Archive of Our Own

In the quiet, misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red

The Nilotpala lotus earned the moniker Lunar Lotus for the way it blooms at night, and only at night. 

And even then it doesn’t always bloom, Tighnari muses as he makes his way down the Chinvat Ravine, walking along the banks of its river. The moon is obscured by too many clouds for the light to reach the bottom of his patrol route, and as a consequence, none of the flowers are open tonight. 

He sighs. A shame, really. The lotuses have always been a highlight of his nightly patrol route… but he cannot, for all his talents as a Forest Watcher, make flowers bloom before they wish. 

It’s a quiet night, all in all. The frogs’ croaks are still as annoying as ever, but it can’t be helped. Either way, Tighnari is learning to realize that noise can be soothing, even if it does grate on his ears. And the fact that there is croaking at all means that life goes on as it should, with no withering to disrupt it. 

So, by his standards, a quiet night - for which he is thankful. 

Walking back to Gandharva Ville is similarly peaceful. There are only the ambient sounds of wildlife and the occasional bouncing mushroom within his hearing, and no fools have decided, tonight, that they would be making an escapade deep into the dangerous forest. So, put together, Tighnari really is in quite the good mood. 

Which is just as well, because his mood immediately sours upon seeing Amir stationed at the lamp post closest to the village’s outskirts, no doubt bringing news. 

He sighs. “Spit it out. Who decided to eat poisonous mushrooms this time?”

To his surprise, Amir lets out a snort. “It’s nothing like that, Tighnari. Actually, the General Mahamatra’s messenger came by earlier and asked me to pass a message to you.”

That gets his attention. “Cyno? Why would he come?”

And it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy Cyno’s company - far from it, in fact. Cyno was one of the few acquaintances from back at the Akademiya that Tighnari could tolerate, if only because he wasn’t trying to drag him around and pose with him like he was some particularly interesting specimen. But no matter what, the General Mahamatra is a high-ranking position among the scholars, and half the time the researchers’ results don’t even warrant a visit from him. 

Curious. 

Amir shares the sentiment as he shrugs. “I don’t exactly know, but it sounded like it was important. Say, Tighnari, have you committed plagiarism recently?”

Tighnari resists the urge to roll his eyes, then fails. “Yes, Amir, I have definitely committed plagiarism on my non-existent research papers.” He replies sarcastically. “I haven’t even talked to the Akademiya in the past three months, and the last occasion was another attempt at getting me back as a researcher. If I had to guess, this wouldn’t be a ‘General Mahamatra’ visit.”

“Whatever suits you, Tighnari.” Amir gives him another one-armed shrug. “Honestly, I’m skeptical. The General Mahamatra probably wouldn’t go out all the way to Gandharva Ville for a mere catchup between friends.”

“There’s no point in wondering. We’ll know by the time morning comes.” Tighnari waves him off - a clear dismissal. “Get some sleep. Looks like we’ll have company tomorrow.”

Amir nods and sends him a wave as he makes his way back to his own lodging. Tighnari does not wait for him to disappear from sight before he turns back to the twilight horizon.

Curious. Very curious indeed.

Tighnari’s first observation of the traveling pair that eventually make it to Gandharva Ville is one of the General Mahamatra- and that is that he’s nervous.

Cyno. Cyno, the unshakeable General of the Akademiya, the one who doles out punishments that any sensible scholar would fear, the one that has fought for his position with tooth and nail - is nervous.

The girl beside him is even more so. 

Tighnari tries his best not to sound long-suffering. Honestly, Cyno should know better than to be uptight around him at this point. “General Mahamatra. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Cyno barely stops himself from rolling his eyes. Tighnari would know - he’s seen him do it on multiple occasions. “Ah, General Watchleader. Just the person I was expecting.”

Hearing the title makes Tighnari’s nose wrinkle. “I thought we were past that.”

The slight tilt of Cyno’s head suggests that he is amused, at least, by their exchange, but the tension has yet to leave his shoulders. “I’m here to make a request, Tighnari. Not as General Mahamatra - as Cyno, your friend.”

Tighnari shoots a glare at Amir, hoping that he can effectively communicate I told you with his eyes alone. “I figured. Spit it out - you know that I don’t care for pleasantries.”

Cyno nods, then gestures beside him.

The girl looks like she only wants to make herself look smaller. 

“This is Collei. She… is in need of classes, and possibly a place to stay.”

That throws Tighnari for a loop. “...What?”

“She wants to become a forest ranger.” Cyno grinds out, although he’s as blunt as ever. “As much as I hate to admit it, it’s the most logical option. You know the amount of politics involved in working with the Akademiya. I don’t want her to get caught up in all of it.”

The general sighs. “It isn’t a light decision to make, however. She doesn’t have the ability to read or write. It’ll be like starting from scratch. I… know that you’re busy, Tighnari. If anything else, I can probably find someone at Vimara Village, pull some strings, but…” Cyno looks him square in the eye. He looks… desperate, almost. “I can’t take care of her. She needs someone that can act as a mentor.”

…Ah.

…This is indeed quite the predicament.

The tirade that Cyno has just gone on keeps Tighnari quiet and contemplative for a few moments, which frankly is impressive in and of itself. As much as Tighnari doesn’t like to admit it, all of Cyno’s points raised are quite unfortunately valid. Being the General Mahamatra doesn’t come without a cost - Tighnari wouldn’t be surprised if he had to deal with assassinations on the regular. Another reason why he chose to stay a Forest Watcher. 

And that’s why Gandharva Ville is the nicest place for Collei. It’s just populated enough to be a way to subtly ease her into Sumeru’s society, and everyone here is tight-knit. There are no complicated alliances and enemies to keep track of, nor anyone who would want to exploit Collei for who she is - a young girl with no knowledge of what’s going on.

But Cyno is right. Tighnari is terribly busy all the time - being a Forest Watcher, too, has its own downsides, and some of them are worse than inconvenient. Taking care of idiots who decide to eat any fungi they see is only one of such problems. 

And yet…

Tighnari looks at the girl - truly looks, for the first time, instead of just seeing her as Cyno’s companion. She’s… small. She’s unhealthily pale, and looks as though she’s malnourished. The air of nervousness and anxiety surrounding her speaks of more than just passive social neglect, and her eyes are still darting back and forth, taking stock of her surroundings.

Taking stock of possible exit routes, Tighnari notes absently. Cyno’s most definitely not wrong - it’ll be more than starting from scratch. This girl has surrounded herself in layers upon layers of protection, shielding something far more vulnerable underneath. It’ll take years to erase those behaviours until they’re not debilitating, and years more to work on her trust issues. 

Tighnari, for all his talents as a Forest Watcher, cannot make flowers bloom before they wish.

But he has, if he can say so himself, always had a talent for coaxing them to do so.

“Your name is Collei, right?”

The girl’s eyes snap to him, startled. For the first time, Tighnari sees the shade of her irises - a brilliant shade of purple. 

He smiles, and it’s more gentle than the ones that most of the others see. “It’s okay if you can’t read or write. We all start with no knowledge - you are no different in this aspect. Why don’t we start with your name?”

The girl hesitates to follow him, to reach out. It’s foreign territory - Tighnari understands the feeling all too well.

But Collei, for all that she is scared, is eager to learn and integrate herself back into society - and she accepts the hand, walks of her own volition into a classroom to begin her journey. 

Relief floods Cyno’s face. “Thank you, Tighnari. Thank you.” He says, almost reverently, like Tighnari has hung the moon and stars and provided light to a desolate night. 

The Forest Watcher huffs. “Don’t mention it. Come visit her sometime - she’ll appreciate the familiar face.” He turns around and begins walking away. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a class to teach.”

The feeling is oddly satisfying.

Tighnari could get used to being a mentor. 

When the summer’s ceased its gleaming
When the corn is past its prime
When adventure’s lost its meaning
I’ll be homeward bound in time

Teaching Collei is easier than Tighnari expected. 

