Chapter Text
In the northern reaches of Liyue the sky stretched into a somber grey as the heavy clouds gathered, casting a pall over the land below. The last lingering rays of light soon waned and laden raindrops filtered through the silver-green foliage, whispering softly of the sorrow held within the heaven’s tears.
Of the trees he knew, pines were most lacking in their defence against the elements, and thus had he made it a custom to perch in trees with dense foliage and broad leaves. Yet, on this remote evergreen, nestled upon a cliff in the forlorn mountain passes west of the Stone Gate, overlooking the grim Wuwang Hill below, silence was found. Here, neither mortal nor avian, or any other living soul wandered, and the wilderness’ lonely spirits dared not approach him. He was accustomed to weathering the rain besides.
Despite his efforts at quiet meditation, however, a tumult of thoughts and wailing cries continued to stir within him, refusing to be stilled. Jingguan and Donggong, his most reliable practices for calming the mind, seemed feeble against the relentless windstorm today. And in a curious turn the sharing of private thoughts with Lumine the previous day bestowed upon him a sense of weightlessness, akin to a leaf dancing upon the breeze, despite the oppressive weight of the trials endured in those shadowed depths of terror.
A creeping concern stole into his thoughts then, a perilous possibility that his capacity for reflection and meditation might be waning. Undue dependence upon the Traveler to still his mind would lead to dire consequences not only for himself but, more crucially, for all of Liyue. For if ever he was to lose reign over the shadows etched upon his soul, the consequences would be calamitous indeed. It was not the Traveler’s duty to bear the outcome of his karmic debt.
Following this thought, Xiao removed the article of jewelry that he wore around his neck. Fortunately, the Yaksha was not lacking in the knowledge of different forms and tools of meditation. The jewelry in his hand was both a Jingang Chu, a ward against negative energies and spiritual hindrances like ignorance and delusion, and a twenty-seven beaded Nianzhu used in the ancient practice of Nianjing, scripture recitation. It was a discipline he had not followed in a very long time, so long that he could not remember. Yet now, when his preferred practices of meditation failed him, he ought to seek other methods.
Nianjing was Yingda’s favourite practice of calming the mind and subduing karmic phantoms. Upon recalling this, other memories also reached the surface; of the way she would weave her voice within the melodies of Streetward Rambler, resonating through sun-dappled bamboo forests. Even without the accompaniment of tunes, she would sing and chant verses when the Yakshas gathered. She sang ever so softly, bringing solace to all. And in the chaos of battle, her voice remained a balm for wounded souls amidst the sea of bloodshed. For those who had fallen, and for those who yet fought on, but whose spirits had grown weary.
Xiao clutched his Nianzhu with a firmly, as a tightening sensation gripped his chest. After falling into the deep void of the depths of the Chasm, where memories lay dormant yet ever present, forming into sweet and bitter illusions, he now found himself haunted by visions of the Yakshas with increasing intensity. It was not a desire to forget these memories that plagued him, no. It was his solemn duty as the lone survivor, though undeserved that life was, to honor the memory and legacy of the fallen Yakshas. But with each resurgence of recollection came a tide of discomfort, a hurricane of pain, guilt, and an elusive something more, lingering just beyond his grasp.
“Enough dallying,” he spoke aloud. A stern command and a caution to himself. He knew that any further delay would only serve to embolden unruly thoughts, allowing the fell shrieks to claim control. It was imperative that he commence recitation, for it was through this practice that he could purify his consciousness, quiet the tumult of his mind, and vanquish the delusions that sought to ensnare him. He ought to dispel the negative blockages that hindered the clarity of his mind and soul.
Delving into the depths of his knowledge, he sought the sacred sutra that would guide his meditation. And with solemn reverence, he intoned the opening verse, the Mantra of Purifying the Speech: “The unsurpassed, profound, and wondrous Dharma is difficult to encounter in hundreds of millions of eons. I accept its wisdom, embrace its teachings, and vow to fathom its true meaning. I invoke the blessings, the lotus of accomplishment, to purify speech and attain enlightenment.”
Following that, he began the chanting of the ancient Shoulengyan Jing. As the sacred words unfurled, each bead of his Nianzhu necklace slipped through his fingers with ease, marking the passage of time in harmony with the rhythm of his recitation. Gradually, a serene aura enveloped him. His countenance was illuminated by the timeless wisdom encapsulated within the sutra’s eternal truths, guiding his spirit towards a state of inner quietude by allaying ill thoughts and fell voices.
“There are countless worlds a thousand times over, and all beings therein experience the trials of illness, suffering, and the finality of death. Yet the root of these afflictions lies not in the whims of fate, but in the veils of ignorance that shroud the minds of sentient beings. Unaware of their own true nature, they wander adrift in a realm of illusion, detached from the essence of reality. To those who seek to unveil their true nature, let them heed the teachings of this sacred sutra. Only then will they be able to awaken to their true self. This is the Dharma of the enlightened. But heed this warning, for the path is treacherous: those who fail to embrace and uphold the sutra’s wisdom will find themselves unmoored in the currents of delusion, unable to safeguard the truth they have forsaken. Such is the fate that befalls all who stray from the path of enlightenment, be they mortal, draconic or divine.”
