____________________
(Inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters)
"What's taking them so long? What the hell is that Bard doing there?", grumbled Hemlock as he paced back and forth outside of the Grandmaster's office.
He had been pacing back and forth around the perimeter of the Grandmaster's chamber for hours now, and the sun had already set. He was not alone in his vigil though.
"They... they've been there for almost 6 hours. The..the sun had already set." Voiced the nervous Melisa.
Captain Yuan was leaning against the wall, his mind worrying about his Archon.
"Calm down everyone, remember who's the person we're worrying about, and how capable of a person she is." Crepus calm and logical voice grounding them into reality.
He was just recently inducted into the inner circle of Artoria's MOST DEVOTED followers (barring Elspeth and the rest of the Gunnhildr Estate staff and personel, who have no idea about this little group of followers outside their own circle) by both Hemlock and Melisa themselves after their goddess vouched for him. The group once dubbed as the DEVOTED FIVE was renamed DEVOTED SIX after his induction.
Being a devoted follower of his goddess, Crepus was confident that nothing bad can happen to someone like her. The others had fuzzed around this mysterious bard who just appeared out of nowhere but he remained reasonable, trying to discern the true reason behind the encounter happening behind that door.
Captain Muscovado and even Theron, now elevated as a Cardinal, are in attendance. All of them had sensed something, something that points towards their Archon.
The entire hallway was cleared, under the excuse of a top level meeting. No one other than the six of them are within ears reach.
But they're still uneasy. The unnatural stillness from the office was so thick one could slice it with a butter knife. There's no sound of conversation, no sound of footsteps, no sound of... anything. It was as if time itself had stopped within the four walls of the room.
"There is no doubt our Archon can handle herself," Sir Hemlock declared, though the deep worry lines etched around his eyes betrayed his confident tone. He stopped pacing and placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, a habitual gesture of reassurance.
"She had faced down a corrupted Grandmaster and had beaten him with ease. She had freed Mondstadt from a possible catastrophic storm with no visible effort from her part. A lone bard is hardly a threat."
"A lone bard who knew exactly how to find her and had been insistent to meet her." Crepus countered smoothly, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze was fixed on the door, sharp and analytical.
"One who gives an air of antiquity, a person she herself had immediately granted audience. That bard is no simple minstrel looking for an audience or a meal. This is a turning point. The Archon is simply... handling it. As she does everything. With a grace and power we cannot hope to comprehend."
"The air feels... thin," Cardinal Theron whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
He, a man of faith who had communed with the divine through prayer, ritual and direct conversation, could feel the absence of something fundamental on the other side of those doors. It was like a great pressure had vanished, leaving a void that was both unnerving and sacred.
"It's as if a great weight has been lifted from the world. Or... moved elsewhere."
The six of them fell into a tense silence, their gazes locked on the large door with intricate motifs of a roaring lion carved into it. They could sense it in their souls, it was no longer just a door to an office. It was a threshold, a veil between the world they knew and a realm of divine machinations. Each was lost in their own thoughts, their own faith, their own burgeoning certainty.
"Look," Melisa breathed, pointing a trembling finger.
A soft, silvery-blue light was seeping from under the door. It was not the harsh glare of magic, nor the flicker of candlelight. It was a gentle, pulsating luminescence, like the moonlight from a full moon beating in time with some celestial rhythm.
It bathed the corridor with a cool, serene glow, chasing away the shadows and filling the air with the faint, clean scent of a high-altitude breeze.
The six of them watched, mesmerized, as the light grew brighter for a moment, then receded, only to pulse again, stronger than before. It was a silent conversation in a language of light, a negotiation of cosmic proportions happening just beyond their grasp.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
The light vanished, and the air grew still once more. But the pressure was gone and the world felt... different. Lighter.
The Cardinal Theron, his eyes wide with a revelation that bordered on religious ecstasy, slowly, reverently, lowered himself to one knee.
One by one, the others followed, their knees touching the cold stone floor of the headquarters in front of the Archon's office, a silent act of worship for a miracle they had had just witnessed. They did not know what had transpired in the other side of those doors, but they knew, with a faith that was now unshakeable, that their Archon was the source of that mysterious miraculous event.
____________________
Inside the silent, now-dark grandmaster office, the air was still and heavy with the lingering scent of ozone and lilies.
The moonlight, no longer obscured by the divine glow from within Avalon, streamed through the large windows, casting long, ethereal shadows across the polished floor.
The solid oak door, which had seemed so mundane before, now shimmered. The wood grain seemed to liquefy for a moment, the grain swirling like smoke before resolving back into its natural state.
The air in the room didn't just stir; it folded in on itself, a small, localized distortion in reality, like heat haze on a summer road, but cool and clean.
And then, they were there.
Artoria stood, her posture unchanged, a serene anchor in the center of the room. But her two companions were utterly transformed.
In one arm, she held a small, sleeping boy, his head nestled against her shoulder, his fluffy teal hair and ahoge tickling her chin. His chest rose and fell in a deep, peaceful rhythm, his small hand clutching a fold of her uniform with another clutching a toy spaceship. Tucked into the crook of her other arm was the miniature dragon, Dvalin, his tiny draconic wings twitching in his sleep.
She looked down at her now sleeping child, her expression a complex tapestry of emotions.
First and foremost, there was the fierce, protective love of a mother, the profound weight of a ruler who had just altered the fate of a god, and a flicker of something else, a quiet, almost weary amusement at the sheer, unadulterated chaos of her life.
She had come to Teyvat through unknown means and initially sought an escape, a simple adventure from the life she had left behind. Then as fate would have it, She became a mother to three (now four) adorable children, a Grandmaster, a national icon, and now, the secret, two-timeArchon (the first instance was unofficial though).
It was a fate more convoluted and demanding than any she had faced as King of Britain in her previous lives.
She felt a subtle thrum of power within her, a new, silvery-blue current running alongside her own golden divinity. The authority of the Anemo Archon, the power of a Dragon Sovereign was now hers.
It was a quiet hum in the back of her mind, a new sense that connected her to the very breath of this world, to the whispers carried by the wind from Inazuma to Snezhnaya. It felt... right. Natural. As if it had always been meant to be a part of her.