Part of that is undoubtedly because of how much determination there is present in Collei. She’s eager. Tighnari knew that she would be eager, of course, but he underestimated how eager she truly would be. 

Writing does not come naturally to Collei. Tighnari suspects that the Fatui cared little for helping one of their… test subjects… learn basic mannerisms and skills. 

(Hearing the full story from Cyno had been difficult, to say the least. The Snezhnayan organization hadn’t piqued Tighnari’s interest before now, but if he were to find that the Fatui were anywhere present in Avidya Forest… well, they would be lucky to just get a lecture from him.)

“Umm, Master Tighnari?”

Collei’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Right. Collei’s practicing her writing right now.

He glances over at her page. The writing is… questionable, at best, but she’s made commendable progress, considering that she first held a pen two weeks ago. It’s a messy scrawl that Tighnari doubts will ever be neat, but it’s… it’s progress, if a little hard to read.

Even though the page is in full view, Collei rotates it to him as a silent question - to check over how she’s doing. 

Tighnari squints. Teyvatian is, in his humble opinion, a terrible language. The symbols are unnecessarily complicated and many of them are far too similar to each other. But as of right now, there is no linguistic revolution going on, so it’ll do her good to get the hang of it.

She’s getting there. Slowly.

“...Your ‘O’s look a little bit like your ‘N’s.” He eventually relents and dishes out feedback as he would to anyone else. “Remember that the ‘N’s curve on the right only, while the ‘O’s curve both sides.”

“Oh.” The discouragement leaks into her voice for half of that syllable before it is once again replaced with fiery determination. “Okay! Thank you, Master Tighnari!”

“Don’t mention it.” Tighnari turns the page back to her. “Everything gets better with practice. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be enough.”

He can’t lie to her. It won’t ever be perfect - her time with the Fatui has irreversibly scarred her, and nothing will ever be as it was before. 

But it’ll be enough. 

It might be simple to teach Collei, but it soon becomes clear to Tighnari that the real thing she’s interested in is becoming a Forest Ranger. 

She tries to hide it - out of fear, or politeness perhaps. Tighnari genuinely cannot figure it out, but by the archons it is obvious. Every single assignment Tighnari gives her about the herbs and flowers of Avidya Forest, Collei finishes in half the time. Ancient history of Teyvat, though? He’ll be lucky to see her awake in class. 

Not that he blames her. But preliminary knowledge of this world is still quite important to have. 

She has difficulty with tests of any sort, too. Tighnari suspects that she’s still struggling with the Teyvatian alphabet - but one by one, the pieces are falling into place for her, and she’s beginning to bloom. 

(The first time Tighnari offhandedly mentioned an examination, Collei had frozen up. Tighnari did not get to ask what was wrong before she fled with no explanation and locked herself in her room. 

It was only later that Tighnari was told of the examinations of the Fatui.)

But her unwillingness to conform to normal Sumeru standards aside, her normally bright attitude for all things related to Avidya Forest is why he finds it extremely strange when she first fails an assignment.

To some extent, he’d seen this coming. Collei has insisted on an accelerated form of learning that Tighnari thinks the average child would find horrifyingly daunting, even one of a respected scholar’s family. It’s not unusual for Collei to be overwhelmed.

What is unusual, however, is that this is her first medicine-making assignment, and Collei has been pestering Tighnari to let her try for months.

Tighnari carefully wafts the smell of the concoction. It looks… purple. Very dark purple. The sounds of bubbling are still reaching his ears, and when the smell hits, Tighnari has to resist scrunching up his face. Sweetwater mushroom relaxant is not supposed to smell like that. It’s not supposed to look dark purple either, for that matter. 

Collei looks incredibly nervous in front of him, fidgeting with her scarf. Tighnari frowns at that. It’ll get colder in the coming weeks. She should tell him if she needs more clothing to keep warm. 

Evidently, though, his mentee interprets his frown as something more severe than it actually is, and Collei wilts even further. “I- I swear I tried, Master Tighnari, it’s just that… it-” she hangs her head, fumbling with her words. 

The Forest Watcher forces himself to relax his expression and resists the urge to sigh. “Collei, you’ve been asking after this assignment for a very long time. I wouldn’t have given it to you if I didn’t think you were capable.”

Collei’s expression crumples even further. 

Okay, wrong approach. Time to try something else. 

Tighnari sets down the flask, mixture still bubbling, and consciously gentles his voice as much as he can manage. “Is there something you need to tell me, Collei?”

The trainee shifts from foot to foot. It’s a yes, then. An answer that she won’t admit, even if her body is doing it for her. 

“Collei.”

“...it’s not important.”

Tighnari raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s definitely important, if it’s hindering your ability to learn.”

“...it’s not something you should need to worry about.”

“What did we say about weaknesses?”

Collei avoids his gaze. “That they aren’t what defines a person.”

“You need to tell me when you need help, Collei.” Tighnari admonishes, not unkindly. It’s a hard lesson to learn, and he knows that he himself had a particularly difficult time with it, too. “I can’t teach you efficiently if you aren’t open about your limitations. They aren’t anything to be ashamed of.”

She fidgets some more. It’s clear to him that she’s giving it thought, and really, for a single conversation, that’s all he can hope for.

Tighnari decides to let it go, at least for now. “I’ll give you one more week. Figure out what went wrong with your relaxant this time.” He taps the glass of the flask. He'll have to dispose of it properly later - it probably qualifies as a biohazard.  “We’ll revisit this later.”

Collei approaches him on the second day after that.

“I have Eleazar.” She admits. 

From where Tighnari had been penning a letter to the Akademiya, he freezes, letting the ink bleed into the paper for seconds too long. He’ll be annoyed at himself later, for making himself rewrite a letter he really wishes he didn’t have to write at all, but right now, his mind is blank with shock. 

“It’s…” Collei clears her throat, then starts again. “It’s not that bad, really… but-”

“Not that bad? Not that bad?” Abruptly, Tighnari comes back to himself, and the words of worry-sadness-anger spill out of him like acid from his lips. “That’s- Collei, Eleazar is terminal!”  

“I know.”

The way she says it so matter-of-factly is what nearly sends Tighnari on another tirade right then and there. He opens his mouth, ready to tell her exactly how illogical the concept of hiding your own pain is, especially to those close to you-

But he stops.

If he tells her that now, maybe he’ll just end up pushing her away even further. 

Tighnari forces himself to calm down. She isn’t Cyno. She doesn’t bounce back from Tighnari’s tough love as easily as someone who has known him for far more years. Different approaches.

He takes a deep breath. Different approaches.

“…Thank you for telling me. I’ll find a way to help with your shaky hands.”

Collei nods mutely, though the relief is obvious in her expression. Relief, perhaps, at not needing to say verbally exactly why she added too much lotus reagent to countless attempts at medicine.

Something within Tighnari twists at the thought, and he waves Collei away, a clear dismissal, before it can show on his face.

He waits until she’s beyond sight, after she hesitates at his door and turns back just to look at him for a couple of seconds, to stand up from his desk and rummage through his bookshelves.

Eleazar. Every Sumeru scholar is familiar with the disease… and yet there is still no cure for such an affliction.

Well, Tighnari thinks, brushing off dust and flipping through worn old pages, that has never stopped me, has it?

Bind me not, to the pasture
Chain me not, to the plow
Oh, set me free, to find my calling
And I’ll return to you somehow

“When can I start patrolling?”

“When you’re ready.”

“But you never say I’m ready, Master…” Collei whines. She’s acting like a child. 

(Tighnari wishes that she would act like a child more often.)

“Avidya Forest has been getting more dangerous of late.” He says instead, by the way of an answer. His pen scratches against Collei’s most recent homework - she still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of writing, but it’s getting better. “There’s no telling what might happen at any time, and no telling when you’ll run into a Withering Zone. You don’t have a way to defend yourself right now.”

