Chapter Text
For two millennia, there had been six extra heartbeats in Morax’s chest.
Since the conclusion of the archon war, and the day he was granted his gnosis, he could feel six heartbeats that were quite distinctly not his own. This was due to the fact that the seven gnoses were linked, and the seven archons had always been able to sense each other directly.
The foreign sensation had been quite disconcerting at first, but soon Morax had gotten used to it, accepted it as a fact of life, and perhaps even found it a source of comfort, a proof that he wasn’t alone, in a way. He learnt the subtle differences between them, and was able to pick out and differentiate between the six.
That had changed when the cataclysm came five centuries ago, when the archons were summoned to Khaenri’ah. Morax still recalled vividly the order in which the heartbeats went out.
The first to fall had been Murata. The fiery, blazing pulse that burnt with a lust for war and violence became fainter and fainter, until it sizzled out into nothingness. All the archons that were present then had all felt it too, he remembered a scream in unison, and turning around just in time to see a body hit the ground.
Then it was Makoto, followed by the Tsaritsa, and Egeria. Then Rukkhadevata had gone into Irminsul and never returned.
His chest felt hollow. His fellow archons, his friends, were all gone. Most of the destruction in Khaenri’ah wasn’t so much caused by the archons themselves but the power released in their deaths. Through the pounding of his own heart, he could only feel one other pulse left, one that felt of breeze and wind, although it had felt a lot weaker, as it often did when the anemo archon was in slumber. He had clutched onto it desperately, the chaotic thoughts running through his mind all ended up in one conclusion. Celestia above, Barbatos, don’t die. I don’t know what I’d do if I was alone.
Morax still didn’t know how, but he came out of it alive, and so did Barbatos. Although he hadn’t seen Barbatos since the cataclysm, he could at least hold onto his beating heart and know he wasn’t alone.
The other five heartbeats eventually came back, as new gods took the places of the previous archons, along with their gnoses. Except they weren’t quite the same, because Beelzebul wasn’t Baal, Kusanali wasn’t Rukkhadevata and Focalors wasn’t Egeria. There was no afterlife for gods, when they simply returned to Teyvat itself.
The world moved on, and the cataclysm became nothing more than history. Despite that, he could still remember every moment he was in Khaenri’ah clear as day.
Morax had signed the contract with the newly crowned Tsaritsa, and the Rite of Descension was a week away. He had already gotten most of the preparations ready for his fake death, and was strolling down the bustling streets of Liyue Harbour under his mortal alias, Zhongli, during his break from work.
That was when it happened.
The light pulse that felt of the breeze and wind stilled, for the first time since the archon war. He immediately felt faint, and gripped onto a nearby railing for support.
What had happened?
Zhongli took a few deep breaths to stabilise himself. It took him a few seconds to process what had changed, and why it felt so wrong. Then he waited a few more, just to make sure he wasn’t wrong, and it really had stopped.
He stood still, waiting there for a few minutes, praying that it was a momentary pause so that he could return to his day and forget about it.
But gods have nobody to pray to, and the heartbeat did not return. Without the faint hum of wind, his chest felt emptier than ever.
Zhongli had already processed the implications of that, but thinking about it was the last thing he wanted to do. He hurried quicker along the path to return to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour.
Even if Barbatos was really gone, they hadn’t seen each other for the last 500 years, and what’s a little longer?
The rest of eternity was a very long time.
Maybe it was even a good thing, the wind god had caused nothing but chaos every time he visited Liyue!
He regretted that thought the instant it appeared in his mind.
For the rest of the day, Zhongli simply shoved the thought out of his mind, ignoring the screaming absence of Barbatos’s heartbeat. The rest of his work was just menial paperwork, making it easy for him to space out and just work, without thinking too much.
In the evening, Zhongli found himself in his apartment, lying on his bed. To Morax, slumber has always been an indulgence and not a necessity, but as Zhongli, he’d find himself always sleeping at the end of the day, if only for his cover. He’d always been able to fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes, but this particular night, he found himself wide awake, the silk sheets against his skin growing more and more uncomfortable the more he tossed and turned.