She had left the gnosis, which was now more like an almost empty husk inside her tower in Avalon, encased in a swirl of compressed divine wind and guarded by a being she molded into existence based on a certain little white critter from her memories of playing FGO.
A certain little creature, though not a BEAST like his original counterpart, can still turn entire armies into mince meat if he ever wishes.
She knew that the gnosis was more than just a simple tool that can hold power and connection to Celestia, it was a relic, a part of a corpse that had been desecrated and divided several centuries ago before the start of the Archon war. She believed that even in its current state, the relic might potentially cause some unwanted calamities towards Mondstadt, yet at the same time, she wanted to study it, to try to learn how it functioned. Thus, she decided to place it in the most secured location she knew, at the very heart of the Tower of Beginnings inside Avalon.
She gently shifted her hold on her sleeping son, her gaze softening as she looked at his peaceful yet adorable face.
The tear tracks on his cheeks were still visible, but his expression was one of pure, untroubled innocence.
The weary, ancient god was gone and in his place was a child, her child, who would need her guidance, her protection, and most important of all, her love.
As she gaze linger from that of her newly acquired son, to the moonlight illuminating the room, her thought went to her other children who were waiting for her back home.
Jean would be poring over her books, her expression serious and focused, no doubt worrying about where her Mama was.
Barbara would be waiting by the door, her little arms outstretched, ready for a hug. And Bennett... her little Benny would probably be somewhere in the mansion trying to climb a bookshelf, his boundless, divinely-blessed luck ensuring he wouldn't fall.
Her family was her anchor, her purpose. They were the reason she had accepted this mantle in the first place, the reason she had reshaped herself and a god to fit this new reality.
It's time for her to go back to them, to go home, and introduced them to their new little brother.
She took a deep breath, the air of the office was now just plain air, no longer charged with the echoes of divinity. With a final, gentle adjustment to ensure both her newest child and her little familiar dragon were secure, she walked towards the door.
The weight of her responsibilities felt heavier than ever before, but it was a weight she chose, a burden she had embraced.
She was Artoria Pendragon 'Gunnhildr', Mother, Grandmaster, and the secret, double-dipping goddess of Mondstadt. And she had a family to get home to.
As her hand rested on the cool, brass doorknob, she heared the faint, expectant shuffling from the other side. She knew what she would find: her most loyal followers with their unshakable faith laced with their suspicions towards the events that had just transpired.
The coming conversation would be... delicate to say the least.
She would need to be careful, to weave a story that was true enough to satisfy their devotion, but vague enough to protect the staggering truth.
A story of a test, a trial, a passing of a torch, not a divine soul-swapping and involuntary de-aging.
She turned the knob. The door swung open, revealing the sight she had expected.
Six figures, a mix of knights, scholar, businessman, and clergy, all knelt in reverence in the dimly lit corridor. Their heads were bowed in reverence, their postures rigid with awe. They had felt the shift, the swirl of power, the proof of their beliefs. They looked like a tableau of saints witnessing a miracle.
The silence was absolute, broken only by the soft, sleepy sigh from the little boy in her arms.
Artoria looked at them, her expression a mask of serene composure, but her mind was already calculating.
She saw the unshakeable faith in Cardinal Theron's eyes, the fierce, protective loyalty in Sir Hemlock's, the sharp, intellectual curiosity in Melisa's, the calculating devotion in Crepus's. They were her pillars, her most trusted companions in this new world. She could not afford to lie to them, not completely. But the truth was a blade that could cut too deep.
"Rise," she said, her voice a soft, even murmur, a gentle, but firm, command that carried the subtle, new authority of anemo.
It was a voice that not only commanded but soothed, a whisper that calmed the restless spirit.
They rose as one, their movements slow, reverent, their eyes still fixed on the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze directly.
"Grandmaster..." Sir Hemlock began, his voice thick with emotion.
"It has been... an eventful afternoon," Artoria said, cutting him off.
She shifted the sleeping boy in her arms, the small movement drawing their attention to the child for the first time. A collective, sharp intake of breath filled the corridor. They saw the teal hair, the familiar, windswept style, and a look of profound, earth-shattering realization dawned on their faces.
"The...the Bard...is..that….how?!", Hemlock trembled as he couldn't believe what's he's seeing.
He looked at the small sleeping boy. The features were now softer, rounder, the face that of a small adorable child, but the hair... that impossible shade of teal, the way it seemed to defy gravity even in sleep... there was no mistaking it.
"It seems this wandering bard has... RETURNED HOME," Artoria said, her voice a masterful blend of mystery and gentle finality."
Cardinal Theron took a hesitant step forward, his old eyes wide with a mixture of terror and beatific joy.
He looked from the child to Artoria, his hand trembling as he made the sign of the Anemo Archon over his chest.
"My...lady, returned home? Who...who is he?"
Theron and everyone couldn't take their gaze away from the sleeping boy...who Melisa and Hemlock claimed to had been the bard who's been seeking audience with their Archon just hours ago. But it seems that their minds began to twist the information they were given and turned it into something...something that made more sense for them.
"My son," Artoria said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument. The word, simple and yet carrying the weight of worlds, landed on them with the force of a divine proclamation.
They all froze. The devout, the pragmatic, the loyal, the inquisitive, all of them stood in stunned, reverent silence.
'Her son?!'
The implications were staggering, a theological and genealogical earthquake that would rewrite the sacred texts of Mondstadt for generations.
"He was... lost." Artoria continued, weaving the story with the skill of a master storyteller, her voice imbued with a maternal sorrow so profound it felt ancient.
"Lost on his own journey for the sake of this nation and its people. For ages he shouldered an enormous burden and now at last his journey had come to an end."
She looked down at the sleeping child, a genuine, sad smile gracing her lips. Thelie was so close to the truth, the kernel of Venti's long, lonely history making her words ring with authenticity.
"His journey is over now. He is home."
Crepus Ragnvindr, a man of logic and commerce, a man who saw the world as a series of assets and liabilities, was the next to speak. His mind was a whirlwind of calculation, piecing together the divine puzzle.