“I mean…”

Tighnari glares. “No. You don’t even know how to undo the seal Cyno put on you - and even if you did, it would be fatal. No use.”

Collei pouts. To her credit, she doesn’t shrink away - she hasn’t been shrinking away a lot recently, and somehow, that fills Tighnari with just the tiniest bit of pride. “I just don’t want to feel… feel useless, all the time.”

That gives the Forest Watcher pause. There’s no doubt that Collei has developed some sort of complex over being helped so often in the past year alone. She’s itching to do something hands-on, and between her condition and being confined to the village, she hasn’t been doing much to help Gandharva. 

Tighnari understands the feeling, somewhat. It’s exactly what made him leave the Akademiya for Avidya Forest, after all. But still… he can’t in good conscience allow Collei to tend to injured patients if she can’t be steady, and he can’t send her off into the unknown depths of the wilderness if she has no way to protect herself.

He hums, marking another question wrong and musing in thought. The first thing is not something they can remedy realistically, at least not for the foreseeable future. But the second…

Collei reaches the conclusion at the same time that he does, and her eyes light up when she does. Even despite all the red markings on her homework, clearly visible to her, she sits up straighter. “What if you taught me? I’m- I’m sure I can steady my hands enough to hold a bow, Master Tighnari, and it’ll help me- it’ll help me get stronger, right? I’ll be able to defend myself, and I’ll be able to go on patrols!”

She’s right. It’s the most logical option, moving forward. Archons know that Collei isn’t going to stay put. At least this way, it’ll give her something concrete to focus on, enough so that she won’t find opportunities to sneak out until she can hold her own against a group of rogue fungi. 

Tighnari finishes marking, then hands her homework back to her. “Wednesdays. I’ll grab a starter bow and some practice arrows. Meet me here.”

The smile that blooms across Collei’s face is radiant. 

Cyno is there for Collei’s first archery lesson. 

Well, it’s not a meeting that Tighnari plans. But because of Cyno’s duties as General Mahamatra, all of his visits are more of something that happens spontaneously rather than on a fixed schedule. So needless to say, his sudden appearance comes as a surprise to Tighnari. 

As with all other meetings, Tighnari hears him far before he actually arrives. He hears everything - every footfall within the borders of Gandharva Ville, every heartbeat of his neighbours and every pitter of the rain when it decides to curse Tighnari with its presence. Cyno’s footsteps are measured and quiet, even to Tighnari’s ears, but it doesn’t escape him nonetheless.

And what also doesn’t escape him is the fact that Collei herself is very, very nervous when it comes to being around Cyno, and this is her first time holding a bow.

With any luck, though, Cyno will take the hint and make himself scarce. And as Tighnari wraps his hands around Collei’s arms, correcting her stance and pointing the weapon towards the painted wooden targets, that’s exactly what he hears him do: walk up, pause at the outskirts, and move slightly back, only barely rustling the leaves around him. 

Tighnari has to suppress a smile. To others, Cyno is possibly the least considerate person around, cutting research short as he sees fit. But small moments like these make Tighnari glad that he has him as a friend. 

“Steady, now.” He murmurs to his student, and watches her nod resolutely as Tighnari removes his hands, leaving Collei to stand on her own. 

The bow looks awkward in her hands. Her fingers grip the arrow too tightly, and she’s not quite pulled back far enough to hit the target. 

He’s right. The arrow flies, but it flies short. Collei’s expression falls along with it. 

Tighnari chuckles softly. “It’s normal, for a first try. You need more force to kill than you likely think you do.”

Collei frowns a little, but she picks up her next arrow anyway. “I don’t want to kill.”

“And sometimes, the choice will be between putting the arrow through the head of a wild Sumpter Beast or letting an adventurer die.” Tighnari reminds her, gentle as he can. The first lessons are always hard. He can’t afford to be as biting as he usually is - and even with his added caution, Collei still looks conflicted. 

“But…”

“Of course, we’re always trying to protect life.” Tighnari gestures to the trees around them, teeming with vitality in the form of birds, frogs, flowers, leaves, and even Rishboland Tigers, far off in the distance. “However, you must understand that sometimes, there isn’t a choice. If it’s one for many, then perhaps it’s the right decision to make.”

Tighnari takes out his own bow, prompting Collei to raise hers again as she watches at him, eyes wide. “There’s an ancient Liyuean proverb I’m particularly fond of. ‘If you aim at nothing, you will hit nothing.’”

His right hand grasps an arrow, and he hooks it onto the bowstring and draws back. “If you don’t have the focus and determination for something, you’ll never achieve it. But once you have the target in your heart…”

The arrow flies, and hits true, dead in the center. 

“...you’ll find that it will be right in your sights.”

Collei’s eyes travel with the arrow to the bullseye. She turns back, abruptly, to stare at Tighnari, as if he has spontaneously grown an impossible flower from an impossible seed. 

He’s seen that look before. On Cyno’s face, as he met with his old friend Taj again. On Lisa’s face, in her first meetings with Cyrus. Even mirrored on his own, when he’d listened to his father regale him with tales of desertfolk and Valuka Shuna. 

The implications of it are heavy.

Tighnari brushes it aside for now. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on.”

His words seem to snap Collei out of her stupor, and she nods, turning back to her bow, arrows and targets with renewed vigor. Tighnari turns away and still hears the telltale twang of archery, even as he approaches the bushes where Cyno is hidden.

The Matra himself makes no further effort to hide himself. “You knew I was here, didn’t you?”

“Of course. Your footsteps give you away.”

Cyno huffs. “Guess I’ll have to up my pace in my stealth training, then.”

Tighnari hopes that his expression can accurately depict his exasperation. His friend laughs - at Tighnari’s consternation or his own joke, he’ll never know.

“My very funny jokes aside…” Cyno’s expression allows a rare smile, one that the general body of the Akademiya is convinced doesn’t exist. “It suits you. Teaching. I always knew you’d make a wonderful mentor.”

Tighnari rolls his eyes. “You always said that. I still don’t know if you’re right, though.”

Somehow, a rare sliver of vulnerability and genuine doubt seeps into the second sentence. Is he enough? Can he be, as a pillar of support for someone who has been as scarred as Collei has? What if he’s wrong? What if he’s leading her down the wrong path and hurting her more and she’ll-

Cyno snaps his fingers near his head. Instinctively, Tighnari’s ears twitch violently and he muffles a yelp, covering them. “Cyno!”

“You were spiralling.” His friend tells him, matter-of-fact, and Tighnari kind of wants to punch him, except Cyno has just helped him out of the dark spiral of thinking and he’s really quite grateful. 

The Matra grins. “I just felt obligated to snap you out of it.”

Nevermind. Tighnari definitely wants to punch him, and that’s exactly what he does, right in line with the next thwack of an arrow embedding itself into wood.

“She’s growing,” Cyno tells him later. “I meant it, you know. You’re doing a great job nurturing her.”

“I certainly hope so.” Tighnari’s tail twitches in contemplation as they stare up at the stars, like they do every evening before Cyno needs to leave again, for the desert or for Sumeru City. “I don’t want to lead her astray.”

“You won’t,” Cyno says, and he sounds so confident that Tighnari almost believes him. “She’ll bloom just like those lotuses in the river there. Trust me.”

The Forest Watcher takes a moment to take it in - the sounds of croaking frogs and bouncing fungi, the smell of desert and staff varnish right beside him and water and dew in the air, and the sight of a sprawling starry sky, an ocean of pinpricks of light, twinkling softly in the night.

“I trust you,” he says easily. 

(It’s three words. Only three. They’ve never really needed too many words to fill the space between them, after all.)

The rain is pounding in his ears.

For the first time, Tighnari can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart. 

He was stupid. So, so stupid. He’d smelled the rain in the air, the atmosphere pulsing with the power of hydro and electro and ignored it, told Amir that he was in charge while he went to Sumeru City for a stupid meeting. 