He could guess what had caused this change.
Zhongli distantly recalled a memory from before the cataclysm. The archon war had only just ended, and the seven gathered in an overnight meeting. Egeria had called it a slumber party.
The others insisted for Morax to be in his draconic form, and as they all lay down to sleep, the god of anemo had clutched onto him with a tight grip. His first instinct had been to shake himself free, but then he heard the screams. Screams of unfamiliar names, in a familiar tone of desperation and hopelessness he knew so well from the war.
Morax knew the Mondstadt revolution had been bloody. So he allowed Barbatos to curl up with him, and they fell asleep to the thumping of each other’s heartbeat.
The seven hadn’t had a meeting in so long, he scarcely knew the new gods that took up the mantle after the cataclysm. Morax hadn’t seen Barbatos since then, not since he’d fallen into his deep slumber following his fight with Durin.
Now even the familiar heartbeat was gone.
Zhongli fell into an uncomfortable, shallow sleep, regrets plaguing his thoughts.
He awoke the following day, immediately taking notice once again of Barbatos’s missing pulse.
No, he couldn’t make any assumptions yet. There could be other explanations, other possibilities. What else would silence an archon’s heartbeat but death?
He had to visit Mondstadt. He quickly drafted out a request for leave before he left for work.
Hu Tao read through Zhongli’s request, and raised an eyebrow at him.
“You’re requesting leave to visit a friend in Mondstadt? Haven’t you been having a ton of leaves already for a ‘personal project’?”
Zhongli sighed. “That may be so, Director, however this is an extremely important matter.”
Hu Tao chuckled, “I’ll believe you. Just remember to promote our business to your friend while you’re there!”
Zhongli stiffened.
It was only then when Hu Tao finally saw Zhongli’s facial expression, that realisation dawned on her. It was a familiar expression, one she saw often considering her occupation. She cringed slightly at her previous statement.
“Aiyah, seems like that was quite tasteless of me. I apologise, Zhongli. Do remember that the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour offers grief counselling services.”
Zhongli stared at her.
Hu Tao continued, “not only that, employees get discounts, so do consider it.”
Zhongli looked down, avoiding eye contact. He spoke up, quieter this time. “Is my leave approved?”
Hu Tao’s voice was softer now. “Of course. Come talk to me when you’re back, alright?”
Zhongli left without answering.
The journey to Mondstadt typically took a few days. Zhongli required no rest, so he could complete the trip in about one day. He could’ve been even faster if he shifted to his draconic or archon form, but he couldn’t risk being seen. There simply wasn’t any better option, seeing as he couldn’t travel through the winds like Xiao. Even if he had the ability to do so on his own, that particular method of transport was nauseating, to say the least.
Zhongli recalled the first time he’d experienced travelling through the winds. It had not been with Xiao, but with Barbatos. The nausea was so great that he had thrown up over Barbatos, who laughed it off. Zhongli didn’t even know he could vomit before that.
Zhongli decided that reminiscing about memories with Barbatos only served to pain him further. He focused back on the road, turning his thoughts back to the present.
Zhongli had been walking for a while now, and he was quite far from the harbour. As he turned, Wangshu Inn atop its stone pillar came into view. Perhaps Zhongli should stop by to visit Xiao, seeing as the adeptus had been close to Barbatos.
Standing near the entrance, Zhongli called out.
“Xiao.” The yaksha appeared in front of him in an instant.
“Zhongli? What do you need?” Xiao bowed respectfully.
Zhongli motioned for him to stand up, and spoke.
“I was passing by the inn, and I wanted to see how you were. I am currently on my way to Mondstadt.”
Xiao tilted his head. “To Mondstadt?”
Zhongli nodded. “That’s right. I…” Zhongli pondered what to say. “To tell you the truth, Barbatos’s gnosis stopped beating yesterday. I need to know what happened.”
Xiao’s face flickered through a spectrum of emotions at this revelation, before settling into a conflicted frown. He seemed to contemplate for a while, before speaking.
“I’ll accompany you to Stone Gate.”