After Xiao had intoned the final verse of the Shoulengyan Jing, the sky had cleared, as had his mind, yet something deep and unpleasant in his heart persisted. Memories of bygone days flooded his mind once more, of times when he and the Yakshas would gather to recite the sutras in unison. Their voices, harmonizing like the symphony of nature itself, would resonate through the verdant bamboo groves and the golden ginkgo plains and linger upon the surface of crystal meres and flow alongside the great rivers. But now, he stood alone, his solitary voice too feeble to traverse the vast expanse, too frail to ascend to the sky on the wings of the wind.
Resigned, he placed his jewelry around his neck. He should have known that reciting scriptures had long since ceased being a practice that could aid him. Indeed, far from availing his quest for stillness, it seemed to only deepen his turmoil, particularly now that recollections from the past lingered stubbornly.
Confusion gnawed at him. Had he not fulfilled his vow to Fushe, laying to rest the hauntings of the past? Yet here he stood, clenched in the grip of memories that refused to fade when not consciously recalled.
He tightened his fist, steeling himself against the seductive lure of reminiscence, unwilling to be drawn further down the path of recollection. Yet, a tangled knot inside his soul beckoned him, and Xiao feared an imminent succumbing to karmic wraiths.
Strangely, he found his mind drifting to past conversations with Lumine, the ones held by Tongque’s temple, alongside the words of Yelan and Yanfei. For him who always anticipated pessimum, might it be alright, for once, to perceive something in a gentler light? The knot within him did not seem wrapped in shadow, compelling him to delve into the depths of his mind and soul, though he harbored little hope of discovering anything of substance. After all, he was a being inhuman, devoid of mortal emotion, or so he had always believed. Despite his conviction, a curious sensation persisted, firmly affixed upon his heart.
“What would Lumine say?” he murmured aloud, as if afraid the disturbance in his mind would shroud his thoughts if not spoken.
“I think you know that it isn’t true,” her voice echoed in his mind. Though why those particular words lingered, he could not guess.
“I know that it isn’t true…” he repeated. What falsehood had he been clinging to? A thread unraveled. “Emotions?” A word heavy upon his tongue, as yet another thread was undone. “Do I…” The tightness in his chest deepened as the vivid visions of the Yakshas appeared plain in his mind. “Do I… yearn to see them again?” And as the question took root within him, the tangled knot that had gripped his heart began to loosen, releasing a tempest of emotions he had long denied, too fearful to confront the depths of his own vulnerability.
At once, he rose from his perch, his frame trembling in disquietude. Was this the reason why he had forsaken the chanting of sutras, the sacred rituals that once brought solace to his troubled spirit? His heart raced, the hollow ache within expanding with each rapid beat.
“I must light some incense. I must meditate.” His voice was but a whisper against the windstorm in his soul. There were other practices, other paths for achieving stillness.
And then he heard her voice calling out to him.
And as per his oath to her, he answered.
In but an instant he found himself atop the familiar glazed roof of the Wangshu Inn, nestled beneath the gilded canopy of the grand ginkgo tree. The sun was bright in this part of Liyue, and brighter still was Lumine before his eyes. “You called?”
“Xiao! What happened?!” she cried.
His already restless heart quickened yet more, fearing that she had glimpsed the storm within his troubled mind. He was unable to speak. As he glanced further downwards, he noticed the telltale signs of moisture clinging to his form. “It's nothing,” said he, the words catching in his throat. “Just the rain.”
“You call that nothing? You’re soaked through!” said Paimon. “You will catch a cold!”
Xiao descended from the roof to meet the guests, his expression firm despite his dripping form. “Adepti are not susceptible to mortal illnesses,” he declared. “I will be fine. I have weathered storms far fiercer than this. Demons do not yield to the elements, nor shall I.”
“There is no reason for you to remain in this state. Come, let’s get you dry,” Lumine urged gently, her voice soothing amidst the disarray that churned within his heart. “And… your hands…” She trailed off, her eyes filled with concern.
Xiao glanced at his trembling hand, clenching it into a fist. A poor bid of concealing that which Lumine had already witnessed. “I have much on my mind,” he admitted quietly.
“Would you like to share your thoughts? I will listen,” she offered.
Xiao folded his arms and his gaze drifted to the wooden floor. He had already divulged much to her the day before, and that which occupied his mind now veered away from the events of Teyvat. The golden Traveler was the Witness who recorded history, not the fleeting musings of one who knew little of the world.
“Should you choose not to, it’s fine,” she added. “You can tell me when you are ready.” Always kind and understanding, she was.
“...I suppose drying off would be wise,” he conceded, acknowledging to himself the discomfort of damp attire.
After drying himself, they shared a meal together on the terrace. The chef of the Wangshu Inn had prepared a sumptuous feast for their enjoyment. Almond Tofu, Grilled Ticker Fish and a few other dishes he knew not the names of adorned the table. In the meanwhile, the innkeeper, mindful of Xiao’s need for privacy, had ensured that the uppermost terrace remained undisturbed by mortal guests.
