Castle of Glass - AlchemicalStardust

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

Albedo’s forehead prickled with sweat as he pulled himself a little closer to the violet grass growing just out of reach. The wind blowing through Huaguang Stone Forest was threatening to rip him off the cliffside. His jacket was catching the wind at his waist like a sail, making it difficult to balance. He wished he had taken it off before starting the climb.

Albedo sighed heavily as he pulled himself up next to the violet grass. The flower swayed placidly in the wind, its stiff stem and curved leaves resisting the ruthless gusts. Violet grass was one of the most impressive flowers in Liyue. It grew from seeds that had been cached, or eaten and left on the cliffside with avian excrement. Despite having a shallow root system that only cut a few centimeters into the rockface, it always found a way to hold on. The medicinal properties of it made it invaluable, and Albedo needed it for many of his salves and potions.

Slowly, Albedo dug the violet grass from the stone with a trowel. The roots pulled free with an inaudible sigh, and he tucked the flower into his hip bag with the others he’d harvested that day. It should be enough for now. He still needed time to process them, and finish sorting the Qingxin flowers he’d dug up the day before. He sighed in relief and finally turned to look down.

Albedo had climbed a lot higher than he’d thought. His breath caught as he stared down at the trees far below, and the flowers that blurred into a patchwork canvas of green, pink, and blue. If he were in a less precarious position, he might’ve stopped to sketch the scenery. But he’d left his sketchbook on the ground to keep it from weighing him down, and his toes had nothing to hold onto. His back was pressed against his rockface, and he knew if he shifted his heel slightly to the left, he would meet nothing more than empty air.

Albedo took a moment to make sure his wing glider was secure against his shoulders before leaping from the cliff face. The wings caught him firmly and slowed his descent. He had to lean into the wind gusts blasting through the stone forest to keep himself steady.

His bag waited for him where he’d left it hours prior. He collapsed next to it with a sigh and stretched his legs out in front of him. The sun was almost perfectly centered in the sky, telling him it was high noon and therefore, lunchtime. He wondered how much he should eat. He’d had a large enough breakfast that it could sustain his exertion for most of the morning, but he still didn’t feel hungry. He sighed and dug through his bag for one of the heavily bruised apples he’d picked on the Guili Plains when he’d been passing through several days prior. He cut into it with his knife and watched the dust drift from the spires of Huaguang Stone Forest.

When he sat in silence to watch time pass in near silent peace, he could understand why the Adepti of Liyue had chosen this particular place. It was too far from human habitation to carry the pollution that plagued Teyvat’s greatest cities, and too mountainous for none but the most determined to reach. The weather worn bridges that spanned the rock spires told tales of humanity attempting to reach the sky, but they often went unused. Albedo knew with certainty that should the day come that he needed to get far away from humanity, this was where he would come too.

A thick cloud drifted over the sun, darkening the sky and the ground at his feet. Albedo blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. He paused, and gripped his apple a little tighter. Something prickled against his skin. He felt a sudden rise of fear and dread in his chest, and he didn’t think before stuffing the half-eaten apple back into his bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Mighty Adepti, I hope I am not trespassing,” Albedo whispered under his breath. “I will leave immediately.” The wind was picking up. The rough breeze had become violent and unstable. The air was charged, and dust was pouring from the cliffsides in thick, black waves. Albedo felt the dark wind tearing through his hair like the hands of dead things. Animals tore from their burrows and ran alongside Albedo as he picked up the pace.

He dared look back, and stifled a scream.

Never had he seen anything quite like the beast anywhere in Teyvat. It was long, black, and had leathery wings that ended in claws. It clambered over the side of one of the spires effortlessly, sending rocks and boulders raining down to the valley below. Its fangs were bared and dripping with venom. Its eyes were nothing more than a black void of nothingness. It drew Albedo like a moth to a flame, and he understood with gut wrenching fear that those eyes carried the memory of what mortals felt just before death. Albedo could hear screams in his ears. Wordless cries, and snarls of hunger. The rage of eons and the pain of a thousand lost hopes. Things he never wanted to hear again. Things that threatened to rip whatever soul he had to pieces.

Albedo had fought many monsters, but such a creature was beyond his abilities. He knew that should this monster decide to bring death down onto him, he would be helpless to stop it. He only hoped that Klee wouldn’t miss him too much. He hoped Sucrose and Timaeus would think fondly of him.

That was when the violent wind rose to gale. It knocked Albedo forward and sent him stumbling. He heard a screeching whistle just before a shockwave blasted through the valley. Albedo barely had time to put his arms up in front of his face before he was sent flying. He crashed into the ground, and his shoulder flared with pain. Albedo choked on a cry as he gripped his bicep and checked for a dislocation. He was still in one piece, but he had to get to safety.

Albedo staggered to his feet. He didn’t dare look back again, but he could hear the sounds of battle raging behind him. Rocks flew above his head, and crashed down hard enough to shake the earth. Albedo ran as fast as he could, and felt pain burn through his ankle as he stumbled. The monster flew overhead, and Albedo had only a split second to dive out of the way before another shockwave blasted through the valley. It threw Albedo against the cliffside, and his vision tunneled with pain. He sank to the ground with a helpless groan and curled up into a ball. His heart was still beating, and his lungs were still breathing, but his body felt ripped to shreds. His hands shook in front of his face as he flexed his fingers, checking for paralysis. His toes wiggled in his boots.

Archons, he couldn’t remember ever being in so much pain.

Another roar sounded overhead, and Albedo barely had enough time to curl himself tighter and cover his ears. There was a crash, and an explosion, and another shockwave rocked the earth. A tree lost half of its branches in a violent crash, and boulders rained down from above, missing Albedo by no more than a few feet. The ground shook, and something hot and cold burned across his body. It had the exposed skin on his arms flaking off. Cracks appeared in his flesh, and blood seeped from the wounds. Albedo wondered just how much more damage his body could take before it finally gave up on him and cast his soul into the abyss.

