The dust from the Cataclysm still hung heavy in the air. The once-vibrant lands of Khaenri'ah had been reduced to ash and shadow, scars left not just on the earth but in the hearts of all who knew the cost. I watched from afar, perched in the sanctum of Celestia, as the survivors of the devastation—Morax, Venti, Rukkhadevata, and Xbalanque—bore their losses with quiet strength, tending to the fractured world in their own ways.
I felt the weight of their grief and resilience alike. But I knew the work was far from over. The Abyss had not been vanquished. It had merely been pushed back, simmering beneath the surface like a beast waiting to reclaim what it once lost and so
A meeting was called.
The summons arrived like an unavoidable shadow, one that cast a chill over even the brightest corners of Teyvat. Morax was the first to receive it, a sealed message etched with the unmistakable mark of the Heavenly Principle. His hands tightened around the parchment, an uneasy weight settling in his chest. This is no ordinary call, he thought, his usually steady heart stirring with doubt.
Venti, dancing through the Sumeru winds, felt the sudden absence of the breeze's usual laughter. The message was carried by a wind that was colder, heavier—laden with an ominous stillness. His playful spirit faltered, replaced by a creeping unease. The Heavenly Principle summons us. This time, it's different.
Far away, in the depths of the World Tree, Rukkhadevata stirred. But she was not the towering, vibrant protector she once was. The forbidden knowledge seeping through the roots and branches had corrupted her, draining her strength day by day. Her once-vibrant glow was dimmed, her bark-like skin cracked and pale. She barely rose to answer the call, her voice a frail whisper that barely carried through the forest's heavy silence. The poison spreads through me… but this summons cannot be ignored.
Xbalanque, surrounded by the fiery peaks of Natlan, felt his flame flicker uncertainly. His usual fierce pride was tinged with something rarer—apprehension. The Heavenly Principle calls. My fire burns, but my spirit wavers.
When we gathered beneath the vaulted halls of Celestia, the air was thick with tension. Each of them approached with measured steps, eyes downcast, the weight of dread evident on their faces. I watched them carefully—the steadfast mountain god Morax, the restless and uneasy Venti, the fragile yet resolute Rukkhadevata, and the fiery but cautious Xbalanque.
Rukkhadevata leaned on a staff grown from the ancient roots of the World Tree, her breath shallow and ragged. A faint darkening shadow seemed to cling to her form, a visible stain from the corruption eating away at her very essence. She fought to stand tall, but her weariness was undeniable.
Morax was the first to break the silence, his deep voice a low rumble tinged with concern. "The wounds of the Cataclysm still run deep. We rebuilt the lands, but the scars beneath the earth remain. Why summon us now, when the echoes of destruction still haunt the ley lines?"
Venti's tone, usually light and carefree, was subdued, almost somber. "The winds have whispered of coming storms, but this presence… it hushes even the breeze itself. We can no longer turn away from what is coming."
Rukkhadevata's voice came soft and strained, yet each word was laced with determination. "The World Tree weakens beneath the weight of forbidden knowledge. Its roots are poisoned, and so am I. But I must answer. The balance depends on it."
Xbalanque's flames flickered, casting uneasy shadows on the stone floor. "If the Abyss returns, I will fight it with fire. But I fear this time, fire alone won't be enough."
Their eyes finally met mine, but no one dared hold my gaze for long. Fear mixed with reverence, binding us all in an unspoken understanding: I was more than their source of power now. I was a force that could decide their fate.
Morax shifted uneasily, his stone form seemingly burdened by the gravity of my presence. "We have faced many trials, but this… this is unlike any before."
Venti's usual wind-song was stilled, replaced by a whisper, "What path do you see, one who holds the light itself?"
Rukkhadevata, her hands trembling slightly on her staff, looked to me with tired eyes. "If the corruption kills me, I pray that my roots still hold the ground for those who come after."
Xbalanque's fire burned low but steady. "We will follow. But know this—I do not trust the Abyss or any fate that bends us like this."
I nodded, seeing the truth in their words, the hesitation and courage intertwined.
I raised my hand, silencing the chamber. "You all fear me, and rightly so. I hold the light that shapes the fate of this world. But fear will not save us."
Their eyes widened, but none spoke.
"I command you to control and prevent any from harnessing the power of the Abyss," I continued. "Let no one be corrupted or twisted by its influence. Protect your nations fiercely. Destroy any remains of the ancient gods—those relics and powers that should have been buried with time."
Their faces showed a mix of understanding and dread.
"Furthermore," I said, "nurture the ley lines. They are the lifeblood of Teyvat, flowing with the memories and wishes of our people. Their happiness strengthens these veins of power. Care for them as you care for your own people, for their dreams and joy are the roots from which the world's strength grows."
Morax nodded solemnly. "The land will be protected and its ley lines tended. The people's happiness will be our priority."
Venti's usual grin was absent, replaced by a look of determination. "I will guard the winds and the stories carried on them. The people's voices will not be silenced."
Rukkhadevata's frail form straightened, her fingers tightening on her staff. "Even as my strength fades, the World Tree's roots will hold. I will protect the balance as best I can."
Xbalanque's flames blazed a bit brighter. "The fire of Natlan will burn to purge the darkness, and I will ensure none use Abyssal power for their own ends."
I looked at each of them, my voice steady and commanding. "This is not just about survival. It is about the future of Teyvat. If the ley lines thrive, if the people's wishes remain pure, we can face the Abyss and whatever comes beyond it."
The room was silent but charged with newfound resolve. The fear was still there, but now it was tempered with purpose.
"Go," I said. "Do your best to protect the world. The fate of all rests with you."