In Lumine’s comforting presence, the trembling gradually subsided and the storm within altered into a dull rain. His instincts urged him to retreat, to shield Lumine and her companion from the noxious blackness he bore. Already they had stayed in his proximity for much too long when trapped in the dreadful depths together. But Lumine’s past reassurances stayed his tongue. He ought to trust her judgement of her own power, for truly what could a Yaksha know of a star? And to disregard her counsel now, to rescind the words he had spoken the previous day, would be to betray the bond of trust they had forged. If others indeed sought his company, strange though it might be, then perhaps it was not unfitting for him to offer it.
“Soon I must make ready for the next journey,” said Lumine. “Paimon and I intend to venture to Sumeru. It is said to be a vast expanse, the Nation of Wisdom. Labyrinthian rainforests and deserts stretching as far as the eye can fathom. We might be away for a long time.”
“I am no Adeptus capable of bestowing blessings,” said he. “So there is little I can offer to you but a reminder to remain ever vigilant.”
“If you wish to reach me during my absence, you are welcome to send letters,” Lumine continued. “Verr Goldet has agreed to deliver them to the Adventurers’ Guild on your behalf. I’ve already made arrangements with her.”
“...I will keep that in mind,” said he. Lumine was very kind and considerate towards him, even amidst the urgency and the weight of her own troubles. Yet, he harbored a silent resolve not to impede or intrude upon her quest, particularly one so deeply personal as the search for her brother.
A sudden surge of unease seized him, the sensation of constriction in his chest deepening, as he was confronted with the memory of Yingda and Fanan who would often address Fushe as ‘Brother Fushe.’ He tightened his fists underneath the table.
“Before we set our sights on Sumeru,” said Paimon, “I propose a well-deserved vacation. We’ve all earned it, haven’t we? Remember last year, around this time, we were adventuring in the Golden Apple Archipelago with Klee and the others. Oh, I miss those carefree days…”
“Hmm, I would not be opposed to the idea,” said Lumine. “Resting before our next long journey would do us good.”
“Do you think Klee’s mom would entertain the idea of us visiting the islands again?”
“We could ask, and if Alice is not willing, I am confident that we can rely on our friends for suggestions. And also we have the Adventurers’ Guild at our disposal for information.”
“It would be nice if Xiao would come… Maybe we could find a resort in Liyue instead. Hey, Xiao—”
A hush fell over the conversation, a silence that seemed to stretch uncomfortably long, and Xiao became acutely aware of the expectant gazes fixed upon him.
“You’ve grown quiet,” said Lumine. “Is something troubling you?” Her eyes held a warmth that invited him to share his burdens. “You can tell me.”
For a moment Xiao hesitated, but at last he admitted, “...I find myself unable to meditate.”
Lumine exchanged a glance with Paimon before turning her attention back to him. “How about a leisurely stroll?”
“A stroll?” he asked, uncertainty colouring his tone. By what means an idle saunter would help, he could not fathom.
“That is a good idea,” Paimon chimed in eagerly. “We should— Oh… Yeah, why don’t you two go for a stroll? I will gladly stay and attend to the remaining dishes. It would be a shame to see such fine food left uneaten, no?”
Lumine gracefully stood from her seat, and he rose to accompany her. “Very well,” he said, “Wherever you wish to go, I shall take you there.”
With no specific destination in her mind, Lumine yielded to his judgement, allowing him to lead her to the still riverbanks of Dihua Marsh, some ways removed from the oft-trodden main road. Veiled amidst the pale reeds, they ambled quietly for a while. In the distant north, Xiao's keen eyes discerned the congregation of brooding clouds, their ominous advance towards the south was reminiscent of a shadow in pursuit of him.
Abruptly, Lumine halted, turning to meet his gaze. “Might we revisit the conversation we shared yesterday?”
“This is no longer a matter of recounting bygone happenings. I have relayed to you all that was necessary. However, perhaps you ought to know… My thoughts are ensnared, my meditation disrupted. A disquieting predicament. Without the solace of reflection, the tides of karma threaten to overwhelm me. If I am to succumb to the maelstrom of madness…” His voice trailed off, laden with unspoken apprehension. Fear not for himself, but for what this would mean for Liyue.
“Xiao, we are friends, and friendship transcends the recounting of worldly affairs,” Lumine said softly. “Your thoughts hold far greater intrigue for me.”
“...My thoughts?” The notion of someone genuinely desiring to hear his innermost musings bewildered him. Though he had long recognized Lumine’s kindness, attentiveness and willingness to listen, the frank and unadorned articulation of her declaration left him momentarily at a loss.
“I am glad that you were able to voice your deeper thoughts to me yestereve,” Lumine said warmly. “Should you feel inclined to share further, know that my ears remain open to receive your words.”
Xiao’s ruminating silence enveloped the space between them before, slowly, he began to speak. “Finding the right words is a difficult task…” Yet Lumine was willing to await however long he needed. “The encounter with Fushe’s illusion, delving into his memories… It seems that my own have awakened. My recollections of the Yakshas have been constant, and carry a strange clarity. I find myself standing at the threshold of time, caught between the current and the bygone. At times it is as though I am in the past once more, and yet also I am here in the distant present. The only one left, far away.”
He turned his gaze skyward, where the expanse stretched boundlessly before him. There was a time when he reveled in the freedom of flight, dancing amongst the clouds, the wind a gentle caress against his feathers. But now, in moments like these, the heaven seemed to bear down upon him with an oppressive weight, and he found himself diminished in its vastness.