Slowly, the dust began to settle. The monster’s cries faded to a memory that lingered like a bad dream. Albedo’s ears rang as he tried to get to his feet. He groaned and fell to his knees and retched. Stars winked in front of his eyes, and his vision faded between black and oversaturated. He clutched his throat to feel his pulse and found it rapid and weak. He dug into his bag and stuffed one of the violet grass leaves into his mouth. It was tough, bitter, and grassy, and unprocessed it might not do much to help, but the compounds in it would help neutralize the adrenaline flooding his body and reduce inflammation. He swallowed it with a grimace and followed it up with what was left of his water.

Little by little, Albedo became stable. Pain raged through his body as the adrenaline faded. His lungs hadn’t been damaged, and his blood flow was nominal. There was no sign of shock, or internal bleeding, and any skeletal damage was likely nothing more than minor fracturing and tendon swelling. Every part of him was still functional. What concerned him the most was the fragmented skin on his arms. His cheek burned, and Albedo touched it gently. He flinched as pain flared up. A trace of fine, white dust lingered on his fingertips. Albedo brushed it away and shivered. He pushed himself to his feet with a stagger.

The place where the monster had fallen was stained black with malice. Pieces of its flesh were steaming against the earth, melting through rock and stone like acid. Its blood had poisoned the ground and killed everything it touched. It reminded him of Durin’s body on Dragonspine, where his flesh and blood seeped into the cracks and corrupted the bodies of those who strayed too close.

Amongst the carnage, Albedo saw a young man clutching a spear. He was on his hands and knees, his body shrouded by black smoke. Albedo knew it was the demon’s last attempt to destroy what it could. It was trying to take the man with the spear with it.

Albedo threw his bag aside. Though his body protested, and his skin burned from the demon’s presence, Albedo walked into the corruption. It was a terrible power that attacked the mind and body, different, but not dissimilar to the way Durin’s blood could. Albedo felt it seeping into the cracks in his skin, licking at his blood and whispering in his ear. He felt it pressing like spears against his mind, ripping and tearing and cutting away at his thoughts and stealing them away like papers thrown into the wind. He heard the screams, and the white-hot fires of untellable rage burned in his chest. A wave of dizziness passed through him. Albedo could block a mental assault, but his body was weakened by his wounds. He might not make it, but Albedo still pressed onwards. The young man sensed his presence. He looked up with unfocused, hawklike eyes and winced. His hand kept a white-knuckle grip on his spear, and his other one was dug several inches into the dirt. Up close, Albedo could see the black tendrils of evil digging into the young man’s body. Corrupted blood poured from the worst of the wounds and dripped towards the earth.

“You—How did—get away from here!” The young man groaned in pain and fell to his forearms. The black smoke raged against his body. His spear fell to the ground and his hands clutched at the earth.

“You beat it once,” Albedo gasped and reached for him. “You can beat it again.”

“Don’t touch—” The young man was cut off by a cough. Blood poured between his lips and Albedo crouched as low as he could without touching the corrupted ground with his knees. He laid a hand on the back of the young man’s head.

The corruption was vicious, and it rushed against Albedo like a tidal wave. He groaned as it burned his body from the outside in, but he held his mind as tightly as he could and fought to keep his focus. He fought to pass that clarity into the young man who was fighting to keep himself alive. Albedo knew it must’ve been working when he looked up at him breathlessly. His eyes were a clear shade of amber.

“Wh-What are you?” The young man questioned.

“No questions now,” Albedo panted. “Finish it off – I can’t do it.”

The young man raised a hand. He gripped Albedo’s wrist hard enough that pain lanced down to his fingertips. He winced and felt the rush of power swirling against him from the tips of his toes, to the top of his head. Then, it rushed back down to the earth at his feet and dispersed into the soil. The flesh of the demon dissolved into ash and soaked into the barren earth. The only sign of the struggle that remained were the boulders thrown like toys, and the crater that remained from the killing blow.

The young man collapsed against him, and Albedo fell over as his weight knocked him off balance. The young man’s chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. He was bleeding on Albedo’s clothes, but he didn’t protest. He felt like a wet towel that had been wrung out within an inch of its life. He couldn’t imagine the pain this man must’ve been in to fall so heavily against a stranger. His face was pressed against Albedo’s sternum, and his hand was still gripping his wrist, although with much less force than before. Albedo let his head fall back into the ground and closed his eyes.

“Answers. Now,” the young man said as he caught his breath. “Who are you, and how did you survive?”

“I...I am Albedo,” he replied, exhausted. “I’m the Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt’s Knight of Favonius.”

“That answers nothing,” the young man argued. “What are you? How did you survive? No mortal can endure such corruption. You should be dead.”

“I have...experience with corruption. Perhaps that was part of it,” Albedo suggested.

The young man scoffed, then pushed himself onto his knees. He leaned over Albedo with narrowed eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his jaw was hard from his gritted teeth. Albedo shivered beneath his probing gaze.

“You,” the young man said, “are not human, are you?”

“In truth, I do not know for certain what I am, so if you have any theories, I am open to them,” Albedo stated.

The young man frowned, then rose to his feet and kicked his spear into his hand. He aimed the gleaming point at Albedo’s throat.

“Tell me then,” the young man eyed him dangerously. “Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”

“I don’t have that answer,” Albedo admitted. “Are you...An Adeptus? Maybe...Yaksha?”

“You’re preceptive, aren’t you?”

“I might be from Mondstadt, but I’ve read stories,” Albedo replied. “The Yaksha fight demons and manifestations of evil to protect Liyue. I am not evil, nor a demon, but all beings on this earth are capable of evil, are they not?”

“Do not play mind games with me,” the Yaksha growled.

“It’s for you to decide whether or not you think me evil enough to be disposed of,” Albedo pointed out. “So, ask yourself – is my unknown nature a danger to the people of Liyue? Do you believe me to be evil?”

The Yaksha glared at him. Albedo shuddered, but didn’t look away. Despite knowing the Yaksha only needed to twitch his fingers and end his life for good, he knew he was safe. If he truly thought Albedo was a threat, he would be dead already. Instead, he was giving Albedo the chance to claim his innocence.

