. Kintsugi shrugged, wincing as the motion pulled at the wounds in his side, already focusing on his next foe. “Believe what you will. Still, I’m glad you’re not on the side I’d have to murder, for now. Stay alive, I owe you a favour.”

Sosi made to speak, but then widened her eyes, faltering – and Kintsugi saw a familiar rosy glow reflected on her face, heard a familiar voice cry out with strain behind himself. He turned around, shielding his eyes, following the pulse of Khvarena upward as it revived the tree all around them. Skeptics exclaimed in unison, and hilichurls chased the Abyssal creatures as they retreated or thudded into the dust in exhausted relief.

Sorush came fluttering down, struggling to catch herself. Kintsugi stepped in, holding out his good hand and supporting her instead. “Gently. Don’t overdo it, pest.”

“It is hard,” she complained, her eyes much duller than usual. “So… so hard. Losing all this Khvarena…”

His mouth quirked in a mirthless smile, remembering the snapping of purple cables, how useless his body had been after. “Losing that kind of power? Yeah, I know. You’re doing good, though.” He guided her back up, noting how he never actually had to touch her, just give the suggestion of aid. “See?”

“…My thanks, Yasnapati.”

“Mh.” He gazed out at the fifth and final tree, the last to still be petrified, a last bastion of grey crystal where the rest of the Hollow was surrounded by living wood, showered in soft pink petals, the skies clearing overhead. “One more.” He glanced back at their allies, briefly going still.

It was all of the Girdle of the Sands he was looking at, he realized with some slight, silent awe. Pari, humans, hilichurls, all coming together for a common purpose. For survival, for the desert they called home, for Sorush. “Still believe conflict is the truth of this world?” he asked of Sosi as an aside as she cleaned and sheathed her blade. “The whole Girdle is here.”

She thoughtfully looked around herself. Off to the side, the giant rogue slowly got to his feet, cleansed by Pari and aided by samachurls closing wounds into fresh, raw scars, looking exhausted but determined. “Yaya, dada kuzi. Shato mimi.”

The scholar shook her head. “We came together, but only because all of us were ready and primed for combat. And after all this, there probably will be conflict and killing between us and the hilichurls once more…”

“…That’s… really stupid.”

“Perhaps. But still truth.” She looked him over. “And you, when this is over, will you retire peacefully, Yasnapati?”

That got a chuckle out of him. A lifetime of peace? He wasn’t sure he could even imagine it, not even with Nahida’s influence as such a constant. He wasn’t sure he was ready for it. Not just yet. “No. I still want to kill,” he told her, calm as anything.

She chuckled wearily. “There it is, then.”

As if he didn’t know. As if he didn’t know he wasn’t a good person, and nothing he did here, no matter how beneficial the results, would cleanse that particular stain.

“You annoy me,” he only told her, still in the same neutral tone. “You’re lucky I have more victims ahead that aren’t you.” He nodded at the fifth tree. The rogue, stepping in, caught his gesture and gathered his kin to him with a rough shout. Many hilichurls nursed injuries the samachurls were no longer able to heal, limping or clutching broken or infected limbs, but enough of them were still ready to do battle one last time. Sorush also kept in the air by Kintsugi’s shoulder. He glanced at her. “Ready?”

“Let us see them unmade with a single burst of effort,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at the last tree. And to his surprise, she hovered ahead first, before he could even move. He set himself in motion, soon picking up speed and outpacing her, to her indignation – but he didn’t stop. He skimmed low over the sand and rocks, feeling and hearing the hilichurls and Skeptics break into a run behind him as well, shouting, chanting and drumming…

His mother could’ve cleansed this entire hollow with a snap of her fingers, a single swipe of her blade, he knew. She’d performed similar deeds in the past, effortlessly scouring the land. Briefly, he felt inferior, wearily gazing up at that last battleground and its billowing darkness – but then he figured that at least this time, there wouldn’t be a glowing purple gash torn through the earth, or a perpetual thunderstorm left behind. Maybe it really was harder to leave meadows of flowers – to heal, to grow, to nourish – and harder still to maintain that ridiculously fragile life. Still, enough had changed for him to want to try.

The four revived trees were beautiful on the jagged horizon. A grin ghosted across his lips. Let’s make it five.

There was no way the Abyss could’ve stopped or even slowed them. The last remnants of Abyssal darkness, no matter how ferocious or desperate, were forced back and parted around the heart of the tree to make way for Sorush – all of the Girdle of the Sands had come together in her name, no matter how briefly. The Pari herself was exhausted, but the mere fact of everyone believing in her and rallying to her buoyed her up and onwards, inspiring her, pushing her into one last exertion.