A meeting. He’d let a meeting get in the way between him and his greatest duty - between protecting Collei.

Collei had only just started patrolling for a couple of months. She is decent with a bow, but yet still nowhere near the rest of the rangers and Tighnari himself, and she still has too big of a heart for those around her. Of course she’d help that woman find her daughter. 

Of course she’d run off. 

The rain has only just let up. The mud squishes under Tighnari’s boots, and his heart seizes so much he nearly stumbles when he spots the first beast carcass.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t have the time to. But more and more bodies like that appear, telltale signs of withering on their bodies, and all Tighnari can think is Collei does not have the power to do this.

Not unless she’d somehow, against all odds, figured out the seal and unleashed it.

(Not unless she’s dead.)

Heart in his throat, Tighnari runs even faster, his feet only making the barest of contacts with the ground before leaping off again. They said that she’d been in the forest, that she’d wandered off far, far away to find the child, she hasn’t been back in days, what if she’s hurt what if she’s dead-

Tighnari bursts into the clearing, and the first thing he notices is this: the missing child is sleeping, peacefully, against Collei’s shoulder. 

The second thing is that Collei looks tired. So very tired. 

“Collei. Collei, wake up.”

He shakes her awake, none too gently, and Collei jerks. That alone fills Tighnari with unmistakable relief - and she doesn’t look hurt, not really, but hell if that’s going to be the first time she’s hid an injury from him, and- “Did you- did you-”

Collei presses a finger to her lips, nodding towards the girl still on her shoulder, still fast asleep. She shakes her head.

The third thing he notices is that she’s smiling. 

“I didn’t, Master. Master, I- look! Look, I’ve gotten stronger, just like I said I would.”

The fourth thing he notices is that her left hand is clenched around an object. 

When Collei unfurls her hand, like the petals of a flower opening itself up to the world, a dendro vision identical to his own shines in the palm of her hand. 

If you find it’s me you’re missing
If you’re hoping I’ll return
To your thoughts I’ll soon be list’ning
In the road, I’ll stop and turn

Collei learns to write letters, eventually.

She still gets some from her friend in Mondstadt - Amber, if Tighnari remembers correctly. There are always small trinkets accompanying the letter - sometimes a recipe, sometimes, a little knitted doll, and on rare occasions, an ornament that Collei will never fail to clip onto her belt. The day Amber writes back after Collei excitedly tells her (through Tighnari’s hand) about getting a vision, there’s a feather that clips easily onto the bottom of her orb. 

It’s Collei’s favourite gift yet. 

Months pass, then years. Collei has become more open than ever, and Tighnari’s proud of her for it. 

(The feeling of pride is no longer foreign to the young Forest Watcher. He’s fully embraced his role, at this point, of mentorship - and on some days it is still daunting, but he’s learning. He’s getting there.)

And through all the time spent, the smallest moments stand out the most, somehow. Her first bullseye will always be a dear memory in Tighnari’s heart, and he will always treasure the day she got her vision, as stressful as it was. But still.

When someone mentions Collei, he thinks instead of her chatter in the kitchen, her bounciness in her steps, her sparkling eyes in the wilderness. She’s a girl so full of life and energy.

She also still dreams.

Well, granted, they’re not always very good dreams. In fact, more often than not, Tighnari is woken to the sounds of a muted scream and muffled crying, brought on by terrors that Tighnari can only begin to understand. 

There are some demons that haunt her, and they’re demons that Tighnari can’t easily chase away.

He knows that Collei hates feeling weak. Her nights, at least, should be a bit of privacy that she’s entitled to. But Tighnari has always been a little bit nosy, after all.

So sometimes, when the quiet gasps and hiccups don’t stop, Tighnari knocks on her door with a steaming cup of herbal tea and a silent offer to catch some fresh air. Sometimes, Tighnari bundles her up in warm clothing and leads her outdoors and turns her head up to the sprawling, starry sky. Sometimes, Tighnari points at little patterns, splashes of astral art, and tells her the stories behind the constellations.

Sometimes, to make her laugh, Tighnari makes up his own patterns and gives them stories of joy, happiness, family and victory.

(Here’s a secret: Tighnari shares the stars only with those he loves the most. It used to be just Cyno, just the only person who didn’t look down on him for choosing the forest over the so-called glorious calling of an Akademiya scholar.

Now, the list has doubled.)

And sometimes, surrounded by whispers of stardust and fracturing skies, glassy fragile petals and sparkling eyes, Tighnari wonders what it’s like to dream.

(Isn’t curiosity a wonderful thing?)

And so, one starry evening, he asks:

“What is it like to dream?”

Collei startles, stiffens. Their nights are often silent, unless she wants a distraction - and even then Tighnari doesn’t prompt, doesn’t push - just lets her sit quietly, drinking tea made with flowers and love and listening to him talk and talk and talk. He’s never asked a question before. 

But Tighnari is curious. So very curious.

He backtracks a little. “I don’t mean your nightmares. You have good dreams, right? Or at least dreams that aren’t bad. What are they like?”

Collei purses her lips, as if in thought.

(The frogs croak softly in the night.)

“They’re… ordinary, I guess. A little bit nonsensical.” Collei shrugs. “I don’t know, they’re not very memorable. I don’t remember them very well.”

“Hmm.”

The description leaves Tighnari musing, for a while. He doesn’t really know what it’s like, to dream. He hasn’t dreamt for as long as he could remember.

There’s no place in Sumeru for irrationality, after all.

“I think I’d like to dream, for once.”

Collei turns, ever so slightly, with a puzzled expression on her face. “Do you not dream, Master?”

His smile is bittersweet, somehow. “No one in Sumeru dreams, Collei.”

Later, Cyno sits exactly where he and Collei sat only hours prior, and he frowns when Tighnari confesses everything to him. Collei’s nightmares. Collei’s dreams. 

And somehow, his own wishes. 

He doesn’t know what else he’d expect from his oldest, longtime friend, but some part of him is still relieved when Cyno doesn’t mock him, doesn’t show disdain for his fantastical thinking. 

Instead, all he says is, “Don’t let Collei wear an Akasha terminal.”

Like most things with Cyno when he gets serious, that throws Tighnari for a loop. “...Why?”

Cyno looks away, his mess of white hair obscuring his burning, ruby eyes. “I can’t say anything, but… I have my suspicions.”

Somehow, that alone sends a chill down Tighnari’s spine. “Cyno… does the Akasha do more than just supply us with information?”

The General Mahamatra says nothing, which is enough of an answer in and of itself. 

Tighnari doesn’t wear his Akasha after that.

(He doesn’t let Collei wear one, either.)

One evening, Tighnari is out alone in the night when Collei approaches him. 

He didn’t hear her wake from a nightmare. But his ears perk up nonetheless, still on alert, because rarely does Collei ever seek him out in the middle of the night. 

The Nilotpala lotuses aren’t blooming. It’s a shame. The pounding rain only minutes ago obscured the moonlight, and he hasn’t been able to sleep, still wired from hours of hearing nothing but the pitter patter of droplets hitting windows like drums and the crack of thunder like divine punishment. 

Collei sits down beside him. “I… had a dream, Master Tighnari.”

Tighnari hums in acknowledgement. Her voice is soft. Quiet. He can’t help but appreciate it.

“...I was wondering if you’d like to hear about it.”

Impossibly, his lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “I would.”

It’s the first time Collei talks to him through the night instead of the other way around. 

He doesn’t mind. 

(Somewhere, far off in the desert, a Scribe and a Matra meet in the sands.

They are equally wary of each other. They have been, possibly for decades. Neither of them have ever tried to change that opinion. 

But it’s Al-Haitham that speaks first. “I recently came across a peculiar girl. She isn’t recorded in the Akasha.”

Cyno grips his polearm even tighter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a good liar, General Mahamatra.” Al-Haitham concedes. His own sword is held at the side, at the ready, but Cyno can’t help but notice that his stance has no intention of attacking. “Unfortunately for you, I have the investigation skills to see past it.”