"But... the resemblance... the statue in the plaza... my Archon, please tell us, what is the boy's name..." Crepus looked from the child to Artoria, his mind working furiously.
"Who is he? What...is his name?"
Artoria looked at them, her emerald green eyes meeting theirs one by one, her expression unreadable. She took a slow, deliberate breath, and spoke a single, world-shattering name.
"Barbatos."
The name hung in the air, a sacred, incandescent word that seemed to vibrate with power.
The six of them looked at each other, their faces a mixture of utter shock and confusion. The name, Barbatos, they believed was only reserved for their goddess, but how come this person….this child who suddenly appeared out of nowhere carried the same name as she?!
But before they could even seek for an explanation, something clicked inside their mind, their collective faith twisting the facts into a new, more awe-inspiring reality.
Cardinal Theron's hands flew to his face. His expression was like that of a man who received a divine epiphany. A choked sob escaping his lips.
"Of course," he whispered, his voice trembling with the force of his revelation.
"Of course! It all makes sense now!"
He turned to the others, his eyes burning with a feverish, holy light.
"Think! The ancient texts speak of the Anemo Archon as a spirit of the wind, as free as the breeze itself, as an entity that cannot be contained in a single form! But we, in our mortal simplicity, have always seen her as one being! But our Archon... she is greater than we ever imagined!"
Theron's words were a spark to a powder keg of religious fervor. The others gasped, their minds racing, their faith providing the missing pieces of the puzzle.
"She... she was never just one being," Melisa breathed, her eyes wide with a dawning, ecstatic understanding.
"She... the Archon... she was the source! The original! The goddess who led a rebellion and defeated the storm god Decarabian! The goddess who then became an archon and led the newly freed people in establishing Mondstadt! And then she…" Melisa paused with a chocked sob, her mind railing on the impromptu-made revelation.
"The toll from the entire ordeal must had been so great that it nearly depleted her of her divine strength and power…..thus, she must have fallen into a deep slumber to recover!"
Hemlock then continued Melisa's explanation.
"But not before she left a piece of herself. A small fragment of her own divine essence, a tiny spark of her being, a child who carried her name and her spirit. That fragment... that was the one who guided us for most of our history! The one who appeared in the form of a bard, the one who was the Archon we thought we knew!"
Crepus then added, his mind now fully caught up in the theological epiphany. He looked at Artoria with an even more fanatical devotion.
"And that fragment, that little godling, must have been slowly draining himself of the power our Archon had bestowed upon him before her slumber. That's why he would disappear for decades, even centuries, to go into a deep slumber himself, similar to that of his mother in order to recover! He was only a reflection, a pale echo of the true divine!"
Yuan and Muscovado, who had been silent until now, both nodded, their faces pale with awe and reverence.
"And now," Muscovado said, his voice barely a whisper.
"After countless years, the real Archon had finally awoken from her slumber and has returned to Mondstadt in its time of need. The mother has awoken. And her child, her fragment, sensing her return has come home to her, exhausted from his long, lonely journey. He has given all that he had left, and has reverted to a child, to be nurtured and protected by his mother, by the true Anemo Archon, until he is ready to once again take up a fragment of her mantle!"
Yuan then finished with a final, shuddering breath of realization as he exclaimed with a single tear rolling down his cheek the events that had definitely transpired inside the Grandmaster's chambers.
Yuan exclaimed in a state of religious ecstasy.
"The six hours... it was not a conversation. It was a reunion! A mother listening to the tales of her long-lost son, comforting him, welcoming him home, and taking his burdens upon herself! The divine light we saw... it was not the passing of a torch, but the reuniting of a divine family! It all makes sense!" Yuan declared, his voice filled with a conviction that was both terrifying and unshakeable.
…
Artoria just stared at them with a serene, unreadable expression on her gorgeous face.
Her mind, however, was a tempest of silent, internal screaming with one profound phrase echoing above the rest!
'WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK?!'
She was speechless. Utterly speechless! She had expected questions, perhaps some suspicion, but instead, her inner circle... came up with a conclusion of pure, unadulterated theological fanfiction that would put the most creative bards to shame!
They hadn't just accepted her story, they had taken it, run with it, and built an entirely new religious dogma around it in the span of a few seconds!
A religious dogma in which she was some sort of primordial mother goddess and Venti was her long-lost, prodigal son!
And she was almost certain that any attempt to correct them would only be seen as a test of their faith, a divine mystery not meant for mortal minds.
Her serene expression never faltered.
Her posture remained regal.
She was the very image of a calm, all-knowing goddess, a perfect statue of divine composure….but deep inside, she was having a full-blown meltdown!
She had a plan. A story to tell. But this... this was a level of devotion and interpretation that she had not anticipated!
It was both impressive and utterly, terrifyingly insane!
Crepus Ragnvindr, a man of logic and commerce, a man who saw the world as a series of assets and liabilities, was now looking at her with the same fanatical fire in his eyes as Cardinal Theron! He was a pragmatic businessman, and he saw this revelation as the ultimate asset. A goddess in their midst, a divine lineage, a future for Mondstadt that was not just prosperous, but sacred.
"Our most benevolent Archon," Crepus said, his voice filled with a newfound reverence that was far more unsettling than his usual respectful businesslike tone.
"We are... we are humbled. Humbled to be in the presence of such a sacred reunion. Forgive our mortal blindness. We did not see the truth that was so clearly in front of us."
Artoria, in her catatonic state, simply nodded, a single, slow gesture that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand years. She knew that there was no reasoning with them now. They were too deep in their religious ecstasy, too far gone in their beliefs.
She had to play along. At least for now.
"Your faith is….noted," she said, her voice a soft, neutral murmur that gave nothing away.
"But this is a family matter. A private joy that I must now share with the rest of my children."
"Ah yes, your other children!" Cardinal Theron chimed in, his face flushed with excitement.
"The young Gunnhildr heirs, and the child from Natlan... They are all...?"
"They are my children." Artoria said, her voice firm, a hint of a mother lioness's protective edge entering her tone.
"All of them. In every way that matters."
She didn't need to say more. The message was clear. They were divine too. Or at least, they were now tied to a divine lineage. A revelation that would only further solidify her position and their devotion.