Little by little, the glare turned into a frown. His eyes raked up and down Albedo’s body, taking in details that had his skin prickling. He was fully clothed, but he felt naked, and he wondered precisely what the world looked like from the eyes of a Yaksha.

“You should tend to your wounds,” he said suddenly, then banished his spear.

“You look worse than I,” Albedo pointed out. “I have a camp at the mouth of the valley. Come with me.”

“I do not need your aid,” the Yaksha replied.

“Maybe not, but I would be dead if not for you. The least I can do is offer food and medicine.”

“I do not need food.”

“And medicine?” Albedo asked, then rose to his feet with a wince.

“I don’t need it.”

“Will you tell me your name?”

The Yaksha stopped. He turned. His golden eyes were framed by his bloodstained bangs.

“I am Xiao,” he replied. “I do not need the help of mortals.”

Then, he turned away and disappeared into Huaguang Stone Forest. Albedo sighed at his retreating back and picked up his bag. He winced as it settled against his shoulder. Little by little, the sun came back out as he retreated to the abandoned cabin at the mouth of the stone forest. Though he couldn’t see the Yaksha, he felt the prickle of his gaze along the back of his neck. His presence lingered in the dusty winds blowing between the cliffsides. He didn’t know if Xiao was waiting for another invitation, or if he merely wished to observe Albedo.

He left the cabin door open, just in case.

Chapter 2 Notes:

Thank you so much for your unending support! I'm astounded at the support Castle of Glass has recieved thus far. I hope you all will continue to enjoy this story!
With that, here's Chapter 2!!

Chapter Text

Of the countless humans Xiao had witnessed, none were as strange as the one who claimed to be an alchemist. His explanation for who he was came easily, and Xiao knew it to be the truth. But the one thing that stopped Xiao from truly accepting such a simple answer was the fact that he knew the alchemist was not human, despite appearing to be one. Yet, Xiao did not know what he was.

He followed the one who called himself Albedo, Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt’s Knights of Favonius. Despite his injuries, he walked upright, though there was a distinctive limp in his step. He took several breaks on his way back. He was not human, but he walked with the determination of a mortal clinging to life.

And he left the front door of his cabin open.

For a so-called alchemist, Albedo was a fool. Xiao wiped the blood dripping from his chin and grimaced. Now that the demon’s corruption had released him from its grip, the worst of the damage done to his body was becoming apparent. Blood leaked from where the demon’s claws had sunk into him, and from the gashes where his flesh had torn as he fought against the demon’s foul karma. They needed patching. He wondered if Cloud Retainer would allow him to bathe in her pool, or if he shouldn’t try his luck with Mountain Shaper instead. He didn’t know if he had the strength to climb up there and ask. Cleaning the corruption off of himself was difficult when so many bodies of water were polluted by the presence of mortality.

Xiao exhaled sharply, and leaned back against the rock he was sitting against. The sun was slowly drifting to the horizon, and yet, Albedo’s door remained wide open. He occasionally saw flashes of him in the window. He was still upright when he should’ve been resting. It made him wonder precisely what effect the karmic backlash of the demon’s presence had had on a being such as him.

The last of the sun vanished, and the glow of firelight filled the cabin. Creatures of the night began to awaken from their daylight slumbers. In the distance, a wolf howled with his pack. And yet, Albedo did not close his door.

Xiao descended from the mountainside. The firelight beckoned like a gentle hand, yet warded him off. A hearth fire was not for Yaksha. They could never know the warmth of home when all they lived for was battle. He frowned and started to turn away just as Albedo limped into sight. He froze as their eyes met.

“Come inside, Xiao,” Albedo invited.

Xiao said nothing. He considered ignoring him and leaving. The fire cracked noisily and showered sparks into the hearth. The flames beckoned him once more. He gripped his spear tightly before driving it into the earth next to the doorway and stepping inside.

The cabin smelled of earth and wood, and the scent of pine smoke from the crackling fire filled the air. Across worn wooden tables, flowers, herbs, and little bottles filled with liquids sat in orderly groups. Bundles of Qingxin flowers and violet grass were hanging upside down from strings nailed into the ceiling. Albedo’s white coat was soaking in a tub of water. Xiao could see the bloodstains on it even in the firelight. He glanced at Albedo, wondering how injured he was. There was a bandage wrapped around his arm, and a crack had split the right side of his face, but there was little blood on him. None of the blood on Albedo’s jacket belonged to him. All of it had come from Xiao.

“You haven’t cleaned your wounds,” Albedo observed.

“The water touched by mortals does little for me,” Xiao replied.

“What about distilled water with an infusion of willow bark...?” Albedo lifted a bowl.

Xiao stared at the bowl. The water within it was clear, and smelled faintly sweet. Xiao wondered if Albedo had used it on his own injuries, or if he had prepared it specifically for Xiao in advanced. He glanced at the still open door, then back at the bowl. Had Albedo known Xiao would come? No...he couldn’t have. Unless the alchemist was a lot more perceptive than Xiao had initially thought. Albedo’s eyes were unreadable, but they were an alarming shade of blue. Like sunlit ice, or the clear water of Luhua Pool.

“I...suppose that will suffice,” he tentatively agreed.

“Sit down, then,” Albedo gestured, then picked several clean cloths off of a side table.

“You sit down,” Xiao argued. “You’re the one limping.”

“And you are bleeding. I am merely bruised.”

Xiao flashed Albedo a condescending stare. He searched for an injury that could disprove such a statement, for Xiao knew that no mortal could come out of witnessing a demon and enduring such corruption with nothing more than a few bruises. The crack on Albedo’s cheek drew his eyes once more.

“You are lying,” Xiao accused.

“Perhaps,” Albedo replied, his hands gripping the bowl a little tighter. “But I am not bleeding. You are.”

“What are you?” Xiao demanded.

“I wish I knew.”

Xiao didn’t respond. He knew Albedo was telling the truth. But it didn’t answer any of his questions.

Albedo carried an aura unlike any other creature he had met. Humans, and other mortal creatures, were beings of flesh and blood. They were soft and malleable – adaptive to change and circ*mstance. They healed when they could, and died when they couldn’t. They were fragile and fleeting when compared to the immortal Adepti, and the Archons that governed Teyvat who were steadfast and permanent.

