The warm glow of the Dawn Winery enveloped us, a comforting embrace that felt like a balm after the relentless tension of the mission. The dim, amber light bounced off the deep, polished wood of the large oak table, casting long shadows and bringing a serene stillness to the room.
It felt surreal to be sitting here, no longer on edge, finally able to relax. The air was thick with the scent of aged wine and oak—a fragrance that seemed to welcome us back to safety.
We gathered around the table, letting the calm seep in. In the center of the table lay the Holy Lyre, its golden strings and polished wood gleaming in the soft light. Jean's fingers hovered over it, reverent and cautious, as though she might disturb its power with a mere touch. Her expression was a mixture of relief and steadfast resolve, a quiet strength that reminded me of why she led Mondstadt so well.
She looked up, her gaze sweeping over each of us, taking in our worn faces. "Well," she began softly, her voice clear but gentle. "We did it. The Lyre is safe, thanks to all of you. Mondstadt is that much closer to peace."
Aether nodded, his eyes trained on the Lyre as if its mere presence offered assurance. "Now we just need to help Dvalin."
Venti, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, leaned forward then, a rare solemnity softening his usual playful air. He rested his hand on the Lyre, letting his fingers trail lightly over the strings without plucking them. Like he was touching an object familiar to him.
"Dvalin... The Holy Lyre does indeed hold great power, but…" He tapped a finger on its surface thoughtfully. "It's far from its full strength. To heal Dvalin, we'll need to give the Lyre a little… recharge. Something to amplify its resonance, to purify and reach him."
I raised an eyebrow, intrigued but slightly confused. "Recharge? And just how do you go about recharging a holy relic?"
Venti's familiar grin resurfaced, though softer this time. "Ah, my friend, it's not like charging up a Vision or sharpening a sword. The Holy Lyre draws on something deeper—the harmony between our world and the winds, between the pain and peace within a dragon's heart."
He glanced around the table, "To restore it, we need Dvalin's corrupted tears. Purified and infused into the Lyre. Think of it as… retuning the soul of an instrument, bringing it back in harmony with itself."
Jean listened intently, her gaze unwavering as she processed his words. "Dvalin's tears. The one's Aether had his hands on?" she asked, her voice steady, though her eyes held a flicker of worry.
Venti nodded, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Yes. Tears shed from a spirit burdened by pain carry their own kind of power. That power is mixed with sorrow, a weight we can purify. And when purified, it strengthens the Lyre, allowing it to restore what was lost."
A heavy silence settled over us as the weight of Venti's words sank in. There was something humbling about it, the idea of taking something born from Dvalin's suffering and using it to heal him.
Without a word, Venti reached into his pocket, bringing out a small crystal that shimmered with a cool, otherworldly light. The tear glistened in his hand, catching the light and refracting it into shades of blue and silver. "Here's one to get us started, the one you purified last time" he said softly, placing the tear onto the Lyre.
Then, Aether stepped forward, putting his hand out and manifesting another tear he'd kept. Its light was just as beautiful, cool and pure, and he placed it beside Venti's, giving him a small, steady nod. "I kept it just in case. Figured it might come in handy."
Venti's face broke into a wide smile, one filled with genuine warmth and gratitude. "Thank you." he said, his tone sincere, and he placed his hand over both tears, closing his eyes.
Slowly, the tears began to glow brighter, their light intertwining and blending as if the energies within them were merging. A quiet hum filled the air, a soft, harmonic resonance that grew richer, deeper, filling the room like the faint echo of a song. The Lyre seemed to respond, its surface glowing as it absorbed the purified energy. The light pulsed gently, and for a moment, it felt like the Lyre itself was alive, breathing in the energy.
As I watched, I felt a strange warmth settle over me, a gentle reassurance that I couldn't quite explain. Even Jean and Diluc, both of whom usually kept their emotions under control, looked moved. Diluc's usual hardened expression softened as he stared at the Lyre, and Jean's lips curved in the faintest smile, her eyes gleaming with something like hope.
When the light faded, Venti let out a contented sigh, resting his hand on the Lyre as if comforting an old friend. "That should do for now. We'll need more tears before the Lyre is fully restored, but it's on its way."
Aether nodded, his expression thoughtful, yet determined. "Then we're one step closer to helping Dvalin. We'll need to find the other tears soon."
Diluc crossed his arms, his gaze never leaving the Lyre. "We should remain cautious," he said, his voice low but firm. "The Fatui won't back down easily, and the Abyss Order may already be watching. This won't be our last encounter with them."