"Of course! Of course!" Cardinal Theron beamed, as if she had just confirmed the most holy of all truths.
"A goddess's children are, of course, divine in their own right. A new age for the Gunnhildr clan! A new age for Mondstadt!" They then once again kneeled in front of her, but now with more reverence than ever before.
Artoria suppressed a long overdue sigh. She was a goddess, a mother, a ruler, and now, apparently, the matriarch of a divine dynasty!
This was getting out of hand!
Then suddenly a small, sleepy sigh escaped the lips of the child in her arms. Venti stirred, his green eyes fluttering open. They were hazy with sleep, filled with the innocent confusion of a child waking in an unfamiliar place. He blinked, looking at the line of kneeling figures before him, then up at his mother.
"Mama?" he whispered, his voice soft and thick with sleep.
"Who... who are the funny looking people on the floor? Are they....related...to any sabers?"
A soft, almost silent snort escaped Artoria's nose. The last, utterly absurd question from her child, a tiny echo of the soul of Mysterious Heroine X now dwelling within him, was the perfect, ridiculous punctuation to the whole insane situation. It was the one thing that kept her from breaking down in either laughter or tears.
"They are... Mama's devoted helpers, my little breeze," she said, her voice softening instantly, the regal goddess vanishing, replaced by a mother's warmth. She gently stroked his hair, her touch a comforting, reassuring presence.
Venti looked at them for a moment longer, then seemingly satisfied with her answer, snuggled deeper into her embrace and closed his eyes again, drifting back to sleep.
The sight of the small, divine child, so innocent and trusting, only further fueled their fanatical devotion. They had witnessed a sacred, private moment, a glimpse into the domestic life of a goddess and her reborn son.
"My Archon," Crepus said, his voice filled with a new sense of urgency and purpose.
"We must... we must make preparations. The world cannot know. Not yet. This revelation... it is too great. We must protect you. We must protect your family."
"We shall be your silent guardians, your most devout servants," Cardinal Theron declared, his voice filled with a religious fervor that was both inspiring and deeply unsettling.
"We will ensure that no harm comes to you or to the young Master Barbatos. This is our sacred vow!"
The others nodded in agreement, their faces filled with a fierce, protective loyalty. They were no longer just knights, a librarian, a businessman, and a priest. They were the sworn guardians of a divine secret, the chosen disciples of a living goddess. Their lives had just been given a new, sacred purpose.
Artoria looked at them, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She was touched by their loyalty, moved by their devotion, and utterly terrified by the implications of their new-found beliefs!
But for now, there was nothing more to say.
She simply gave them a slow, deliberate nod, a gesture of regal approval that they would interpret as a divine blessing.
"Your loyalty is... appreciated," she said, her voice a soft, even murmur.
"But for now, I must tend to my family. We will speak of this again."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving them in a state of religious ecstasy, their minds already racing with plans and schemes to protect their goddess and her divine offsprings.
She walked down the corridor, her steps silent and swift, her mind a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions.
The six looking at her retreating form, her regality, her ethereal glow even in the dimly lit corridor. They all looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them.
"This is our sacred duty," Cardinal Theron said, his voice a solemn vow.
"To be her shield, her sword, her shadow. To protect the divine family of Mondstadt."
They all nodded, their faces filled with a renewed sense of purpose.
They were the Devoted Six, the secret guardians of the goddess and her children. And they would not fail in their sacred duty. They would die before they would let any harm come to their Archon and her divine family.
***
As Artoria navigated the silent hallways of the headquarters, a rare feeling of being overwhelmed washed over her.
She had faced down monsters, bent the fabric of reality, and reshaped a nation. Yet this….this web of absolute, unquestioning faith she had accidentally woven, felt like a more complex and dangerous labyrinth than any dungeon. It's like the universe had sudden conspired to include her in some unhinged cosmic joke!
She reached the main entrance of the headquarters, her now youngest child's sleeping form a comforting weight in her arms, and Dvalin nestled at her shoulder.
Her carriage was already waiting for her, the driver standing at attention, a deeply loyal knight who had no idea of the divine nature of his passengers. He simply saw his Grandmaster and a child in her arms.
As she stepped into the cool night air, her eyes scanned the city.
Mondstadt was alive, a tapestry of lights and sounds, a vibrant, thriving city, a testament to her efforts, her vision, and her leadership.
She could see the new and expanded cobblestone streets, the bustling markets, the well-lit houses, the happy, contented faces of her people.
She felt a surge of pride, a sense of accomplishment that was both humbling and empowering.
She had done this. She had made this city, this nation a better place. A safer place. A place where her children could grow up happy and loved.
But as she looked at the distant, looming shape of the Cathedral, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. She could see the faint, flickering lights of the candles, the silhouette of the Anemo Archon's statue, a constant, silent reminder of the secret she now carried, the sacred responsibility she now had to live.
The weight of her responsibilities felt heavier than ever before, a burden she had willingly embraced, a burden she would not shirk.
She was Artoria Pendragon 'Gunnhildr', the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, the matriarch of the Gunnhildr clan, and the secret, two-time Archon of Mondstadt.
And she had a loving family to get home to.
____________________
(In the skies above Teyvat)
Somewhere high above the skies of Teyvat, near the very inner edge of the firmament, there's a place, a floating "island" which was comprised of several landmasses, with one large central rock and about seven to eight smaller "satellites" positioned around it.
These outer rocks were connected with one single ring-like structure which in turn, was held in place with several bridges or arches expanding from the central mass.
This place, was believed by most of the inhabitants of Teyvat to be the residence of the gods that oversee the world, gods who they believed to be far superior than the Seven Archons themselves.
That place, high above the clouds, is called Celestia.
Deep within its otherworldly chambers, inside a dark realm separated from reality by time and space itself, in a place lighted by what seemed to be a sky filled with stars, three beings of great power who possessed authority over the fundamental laws of Teyvat converge to discuss some troubling events that had recently happened in the world below.
The first personhad an air of death lingering around her.
Her form was that of a tall curvaceous woman with pale skin, long and thick white hair and golden eyes with 7 petals flower-shaped pupils.