But Albedo didn’t carry the impression of fleeting life that mortals bore to the marrow of their bones. Instead, he had an aura that wasn’t dissimilar to that of a mountain, or a river rock, or a boulder thrown into the ocean. It was a thing that was, and always had been, even though its shape had changed form. It was eternal, but worn by time. And yet, it was alive, just as any mortal could be. Albedo hadn’t been lying about his bruises, and the blood that had leaked from his injuries had already scabbed over. His injuries were superficial when compared to Xiao’s still bleeding ones. And yet...

Albedo remained still when Xiao gripped his chin. He tilted his head to the side, inspecting the injury that marred Albedo’s pale cheek. It was raw and red where the cracks had split open. One of the jagged lines was dangerously close to his eye. Xiao wondered what would happen if he touched it. He ran his thumb over it, and Albedo flinched and grew tense.

“Don’t,” Albedo rasped.

“Does it hurt?” Xiao asked.

“Yes.”

Xiao pulled his hand away. Pale dust lingered on his thumb. He rubbed his fingers together and watched it fall towards the floor. Albedo’s ice blue eyes followed its descent.

“You are made of stone,” Xiao stated.

“Chalk,” Albedo replied. “I am made of chalk.”

“You know what you are made of, and yet you do not know what you are?”

“What would you call a man made of chalk, Xiao?” Albedo questioned.

Xiao didn’t have an answer. Of all of the things he had witnessed, a man made of chalk was one of the strangest. He caught Albedo’s chin once more and leaned closer, inspecting the cracks and wondering if it was a sign of just how close he had come to death. If Xiao hadn’t finished off the demon, would his body have shattered into fragments? What would happen to his life should that happen?

Albedo pushed his hand away. “Sit down so I can tend your wounds.”

“I want answers,” Xiao demanded.

“As do I,” Albedo replied. “But despite my best efforts, I have few. All I have done is run a test to confirm my suspicions. The composition of my skin is primarily chalk. Now, sit down.”

Xiao gritted his teeth, but obeyed, not because he was welcoming Albedo’s attention, but because he had little interest in letting him stray too far from his sight. What sort of power turned chalk into man?

“Ouch—” Xiao hissed as the warm, damp cloth touched his skin.

Albedo pulled his hand back. “It would hurt less if you had treated them sooner.”

“I told you, I do not need your medicine.”

“You intend to bleed, then?”

Xiao met his eyes. Albedo’s expression was impassive, as though he already knew Xiao’s answer, and was merely waiting for confirmation. His gaze was unwavering and unforgiving. Xiao found himself inexplicably arrested. He wanted to argue and throw Albedo’s medicine back into his face and walk away. But doing so would mean confirming Albedo’s accusation. Sitting still and letting him wipe the blood from his wounds would mean surrendering to the assistance of mortals. Both ideas were irritating ones. He looked away and grimaced when the towel touched his skin again. Albedo’s touch was softer this time, but it still stung bitterly.

“I admit, I am curious,” Albedo spoke up suddenly. “May I ask a question?”

“What do you want?” Xiao sighed.

“You are one of the Adepti,” Albedo said, smearing a salve on his arm. “Yet, you bleed like a mortal. Does this mean that you can die like a mortal?”

Xiao narrowed his eyes. “I’ll answer that if you tell me whether or not a man made off chalk can die like a mortal.”

Albedo tilted his head. “I assume so. But I have never died, so I cannot be certain.”

“There are no others like you?”

“None that I am aware of,” Albedo sighed, and carefully wrapped a bandage around Xiao's arm before turning his attention onto another one of his wounds and lifted a fresh cloth. “If there was, I imagine they would be in no position to tell me how death feels. Perhaps when death comes for me, I will linger as dust, unable to interact with the world around me, but ever present in the place of my demise. In truth, we as living creatures do not truly know what comes after life. All we know for certain is what we have witnessed. When something ceases to live, it is considered death. However, what composes our bodies continues on and returns to the soil. And from that soil, we can be reborn in a new life. All things that are have a place in this world, and a reason for being, and they universally seek to fulfill it.”

Xiao grimaced as the warm water brushed over his cheek. He looked away and tried to ignore it. His head swam with the lengthy philosophical statement. He wanted to brush it away and claim that matters of the cycle of life had no meaning to the Adepti. Yet, the last thing Albedo had said stuck in his mind. All things that are have a place in this world... Xiao’s hands clenched in his lap.

”Adepti can die,” Xiao finally said. “As can gods.”

Albedo hummed, as though this knowledge was insignificant and unsurprising. Xiao found himself frowning as Albedo smeared salve on his cheek.

“Then, I hope you will take better care of yourself in the future,” Albedo stated, pressing the last bandage in place. “And not allow your wounds to fester like you did today.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” Xiao growled.

“Then, I won’t,” Albedo said, picking up the bowl again. The water within it was stained a deep shade of red. “I do not know the effects of Adepti blood on the mortal realm. How should I clean this?”

“The river will wash it away.”

“Are you certain?”

Xiao glowered at Albedo. “Jueyun Karst and Huaguang Stone Forest are well considered to be the realm of the Adepti. Much of our blood has been spilled in these mountains in the last two thousand years. One bowl of it will do nothing.”

“Then, I will return momentarily,” Albedo said, and retreated from the cabin. Xiao continued to glare at where he’d stood. He had more questions that needed answers, but it was apparent that Albedo didn’t have any. He clenched his hands into fists, feeling the way his fingers still ached from the harsh battle. The karmic debt still had yet to truly sink in, but he could feel it starting to fester. Soon, he would need to find a way to get the medicine he needed to negate its effects. But Rex Lapis was dead, and that left Xiao without his medicine. He wondered if he’d had the sense to leave the recipe with one of the other Adepti.

Outside, there was a crash, and a faint groan of pain. Xiao leapt to his feet and grabbed his spear on the way out. Next to the cabin, Albedo was sprawled across the ground. The bowl was turned over in the grass from where it had slipped from his grip.

“What happened?” Xiao demanded.