“If you do anything-” Cyno begins, a threat at the tip of his tongue, but Al-Haitham only lets out a chuckle.

He doesn’t like the sound. 

“Relax. I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s just that, well.” His eyes flash with something indecipherable. “I have a habit of keeping track of… extraordinary individuals in Sumeru. That hidden power of hers, the archon residue, is powerful stuff, you know.”

Cyno says nothing. He doesn’t want to give anything away, even though he suspects that the cat has long escaped the bag.

“But no matter.” Al-Haitham sheathes his sword, even though Cyno makes no move to do the same. “Think of it as a… precautionary measure.”

He still keeps his weapon out, even after the Scribe has turned his back to him, has left the desert and has gone out of hearing range, out of sight. 

Something tells Cyno that his caution, this time, is born of more than just habit.)

Then the wind will set me racing
As my journey nears its end
And the path I’ll be retracing
When I’m homeward bound again

“Something is stirring in Sumeru.”

Tighnari raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I don’t know what it is.” Cyno pauses. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“Of course you don’t.” Tighnari makes a big show of considering which card to play, even though he knows that he’ll never beat Cyno in Genius Invokation TCG. 

(The name’s a little bit of a mouthful - not that Tighnari would ever admit that. Better for him to not test their friendship by insulting Cyno’s favourite game, probably ever.)

Cyno rolls his eyes, plays a card and easily decimates Tighnari’s chances of winning. “I’m being serious, Tighnari. I don’t know what’s going on, and I hate that it might mean danger for you and Collei.”

“You don’t need to worry about us.” Tighnari considers a card, then reconsiders. Then lays down his cards on the table, face-up, a clear resignation. “We’re far from the city. I’m sure trouble won’t be too bad over here.”

“You don’t know that.” Cyno says, but his expression harbors a faint smile. “I was going easy on you, you know.”

“Yes, well, good to know that I can’t beat someone who risks their neck for a couple of ‘rare’ cards, in the said card game. ” Tighnari responds, dryly. 

“You mean, risk their deck?”

“I will punch you.”

Collei sits beside him, under the stars, and speaks. 

“Sometimes, I think I want revenge.”

Despite how easily Tighnari believes her, it still surprises him. “Against the Fatui?”

“Yeah.” She shifts. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel angry, like I’m how I was before I found Amber and the others again. But… I don’t want to be.”

“That’s good.” Tighnari tells her, because it is.

He looks at her, and her eyes are so young. So young, somehow - and yet still so old. She’s seen things Tighnari will never see. And yet he’s still her mentor.

“I don’t want revenge.” Collei decides, then and there. “I won’t take revenge, I swear it.”

It sounds like a promise.

It makes Tighnari smile. 

The Nilotpala lotuses are the highlight of Tighnari’s evening patrol. 

One day, Tighnari is patrolling alongside Collei, and finds that the lotuses’ area has Withered. 

Tighnari draws out his bow. “Stand back, Collei.”

Collei, being Collei, doesn’t listen. Between the two of them, they make quick work of the tumor, but the decline of Irminsul is far more dangerous for people like her, affected by Eleazar. 

Collei is sick for the entirety of the next day. 

Despite it all, Tighnari can’t attribute the twinge in his heart solely to the girl shivering in front of him.

Her hands get shakier after that.

Tighnari doesn’t let her do anything that requires fine motor control anymore, despite her protests. 

He doesn’t take her off patrol, though. Not yet. It’s something that Collei has been taking great joy in - he isn’t yet cruel enough to take it away. 

(He’ll regret it, in the future. Wonder if he’d stopped her from patrolling, even the safer areas, if maybe that would’ve been enough to stop her from getting involved in the fiasco that followed. 

He will wonder, but he will never know.)

So in the end, it starts like this: Collei and Tighnari find a blonde-haired traveler passed out near Haypasia’s cave, and it sets into motion a chain of events that will forever change their lives.

“I had a dream last night.” Tighnari tells Collei, when they’re outside sharing the stars, the splintering skies, the shimmering stardust and light in the darkness of the night. 

Collei lets out a soft “oh” in response. It’s quiet. She’s usually not energetic in the evenings, but somehow it still worries Tighnari.

He ignores it for now. “It was, as you say, pretty nonsensical. Odd, I can’t seem to remember many of the details now.”

Collei’s smile is soft. “That’s how dreams are meant to be, Master Tighnari.”

“Hmm.”

Still, he resolves not to put on the Akasha. He never will.

“I’m going into exile.”

Tighnari looks up sharply, cards forgotten. “ What.”

His tone is flat. Almost threatening. 

“It’s self-imposed.”

Somehow, that just makes Tighnari even angrier. “We talked about rash decisions. Cyno, are you listening to yourself?” Abruptly, he puts down his cards, just to make sure that he can look Cyno in the eye.

(For the first time, Cyno isn’t focused on Genius Invokation TCG either.)

“I am.” His expression is terse, eyes and jaw set. “I can’t do anything in Sumeru City. They’re monitoring me.”

“So stay here.” He’s truly angry, now. “Stay here! There’s no one here who would sell you out to the Akademiya, you know that, so why-”

“I can’t implicate you.” Cyno cuts through. He’s angry, too. It’s an odd sight, somehow - he’s seen the General Mahamatra’s anger, sharp as the polearm he wields, but not against him. Never against him. “These are dangerous times, Tighnari-”

“And so you’ll what? Run off into the desert? Make yourself even more of a target than you already are?”

“I can take care of myself-”

“And what about us?”

“You’ll be better off without me.”

“You can’t possibly believe that.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it - I know it.”

Tighnari is slow to anger, most of the time. This fire running through his veins is more than just plain and normal irritation, but…

But he’s known Cyno for long. Far longer than most. 

He knows a losing battle when he sees one. 

(There’s a stinging behind his eyes.)

The Forest Watcher turns away. “Safe travels, General Mahamatra.”

(From the way he says the title, it sounds almost like an insult.)

He doesn’t see the way hurt flashes across his old friend’s face. But his friend says nothing, turning away and leaping through the window, nearing silent as much as he possibly can.

The TCG Genius Invokation cards lie on the table, forgotten.

(On a rare day when Collei is patrolling alone, she encounters a stranger in the woods.

The stranger is well-dressed. Authoritative. He looks… a little scary, to be honest. 

But in reality, this man isn’t so much of a stranger. The grey hair, the eyes and that headset wrapping around his head… she’s heard Kaveh talk about him. Extensively.

Tighnari has warned her to be wary of Al-Haitham in the past. And yet he’s here, looking directly at her.

Well, she’s been noticed. It would be remiss of her to just… ignore him.

“Can I help you, sir?” She asks politely, privately hoping he’ll simply say no and leave her alone.

Her hopes are dashed. “Can I ask you a question, Collei?”

She swallows down the instinctive fear of him knowing her name. He’s the Scribe. Of course he has access to this information. “Of course. What is it?”

“What would you do to protect Sumeru?” His eyes narrow. “To protect Tighnari?”

“Anything.” She responds immediately.

(The words seal her fate.)

Something in Al-Haitham’s face shifts. She doesn’t know that expression, not yet.

“Good.” He holds out a scroll. “Take it.”

Collei eyes it warily.

Al-Haitham scoffs. “If I wanted to harm you, I would’ve done it already. Take it.”

Collei obliges, holds it gingerly, as if she’s afraid of the parchment suddenly giving her a curse. “W-what is it, sir?”

He doesn’t respond, not immediately. Collei shifts from foot to foot.

When he speaks, he doesn’t immediately answer the question. “Read it when you’re in a private area. It’s a powerful spell. You don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.”

The Scribe pauses. “Take it as a… precautionary measure.”

And before she has a chance to interject, to clarify or object, he’s turned away and vanished into the woods.