Jean placed a reassuring hand on his arm, her voice calm yet resolute. "We'll take every precaution, Diluc. But for tonight, we rest. We're no good to Mondstadt if we're exhausted. And you more than anyone understand the importance of strength for the fight ahead."
Diluc hesitated, his gaze flickering to Jean before he nodded curtly. "Understood," he murmured, though there was a subtle gentleness in his tone, as if her words had settled something within him. He gestured to one of the maids waiting by the doorway, signaling the end of our meeting. "I'll have rooms prepared for each of you. Take the time to recharge. Tomorrow, we'll plan our next move."
Paimon, who had been silent up until now, finally let out a sigh of relief, her tiny fists pumping into the air. "Finally, a chance to relax! Paimon could sleep for a week after all that running around!"
Venti chuckled, casting her an amused look, his earlier intensity melting back into his usual lightheartedness. "A week, you say? Perhaps I should join you in that long nap. Who doesn't love a bit of rest?"
Paimon shot him a skeptical look. "Uh, aren't you the one who almost always looks like he's napping?"
Venti winked, tapping the side of his nose. "Ah, but there's an art to a good nap. And I am, after all, a master of all things leisurely."
---
The maid led us down a quiet hallway, each of us peeling off into separate rooms to rest. I felt the cool air of my room settle around me as I stepped inside, my shoulders weighed down by everything we'd gone through. The room was simple but comfortable, with warm wood accents and deep red curtains that gave it a cozy, almost nostalgic feel.
I sat on the edge of the bed, letting the silence sink in. For the first time in hours, everything was still, no rushing footsteps or murmuring guards around every corner. Just calm.
Now I can finally rest. It's so weird, I'm not physically exhausted but my body feels so jiggly.
But as I lay back, my mind decided to drag me through every moment of the mission. Every close call, every strike of the blade, and the dull, empty gazes of those agents. I squeezed my eyes shut, but their faces were there in the darkness too, staring back at me.
They were enemies, I reminded myself, my jaw clenched. They'd have killed us without a second thought. But that logic felt shallow, like it barely scraped the surface of what I was feeling. How were the others able to brush it off so easily? Why was I still lying here, wide awake, with images of those bodies burned into my mind?
I tossed and turned, hoping sleep would finally come. But the memories clung on stubbornly, growing sharper until I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples. Get out of my head! I wanna sleep!
Yeah no, I need... I need some fresh air.
I got up and slipped out of my room, letting the faint glow of moonlight guide me down the hall and out onto the winery grounds. The crisp night air greeted me, cool against my skin, and I took a deep breath, hoping it would quiet my mind. I wandered over to a patch of grass just beyond the vineyard, lying down with my arms crossed behind my head, staring up at the vast, star-dotted sky.
Out here, the tension of the mission seemed a little further away, but I still couldn't shake the images, or the hollow feeling in my chest. I'd trained, I'd fought, I'd done what I had to do. So why couldn't I just let it go? A part of me wanted to brush it off, to tell myself it was just one mission, but… what if this feeling only got worse?
A breeze stirred the air around me, and when I opened my eyes, Venti was standing nearby, hands behind his back, looking down at me with a faint smile. His gaze held that familiar spark of mischief, but tonight, there was something softer.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his tone gentle, but somehow it felt like he already knew why I was out here.
I shrugged, looking back at the stars. "Guess I'm just not tired, I don't exactly need to sleep. It's just.. something to pass the time." I muttered, trying to keep my voice casual, though I was sure it didn't sound convincing. The silence stretched for a moment, and I could feel his gaze, unwavering, like he was reading right through me.
Venti sat down beside me, crossing his legs as he looked up at the sky. "Restlessness is pretty funny." he murmured, his tone thoughtful. "It usually isn't restlessness at all, just grief or guilt trying to get your attention."
The words hit harder than I'd expected, but I forced a chuckle. "I'm not… grieving. It's not like they were my friends. They were just… the enemy." But even as I said it, the words felt hollow.
Venti tilted his head, watching me closely. "If that were true, you'd be sleeping soundly right now." His voice softened, a note of sadness slipping into his tone. "You're not here because they were your enemies, Tayden. You're here because they were people."
I sighed, letting my hand fall onto the grass as I looked up at the sky. "I just keep seeing them. The way they fell, the look in their eyes. I know it had to be done, but it still doesn't feel right."
I knew that their actions would cause so much suffering for Mondstadt, but they were soldiers. They probably had families waiting for them back home. Mothers with freshly cooked meals, waiting for their child to come home.