Her outfit consisted mainly of shades of black, gray and red. She wore what looked like a black translucent bodysuit under a black strapless dress. The back part of her dress' skirt consisted of black feathers with a dark red interior.
She has a pair of red eye-shaped accessories on each side of her hair, a white transparent veil attached to the back part of her hair and a pair of upwards-curved dark red wings with eye-shaped holes on it.
Her name was Ronova, the Ruler of Death.
The second person was a fair woman with light skin, golden eyelashes, and heterochromic eyes; the left eye being gray, while the right eye yellow. Her two eyes also bear two different symbols.
Her blonde hair fades to an orange color and was let loose. There was one unique strand of hair on the left side that fades to a bright yellow and resembles the DNA symbol.
Her outfit consist of a white dress with gold accents. More DNA symbols can be seen in her design. She also wore a black neckpiece and a white veil, both lined with gold. The veil has a headpiece that glows yellow.
Additionally, she has a glowing golden-yellow halo behind her that resembles the circular version of the DNA symbol, but more unique-looking. A smaller version of it is found within the overall halo as well.
She was the oddity within the group for she's not one but TWO beings fused together, one being the original shade while the other being a disgraced sinner, a mad alchemical genius from a fallen kingdom.
She was Rhinedottir/Naberius, the Ruler of Life.
The third and last person of the trio has the appearance of a tall woman with pale skin, golden eyes and long white hair that seemingly 'fades away' in the tips.
Her irises are similar to a clock without pointers and a part of her hair is swiped to the right side of her face with some braids decorating it.
She wears an intricately detailed white dress that is longer on the behind and with some cutouts on her back. She was also barefooted.
Floating above her were two huge golden rings where small golden bars and clock-like decorations seemingly dangle off.
She's the one who wrote the story of the world, the one who represents the unending march of time, and the progenitor of the Thousand Winds.
She's Istaroth, The Ruler of Time.
And collectively, these three beings of unparalleled power and might were known as The Shades, the Shadows of the Heavenly Principle who ruled this world.
The Shades had come together once again in their 'meetings', though their overall attendance had been somewhat lacking or incomplete.
"The dissonance... it was grating," Ronova said, her voice a low, somber whisper that seemed to absorb the light in the room.
"For a few mortal hours, the Anemo authority had simply... ceased to be. Not dormant, not hidden, but utterly gone. As if a thread had been pulled from the very fabric of this reality, leaving a hole in its place."
Rhinedottir/Naberius tilted her head, her dual eyes reflecting the starlight in a disconcerting, mismatched way.
"Ceased to be? No. Not entirely. My senses, attuned to the pulse of life and creation, felt it elsewhere. A void, yes, but a void that had been... relocated. Shifted to be more precise. It was a sensation I have not experienced since the forging of the Seven Gnosises. A deliberate, willful act of cosmic transference."
Istaroth remained silent, her unblinking gaze fixed on a point in the star-dusted space before them. The rings around her head rotated slowly, the dangling golden bars ticking away like the silent gears of an immeasurable clock.
After a long, drawn-out moment, she finally spoke, her voice a melodic chime that held the weight of millennia.
"It was not merely relocated. It was... rewritten. The authority was given a new page, a new ink, a new author. For a brief span, the story of the Anemo Archon was held within a place outside of my sight. Outside the grand narrative I oversee. A place outside of our own creator's making."
Her gaze shifted slightly, a rare flicker of something akin to curiosity in her timeless eyes.
"The Anomaly."
Ronova's wings fluttered in agitation at the mention of the name.
"The 'Anomaly', the one they call Artoria Pendragon. That being…that 'Descender'. I recall my... attempt to perceive her nature. A foolish presumption."
That being….that person, the one the mortals in Mondstadt called Artoria Pendragon 'Gunnhildr' was a being not of this world, not of Teyvat.
Years ago, she had simply... appeared. No grand entrance, no celestial announcement. One moment, there was nothing. The next, a woman of immense power stood on a cliff overlooking Mondstadt, a flickering beacon in the stream of fate.
Ronova, in her domain over endings, was the first to had felt a disturbance. A new life, an alien presence a new thread, that had no origin in this world suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
She had attempted to gaze upon this anomaly, to see the tapestry of her existence, to understand her beginning so she might one day calculate her end.
"The backlash was... illuminating to say the least," Ronova continued, her tone laced with a lingering frustration, as she unconsciously placed her right hand over her eyes, as if remembering that painful moment.
"I've attempted to scry her past, her point of origin. Instead, I was met with….what can only be described as a legion, a pantheon of sorts. I…I couldn't properly discern that phenomenon but it was like seeing multiple facets of one singular being." Ronova gritted her teeth, a rare physical gesture from ruler of death herself.
"I could not passed that wall, that barrier from which those gazes originated. Gazes of such intensity, of such righteous fury, that for a fleeting moment, I, the Ruler of Death, felt the chilling touch of my own domain. It was not a single will, but a chorus of them, all centered within that one form. A fortress of souls. It felt like multiple blades were pointed at my very neck at point-blank range."
"I concur," Rhinedottir added, her scientific curiosity piqued.
"I searched the World Tree, Irminsul, for any record of her. There was nothing. Not a single leaf, not a single root, bears her name. It is as if she is a concept born in a void, a perfect specimen that bypassed the very laws of creation I have spent countless yearsnstudying. Her very existence is a variable that refuses to be integrated into the equation of Teyvat. She truly is a 'Descender'."
"I remember you being blinded for hours after that failed attempt of yours, Ronova" Istaroth stated, her gaze still fixed on the endless expanse.
"A rather unpleasant experience I must admit." Ronova said, her arms crossed.
"Those entities…that thing, had simply looked at me for a single second and my vision was filled with nothing but golden light and an image of several floating swords pointing directly at me, their tips radiating an intense energy so Holy yet also Dark."
"And yet, after your little stunt, it appears that she didn't even flinched or even noticed your intrusion….she just kept sitting on that cliff, staring blankly towards the horizon, as if your act was nothing more but a mere breeze passing her by." Rhinedottir, stifled a laugh which caused Ronova to look at her with annoyance.
Istaroth slowly raised a hand, and an image shimmered into existence in front of them. It was a tapestry woven of light, showing the flowing currents of fate for Mondstadt.