She will read it later, and almost wish that she didn’t.)

Bind me not, to the pasture
Chain me not, to the plow
Oh, set me free, to find my calling
And I’ll return to you somehow

The forest is burning.

Tighnari feels it as if the ash were filling his own airways, his own skin lit on fire, his own eyes watery with smoke. They’ve evacuated everyone already. They’ve done all they could.

(There are still animals in the forest. Over the crackling of the fire, Tighnari can hear the devastation the flames have wrought - unlucky wildlife, trapped, sentenced to death. He can hear everything.)

The forest is burning.

It’s like he’s simultaneously unable to tear his eyes away and wishing he didn’t have to see. But he is the Forest Watcher.

It’s his duty, at least, to see the true scope of his failure.

“Archons…” Dehya breathes out beside him. The Traveler and their party had come as soon as they’d heard, but they were too late.

He doesn’t blame them. Tighnari was too late too.

“It was inevitable.” Al-Haitham’s low undertone sounds right behind him. “We could not stop the Doctor from setting Irminsul on fire. Avidya Forest was a complex network of intertwined Ley Lines, ones that were too close to the trunk.”

Was. It used to be.

Tighnari wants to hate him, for sounding so indifferent. He can hear the Traveler’s companion yell shrilly about being compassionate. 

But he can’t find it in his heart to hate anyone but himself.

The forest is burning.

“This…” Collei herself sounds on the verge of tears. Tighnari wants to reach out, to comfort her. The Traveler is already doing that.

He’s still rooted in place. He can’t stop watching.

(There goes a trunk, and then another, and there’s another and another tiger has just screamed its last breath and that fungus has been charred beyond saving and the lake is on fire, the lake is on fire, the lotuses are shrivelling up and dying and the waterfalls drying and there’s no water no water another trunk hurt-pain-loss-grief-why-why-why the forest is burning-)

Cyno puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s the first time they’ve acknowledged each other since the Matra exiled himself. 

It’s a mockery of physical comfort - not in the sense that it is not genuine, but in the sense that it’s not enough.

The forest is burning.

What comfort is there here? 

How can they come back from this?

Distantly, Tighnari can feel his eyes stinging from more than just the acrid smoke polluting the air.

He hasn’t cried in years.

The Second Harbinger arrives in detestable fanfare, in the middle of all the destruction he has wrought.

The fire has burnt out. The Ley Lines of Avidya are irreparably destroyed - they’re dead. There’s no more life pulsing through this forest.

The only pockets that remain are only barely standing. It’s a pitiful sight, and only makes Tighnari clench his bow even tighter when the harbinger of all this destruction appears.

“Well, I’ll be impressed. If it isn’t the Traveler.” Dottore is wearing a mask, but Tighnari can so clearly see the smirk that it hurts. “I didn’t think that you’d grace us with your presence. What, you took an interest in my… blasphemous experimentation, too?”

The Traveler is silent. Tighnari can still feel the anger rolling off them in waves.

He doesn’t know where the rest are. Dehya, Al-Haitham, Cyno- they’re lost in the sea of charcoal. The air smells so heavily of grief, sorrow and loss that Tighnari doesn’t even know how to begin finding them.

So instead, he hones in on the fact that Collei has gone dangerously still - that her breathing is quickening - and recalls an old, old conversation with Cyno, years ago, about a young girl who lost everything to an organization injecting forbidden power into her veins.

Tighnari draws an arrow and points it at Dottore’s face.

“I am going to kill you.”

The arrow flies.

The Traveler’s bladework is a dance, almost. So very highly skilled. Tighnari shoots whenever he finds an opening, shielding Collei with his body.

His anger does not run hot. Tighnari’s fury runs terrifyingly cold, and every arrow is shot by maximizing the chances to kill. Because none of Tighnari’s threats are ever empty.

He is going to kill this man.

But the Doctor is ranked Second, not for nothing. It only takes one lucky hit - the Traveler’s legs are swept and they hit the ground, hard.

Dottore grins, tossing a vial around in one hand ready to incapacitate, or torture, or whatever in Celestia that sadistic man plans to do, and Tighnari scrambles for another arrow but he can’t charge fast enough, never fast enough, and-

Boom.

Thunder roars. Cyno comes plunging down from the skies like an envoy of the heavens, and Tighnari nearly sobs in relief.

He can’t lose anyone else today.

(If only it were that simple.)

It’s not enough.

Will alone is never enough. 

And above all, they’re tired. They’re so tired. 

Dottore tutts, watching them struggling to regain their footing. Tighnari’s quiver is empty. His dendro vision overflows with energy he makes into weak imitations of catalyst spells, but it’s not enough. Dehya’s arm is broken; Cyno himself is sporting a nasty gash across his forehead and glassy eyes. Collei’s hands shake more than ever, paralyzed by fear; Al-Haitham himself is limping. The Traveler’s arm is bleeding profusely.

They’re in the middle of the destroyed woods. 

Help is not arriving.

“And here I thought that you were going to be a challenge.” Dottore muses, putting on a show of disappointment. “Hello there, malen’kaya zmeyka. You’ve grown.”

Tighnari’s brow is beaded with sweat. He still holds out an arm, tries to shield Collei from her longtime tormentor.

Dottore’s motions are languid, unconcerned. “Now, where should I experiment next? There should be another collection of forests around here somewhere… hmm. What about Apam Woods?”

The Traveler struggles to their feet. “Don’t you dare-”

“Dare what? Dare to burn it down?” Dottore asks, mockingly. He dangles the vial in front of them - the one that burns through anything, that destroys and can’t be put out and the fire the fire the flames the forest is going to burn-

The harbinger hums, as if in thought. “I don’t think you can stop me, Traveler. And besides-” 

Tighnari recognizes that glint in his eye. 

It’s the look of a maniac. 

“You’ve already interrupted my New God project. I think you ought to at least have the decency to not be disruptive now, don’t you?” Dottore shakes his head. “No matter. I have a… gift for you, too. Think of it as repayment for the Balladeer.”

He can’t watch this happen. He can’t- but Tighnari is so tired, and so he’s stuck, no more elemental energy within him, praying desperately for a miracle-

Thwip.

“You…” A labored voice sounds behind him, “are not going to touch them.”

The first thing that Tighnari notices is that that actually gives Dottore pause. All this time, they’ve been giving it their all, and yet that smoky, dark purple chain is what makes him hesitate. 

The second thing that Tighnari notices is that the voice is Collei’s.

Collei.

The realization sends a jolt of panic down Tighnari’s spine, and his mind races, realizes, puts two and two together and realizes that this must be the forbidden power, this must be the archon residue plaguing Collei’s days and she’s using it, she’s using it-

And he turns around and hopes, desperately, that he’s wrong, but he isn’t. His mentee stands there, wreathed in terrible, death-like glory, her eyes burning a purple that’s wrong, wrong wrong-

And her hands are shaking.

They’re shaking so much.

Tighnari’s tongue locks in his mouth because no, no no no no she can’t, she can’t use this it’ll kill her-

Dottore tsks, like this is all nothing more than a major annoyance to him. “You’ll die like this, malen’kaya zmeyka. You know that, right?”

She doesn’t respond for a few seconds. A couple of long, long seconds, precious seconds, that Tighnari spends fumbling for arrows, weapons, energy, anything-

But it’s not enough.

“He asked me… he asked me what I’m willing to give.” Collei finally responds.

Her hands are shaking.

But more chains, more fumes come out of her body and swirl around her, reaching towards Dottore like a nest of snakes poised to strike, and Dottore almost looks afraid. 

“...I’m willing to give anything.” She breathes out. “Anything, to keep them safe.”

There’s a darkness encroaching on the edges of Tighnari’s vision and all he can think is no, no, not now, he can’t pass out now he can’t leave her alone to die-

But forbidden power is a powerful, powerful thing.

The earth beneath him is charred when he startles awake, disoriented.