“I just...f-fell,” Albedo stammered, then started pulling himself to his feet. He winced and fell back to the ground. “I’m fine...I just...”

“You berate me about not caring for my own injuries,” Xiao said, leaning over him. “And yet you insist on not taking the time you need to rest.”

“I am many things,” Albedo said tonelessly. “Hypocritical is one of them.”

Xiao rolled his eyes. He tossed his spear back towards the cabin. It landed like a javelin next to the tree. Then, he reached for Albedo.

“Come on, get up.” Xiao encouraged.

“Don’t touch my back,” Albedo gasped. “Or my arms.”

Xiao scarcely honoured that a response. Instead, he hooked his hands beneath Albedo’s armpits and hauled him upright. Albedo gripped the nearby fence when he was high enough and dragged himself upright. He was even more unsteady on his feet than he had been before.

Xiao slung his arm over his shoulder and cautiously tried to avoid Albedo’s back, as requested. Still, he felt the him flinch against his side. He staggered more than once, and the shallowness of his breath betrayed just how much pain he must’ve been in. Xiao wondered if it had been like that from the start, or if taking a fall had aggravated already serious injuries. Or were the effects of coming into contact with the fallen god’s malice finally starting to rip Albedo’s soul apart?

Albedo sank into the chair Xiao had occupied minutes before. His breathing was shallow as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Xiao’s eyes lingered on the Vision at his throat, and wondered what other secrets he held, and why Rex Lapis had given him his blessing.

All questions slipped away as Albedo’s shirt slid off his shoulders and set free a sprinkle of fine, white dust. Some of the shards were large enough to rattle against the floor, and the sound had Albedo pausing and closing his eyes.

“Is it that bad...?” he asked, his voice thin with fear. “I know that I...” he trailed off and swallowed thickly.

Xiao couldn’t look away. The expanse of Albedo’s back had shattered, and the flesh beneath it was seeping blood. Pieces of chalk were falling away from his spine, and the cracks went as high as his neck, and as low as his hips. Some pieces were threatening to tumble free, but held on with an unknown force Xiao couldn’t understand. If he had to describe it, he would compare Albedo’s skin to an eggshell.

“Even stone will break under the most powerful forces,” Xiao replied. “If you were made of flesh and blood, you would’ve been torn to pieces.”

“I know,” Albedo sighed.

“Can you fix yourself?”

Albedo paused, then held up his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “This could very well be permanent. I have sustained many injuries, but none have been this severe.”

“You should have stayed out of the way.”

Albedo turned around. The crack splitting his cheek made his condescending stare much more venomous than it normally would have.

“When a tsunami crashes upon a beach, do you get out of its way? Or do you turn your back and hold on to whatever you can an attempt to endure it?” Albedo questioned. “When a typhoon makes landfall, do you flee? Or do you seek shelter, and wait it out?”

“I am an Adeptus. Such things are—”

“Precisely,” Albedo retorted. “You do not know the power of an unstoppable force, because you are greater than all of them. To say I should have merely stayed out of the way is naïve of you. I could not have known what would transpire in Huaguang today. Should I have known, certainly, I would’ve stayed out of your way, as you say I should have.”

“The Stone Forest is the realm of the Adepti. No mortal should ever walk here.”

“And yet, they do,” Albedo pointed out. “Many are pilgrims who seek the guidance and wisdom of the Adepti. I can only imagine just how many have been caught, just as I have, in the battles you have fought. Yet, the only pittance you offer to the souls of those doomed to die is ‘they should’ve stayed out of the way’.”

Xiao gritted his teeth. “Choose your next words carefully,” he snarled.

“Nothing more needs to be said.”

“You don’t know,” Xiao growled. “You don’t know what it’s like to hear the screams of the damned every waking second of your life. It drove the Yaksha – and countless Adepti – to madness. It festered and destroyed them from the inside. Imagine then, what such a thing could do to a mortal and decide whether or not I am within my place to wish them far away from this place. They made the choice to come, and they endured the consequences. I am the one who lives with that – not them.”

Albedo didn’t respond. His eyes drifted away from Xiao’s face and focused on a point he could not see. The silence was worse than Albedo’s philosophical musings. It ripped at him like the roots of a tree being torn from the earth. It grated across his mind like stones being dragged down the side of a cliff.

Answer me, he wanted to scream. Tell me that I’m right. Tell me that I—

But why did he need the validation of someone like him? A mortal, clad in immortal flesh? He didn’t need it, and he had no desire to continue this conversation further.

Xiao turned away from Albedo. He didn’t look back as he hefted his spear and left the cabin behind. The painful silence lingered. Albedo did not call out for him. Xiao wondered briefly if it would be better if he had.

He berated himself for thinking such a foolish thought.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

Albedo woke slowly. Memories of the night before swirled aimlessly through his mind. The aches and pains that filled his body from head to foot throbbed with each pulse of his heartbeat. The sun rose over the horizon and slid through the window. Birds chirped in the tree outside of the cabin, welcoming the new day. Yet, Albedo remained stationary. He knew the pain would only become worse should he stand up. From where he laid on his stomach, his neck twisted at an awkward angle, he could see the dusty fragments of the chalk that had fallen from his back when he’d removed his shirt the night before. He feared looking at his back in a mirror. It was enough material that Albedo genuinely wondered if he was hollow on the inside, though he knew he wasn’t.

Hunger forced him into movement. He groaned as he pushed himself upright. His body protested, and he heard the soft pops of his stiff joints becoming loose again. He stretched in the hopes that he could lessen the inflammatory pain, but he kept his movements slow, just in case he caused more cracks.

Little by little, he unwound the bandage on his arm where Xiao had gripped him as he dispersed the demonic energy the day before. The salve he’d put over the shattered skin had done little more than soak into the cracks and make them more apparent. Albedo carefully washed it off and inspected it. A piece of chalk tumbled to the floor, revealing the raw pink flesh beneath it, and a trickle of blood. He watched it drip before he wiped that away too. He pressed his hands over his face and groaned.