Maybe even children, who are sleeping and waiting to show their dad a picture they drew of them. What faces will they make when they hear that their dad is gone? How will they deal with the loss of a parent? How will families grieve over a loved one?
I let my body rest on the ground beneath, "I always thought that... killing an enemy, someone bad, someone evil would be straightforward. That it would be easy since id be killing to protect others. And It was easy when I killed Abyss mages and heralds, but this time it was people. They weren't evil, maybe bad but.. I don't know. It just doesn't sit right with me."
Venti watched me for a long moment, just sitting next to me. It was a while before he spoke again "I understand," he said softly. "The weight of taking a life is something that never truly goes away. It's a burden that lingers, even for those who've had to bear it more than once."
I looked over at him, surprised to see the usual light in his eyes had faded, he didn't look sad more like, he was reminising. He was silent for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, staring into the night sky before spoke again.
"Death is often… unavoidable, Tayden. Sometimes, there's no path that doesn't require it. But here's the thing: the fact that it bothers you, that you're even out here thinking about it—that's what keeps you human. Once you lose that feeling, you lose something precious."
His words settled over me like a weight, each one hitting somewhere deep. I never thought a talk like this would be able to shake me this much.
"Does it get easier?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Or does it just keep piling up?"
Venti's expression softened, and he looked back up at the stars. "Easier? No, not really. But you do learn to carry it, to let it shape you rather than drag you down." He shifted slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "When we care deeply about others, the choices we make can often be painful. Sometimes, the freedom to protect those we care for means choosing the path with the highest cost."
His words lingered in the air, and I felt the tightness in my chest ease, just a little. "But how am I supposed to just… accept it?"
Venti turned to me, his gaze firm but gentle. "You don't have to accept it all at once. You carry it, bit by bit, and let it teach you." He looked down at the grass, his voice taking on a reflective tone. "True strength, Tayden, isn't about being immune to pain or regret. It's about acknowledging it, even grieving it, but not letting it consume you."
He reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder, his touch light but grounding. "Remember this feeling, this conflict. Let it remind you to seek another way whenever you can. But if the time comes when death is unavoidable… let yourself grieve, but don't let grief be the end. That's the weight of freedom, but it's also what makes it worth carrying."
I looked at him, his words sinking in slowly, like the weight of them was too vast to grasp all at once. There was a depth in his gaze that felt ancient, like he'd lived through more than I could ever imagine and was offering me a glimpse of that understanding.
"It's strange, though," I said quietly. "Everyone else seems to brush it off, like it's just another mission. But for me, it feels… heavier."
Venti's eyes softened as he watched me, his expression patient and understanding. "I can tell that you weren't a fighter, warrior, or soldier. You're new to this stuff. But that's what makes you special here, because you care. It's easy to brush things off when you stop caring, but that kind of freedom has a cost of its own. I've seen it happen to others who lost themselves because they refused to feel."
The night breeze picked up again, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers, and Venti's gaze drifted back to the stars. "As the God of Freedom, I can tell you this: freedom isn't about being unrestrained or casting off every burden. Real freedom is having the courage to choose what you'll carry, accepting it's consequences, and allowing it to shape you without breaking you."
I took a deep breath, letting his words settle. Looks like I needed to let this out more then I thought. We lay there in silence for a while, his words working their way into my mind, easing the heavy knot that had lodged itself in my chest. After a moment, Venti chuckled softly, breaking the quiet.
"You know," he said, "you remind me of a friend I once knew. A warrior who bore the same weight on his shoulders, always questioning, always striving for something more than just victory."
I glanced at him, curious. "What happened to him?"
Venti's gaze softened, and he looked back up at the stars, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "He kept his compassion close, and even in battle, he never lost his kindness. He became a true hero because he never stopped feeling. And because of that, he was able to protect those he loved with all the strength he had."
The words hung in the air, carrying a wisdom that felt both familiar and distant, like something I'd known but forgotten. I let out a slow breath, feeling the tension slowly ease away and my mind getting clearer.
"Thanks, Venti," I murmured, my voice steady. "I think I understand a little better now."
He smiled, his usual playful expression returning as he stretched his arms over his head. "Good! You're carrying enough weight for one night." He stood, giving me a reassuring smile as he looked down at me. "But for now, get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to need every ounce of that strength."
With a final, lingering look, he turned and drifted off into the shadows, the faint scent of wildflowers lingering in the air where he'd stood. I lay back on the grass, feeling a new sense of peace settle over me, the heavy images of the mission starting to soften at the edges.
Tomorrow, I'd face whatever lay ahead. And this time, I'd face it with a little more of myself intact.