That doesn’t make sense. The forest is healthy, isn’t it? It should be. Why is it crumbling beneath his fingertips? Why does it feel like it’s been-

He freezes from where he was sitting up as the memories rush back and he realizes no the forest isn’t healthy it’s dead it’s dead it burned up and the Doctor the Harbinger and Collei-

Collei.

“Collei.” Tighnari rasps out, pushing himself off the ground frantically and scanning the nearby area. “Collei!”

And then he spots her - prone, laying on the charred earth, skin an ashen grey. 

No.

“No. No no no no.” Tighnari scrambles over, shoving a finger into her neck, looking, praying for a pulse. “No. Please. Collei. Collei, please.”

The movement jostles her body (her body) , but she does not stir. 

“Collei.”

The trees are withered around them. 

(The forest is burning.)

“Collei, wake up.”

The forest is crumbling around him. The world is crumbling around him. 

“She’s dead, Tighnari.” Cyno whispers beside him, a hand on his shoulder (a mockery of comfort). “Let her rest.”

“Can’t you do something?” He asks, demands, nearly hysterical- “Can’t you- Can’t you seal it away? She’s not dead, she can’t be-”

“The seal would only work once. It wasn’t meant to be broken.” His friend sounds regretful.

(His friend had left to protect them. He’d thought that they would be better without him. Tighnari can’t help but wonder, now, if this was inevitable.)

He can’t find it in himself to respond to that.

Tighnari finds that he can’t say anything at all, as he watches her crumble into nothing, until he’s grasping at nothing.

Instead, all he can think is

She never got to see the lotuses bloom.

(The grief is so foreign to Cyno that it threatens to swallow him whole.

But still, there’s an underlying fury, because Collei shouldn’t have known how to break the seal.

No one else should’ve - or at least, Cyno can’t think of anyone that would… except for one.

He hears Al-Haitham stumble behind him, and in the space of half a breath he’s spun around and pointed his polearm despite the possible concussion and dizziness that the motion brings. 

The blade nicks the Scribe’s neck. Al-Haitham goes very, very still. 

“Answer me honestly.” Cyno’s voice is steadier than he feels. “Did you tell her?”

Maybe, more than anything, what Cyno hates the most is how simultaneously apologetic and resolute Al-Haitham looks. “It wasn’t without regrets. But I wouldn’t change my decision.”

“You sentenced her to death.” The Matra says, furiously, his voice beginning to rise. “You sentenced her to death, a child, and you wouldn’t change your decision? You told me that you wouldn’t-”

“I told you that I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Al-Haitham looks him square in the eye despite his injured leg and the precarious position he currently finds himself in. “It was her or the rest of Sumeru. The Doctor wouldn’t have stopped at just Avidya Forest and Apam Woods.”

Cyno’s hands are shaking. 

“She said she’d give anything.” Tighnari says, dully, and Cyno startles so much that he lowers his weapon to stare at his friend. “While fighting. She said she’d give anything to keep us safe.”

He’s never heard Tighnari sound so hollow. 

Al-Haitham closes his eyes. “Indeed she did.”

Above, the sky opens up and floods the earth. 

Pitter, patter.

Cyno raises his head up to look at the skies and lets the Hydro Archon’s tears wash away his own.)

In the quiet, misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed
When the sparrows stop their singing…

The reconstruction of Gandharva Ville is a quiet affair. 

Grief hangs heavy. All the residents of the forest community had known Collei, the bouncy and bright girl that had brought light into everyone’s lives. She’d been beloved among many. 

The forest is dead. They build temporary huts from charred wood, scavenge food that’s been buried and abandoned by animals now dead, and step around hazardous zones that were once flowering with life. 

(The Traveler once said that the forest will always remember Tighnari, for what he’s done for nature around him. Tighnari can’t believe that anymore.)

So they build something out of night, put bandaids on arrow wounds and pray quietly to a god still weak and asleep from the attack on her psyche, and wait for a miracle. 

Tighnari, on the other hand, is done with waiting for miracles.

(He’d only done it once, and it had cost him Collei.)

He throws himself into work, forging deep into charred landscapes and revitalizes his home, little by little, until sweat beads his brow and he himself feels so drained of life. 

But the forest is growing again, and that’s more than enough to justify destroying himself, every day. 

And one day, Cyno drops by. 

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.”

The Matra’s tone brooks no argument, and Tighnari nearly scoffs from where he’s penning a report. “Hello to you too, General. Here to pick up your Genius Invokation TCG cards?”

“You can keep them, if you’d like. But that’s not why I’m here, and you know it.” 

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can try.”

“I know a losing battle when it comes to you, General Mahamatra.” Tighnari shoves the guilt behind a mask of indifference. “I hope you do too.”

Cyno says nothing. 

(It hurts more than Tighnari would ever admit. They’ve never needed many words between them, after all.)

“You should talk to him.”

“Talk to who?”

“Kaveh.”

Tighnari levels an unimpressed stare at Dehya. “And what business would I have with the Scribe’s roommate, pray tell?”

“It’ll be better for you than you think.” The mercenary doesn’t back down. Tighnari must give her some credit - not many people like to stand toe to toe with him, especially when he is as irritable as he is now. “It won’t just be an hour of Kaveh justifying Al-Haitham’s actions, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, that’s not-” Tighnari tries to deny.

“So what are you worried about?” Dehya cuts in smoothly.

Tighnari, sometimes, hates getting outsmarted. 

There are footsteps outside his door, and Tighnari calls out “Come in,” before the owner of the stride can even knock. 

He doesn’t even need him to open the door to know that the man looking for him is the genius architect himself. 

Tighnari has only ever met Kaveh once before, at a dinner that turned out far more entertaining than it possibly had any right to be. He was exuberant and easily passionate about many things. Witty, sharp and sarcastic. Kaveh hadn’t even waited for the fruit to be set out before he launched into tales and tales of why his roommate, his dearest friend, is the worst person in all of Teyvat. 

It’s a little hard to reconcile his image of him with the solemn man in front of him. 

Tighnari sighs. “I don’t care for pleasantries. Spit it out.”

Despite the clear command to speak freely, his guest still hesitates. “...I didn’t really come in here with too much in mind to say.”

“So why are you here?” Tighnari asks, unable to keep the hint of irritation from seeping into his voice. He’s been getting irritated a lot recently. Cyno told him so, and he does sometimes hate it when his friend is right, but Cyno is right. 

“...Possibly just some clarifications, now that I think about it.” Kaveh shrugs. “Just… well, Al-Haitham has his reasons.”

“Ah, yes.” The Forest Watcher shoots back, tone drier than his ancestors’ home. “I’m so glad to hear that the Scribe has reasons that would allow the murder of my mentee.”

Kaveh runs a hand through his hair. He’s holding back frustration - Tighnari can tell. “Just- hear me out. Please.”

Tighnari looks at him. Truly looks at him, as more than just Al-Haitham’s companion.

(What he sees is this: a man who is conflicted, still unconditionally forgiving of his friend’s actions and understanding painfully where they come from, but still so full of anger and grief with nowhere to put it.)

He listens, because that’s what he’s always been the best at.

Kaveh takes a deep breath. “Al-Haitham is… prideful. He’s hard to reason with.” He winces. “I don’t want to say it, Tighnari, but… he was right. It was just one of the Doctor’s clones, but it was enough to destroy Sumeru. None of us ever stood a chance.”

Fury, the echoes of which were never forgotten but still laying mostly latent up to this point, roar in Tighnari’s veins again. “He still had no right-”

“He gave her a choice. She wasn’t forced.” Kaveh interrupts, kindly but firmly. “Haitham doesn’t… he has very unshakeable convictions. He still regrets, though. You know.”

“I don’t, actually.” Tighnari says, chilly.

“Just-” Kaveh pauses. “Just… think about it, I guess. I- well, I don’t really know why I came here at all. Just…” The man looks Tighnari in the eye, eyes a burning red, and Tighnari can’t help but notice that they look like Cyno’s eyes. 