For a long time, Albedo had considered himself a being of flesh and blood. He bled when he was cut. He bruised when he was struck. His body was a flawless mimic of natural life, and the only true sign that he was not as he appeared was the way he never seemed to suffer the long-term effects of traumatic injury. His body would heal itself in a handful of days, and leave few scars to show for it. It was how he knew he was a being of something far more resilient. He’d had his theories after his master explained to him the properties of chalk, and how it had been used to create primordial life. But seeing the physical evidence that he had never been born, but instead, created, was something much more frightening. Deep down, he’d always known. But the confirmation was hitting him harder than the shockwaves he’d endured when he’d witnessed Xiao’s battle.

All of his alchemy, his potions and salves and balms, would do little for him now. The power of the demon and Xiao’s Adeptal energy had collided against him badly enough to overcome the alchemical forces that had put him together. Albedo didn’t know if he would continue to decompose until there was little more than dust remaining, or if his body would remain in its broken state forever. He didn’t dare hope that he could heal from this. His only hope was to find a way to repair himself. He knew it wouldn’t be as easy as putting two halves of a whole back together. He had to know what his body was made of in order to fix it. That meant he had to know precisely what his master had done to create him. Had she left a blueprint? If she had, it wouldn’t be easy to find. Perhaps there were clues in the textbook she had left him, but he’d left that in Mondstadt. Could he make it back that far? Could he enter the Knights of Favonius without being on the receiving end of uncomfortable questions about why his face was covered in jagged cracks?

He grimaced and wrapped a fresh bandage over his shattered arm. He needed help. He couldn’t make the journey back to Mondstadt alone. If Albedo ran into trouble...if he took one more hit...

He shuddered and pulled the bandage tight with his teeth. He reached for a fresh roll and tried to find the best way to cover his cheek. He sighed, and gave up. He would have to endure the mess his back had become, too – he couldn’t bandage it on his own. He cautiously pulled his shirt back on and winced as the fabric caught at the jagged edges of his broken skin.

Albedo packed slowly between bites of bread and cheese. He swallowed down medicinal tea made from the herbs he’d collected on the mountainside. They might not do much for his skin, but at least they would keep his internal components – whatever they were – as nominal as possible. Little by little, his pain lessened with his work, but the knowledge that he was coming apart kept him from pushing himself.

His jacket, free of bloodstains after the overnight soak, was still damp when he pulled it over himself in the early afternoon. The hem dripped water over the worn floors, and soaked into the back of his boots. He sighed and pulled the hood up in hopes that it would offer enough cover in case he bumped into any pilgrims along the way. Water soaked into his hair. He grimaced as it dripped over his cracked cheek.

Albedo didn’t have hope that Xiao would help him. The Yaksha had made it quite clear that he wasn’t fond of Albedo’s musings – or his accusations of not caring about mortal life. Albedo knew he had been harsh. But he had been angry. Having the person who had indirectly caused his injuries brush them off as though it was Albedo’s own fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time was irksome.

Yet, the Yaksha’s response to his words had gone unanswered. Albedo had struggled to find an appropriate one. He was correct, after all, that mortals were not meant to walk the realm of the Adepti, and any that did were in constant danger from forces outside of their control. Such knowledge was enough of a warning to keep most away. But others – pilgrims, and people like Albedo who sought something – cast that fear into the wind and walked the land that had been set aside for the immortal. The fact that Albedo had been caught in the crossfire was indeed his own fault for trespassing where he had no right to. Accusing Xiao of not caring about the fates of mortals who were killed as a result of collateral damage was unfair when he caused himself unimaginable pain keeping forces that could wipe out Liyue at bay. It the same ethical debate that plagued scholars across Teyvat. Permit the death of one to save the many? Or allow the many to perish to save the one? Xiao had to regularly make such a choice. Albedo couldn’t imagine needing to do the same. The guilt would plague him for decades. Xiao had already lived for centuries. He could not fathom the weight Xiao carried, and to attempt to was foolhardy. He could never understand, no matter how many hypotheses he drew up.

The cliffs of Jueyun Karst warded him as Albedo made his way out of Huaguang Stone Forest. Many mortal feet had walked the winding pathway up the mountain to worship the Adepti, but the endless climb would deter all but the most determined. Albedo would start there. If he could not find Xiao, he would turn around and attempt to make the trip back to Mondstadt alone. He set his foot onto the ragged bridge. It creaked dangerously beneath his weight. He bit his lip and tried not to look down.

That was when he felt the sharp prickle along the back of his neck. The wind gusted and rocked the bridge. His grip tightened on the ropes and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t need to look up to know Xiao had found him first.

“What are you trying to accomplish?” He asked.

“I was looking for you,” Albedo replied and looked up.

Xiao was perched on the islet that separated the mortal realm from the tallest mountain the Karst. His spear was held upright at his side, a warning that he was prepared to engage. His eyes were narrowed, and his expression accusatory.

“Though you’ve experienced what happens to those who enter the realm of the Adepti unwelcomed, you persist all the same,” Xiao said tiredly, then sat down on the stone bench of the pagoda behind him. “Very well. If you can reach me, I will hear whatever it is you have to say.”

The quirk of the Yaksha’s lips was prideful, and Albedo realized his legs were shaking. The wind whipped at his jacket and snapped around his knees. He winced as he was forced to grip the bridge tighter. He gritted his teeth and took another step.

Xiao watched him impassively as he slowly inched his way across the bridge. Albedo pondered the thought that this was some kind of test, and tried to ignore the weight of Xiao’s probing gaze. He didn’t move when Albedo was forced to crouch when the wind caught the bridge like a kite, and offered no pity when the pain in his body threatened to cripple him and force him to his knees. By the time Albedo had reached the islet, he was on the verge of crawling, and out of breath.

“Speak,” Xiao finally said and jabbed his spear into the ground. “What is it that you have sought me for?”

“I’m here to ask for help,” Albedo stated, just barely pulling himself back to his feet.

“From me? I thought I’d done enough damage already.”

Albedo didn’t honour that an answer. “I need to get back to Mondstadt to find my master’s research. I can’t go alone.”

“Why not?” Xiao questioned.

“Because I might not make it back.”