“Xiao, you don’t need to protect me,” Zhongli protested.
Xiao shook his head. “No, it’s… if Barbatos is… gone, then, I need to know. But I can’t abandon my post at Liyue, especially if you’ve left. Just let me come with you for this distance.”
“Alright,” Zhongli acquiesced.
Zhongli and Xiao walked the remaining distance to Stone Gate. Once they arrived, Xiao stopped.
“I’m going to go back. Any news you get, please…”
“I’ll let you know.”
Xiao sighed. “Thank you.”
In a flash, he was gone again. Zhongli continued to walk.
As Zhongli predicted, he arrived at the Mondstadt city gates after about a day of travelling. He presented the documents Hu Tao gave him to the guard at the gate.
“So, why did you come to Mondstadt?” The knight, Lawrence, asked.
“I’m…” Zhongli considered what to say. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. He lives in Mondstadt, and is a bard. I lost contact with him a while ago.”
Lawrence looked over Zhongli’s papers while listening. “Sheesh… well, if I were you, I’d start with the taverns. There’s two in the city, the Angel’s Share and the Cat’s Tail. You can also try the cathedral plaza; bards perform there sometimes.” The knight pointed towards the locations as he listed them.
Zhongli thanked him for his help, and entered the city. He hadn’t been to Mondstadt recently, and he had to admire the atmosphere. He only wished it was under better circumstances.
Zhongli entered the Angel’s Share, one of the taverns pointed out to him earlier. The tavern was crowded, and he noticed the bartender had bright red hair. He walked up to the bar table.
“Have you seen a bard with teal-tipped twin braids recently? Perhaps in green clothing?” Zhongli asked hesitantly.
The bartender pressed his lips into a thin line. “What do you want with him?”
“Well, he’s an old friend of mine, and—”
“Ehhh, old blockhead, what are you doing here?” A familiar voice sounded out from behind Zhongli.
Zhongli took a moment to discern whether or not he was hallucinating, before turning around. Surely it wasn’t—
But it was. Standing before him with the same familiar smirk, was Barbatos. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Although, normally, the devil wasn’t supposed to be dead.
“I— you’re—” Zhongli struggled to find the right words. “Bar—“
Barbatos shoved a hand over his mouth. “Shh, it’s Venti now. Let’s go somewhere else.”
Zhongli was still in complete shock, and instinctively grabbed Venti’s wrist, feeling for a pulse. Sure enough, there it was. The same pulse it had been when Zhongli felt it through the gnosis, only this time it was on his fingertips, not in his chest.
Barbatos was alive. Alive.
Venti had dragged Zhongli to a secluded spot in the tavern, and was looking at him with a puzzled look.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, old man. You’re grabbing my wrist a little tightly there. Are you trying to break my arm?” Venti said jokingly.
Zhongli let go in an instant, jerking his hands away.
“No, it’s ok— I, what’s the matter? Why’d you come all the way to Mondstadt? You… you never visit,” Venti’s tone was light, but he looked disappointed as he said the last sentence.
There was a long silence that seemed to stretch out. Neither god spoke for a tense moment.
Then Zhongli finally opened his mouth. “You’re alive.”
“Yes, yes I am?” Venti looked at him in even more confusion.
“I thought you were dead,” Zhongli choked out. “I thought I was alone.”
“Huh? Why..?”
Zhongli wordlessly pointed to Venti’s chest, then his own. Venti’s mouth opened to form an oh as he put the pieces together.
“Oh, you stupid old buffoon… it was the eight Fatui harbinger, she took my gnosis. Granted, I let her, but still…” Venti trailed off. “I’m sorry. I forgot about that part, I should’ve sent you a message. Celestia, that must’ve been terrible.”
“No, it wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Zhongli immediately interjected, shaking his head.
Both archons fell into a silence again, but there was no tension between them.
Zhongli broke it first. “I missed you.”
Venti smiled, “I missed you too.”
Venti reached out his arms around the other archon, pulling him into a hug. Zhongli hesitantly returned the embrace.
Neither was alone, and neither would be alone.