With chanting Skeptics all around and other Pari shielding her against the darkness, she flung her wings down towards the lifeless sand as the battle and the shadows raged, elements flying, Kintsugi darting around and straining his damaged form, whirling back to back with the hilichurl rogue – and her own Khvarena and the last Great Song bloomed in unison, calling up the Amrita roots already nourished by those she’d revived all around the Hollow, communing with eachother and those going all the way back to Vourukasha Oasis itself, feeding from the remains of the fallen Egeria, bringing with them a torrent of purity that really only needed a final push.

Fragile shoots pushed through the sand, quickly hardening into wood, crackling and writhing and sprouting green leaves veined with gold, forming a whorl ready to hold the final Song. And with a monumental push, Sorush let go of it, returning to her former self, only crowned with the Twin-Horned Chaplet but otherwise no stronger than any other of her kin – having sacrificed not her life, but everything that made her powerful and remarkable.

At least, in her own eyes.

Kintsugi looked back at her as it happened, a rare unguarded smile breaking through the dust and ichor on his face. In his eyes, she was more powerful and remarkable than ever for letting go of power, yet keeping her life.

Maybe, just maybe, he’d tell her someday.

Now, however, more pressing matters were at hand. Life and light raced up the hollow tree all around in an eruption of green and gold, akin to the Khvarena mayflies of the Oasis, radiating pure life and dispelling the final darkness. Billowing clouds of violet shadow cleared away into nothing, rendering the monsters within fully visible for all to see – broken and battered, yowling and slinking away, mages losing their shields and dizzily staggering back across the sand, sitting ducks for hilichurl arrows and Skeptic halberds – and the vengeful flying shadow once again lifting off to pick off any stragglers, exploiting any weakness shown with keen, piercing indigo eyes.

Then those eyes turned back to Sorush once more. Having given up the final Song, she was barely keeping afloat anymore, and as he darted back to her with barely veiled concern in his face, it took a little gust of wind to buoy her back up where she drooped. She could hardly lift her wings.

Kintsugi momentarily ignored everything around him. Monsters were fleeing, pursued by their allies – they were hardly a threat any longer. “You did it,” he murmured, keeping an eye out regardless as he sheltered her in the shadow of his robes. His voice was remarkably stable, surprising even him. “Not bad. Wouldn’t have thought the Hollow could sustain this much life.”

“We’re not done yet,” Sorush managed. She lifted her head, blinking as Mihir and Rashnu made their way to them, lesser Pari also starting to cluster together now they no longer had to protect the hilichurls and humans. “The Hollow itself still needs purifying. I see new shoots sprouting, but the filth hasn’t been fully cleansed yet.”

Kintsugi glanced outward, beyond the hollow tree’s bark. Indeed, the central whirling rift was still smoking and sputtering with dark, glinting purple, reflecting the Abyss, just waiting to regain its strength. “We haven’t actually completed the Rite. Nonsensical overcomplication,” he grumbled. “…Well, what are we waiting for?”

Mihir spread her wings, following his gaze. “Ah, don’t look at me. I’m as clueless as you.”

Kintsugi’s mouth twisted in baffled dismay. “…What?”

“Now that Sorush has claimed the Chaplet, she can connect to the memories and wisdom of the Harvisptokhm. Give it a try, Sorush,” the thorny Pari urged her.

“I know, but… I’m exhausted,” Sorush complained.

“You were ready to forfeit your life,” Rashnu sleepily reminded her. “And now you falter?”

“N-no!”

“Back off,” Kintsugi remarked, pleasantly and casually, but all the more vicious for it. He made to speak again, but faltered himself as the other Pari hovered in, all the many-hued lesser ones, concentrating small particles of golden light between their wings. All their Khvarena formed a glittering galaxy in the dust-laden air. “…What now?”

“Let us all lend you our Khvarena,” Mihir spoke. “You shall need it where you are going. Far more than any of us.” She and Rashnu followed suit themselves, offering up a portion of their soul-light, letting it drift towards Sorush together with the countless motes of all the other Pari. “Heed the pure power of Khvarena, Bloomguard. This is why we are all here. Fortunately, enough of us survived the onslaught. Now, make sure another such battle will not be necessary. Perform the Rite of Chinvat.”

All around, hilichurls and humans turned their gazes towards Sorush as she took in the light, closing her eyes and spreading her wings, extending her power to the roots below and branches above as she drifted outward towards the center of the rift. The purple shadows within its depths seemed to cower before her, moreso as tendrils of green appeared to follow her from the five trees – and then the rosy Pari bloomed, sending out all the power she could muster. The powers of life solidified into five streams of glittering green, surging in from the trees and straight into the rift, piercing the shadows and the glassy barrier, shattering it and driving the Abyssal energy down deep into the rift with a rushing sound like that of a great river – and then even Kintsugi could swear he heard the faint cry of a great bird, resounding from all around, as if the five trees themselves called out in agony and triumph. Around him, the Skeptics held their breath, looking on in tense anticipation.