"The threads of fate had been altered since she arrived, particularly those of the people living in Mondstadt....no, it would be more appropriate at this point to say that the veryfate of the nationitself had changed, altered...due to her...mere presence," Istaroth explained, pointing to the shimmering, silver lines.
"The Gunnhildr clan. Their line was destined to wither, to become a footnote in history after the death of Frederica. Yet now, their threads burn brighter than ever, woven into a new, powerful tapestry that anchors the entire nation." Istaroth swiped her hand and the images projected upon the tapestry of fate changed.
"The Grandmaster before her, Randolf, was fated to lead Mondstadt into a slow decay for the next decade or so, a corruption that would have weakened it for the foreseeable future. She... simply cut that thread, and in its place, she wove a new one. Athread of discipline, of prosperity, of strength."
The image shifted once more, showing the bustling streets of Mondstadt, the thriving port of Dornman, the revitalized Knights of Favonius marching in perfect formation.
"She had not just changed their fate. She has changed the very character of their souls. And now..."
Istaroth paused, her fingers tracing a new, blindingly bright thread that had only just appeared.
"...she holds the Anemo authority. The anomaly has become an Archon."
The other two Shades fell silent. This was the crux of the matter. A Descender, a being beyond their laws, was now one of the rulers of this world.
"An Archon who does not bow to Celestia," Ronova noted, her voice dangerously low.
"The transfer of power probably happened within a sort of pocket reality, a space granted by an ability.....that only beings of our stature and caliber...or those even greater are capable of possessing, and yet, she had achieved such a feat within her own power. And as of this very moment, she had effectively made herself a co-conspirator with Celestia, for the Divine Throne of an Archon is a sacred covenant between the seven and the Heavenly Principles. She has...forced her way in."
"But to what end?" Rhinedottir asked, her analytical mind trying to find a motive.
"Her actions... they do not scream of conquest or malice. The nation she now rules prospers. Her people are content. She has built... a sanctuary. A perfect, stable, albeit unnervingly ordered, society. She is playing house, Ronova. On a national scale."
"She is an unknown variable," Ronova retorted, her patience wearing thin.
"And unknown variables are liabilities. She has already defied our understanding of existence by arriving unbidden. She has defied Irminsul, the World Tree by leaving no trace. She has defied the covenant of Archons by seizing power out of our gaze!" Ronova then turned towards Istaroth who was playing with the strands of fate.
"And what of Barbatos? The original Archon? His authority is gone, yet his divine essence remains. It is now... smaller, younger even. And it is now tethered to her. Bounded like a child to its mother."
The image in Istaroth's hand shifted again, showing a faint, green-tinted thread, once grand and free-flowing, now a pale, small echo, utterly dependent on the brilliant gold of Artoria's own thread.
"The little wisp has been... recollected," Istaroth stated, a hint of what might have been amusement in her timeless voice.
"He who sought ultimate freedom has found the most fundamental of bonds. His story has been closed. A new one has begun for him, as her child. A godling, reborn." Istaroth then turned to her 'sisters' and said.
"He was reborn, yet his soul is different. I had taken the liberty to analyze its new composition when he was finally exposed to the outside world while being carried by that anomaly, and I found out that it now held a piece of the very same authority that had blinded you, Ronova. The piece of her 'legion' that she possessed, now anchors the former godling into this world, as one of her own"
A tense silence filled the star-dusted chamber.
"Not only that, but a similar piece also happens to thrive within a certain boy from Natlan that she had adopted years ago. Even the Gunnhildr sisters have in some way that very spark of her essence now flowing in their very veins."
Rhinedottir's mismatched eyes widened slightly.
"Is she... creating new divinities? Gifting fragments of her own soul to mortals? This goes beyond simple rule-making. This is the work of a creator god. We thought that the Heavenly Principles was the sole creator of anything divine, yet this woman, this anomaly, now does something similar, albeit on a smaller scale"
This revelation hung in the air, more unsettling than the transfer of power. An Archon who can make other gods, or at least, demigods.
"This is truly a very curious edit in the tapestry of fate woven by the Heavenly Principles." Rhinedottir smiled curiously.
"Her actions had truly defied everything that we had established for eons, and yet, it is also... fascinating. Curious, very curious."
"This is not a curiosity, it is a threat!" Ronova insisted.
"What if this 'Descender' suddenly wanted to extend her rule to the rest of the seven nations? What if she decides her way of doing things is the only path? What if she deems the Heavenly Principles... irresponsible... inadequate?!"
A heavy silence descended upon the chamber. The thought of the Descender turning her immense, unquantifiable power against Celestia was a chilling one. The unconscious backlash Ronova had experienced was a mere warning. A full-frontal assault from this being could be catastrophic.
"Yet..." Rhinedottir said slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"She has not. In all the years she had been here, she has acted with... restraint. Her power is immense, she could have levelled Mondstadt and reforged it in an instant. Instead, she used governance, economics, and a slow, steady application of force. She plays by mortal rules, even as she breaks divine ones. She is a paradox. A goddess of immense power who indulges in the most mundane of mortal pleasures."
"Knitting," Istaroth added, almost as an afterthought.
Both Ronova and Rhinedottir/Naberius looked at her with questioning expressions in their faces.
"I have... observed her. In her quiet moments. She sits and she knits. For her children. The focus, the intricate, deliberate patterns of it... It is the act of a creator, but on a small, personal scale. She does not seek to build a grand, new world. She seeks to build a warm, safe home. Her ambitions, as vast as her power may be, seem to be... domestic."
"Domestic?" Ronova scoffed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now.
"She commands armies, she rules a nation, she has usurped the divine authority of a god, and you call her... domestic?"
"She has turned the once falteringeconomy of Mondstadt into burgeoning powerhouse that could potentially rival the riches of Liyue in the future" Rhinedottir added.
"But what does she do with it? She builds an orphanage, created roads and bridges, she renovated a dilapidated estate, she established multiple outposts of her knightly order in all major trade routes to protect her people from threats. She is not hoarding this wealth. She is... managing it. Like a matriarch managing her household's finances."