“And that is of my concern, is it?” Xiao narrowed his eyes. “Should I offer...pittance, as you say, to a trespasser?”

Albedo laughed bitterly. “No. I don’t expect you to help me at all.”

“Then, why did you come back here?”

“I have no desire to die,” Albedo sighed. “If I run into trouble along the way, I could. You are my only option, or I wouldn’t trouble you.”

“The Adepti do nothing for free. What would you offer in return?”

“Information,” Albedo offered. “I am going back to find information about what I am. I will share what I learn with you, should it prove to be useful.”

Xiao narrowed his eyes. “I do not care whether or not you live or die on this journey of yours. My duties are to Liyue – not to you.”

“Then, I will take my leave,” Albedo replied. “I thank you for your time. I believe we will never see each other again...and perhaps that is for the better.”

Xiao said nothing. Albedo didn’t expect him to. He wasn’t angry, nor regretful. He wasn’t disappointed. He wasn’t resentful, either. Xiao was right, after all. He owed Albedo nothing. To have sought him out rather than immediately beginning his journey back to Mondstadt had been a fool’s errand. He had only wasted valuable time he may need later, should his body be crumbling with every movement he made.

Albedo crossed back over the bridge without incident, though not without difficulty. The wind didn’t relinquish its hold on him for even a moment. When he clambered onto the path leading out of Jueyun Karst, Albedo exhaled shakily in relief. He adjusted the position of his bag against his hip, keeping the strap as far away from the middle of his back as he could.

For a moment, Albedo thought about looking back. He could still feel the prickle of Xiao’s eyes. Albedo couldn’t imagine why he would waste his time watching him struggle. For all he knew, Xiao had long since left, and Albedo was imagining the force of his gaze. But it was delusional that an Adeptus may have cared about him. Yet, Albedo hoped, not because he desired Xiao’s company, but because he wanted to be certain that someone would remember him. Albedo didn’t know if he experienced emotions the way humans did, but he was not immune to the mortal fear of dying alone and forgotten. It was lonely, and clouded his thoughts like mud in a river. He shook his head to clear it, and started walking.

He didn’t look back.

...

Xiao knew the exact moment Albedo had left the borders of Jueyun Karst. The fact that he knew was an irritation that disturbed him like a stone striking a still pond. He hadn’t been paying attention – not in the slightest. And yet, he knew with perfect clarity the moment Albedo took his final steps out of the land of the Adepti, and his presence faded to a memory.

Xiao was alarmed by just how much that feeling lingered in the following hours.

He did not care. If Albedo died today, or tomorrow, or next week, it would be nothing more than another mortal soul passing on. That is what mortals did. They lived, and they died. Xiao tried to tell himself that Albedo was no different, but the memory of his hand on the back of his head, and the abrupt clarity he had offered when his mind was being torn apart, reminded him that Albedo was not a normal mortal. If Albedo died today, or tomorrow, or next week, the mystery of who and what he was would die with him. A mortal body that could withstand Adeptal energy...a mortal body that could take a blow from a fallen god’s malice and survive...

The wind blowing from the peak of Mt. Aozang brushed along his back. It caught in his hair, and washed over his body like gentle hands. It caught in the bandage that was only now beginning to come loose from his arm. He pulled it off in irritation and found the wound beneath it flawlessly healed, and coated in a yellow-coloured salve that smelled sour. He used the bandage to wipe it off. Not even a scar remained. He yanked the bandage on his cheek off next and found the same result. He thought once more of Albedo. He had medicine that could heal an Adeptus. He had medicine that could prevent evil from festering in his flesh.

Xiao didn’t flinch when the flutter of wings announced the arrival of Cloud Retainer.

“One must ask why you have remained so long on this mountain,” she said calmly, oblivious to the maelstrom that had begun to swirl in Xiao’s mind. “You do not often stay where you do not wish to be.”

“It’s nothing,” Xiao replied. He bundled up the bandages and shredded them with Anemo energy. The dust blew away with the wind, taking the last physical reminder that Albedo had once been here with it.

“Then why do you appear so conflicted?” Cloud Retainer questioned.

“I am not,” Xiao replied. “He doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care what happens to him.”

“Yet, you immediately think of him. Xiao, tell your story.”

Xiao grimaced, then pressed his palms against his forehead. He looked to Cloud Retainer, and at her surprisingly understanding eyes.

“I only came here to get the recipe for Rex Lapis’s medicine,” Xiao said softly and looked away. “That’s all I need. The pain is returning sooner than I had hoped.”

“And yet, you appear to have forgotten your pain upon arrival.”

“I was distracted.”

“Tell your story, then one shall tell you the recipe for Rex Lapis’s medicine.”

Xiao sighed, and rubbed the healed skin on his arm.

He told Cloud Retainer everything. About the demon, about Albedo who was made of chalk, and about the medicine he had offered that had cleansed the corruption from his wounds and allowed them to heal. He told her about Albedo’s request, and how Xiao had let him travel alone and injured.

When he was finished, Cloud Retainer was silent, and Xiao’s forehead was pressed into his hands. He felt unwound and strung out. Baring his soul always took more out of him than he wished it would.

“One must consider the possibility that such a meeting was fated, and that you may need the aid of this man,” Cloud Retainer suddenly said.

“I don’t need his help,” Xiao argued and stood up. “I can take care of myself.”

“Rex Lapis has left this world,” Cloud Retainer stated. “The man made of chalk carries the blessing of Rex Lapis, correct?”

“He...does,” Xiao’s fists clenched. “But that means nothing. He is not Rex Lapis.”

“Indeed,” Cloud Retainer said. “However, the man made of chalk has healed your injuries, and guarded your mind against the evil you have battled. One must consider that the man made of chalk can take up the mantle Rex Lapis once carried.”

“He is mortal – not a god,” Xiao shook his head.

“Rex Lapis can no longer protect you,” Cloud Retainer went on. “You are aware that the Adepti have always been unable to. One cannot make the medicine you need. The man made of chalk can. Release your burdens, Xiao, and seek the aid of the man made of chalk.”

“How can I...I sent him away,” Xiao rasped. “He might already be dead.”