Then, every trace of grey crystal within Tunigi Hollow crumbled, and the central rift was wreathed in living branches more swiftly than the eye could follow, surrounding it with green until the entire landscape and even the very air had changed. The Skeptics burst into overjoyed shouts and cries, some kneeling in overwhelmed prayer, some Pari benevolently joining them – and the hilichurls looking on in unimpressed confusion.

The rift had closed. The Abyss’ advance had been halted. The desert was safe, for now.

Kintsugi, for his part, abruptly looked back as a peculiar sound caught his ear through all the tumult. All around, the golden, glowing remains of the fallen Pari all sprouted into flourishing Fravashi trees at once, dotting the recovering landscape, lending further strength to it even in death. A half-smile graced his tired, ichor-spattered face at that. He folded his arms. Not bad at all.

Green light emanated up from the former rift, leaving no room for any darkness. Everything that’d been grey crystal before was living wood now. There was not a trace of purple to be seen – nothing save the Sign of Apaosha itself, looming over the Temir Mountains where it stained the sky over Vourukasha Oasis.

“It’s gotten quiet, finally,” Rashnu mused, drifting in towards Sorush. The rosy Pari opened her eyes, incredulously looking back at the former rift. Mihir joined her as well. “Done,” she nodded. “The path to the depths has opened, and our mission is completed.”

“That was quick,” Kintsugi remarked, hiding how impressed he felt. “You’ve been talking up this Rite of Chinvat the whole time I’ve been here, I thought it’d take a whole bunch of overly complicated incantations to conduct.” He glanced at the Skeptics, moved beyond all reason as they exalted Sorush and her powers amongst themselves. Had their incantations been pure ceremony, too…?

Mihir scoffed lightly. “Hmph, only humans need such things,” she remarked, making him grin a little. “Our power and the great Simurgh’s Khvarena hail from the same source. It’s how humans don’t need to recite incantations to walk.” She hesitated, looking Kintsugi over. “…Although you can also float like us.”

“Your logic is weird,” he retaliated.

“…Anyway, let’s not waste our time on this irrelevant topic. I’ll leave what’s next up to you.”

Rashnu nodded, stifling a yawn. “‘May the eternal Khvarena guide us on the upward path’,” she recited. “Although… you’ll be going down, now.”

Kintsugi eyed the rift. “Through there?”

Sorush drifted back to her usual spot by his shoulder, seeming smaller than ever, even with the Chaplet. He resisted the urge to keep supporting her with either his hand or a gust of wind. He knew more than anyone how important dignity was, especially in moments like these.

His little companion nodded, looking tired but determined. “We cannot falter now. We have to forge ahead and salvage the struggling Harvisptokhm! It has been aiding me this whole time – that debt should be repaid.”

“Only us, huh?” Kintsugi glanced back at their companions. The surviving hilichurls were either out for the count, spread-eagled on their backs in exhaustion, or celebrating. The towering rogue was sat cross-legged in the newly sprouted grass, partaking in some dried meat while regaling his companions with what looked like tall tales already. The Skeptics, to their credit, kept an eye on Sorush and her Yasnapati, but also kept their respectful distance. Only Sosi came a little closer. “This is something only the Bloomguard and her Yasnapati may finish,” she spoke, bowing her head. “The grounds ahead are too sacred for the likes of us.”

“Spoken like a coward,” Kintsugi remarked, not impressed one bit. “Wouldn’t have taken you for one after all that.”

“…We’d be useless where you’re headed,” the Skeptic smiled, an amused glint in her eye. “I believe it would be more apt to state it that way.”

“Ah, well, that does make sense.” He was smiling too, though – however minutely. He couldn’t really veil his concerns about what lay ahead. There was no sense in dawdling, however. He turned to Sorush, approached the rift with her. “Ready?”

She balled her wings in determination. “May the eternal Khvarena guide us.”

He nodded. He would consider collecting the fallen Pari’s plumes of light, but… he wasn’t sure whether or not they’d live to return them to the Amrita Pool. He’d leave them for now.

Sosi took one more step after them as they made to step into the rift. “Be careful, Bloomguard, Yasnapati.” She eyed Kintsugi’s injuries, his still-unresponsive hand. He sent her a last, amused glance, not letting on how much pain he was in at all. “We’ll meet again when Amrita falls from the sky,” he echoed Zurvan, just a hint of irreverent mockery to his voice that had Sorush let out a slight gasp. He chuckled in response – and then stepped forward and into the verdant rift, fighting the urge to summon his halo, letting himself drop straight down. Sorush dove down alongside him, and the green light swallowed them both without a trace.