The shades were silent for a long moment, the starlight in their chamber seeming to dim slightly as they contemplated this.
"So, what are you suggesting?" Ronova finally asked, her voice a low growl.
"That we simply... watch her? Allow this anomaly to fester, to grow, to potentially become a threatwe cannot contain?"
"For now," Istaroth said, her gaze sweeping over both of her 'sisters'.
"Wewatch. Welearn. Her actions so far have not been overtly hostile. In fact, they have been... beneficial. Mondstadt thrives. Its people are safe. To act against her now, without clear provocation, would be to disrupt a peace she has forged. Andto face a power that we do not fully understand."
"TheHeavenlyPrinciplesstillsleeps," Rhinedottir reminded them. "AndAsmoday is still missing. We are... incomplete. To act now, against a being of this magnitude, would be a risk we cannot afford to take."
Ronova was silent, her wings twitching in frustration. She hated this inaction, this feeling of being... outmaneuvered. But she knew they were right. They were missing one of their own, and their master, their creator, the First Descender, was still in a deep slumber. To confront this new Descender now, without their full strength, would be a fool's errand.
"Very well," she finally conceded, her voice a low, reluctant grumble. "We watch. But the moment she steps out of line, the moment her actions threaten the stability of Teyvat, I will be the one to act against her."
Istaroth gave a slow, deliberate nod, her rings ticking softly in the silence.
"We all will," she said.
"Butfornow, sheisapuzzle. A fascinating, dangerous puzzle. And we will solve it. Piece by piece. We will understand her motives, her goals, her very nature. And when the time is right, when we have all the pieces in place, we will make our move."
The shades fell silent, their gazes fixed on the tapestry of light before them, their minds racing with questions, with possibilities, with a growing sense of unease. The anomaly, the Descender, the Grandmaster, the Archon, the Mother... she was a enigma, a force of nature that defied their understanding, a being that could either be Teyvat's salvation... or its destruction.
And for now, all they could do is watch.
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(Days later, at the far edge of the world)
In another corner of the world, near the edge of the Dark Sea, far from the reach of Celestia's gaze and the authority of the seven, lies a place steeped with mystery and horror.
That place has a dark and gloomy atmosphere due to the constant gnawing of the abyssal forces that lies just beyond the other side of its darkened shores.
This was a land where most of the gods who had lost the war for the seven divine thrones more than two millennia ago had fled with most ultimately succumbing to the ravages of time and the innate poison of this dark gloomy land.
Yet, amidst this damp and darkened place, a peculiar sight can be seen, so utterly out of place that people who would see it would probably rubbed their eyes just to make sure that what they're seeing was not a mere illusion, or a figment of their imagination!
Within the land's damp and gloomy shores lies a large patch of verdant grass, that is blooming with life in comparison to the decay that permeates the very soil that surrounds it.
In that large partch of grass, a long tea party table can be seen with seven chairs arranged around it — three on one side, two on the other, and one at each end. A single lantern of some strange design was placed at the center of the table while a small phonograph can be seen near the head of the table.
Various books, flowers, and silverware for a tea party were scattered around the area, adding a sense of magical mystique to the mysterious site.
At the head of the table, a lone figure of otherworldly beauty sat while holding a cup of pipping hot tea.
She wore a large, wide-brimmed witch hat adorned with a bow. Her long blonde hair flows past her shoulders, partially veiling her eyes, and she has distinct elf-like ears, a sign that she belonged from a long-lived race.
She was dressed in a high-collared red colored outfit, layered ensemble with frilled accents and a ribbon tied neatly at the neck.
The beautiful and mysterious figure was seen busily conversing to a voice the originated from the phonograp.
The voice that came from the phonograph sounded slightly rusty and old, but female. She was telling the woman at the table, about the problems she had been encountering while performing her astromancy for the past few years, particularly about the sudden shift in the fate of several people, if not the entirety of Mondstadt's destiny.
"I'm telling you Alice, thestarsaboveMondstadtare... they're behaving strangely!Thethreadsoffate… they'rebecomingfrayed, tangled. I can't get a clear reading on anyone in this country anymore! It's as if someone took the celestial tapestry and decided to knit a scarf instead of a constellation!" The crackly voice from the phonograph sounded utterly vexed.
Alice, the witch at the head of the table simply took a delicate sip of her pipping hot tea, a soft, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"Ascarf?My dear Barbeloth, perhaps the stars from above simply got bored of your constant nagging and got tired of all those old, stuffy patterns. A little change in design can be quite refreshing, don't you think?"
"Refreshing?! Alice, this is unprecedented!The very fabric of fate itself is being rewoven! Barbeloth voiced her indignation.
"I was planning to investigate this phenomenon myself, but as you know, I'm currently stuck here in Dorman Port." Barbeloth's voice then became softer with a tinge of excitement lacing on her previously worried and frantic tone.
"I've found a young child here, a girl with a prodigious talent for astrology. Her name is Mona, and I simply must take her as myapprentice before this... this corruption... spreads and blots out herpotential!"
Alice giggled with a light, musical sound that seemed to push back the oppressive gloom of the area for a fleeting moment.
She had known her friend Barbeloth for too long, and she can be a worrywart of sorts, though she couldn't entirely fault her for it.
After all,it was Barbeloth who pioneered the study of divination in Teyvat. To see the very fabric of her expertise unraveling would be enough to send any academic scholar worth their salt such as herself into a state of panic!
Alice, however, being the great adventurer and witch that she was, was not bothered at all!
For countless years, she had scoured the ends of this world, seeking adventure wherever she went, and currently, she had taken upon herself the task of sustaining this world's borders from any potential threat that might try to harm this world, hence why she's in this dark and utterly gloomy patch of land at the first place!
This place sat at the very edge of one of the said borders of this world, and like the rest of the other borders, this one was still surprisingly strong, and was still capable of holding back those eldritch abominations spawned by the abyss and keep them at bay.
She, Barbeloth, and six other ladiesformedThe Hexenzirkel, Teyvat's own mysterious organization of powerful witches!
Their wonderful little coven was comprised of some of the most powerful beings in all of Teyvat, with some possessing abilities that can even rival the gods!