“I have known the anguish that accompanies the aftermath of slaughter, and the lingering phantoms that haunt my tarnished soul,” he continued. “But this, I cannot fathom.” As the tightness in his chest intensified, he instinctively clenched his fist upon it, seeking to contain the din of emotions roiling within.
“Do you long for the company of the Yakshas?” Lumine’s inquiry hung in the air.
Once more it appeared. The knot. The untangling. The fear of the unknowns in his heart. And yet, in the radiant presence of the one so fair and warm, he was drawn to the prospect of awakening that which lay dormant within him. “I... believe so.”
“Xiao.” Her voice calling to him was a whisper as delicate as the glimpse of sunrays gleaming through clouds. “Allow yourself the grace to mourn.”
He made no answer.
“I, too, have witnessed the memories,” she continued, “and in those I saw a bond akin to family. It is only natural to mourn their loss. Each heart follows its own path through grief, but it is through allowing it passage that healing begins.”
Succumbing to emotions and surrendering to grief was to invite peril, for within him lurked karmic specters hungry for weakness, eager to feast upon fragility.
“A sage neither rejects nor covets,” she added further. “They simply behold reality as it is. The sage embraces understanding and acceptance.” Xiao recognized the teachings of Dao within her words, the very lessons he had imparted to her in days past. “Acceptance encompasses even the depths of our emotions, does it not?”
“...I cannot say otherwise,” said he, though reluctantly.
She might be right. To refute her words now would be to reject the very essence of the teachings bestowed upon him by Yanwang Dijun — the single anchor in a sea of uncertainty, the guiding beacon that had sustained him thus far. These teachings had allowed him to live, to fortify his spirit, granting him the favorable circ*mstances to repay his debts, in the times when he most wished to vanish from existence. As the tremors of realization coursed through him, once more he clasped his hands tightly.
“Apologies… I must go,” he murmured, a sense of urgency tugging at his heart.
“It’s alright. Allow yourself the space you need,” Lumine responded in a gentle reassurance.
As he prepared to take his leave, he turned back to her, discarding any concern for appearing vulnerable. “...Thank you,” he whispered, his gratitude sincere and unguarded.
With swiftness born of practiced skill, he made for the quiet, secluded place that first came to mind; the same cliffside pine of forlorn mountain passes. The sun was concealed by grey clouds, denser and heavier than before, as if dusk had come early. The world looked dark and dull. Nestled upon the branch, he drew inward, his form shrinking into a tight coil, resembling naught but a fledgling seeking refuge from a raging tempest.
Accustomed to the companionship of pain and suffering, Xiao had long borne the weight of his karmic burden; the retribution for his ignorance, the penance for his transgressions against the Dharma. Agony was his ordained fate and he had embraced its ceaseless torment. Yet the grip of anguish tightened around his heart with an intensity he had not experienced before, or perhaps he had not allowed it. A sensation that surpassed the bounds of endurance, piercing his very soul.
He was no stranger to grief. He had mourned the loss of the Yakshas, the fallen Adepti, and the countless lives he had extinguished, along with the dreams he had devoured. But now, in the depths of his being, he truly and wholly comprehended grief, for he yearned for the Yakshas with an ache that consumed him whole. Oh, how he missed them. The lovely melody of Yingda’s songs, the graceful elegance of Fanan’s dances, the vibrant hues of Minu’s raiments, the hearty laughter of Fushe’s mischief.
Memories long suppressed surged forth like the relentless onslaught of a tempestuous sea. His body trembled uncontrollably, and a mist veiled his eyes obscuring the world around him. In that moment of vulnerability, he came to a realization, one that stirred the depths of his being with an unspoken truth.
Ah, it had been so long that he had forgotten. He, too, was capable of shedding tears.
✧ ✧ ✧
Eyes fluttered open, greeted by the light of dawn filtering through the golden foliage above him. For days, the sun and moon had remained veiled behind a somber cloak of black clouds, mirroring the tempest within his soul. Yet now, at last, a welcome change swept over the sky, and the sun reclaimed its place. Amidst this celestial dance, he found himself pondering when he began noticing the change in the weather. Scarcely had he paid a mind to it before.
His body felt as if forged from leaden rock, burdened by an unseen weight that ceaselessly pressed upon him. Yet, amidst this heaviness, there lingered a peculiar sensation of weightlessness, akin to the lifting of a load long carried upon weary shoulders along an arduous, winding ascent up a mountain’s treacherous slopes. Since the harrowing events of the Chasm depths, and the days that followed, Xiao had found himself ensnared in a perpetual haze of bewilderment. Unsure whether to dread the weight of his emotions or to embrace the faint whispers of relief that danced at the edges of his consciousness. It was akin to the solace found in traversing a perilous precipice, gazing out across the vast expanse before one’s eyes, and discovering, at long last, a bridge that spanned the great divide to the other side. No longer were the mountains divorced.
Still, such relief was a delicate thing. His head throbbed viciously, each pulse stronger than the last, while the rest of his body protested and howled in ache and anguish with every movement when he forced himself upright. The hour of the morning rounds drew near, when mortal folk would begin to rise, and he knew that he must resume his quest besides.
