Sweet cradle of oblivion

After casting one last thoughtful, worried glance, the traveler and his unusual companion reluctantly turned away from Venti and set off on their long journey from the City of Freedom to the lands of the God of Contracts. He watched them go, with a frozen smile on his face, clutching his knees tightly. Only when they disappeared over the horizon did Venti finally let himself collapse against the ancient sturdy trunk of Vanessa's tree, sliding to the ground. Emptiness filled his body, piercing his veins like jagged ice spreading from the space where his gnosis had recently been. He took a deep breath of air filled with the energy of the anemo tree, but this time the sweet taste of the wind did nothing to ease his pain. With a painful sigh, Venti threw his head back to look at the foliage above his head, resigned to waiting for his powers to return. Involuntarily, the events of the past hour replayed in his mind. The contempt that had emanated from the eyes of the Eighth Harbinger of Fatua as she looked down at him; the sarcastic words she had spat in his face; they had struck a string of discomfort deep within him. It wasn't because he cared whether people treated him with respect or not. If he cared even occasionally, he wouldn't spend most of his waking hours pretending to be a mortal bard. Rather, it was because he knew that the Signora's feelings for him must reflect those of the Tsaritsa herself. Five hundred years ago, the relationship between Anemo and the Cryo Archons had been friendly, even close. She was one of the few among all immortal deities who could be called a "friend". Then one incident shattered their friendship forever, and soon afterward Venti fell into another centuries-long slumber. The events that had occurred earlier were evidence of how low the Tsaritsa opinion of him had fallen. Instead of negotiating peacefully with him, she had sent her subordinate to ruthlessly rip the gnosis from his chest and swat it down like a parasite. Venti clenched his fists as old memories crept into his head, twisting painfully around his chest. At the best of times, they slid steadily into the back of his mind, but today's ordeal had reinforced them like nothing else. If he hadn't slumbered so long, could he have saved his friendship with the Tsaritsa? Had he not fallen into blissful unconsciousness, would Mondstadt have suffered at the hands of greedy, despotic nobles? Had he stayed by Dwalin's side, would his heart have been so susceptible to the poisonous words of the Order of the Abyss? Had he done the right thing, dreaming of eternal freedom, leaving Mondstadt without a guiding hand? It was amusing. Even two thousand six hundred years after its founding, Mondstadt still regarded Lord Barbatos as a benevolent and responsible archon. The townspeople held annual festivals in his honor and devoted themselves faithfully to their faith. They believed Barbatos was present in the cool winds that enveloped the city and in the soft breeze of dandelion seeds scattered by a child's breath. They didn't care that Mondstadt was a godless city in other peoples eyes, they simply believed in the invisible devotion and presence of their god nearby.But the people's faith was misplaced, their love undeserved. Barbatos spent so much time in sleep that he knew pitifully little of the affairs of Mondstadt. And every time he awoke, a glimpse of its reflections, the sight of its many statues, or the way his throat sometimes constricted in disgust at the sound of his own lyre, inevitably sent him back into the sweet cradle of oblivion. There, at least, he could not dwell on the fact that he had appropriated the guise of his good and brave friend in mad imitation. Taking his name, form, and craving for music, Barbatos traveled through Teivat to see thousands of birds flying through a thousand different skies in his name. But will it ever be enough? Would it ever atone for the fact that the bard Venti, the true liberator of Mondstadt, had emitted his last breath in the windless land without ever getting a glimpse of the bright, free world beyond? Barbatos thought he was the wind carrying his friend's soul to the heavens, but perhaps he was actually the chains that kept him bound to the earth, rusting away until no one, not even Barbatos himself, could remember how brightly he had shone in life. Barbatos knew these were not the decisions Venti would have made. He knew this was not the life his friend had hoped for. There was no moving forward in this state. He could never go back and start over after all these years.Anemo Archonte was just a weak selfish coward, and that was the end of it. Above Venti, the azure sky turned to gray gloom. Heavy drops slid through the leaves and fell on his upturned face, rolling like tears down his cheeks. The rain was cold, but barely noticeable because his skin had long since become colder than the snowy winter. The icy emptiness still filled his body, and Venti pondered tiredly whether he should resign himself to living the rest of his days in agony. As an ancient elemental spirit who sustained himself by absorbing the surrounding anemo energy, Venti was in no danger without gnosis. He had already accumulated a huge supply over the years and could theoretically live forever if he wanted to. But perhaps the loss of his gnosis was an omen. A sign of Celestia's wrath, due to his neglect of his duties. Perhaps it was a divine message that he had forfeited the right to call himself Archon and should vacate the post in favor of a more worthy successor. Someone who could be the protector and guide that Mondstadt deserved. Or maybe Venti was just making excuses.Because, truth be told, he was tired. He had worn the mantle of archon for far too long, and it was only now that he was finally able to admit to himself that he had never wanted it. Venti kept the title, figuring that even if he didn't lead the Mondstadians himself, at least he could prevent another Decarabian from denying them their freedom and the ability to forge the most favorable path. He hoped that the people of Mondstadt would become stronger on their own. And had they succeeded? Almost all of the citizens of Freedom City were good, kind, courageous people that gave their duty wholeheartedly for the safety and prosperity of Mondstadt. With them at the helm, the city would surely blossom, and their children would be free to run through the streets, filling the air with unbridled ringing laughter and dreams. Venti had no doubt that his city was in good hands.So what did this mean for the essentially absent Archon of Mondstadt, forever frozen in a stalemate in the embrace of his past and now also disconnected from Celestia? Was there still room in his region for Venti himself, and not just the concept of Barbatos that his citizens worshipped? Did he himself even want to be there? Exhaustion settled deep into every corner of Venti's being like the heaviest sludge. Rainwater weighed down his limbs, the ice in his veins dulled his senses one by one until all he could feel was this unrelenting cold. Perhaps it was time to let it all go. As Venti's eyelids began to close, the very image flashed uninvited into his mind. Striking golden eyes, their surface silicon and unwavering, their gaze paralyzing friends and foes alike. But he knew that just one gentle and caring touch could turn that hard shell into the warmest molten amber. A tiny smile played on Venti's numb lips as he thought of the one decision he never regretted - the eye of a god he had once bestowed upon a tormented boy who dreamed of freedom. Those beautiful, jewel-like eyes that held so much kindness and vulnerability were the only sight that had ever made the Anemo Archon want to stay awake even a little longer.In truth, Xiao was now obligated to guard the Guiyun Stone Forest, atoning for the sins of his past and fulfilling his duty to Morax. But despite his immense karmic duty, he loved Li Yue's people as his own children and one day he would definitely find freedom in this region - Wenty saw it clear as day. Barbatos believed that his winds would help him always, whether they came from him or from the next Anemo Archon. He only mourned the fact that he would not be there to see it. Finally, Venti's gaze left him. He lay there, peacefully knowing that his form would soon dissolve into the thousand winds from whence he came. Until a painfully familiar voice awakened his consciousness again, hoarse from how desperately its owner was shouting his name.