And they were, of course, attuned to the latest events and….the juiciest gossips happening throughout the world.
"Now, now, Barbeloth, calm your stars," Alice chided gently, setting her teacup down.
"I have some juicy gossip that might just soothe your troubled celestial charts. It's about the very nation that's been giving you such an awfulheadache."
She paused for dramatic effect, leaning closer to the phonograph.
"It seems there's a new Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. A woman who took the position after beating that rather... unpleasant fellow, Randolf, about five years ago."
She could practically hear Barbeloth's intrigued silence through the crackling speaker.
"Now, normally I wouldn't bother too much about the sudden change in the political atmosphere of Mondstadt," Alice continued, her tone turning more serious.
"After all, that nation had been peaceful for almost a century, only occasionally disturbed by the machinations of people such as Randolf or those pompous, self-important nanciesfrom the Lawrence Clan." Alice puffed her chest after remembering those self-centered pricks who continued to preach the significance of the aristocracy.
"But... I've been hearing things. Whispers of a sudden and steady rise, a progress that's been happening in Mondstadt these past few years. And all points to one person as the culprit of these sudden changes. The current Grandmaster, a woman who is, according to my sources, was a lost scion of the Gunnhildr clan. A woman who just... appeared out of nowhere one day, beat the living day lights out of Randolf until he turned into a bloody pulp, and started a genuine economic revolutionthe likes of which Mondstadt had never seen in its history! A woman who goes by the name..." She drew out the name, savoring the words.
"Artoria Pendragon Gunnhildr."
Barbeloth's crackly voice came back, full of surprised confirmation.
"Artoria Pendragon Gunnhildr! Yes, that's the name that has crossed my path!I have never seenDorman Portso prosperousthroughout these years!" Barbeloth's voice can be heard from the phonograph now laced with genuine excitement and intrigue.
"I've seen ships from all across Teyvat, from Snezhnaya in the north to as far south as Port Ormos docking here everyday, with some temporarily stopping by before they eventually set sail to Cider Lake towards the main capital city of Mondstadt. The trade routes are bustling with activity, with merchants from every corner of the world hawking their wares! Alice, if I weren't so busy with young Mona, I would have been in Mondstadt city by now, demanding an audiencewith this grandmaster!"
As Barbeloth continued her tale, Alice's smile widened, her mind latching onto that peculiar, intriguing word in the grandmaster's name.
'Pendragon'. She hadn't heard that name in a very, very long time.
It was a name she had encountered in one of her 'elusive' travels, a journey through realms that even her fellow witches could scarcely imagine. It was a name of renowned status, a name that demanded honor and respect.
"That's not all," Alice said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Another one of our dearest friends, Nicole, visited me about a week ago. She told me she'd sensed a sudden shift in the winds of Mondstadt. It was very faint, so faint that she told me, through her telepathy, that she doubted most gods would have even noticed it. But the change was there, Barbeloth. And it originated from Mondstadt."
There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. When Barbeloth finally spoke, her voice was a mixture of shock and dawning realization.
"The changes in the stars... the deviations of Mondstadt's destiny... this sudden shift in the wind... they're all connected. They had to be!"
"I suspect so too," Alice confirmed.
"And I have a strong feeling that this Artoria Pendragon Gunnhildr holds the answers we've been looking for."
Alice's gaze then drifted towards one of the chairs on the side of the table.
A children's book was placed in front of it, its cover bearing a cartoonish image of a small purple dragon. A nostalgic smile appeared on Alice's face as she fondly remembered the author and owner of that story book.
"Tell you what, Barbeloth," she said, her voice full of newfound purpose.
"You wait for mein Dorman Port. I'm going to join you over there, and together we'll have our little audience with this elusive and illustrious grandmaster."
Alice then placed her teacup at the table, stood up from her chair, went to the side of the table and picked up the children's book, tracing the image of the little dragon with her gloved finger.
"May be it's time for someone to fill the seat that Anya had left behind years ago." Alice mused, her gaze distant while fondly remembering the memories that she shared with one of her dearest friends.
"Maybe it's time for the code name 'M' to be bestowed to a worthy successor. After all," she added with a playful pout.
"Our tea parties are becoming a bit dreary and lonely, with only me, you and occasionally Nicole, being the only regular attendees!"
(End of Chapter)
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Gnosis
- The Gnoses are the embodiments of the Heavenly Principles' control over Teyvat and its laws.
- They were created from the remains of the Third Descender, Saarelainen.
- The Gnoses are used by The Seven to directly resonate with Celestia, and are the proof of their status as Archons. These items' appearance are similar to those of gleaming chess pieces and are typically found within an Archon's chest.
- As of the moment, two of the seven gnoses aren't in the possession of their respective Archons.
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Descenders
- Descenders are individuals who are capable of transcending Teyvat's "laws" and influencing its fate. The term is typically used for outlanders who are not native of Teyvat and had usually originated outside of it, typically from the sea of stars.
- Descenders are not bound to the Heavenly Principles's laws and are unaffected by circumstances that affect beings from Teyvat. Furthermore, information and memories about them will not be recorded in Irminsul, which only collects information about those native to Teyvat.
- So far there are five confirmed Descenders with the Heavenly Principle being the first, and Artoria being the fifth overall.
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The Four Shades of the Heavenly Principle
- The Four Shades are four gods who were created by the Heavenly Principles and serve directly as its envoys or emissaries.
- The Four Shades are tasked by the Heavenly Principles with governing over the metaphysical laws of Teyvat and they are implied to be more powerful than the Seven Archons.
- There are four of them in total with one missing, that being Asmoday the Ruler of Space.
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The Hexenzirkel
- The Hexenzirkel is a mysterious organization of powerful witches founded by the mage Alice, and consisted of at least eight members at one point. Each member is given a codename of sorts, such as Alice being A while Barbeloth being B.
- They usually conduct their meetings through formal tea parties.
- The organization is known to conduct Irminsul explorations and possesses substantial knowledge about the mysteries and true nature of the world.
- Not all members are immortal or have long lifespan. Some, such as I. Ivanovna N. (codename J) and Anya "Marie" Andersdotter (codename M) were mortals who never received any form of magic or combat training. Both of them had already passed on.
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