Fortunately, no incidents were encountered, save for the occasional skirmishes with stray monsters. The ancient seals scattered throughout Liyue held fast, and the deep waters of Guyun Stone Forest remained silent. Alas, for his personal endeavour, no progress had been made.
The sun had already ascended high when he returned to Wangshu Inn for some momentary respite. And it was here that he espied his divine lord, gaze seemingly fixed upon the distant expanse beyond the terrace’s edge. Their paths had not crossed since the dusk hour when Xiao sought permission to embark upon his journey into the chasmic depths. His failings there had burdened his lord, adding further weight to the debt owed by the Yaksha to his master.
As Xiao beheld Dijun now, a question lingered in his mind: had the divine lord been waiting for his servant’s presence? Once, Dijun would summon Xiao at his demand, yet in recent days, such calls had ceased. Instead, the lord awaited the Yaksha’s arrival with patience, or perhaps it was mere happenstance. Xiao dared not venture into his master’s intentions, for such matters lay beyond him.
Bound by duty and remorse, Xiao approached Yanwang Dijun with a reverence befitting his station, sinking to his knees in deference before daring to break the solemn silence with words of contrition.
“Yanwang Dijun, I…”
“Ah, what a fair day unfolds,” spoke Dijun. “After countless days shrouded in heavy rain, the sun graces us with its presence at long last.” Xiao, as ever, had trouble discerning the meaning behind his master’s simple yet profound words. With a graceful turn, Dijun faced him, prompting the Yaksha to rise from his reverent stance. “Director Hu has entrusted me with an errand that leads me by way of Dihua Marsh today. Thanks to your great efforts and diligent guardianship, its tranquility endures.”
“It is my sworn duty to uphold the pact and rid our realm of all malevolence,” Xiao declared before summoning the courage to lift his eyes, though never daring to meet his lord’s divine stare directly. “Regarding the Chasm…” His words faltered, tangled amidst the gale of his emotions still churning within. Yet, the weight of his duty pressed upon him, driving him to persevere despite the uncertainty that clouded his mind. He must not tarry before his lord. He must speak.
But it was Dijun who broke the silence. “The Traveler has relayed to me news of your triumph in your endeavours. Truly delightful tidings.”
Upon hearing that Lumine had already conveyed the recent events to his master, Xiao felt a measure of relief. Presenting his report now would be a task made lighter for the Yaksha. Even in her absence, Lumine’s aid remained a beacon of kindness that illuminated his path. “Indeed, it is as she has informed you,” Xiao replied. “However, I must apologize for the burdens I have once again brought upon you.”
Dijun’s gaze ascended to the heavens above. “Now that my duty as an Archon has come to a close, and Liyue has been left under the mortals’ purview, I find myself drawn to the simple pleasures of wandering. It seems that such travels had led me to the Chasm. A happenstance of fate, for which I shall take no credit.”
Uncertain of how to respond, Xiao allowed the moment to linger in silence, pondering the significance of Dijun’s words. He felt a sense of urgency rise within him then, aware of the uncertain nature of future meetings. Perhaps this was an opportune moment to seek counsel from the wisdom of his lord, should he be willing to impart it.
“Dijun... Might I... inquire about the whereabouts of the Primordial Jade Cutter?”
“The Primordial Jade Cutter? Hmm, I see.” To Xiao’s keen eye, it seemed as though a ghost of a smile danced upon his lord’s lips, though he dared not entertain such fanciful assumptions. “Locating such a relic may prove to be a formidable task indeed. Countless treasures have been lost and buried in the dust of time. Have you sought the counsel of the other Adepti?”
“I have not…” Xiao admitted, his words laden with a sense of reluctance. How could he burden others with his own selfish pursuits? But amidst his thoughts, a whisper of Lumine’s advice echoed in his mind, urging him to reconsider. “...I will give it due consideration.”
“The jade sword was last known to grace the hands of Moon Carver during the Cataclysm,” Dijun disclosed. “He may yet hold the key to your quest. Now then, the hour bids me farewell.”
Following his lord’s departure, Xiao ventured to Qingyun Peak. High above the rolling clouds, it stood as a sanctuary untouched by the clamor of conflict, where even the boldest of monsters dared not tread. Thus was the Yaksha’s service needless in these parts. The landscape was adorned with countless Adeptal sigils of protection, intricately hung upon the bark of ancient trees and proudly emblazoned upon tall banners to ward against all that was ill and dark.
Xiao ascended the stony steps, their once-cloudlike forms now weathered by the passage of time, their original shapes blurred and softened into mere suggestions of their former magnificence. Flanking the ascent, vibrant aureate flowers blossomed, their petals aglow with the brilliance of the sun’s golden rays. These blooms belonged to a rare species now lost to the lands of Liyue, save for the cherished specimens that flourished around the sanctum of Moon Carver’s abode.
Flowers of such unique shapes were once nurtured by the songs of Sun Spinner in ages long past. In the ancient annals of Liyue’s history, ere it had earned this name, the land lay desolate and forsaken, a realm untouched by the hand of verdant life. It was said that the harmonious melodies woven by the siblings Sun Spinner and Rain Spinner breathed life into this barren expanse, transforming it into a garden paradise beyond compare. Such were the tales whispered in the shade of time, though Xiao could not claim knowledge of events before the first unfurling of his wings. He had only crossed paths with the legendary twins when Dijun, in his boundless compassion, had led the Yaksha to the grand halls of the Guili Assembly.