“...just think about it. That… that you don’t have to forgive him.”

“He killed her.”

Somehow, when Tighnari says it this time, it sounds less like he’s accusing and more like he’s mourning.

Something in Kaveh’s eyes softens, at that. “I know. I’m not going to pretend that he didn’t. But he also saved thousands.”

Kaveh doesn’t wait for his response before leaving, shutting the door behind him. 

Tighnari thinks for a long time.

“I think the worst part about this is that I’m not even angry.”

He can feel Cyno shift from where he is observing, in the bushes, from a distance, as Tighnari lies down and stares at the sprawling, starry sea above him. “At Al-Haitham, I mean. I can’t even be angry, because I think he was right. There wasn’t any other way.”

Cyno doesn’t say anything.

Instead, his friend walks into the clearing and sits down, lies down beside him, offering only his silent company as support. 

It’s enough for him. 

There aren't any words needed here.

That night, Tighnari dreams. 

In the dream, he’s standing in front of Irminsul.

It’s whole. Like it hasn’t been set on fire yet. Like the catastrophe hasn’t occurred. 

It’s strangely beautiful.

And in front of the tree, there is a little girl.

She’s looking at him. She tilts her head. “Hello,” she says, and her voice echoes through the dirt and trees and leaves and life and dreams and the very fabric of reality itself.

Tighnari opens his mouth and tries to speak, but no words come out.

The little girl smiles. “Are you happy?”

Is he happy? He can’t be. He can’t imagine himself being happy, with everything that’s happened.

But he voices none of it.

The little girl nods anyway. “You will be,” she decides, and somehow it sounds like a decree. “Child of both desert and forest… I’m sure of it.”

She sounds so confident that Tighnari almost believes her.

She looks at him, and her eyes are both so very young and filled with childlike innocence, and older beyond comprehension.

“One day, you will learn to forgive yourself. And then you’ll be happy.” She says simply, and it echoes through the leaves and trees and the flowers blooming at her feet.

Tighnari tries to reach out, to ask, to ask how?

But the little girl only smiles, and the dream fades away.

The Traveler arrives the next day with a little girl in tow. 

Tighnari can’t help but think that he’s seen her before. The dream last night was hazy, and yet…

The little girl’s eyes are so full of sadness, but she’s still overflowing with power. Overflowing with it, to the point where Tighnari can feel his vision pulse alongside each one of her breaths, along with the heartbeat of the charred earth and the whispers of the burnt trees. 

The girl- no, not just a girl, his archon- puts her hands to the earth and whispers, but Tighnari hears it for the way it echoes through the dirt, the trees, the skies and the wind and the fabric of reality itself

A w a k e n

And spreading outwards from her, from his archon, Lord Kusanali, the flowers bloom and the trees sing and Tighnari hears more than just the petals unfurling and the trunks creaking, he hears life-life-hello-awake-alive-hello-hello and the forest is alive.

Life returns to Avidya Forest, and Tighnari cannot tear his eyes away as tigers prowl the forests once again, as birds take flight, as frogs jump and rivers dance and the Ley Lines overflow with energy once again. 

It’s beautiful. 

(It’s like she has hung the moon and the stars and provided light to a desolate night.)

“It’s the least I can do.” She whispers, and it echoes in more than just sound. 

Tighnari falls to his knees. “Thank you,” he says, reverently. “Thank you, thank you thank you.”  

“I promised you that you would find it in yourself to forgive yourself.” The divine girl says, gently. She walks forward, tugs at his arms to encourage him to stand, even though he towers over her when he does so. “I won’t abandon my people. I won’t let them stop me from helping you all ever again.”

The vow means more than Lord Kusanali can ever possibly hope to imagine.

Tighnari meets Al-Haitham on a clear day.

The Nilotpala Lotuses are budding healthily under the daylight. Cyno is walking beside him, accompanying on his patrols - he doesn’t patrol alone anymore, and he doubts he ever will. 

He hears him before he sees him. 

Surprisingly, he doesn’t immediately draw an arrow. 

Instead, his tone is sharp. “Why are you here?”

Cyno stills beside him. Al-Haitham huffs and steps out of the shadows. 

He says nothing. 

The Matra is tense beside him. Tighnari can already feel his staff crackle with electro energy, poised to strike. 

Tighnari puts a hand on his shoulder. 

There’s been enough bloodshed, he thinks.

Al-Haitham opens his mouth, then hesitates.

It’s a silent standoff for long, precious minutes. 

“…for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Al-Haitham finally settles on.

The Forest Watcher looks, truly looks, and does see that the Scribe is indeed, sorry.

“…Okay.”

“That’s it?” Cyno asks him incredulously. “That’s it? Sorry?”

“Cyno.”

The Matra falls silent. 

“Just…” Tighnari pauses. “Don’t come to Avidya Forest ever again. Don’t let the Akademiya here either.”

Because even if Tighnari is willing to understand why Al-Haitham did everything… he isn’t going to forgive him. Not now, possibly not ever.

It’s a compromise that Al-Haitham is willing to make, and he gives them a curt nod.

“Farewell, Forest Watcher.”

The title sounds like it’s worthy of respect, coming from him.

It gives Tighnari peace, somehow.

“Farewell, Scribe.”

Al-Haitham vanishes then and there, and the forest breathes again.

The Nilotpala Lotus earned the moniker Lunar Lotus for the way it blooms at night, and only at night. 

And even then, it doesn’t always bloom. 

But tonight is a clear night, and the lotuses, for the first time in a very long time, are blooming healthily. 

The city is in an uproar. The aftermath of the Akademiya’s grand fall from grace means new systems are put into place, but the Matra are diligent, and their archon is no longer locked behind the doors of Surasthana. Bit by bit, reform is beginning to take root. 

Haypasia is no longer confined to Pardis Dhyai. She can roam freely in the streets, read freely from books, have debates and chat with friends made anew and pursue knowledge in the way it should be pursued. 

Cyno tells him all about his endeavors all the time. The Traveler has been helping, although Tighnari is sure that they’ve already left for Fontaine, their quest for their sibling briefly put on hold but surely yet again restarted. 

Perhaps all this change really was for the better. 

There’s peace to be found in the forest tonight. Perhaps it can be considered young, now - so very young, because it had been destroyed and reconstructed only a year prior, but… the peace is there. 

In the big things. Like how, for the first time, Tighnari can write of the vanishing of the Withering, since it was first recorded millennia ago. Like how the ecosystem is back and thriving and the waterfalls and rivers dance. Like how the pulse of the forest sounds again, right alongside the Ley Lines and the restored, interweaving network. 

And yet it’s found in the little things, too - like how Cyno had come back, yesterday, to play cards, to let them be friends simply seeing each other for the sake of seeing each other again - like how Farbod has finally gone a week without eating a single poisonous mushroom - like how Amir has finally beat his peers in the weekly archery competition they hold. 

Like how Al-Haitham has kept to his word, even after months, and the scholars have never set foot in the forest since. 

Or maybe like how the soft blue petals have unfurled like participants in a moonlight dance, shared between few but beloved by all who see it.

Tighnari bends down to stroke them. He’d placed Collei’s grave right beside his little secret artificial pond, now repopulated and beautiful - not because of the adversity against which they flower, but despite it. 

(Here is a secret: Tighnari only shares the stars with those he loves the most.)

He has never been able to make flowers bloom before they wished, but he’s certainly always had a talent for coaxing them to do so. 

(The Forest Watcher spends that evening right beside her, watching the sprawling starry sea far above.)

It’s a quiet night.

(And because he’s watching, he sees the miracle when it happens: the starry sky opens up, a brilliant shade of purple, and the meteors streak across, awakening the forest and its sounds and flowers and all that is beautiful and all that he loves, providing light to a desolate night.)

…I’ll be homeward bound… again.