He halted his step as his thoughts wandered down the paths of recollection once more, yet this time they veered away from the warmth and fondness of his memories of the Yakshas. Instead, they delved into the shadowed depths of his consciousness, where darker remembrances lurked, ones that caused his very soul to shudder in despair. In that moment, it seemed as though all light had fled the world, leaving behind naught but abyssal darkness. Yet, just as anguish threatened to engulf him, a familiar presence manifested, drawing Xiao back to the present.
“Conqueror of Demons?” said Moon Carver. “What urgent matters have led you to my mine abode?”
“I am searching for the Primordial Jade Cutter. Yanwang Dijun informed me that it was last in your possession.”
“Forsooth, one was entrusted with both the Primordial Jade Cutter and the Summit Shaper by Yanwang Dijun when the Cataclysm arose. Our charge was to safeguard Liyue while he answered the call of the heavens in the matters of Khaenri'ah. Alas, beneath the baleful glow of the crimson moon, fate decreed that the jade sword should slip from my grasp.”
It seemed that his search would be yet long and winding. It was to be expected. Things rarely were favorable for him. His throbbing headache persisted.
✧ ✧ ✧
The moon had ascended, casting its argent glow upon the rippling surface of Dihua Marsh, painting a shimmering portrait beneath them. Beside him, Lumine settled, occasionally dipping her feet into the water, disrupting the lunar reflection. Her delicate features were aglow with the moon’s soft light, yet her own luminance eclipsed the moon and all the stars in heaven.
They were resting upon the timber docks of a small pier located east of the Wangshu Inn. It was a place seldom trod by mortals, save for the venturous anglers who dared to brave the fen’s vastness alone. Upon nightfall’s arrival this secluded pier became a place where only the gentle lapping of the waters could be heard. From this spot the vista of the marsh extended into the distance until met by the shorelines of the Qiongji Estuary where the land was shaped into jagged mountains raised by Yanwang Dijun during ancient conflicts. And looming beyond was a high mountain cloaked in perpetual snow, Dragonspine its name, of which Lumine had recounted many interesting tales.
“How have you been faring lately?” asked Lumine.
“I am fine,” said he. “There is no need to worry about me.”
“Xiao…”
“Truly.” In her ardent presence, karma remained subdued. And though he struggled with the awakening of his emotions still, in this moment his mind and heart alike found a rare tranquility.
Her gaze lingered upon him briefly. “Alright.”
“When last we met, you spoke of your forthcoming journey to Sumeru,” he recalled.
“That’s right,” said Paimon. “Our vacation at the Golden Apple Archipelago has drawn to its close, and today we have provisioned ourselves fully for the adventures lying ahead.”
“Tomorrow’s dawn shall find us embarking,” added Lumine, “following the path that winds from the Chasm. We sought you out before our departure, as we could be away for a long time. How long, it’s hard to say.”
“It is good that you have come.” Xiao revealed the Primordial Jade Cutter that had come into his possession at last after a long and arduous quest. Lumine’s eyes widened in awe at the sight.
“Woah, what a stunning blade!” said Paimon.
“Take it, if you will” said he. “I thought that... it might prove useful during your travels. But its use is yours to decide.”
Lumine accepted the sword into her grasp, studying its every detail. Paimon moved closer, her curiosity piqued as she also inspected the blade. “Is it fashioned from precious jade?” said Paimon. “It bears a resemblance to Xiao’s spear, doesn’t?”
“Both this Primordial Jade Cutter and my Primordial Jade Winged-Spear were forged by Yanwang Dijun,” said he. “They are powerful weapons capable of slaying ancient evils. Even formless illusions and impervious dragons are no match for the jaden sword. And I have inscribed upon it my own Fulu, Adeptal sigils and talismans, imbuing the blade with protective enchantments to ward off malevolent spirits. It appears that your travels are fraught with peril at times. Should you find yourself in need of a stronger arm, perhaps this blade could assist you.”
Lumine’s lips were graced by a smile that radiated warmth. “Thank you, Xiao,” she said softly. Her fingers traced the contours of the blade with a gentle touch. “When my brother and I descended upon this world, I wielded a splendid sword of gold. Its glint rivaled the sun, and its hilt was fashioned in the likeness of a crescent moon. Alas, that sword is lost to me now… I am certain that the Primordial Jade Cutter shall prove a trusty companion on my long journey ahead. Its touch and weight bespeak of strength and valor."
“It does seem a pity to subject such a beautiful blade to battle though,” said Paimon.
“No matter,” said Xiao. “The Primordial Jade Cutter is no ordinary sword. Weapons wrought by the divine hand of Yanwang Dijun possess unparalleled resilience. My own spear stands testament to this. This sword’s jade harbors the essence of Bishui’s heart, and will in time cleanse itself of the remnant grudges within. Though, unlike me, you raise your sword to defend and protect. Grievances can hardly linger upon you and taint the sword in your hands.”
“Do you not also wield your spear in defense of others?” said Lumine. “You are always guarding Liyue from all that is ill.”
“...Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of past deeds. His hands bore the stain of innocent blood. He lived only to seek redemption for his transgressions.
Fear and apprehension rose in his heart then, and dark memories hovered at the edges of his consciousness. But he exerted every ounce of his will to quell them, for this encounter marked their parting for the coming future, and he wished to cherish the warmth and luminance of Lumine’s fleeting presence. He was ever so grateful, however little of it he was permitted. And gladdened he was that he had been granted the chance to present the jade sword to her before her departure.
“Have you delved further into the light novels I brought for you?” she inquired, shifting the conversation abruptly.
“Not recently... but they shall be read in due course,” said he. Lumine’s expression softened with satisfaction at his response.
“I’ve been pondering,” Lumine began, her tone gentle, “that aside from reading, might you entertain the idea of exploring other pursuits?”
“...Other pursuits?” he echoed.
“Is there anything that has caught your fancy before? Be it the art of writing, the playing of music, or something as simple as tending to flowers?”
Xiao folded his arms and shook his head. “I am ill-fit for such pursuits. I only deal in death, and in slaughter do I excel,” said he. The sight of blooms was delightful, but his hands were marked by the crimson of battle. Their touch was only ever capable of extinguishing life.
“Pastimes are simply for pleasure,” said Paimon. “There is no need to excel in them.”
“Well, it is fine if you are not inclined,” said Lumine, her tone gentle and understanding as ever.
Amidst the silence that followed, Lumine’s gaze wandered towards the westering moon in the star-studded sky. Xiao understood then that the time had come to bid her farewell, recognizing that he must not delay her any longer.
“The night grows old,” said he. “I would urge you to seek your rest.”
Paimon yawned and stretched, her movements scattering glimmering motes around her. “Yeah, I believe sleep is calling, Lumine.”
With a graceful motion, Lumine rose from the weathered docks, the jade blade cradled securely in her grasp. Xiao, too, stood, following her lead.
“What of you, Xiao?” she asked.
“Adepti have no need for slumber as often as mortals do.”
“Xiao, do not overlook your own wellbeing.” The concerned expression on her countenance beseeched him. “Allow yourself the simple pleasures, such as a good night’s rest.”
“...I shall endeavour to do so,” he conceded awkwardly.
Lumine expressed her gratitude once more for the jaden sword he had bestowed upon her, before she and her companion departed, their figures gradually fading from his view. He alone remained at the now silent docks, lingering on the spot where she had stood. How much time would pass, he wondered, before he should see her again?
✧ ✧ ✧
In the high reaches of the proud misty mountains, the delicate fragrance of sweet incense danced upon the breeze, weaving its way amidst the timeless aroma of ancient tea trees.
Xiao made a habit of bearing a censer on his person, a vessel for sacred scents that aided in his journey of cultivation. With this simple tool close at hand, he could reliably achieve the Sanmei required by the Dream Trawler art, and thus could he navigate and seize control over the realms of dreams to fortify his spirit and ward off the fell and hungry shadows of karma. And beyond its utility in Adeptal arts, incense served as a balm for the restless mind, for when it stirred all sorts of things were created and all kinds of things would appear.
And for those seeking to immerse themselves in the essence of incense most pure, there existed no finer place than the jade-coloured streams and mountains of Chenyu Vale. When traversing these enchanting landscapes, one might chance upon aged and weathered censers of great size and exquisite craftsmanship. Outlanders would deem them mere relics of antiquity adorning forlorn ruins, but the folk of Chenyu Vale held a deeper belief. Adepti and Illuminated Beasts were said to make use of these sacral censers still, for numerous were the tales of wanderers following a fragrant trail of mist to a censer left alight.
Xiao, however, was an Adeptus who sought to eschew Chenyu Vale when fate allowed it. Only during his customary rounds and occasions of necessity did he venture into its midst, duty-bound to safeguard all of Liyue. This region harbored unpleasant and discomfiting memories that he would rather not awaken. Still, the lingering fragrance of incense and tea was delightful. For the tea trees flourished only in ages of peace, and when the scent of brewing tea wafted through Chenyu Vale it spoke of auspicious tidings in the land.
Yet, it was not the allure of tea and the fragrance of incense that drew Xiao to stand upon the southern mountains of the jaden vale. Lumine had been absent for very long; countless were the suns and moons that rose and sunk, and in a moment left unguarded, he found himself tracing the boundaries between Liyue and Sumeru.
How could he, in any rational sense, anticipate a glimpse of her golden tresses through such a foolish endeavour? He had believed himself to have outgrown the folly of the ignorant youth. Yet, he could not quell the impulse, his journey commencing from the peach-clad peaks of the south winding its way to the lofty heights of jade.
What a folly, indeed, to embark on such a venture. When he reached the crags of Chenyu Vale, the malevolent shadows that clung to his soul constricted ever tighter, until at last he collapsed in the place he least wished to be.
It was the fragrance of tea and incense that had, in time, raised his surrendered senses once more.
“Bluey, I think he is awake,” said a voice, bearing the fragile timbre of a child.
“Yes. I can see,” replied another. Something about it seemed familiar, tugging at his consciousness, but he could not discern the reason when the clamor of ill voices rang by his ears and an unbearable ache scorched his body in flames that no stream could hope to quench.
“You were right, the incense did help,” said the child. “Hello, big brother, can you hear me?”
The world about the Yaksha remained dark, but he felt the child’s voice draw nearer. “Keep… your distance,” Xiao cautioned as he strained himself to rise. “The darkness I bear is perilous.”
He knew he must depart without delay, so he gathered what little strength remained within him, but the winds refused to carry him too far. Thus, did the Yakska remain trapped within the confines of Chenyu’s domain, and all that he could afford was refuge amidst the boughs of a towering tree, hidden from prying eyes. There, he battled against the lengthening shadows that sought to devour him, enduring through many long and weary hours.
The moon rose and descended before he reclaimed his wit and senses. In the comforting proximity of Lumine’s radiance, his karmic burden seemed to ease, yet in her absence, the darkness deepened. Nonetheless, such fluctuations were wonted, the familiar rhythm of his existence. This was his ordained fate, his penance wrought by Dharmic justice.
Even so, in his daze, he foolishly let his thoughts run: I wish to see her. He could not request her presence, yet, oh, how he longed for the comfort of her company. Perhaps she would grace the Lantern Rite with her luminance, or the day marking his birth. But such occasions lay distant still, and he harbored no illusions of her perpetual return. He closed his eyes; amid the haunting echoes, he sought the dulcet tones of her voice, and amid the abyssal darkness, he recalled the gleam of her golden eyes.
Thus, the day thinned into dusk, and at long last the oppressive shadows relented, if only for a while. Finally, he could attend to the duties that had been forced aside. Through the ache gnawing at his body and the shrieks that assailed his senses, he dragged himself across Liyue to vanquish all that threatened the nation’s hard earned but fragile peace.
And as if by grace of fate, the encountered troubles were few and were resolved swiftly and with ease. Malefic forces lay quiescent, granting him a fleeting respite. Perhaps he was now allowed to indulge in the simple solace of a dish of sweet Almond Tofu and later delve into the books Lumine had left for him.
Yet, the night was lengthening and mortal folk withdrew to their nests. It was a breach of propriety then to disturb the chef of Wangshu Inn. Nonetheless, the demands of his own body could not be overlooked. Though endowed with greater endurance than mortal kind, even he could not survive indefinitely without any form of sustenance. With no other recourse present, he resigned himself to gathering the bitter herbs that often sustained him.
His weary frame weighed beyond measure when he could at last return upon Wangshu Inn’s rooftop, his steps faltering until he crumbled upon the glazed tiles with an audible thud. Fortunately the hour was late and the inn’s occupants, both staff and guests alike, should have long retired to their chambers, sparing him from unwelcome eyes.
He lay motionless, concealed by the veil of night. Through the swaying branches of the ginkgo tree, he stole fleeting glimpses of the silver moon, its ethereal glow evoking memories of Lumine’s grace. Oh, how he yearned for her company after such a lasting absence, longing to behold her once more, to hear the melodious timbre of her voice, and to bask in the warmth of her presence.
Since awakening to the depth of emotions that seemed to dwell within him, he had become exceedingly aware of his yearning for his fellow Yakshas, and now, for Lumine. This newfound vulnerability filled him with dread, for he knew all too well the peril of his karmic darkness that preyed upon any weakness. Allowing such desires to blossom unrestrained could only invite calamity. Yet, despite this understanding, he was too worn and weary to resist. All he craved was respite within memories of Lumine, a brief reprieve from the ceaseless agony of his existence, if only fate would grant him this small mercy tonight.
Before long, the faint sound of footsteps upon the wooden floor reached his ears. But who would wander the inn’s terraces at such late an hour? Summoning what remained of his strength, he rose from his prone position, unwilling to be seen in this woeful state.
A woman’s figure appeared in the moonlight, unmistakably the innkeeper, holding a small folder in her hands while her gaze swept the rooftop. Plainly, she sought the Yaksha.
Despite the wear of body and spirit alike, he descended before the innkeeper. “What matters have brought you here?”
“Xiao, welcome back. A letter arrived for you a few days past.”
His heart quickened with anticipation as he received the folder from her grasp.
“May the remainder of your night be restful,” bid the innkeeper, before taking her leave.
A missive from Lumine awaited within the folds of paper, accompanied by pressed blossoms foreign to his eyes. Sumeru flora, he guessed. Their fragrant essence permeated the air about him. Among the contents were also an assortment of photographs depicting vistas of towering forests and expanses of gilded sands.
Though her physical presence remained distant, the mere act of reading her penned words bestowed upon him a measure of comfort. At the conclusion of a brief account of her travels, a singular invitation caught his eye: “Xiao, should you desire to converse with me, do not hesitate to commit your thoughts to paper.” While he had left her notes in the past, this gesture felt different. Lumine’s obligations were evident in her letter, and he dared not intrude upon her endeavours.
Then he read her final words once more. He longed for her.
Reluctantly, he manifested at the inn’s reception area, where the innkeeper, though bound for retiring for the night, greeted him with a pleasant smile. “Xiao, how may I assist you?”
“Could I… borrow a brush and some paper?”