“Then, seek him. But first, listen well. One will share the recipe Rex Lapis used to protect you.”

Xiao closed his eyes and listened. It was complex, and composed of many steps and ingredients he did not know. Cloud Retainer made him repeat it back to her word-for-word. Xiao struggled to get it right until the fifth attempt. He grew impatient, but Cloud Retainer insisted he speak it once more.

Xiao did so, this time with confidence.

“Seek the man made of chalk,” Cloud Retainer finally said before she spread her wings and took to the sky. Xiao watched her go silently before kicking his spear into his hands. He leapt from the cliffside and let the wind guide him through the clouds.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Xiao followed the road out of Jueyun Karst as swiftly as he could. As expected, it was void of humans, aside from the small cabin of pilgrims who were exchanging martial arts techniques Xiao could pick apart in a heartbeat.

Useless, he thought, frowning at the way two of the men twirled their quarterstaffs in preparation for a spar. If a mortal could not sense the presence of a passing Adeptus, they were far from a master at their craft. They might have the moves, but they had none of the discipline.

The canyon walls loomed high overhead, and while such a thing wouldn’t be any matter of concern for Xiao, they would be for Albedo. No matter what angle Xiao considered them at, all he could observe was how trapped an injured man would be if he was assailed by monsters. He picked up his pace, passing rest stops and bridges and hoping he hadn’t missed a dead body, or that the rock pile he leapt over wasn’t what was left of Albedo. He splashed through the shallows of a river, scattering frogs and sending fish into panicked swims.

Xiao slowed to a stop as the canyon split into a crossroads. He breathed heavily, the pessimistic side of his mind warning him that this was the perfect place for an ambush. Here, an assailant could duck out of sight and tail an unsuspecting traveller, or lead them off the path to a place containing little more than monsters. Xiao didn’t think Albedo would leave the main path on purpose, but his intuition guided him to the unmarked trail that cut into the cliffside.

The smell of smoke and ash reached him long before the Hilichurls spotted him. There were many, and their cackling shouts grated on Xiao’s ears. A Mitachurl growled deeply, pointing towards something Xiao could not see and hefted his axe. The creature leapt into the air and swung it’s axe downwards. Xiao heard a shout, then an explosion of crystalline energy rocked the ground beneath his feet. Golden sparks danced around the hoard of Hilichurls, and the Mitachurl roared with anger as its quarry slipped from its grasp.

Xiao saw Albedo throw himself between two boulders and cower. Even from a distance, Xiao could see his staggering gait. He had arrived almost too late. He didn’t dare don the Yaksha mask with Albedo in such a vulnerable position. But the wind was at his side.

Xiao plunged into the crowd of Hilichurls, hearing the whistle of the wind slicing through flesh and shattering armour. It brought a wild pleasure, knowing he was purging evil. It might’ve been the minor presence of Hilichurls, rather than the corrupted presence of long dead gods, but when he was finished, there would be nothing but remnants. He cut the Hilichurls down with an effortless stroke of his spear and turned to face the Mitachurl. The monster roared in fury. Xiao lifted his spear.

Flames erupted as the Mitachurl swung its axe. Xiao plunged through the fire, the wind fanning them and making them burn hotter. They licked at his clothes, and the smell of burning hair filled the air. Xiao ignored it, and leapt at the Mitachurl. The ground shook, and a crystal flower blossomed at Xiao’s feet. A shield emerged around him, pushing away the fire and deflecting a blow from the Mitachurl’s axe.

Xiao threw himself forward once more. The same gold sparks he had seen earlier burst at his spearpoint. The assault broke the Mitachurl’s stance, and Xiao summoned his strength for the killing blow. Anemo swirled around him as he struck the Mitachurl down. It fell in a heap and groaned as it perished. With the threat neutralized, Xiao turned his attention onto the boulders where Albedo was peering from. His eyes were wide, and his hands trembled where they were buried in the earth. The Geo Vision at his neck was pulsing brightly. Xiao understood where the crystal flower and the shield must have come from. Albedo had protected him, and offered his power to aid him despite his injured state. Xiao felt a warm flicker of gratitude in his chest. He caught his breath and banished his spear.

Albedo’s injuries had become worse. The hood of his jacket covered most of his face, but Xiao could see the cracks stretching towards his nose and chin. His arms, though covered by his gloves, had cracked to his elbows. Xiao didn’t need to see his back to know that that had probably become worse too. He didn’t know what to say. In truth, he had no words to offer. Albedo’s injuries wouldn’t have gotten worse if Xiao had been by his side from the start. In a sense, this was his fault. But Xiao would not take the blame for it. Albedo would not have been injured in the first place if he hadn’t been trespassing.

“You followed me,” Albedo said quietly as Xiao approached him. “Why?”

“This is the proper place to explain,” Xiao stated. “Your injuries have worsened. You must treat them.”

“I know,” Albedo said, then started to stand. He winced in pain and fell back to the ground with a breathless gasp. He curled up and trembled. His fingers dug into the earth. His Vision glowed, and the soil rippled, but nothing about Albedo’s countenance was altered. He grimaced, and laid his cheek in the grass.

“I suppose this is where I will die,” he said softly. “Thank you...for coming this far. But...perhaps it was for nothing.”

“You’re not going to die,” Xiao said, then gripped Albedo under his arms. He cried out in pain and clawed at as Xiao’s arms as he was pulled upright. The fight left him swiftly, and he slumped heavily against his chest.

“Get on my back,” Xiao ordered.

“I can’t,” Albedo rasped.

“You can,” Xiao said, holding his wrists as he turned around. He looped them over his shoulders and pulled. Albedo’s breath hissed in his ear. Slowly, he held on and wrapped his legs around Xiao’s waist. He was dead weight, but surprisingly not too heavy. Xiao only hoped that Albedo was merely lightweight, and it wasn’t because he had already lost parts of himself that he could not restore.

Xiao wasted little time getting back onto the road. He moved as quickly as he dared, conscious of the way Albedo vocalized when the pain grew too great, and fell silent when he could endure it. His breathing was shallow and weak, and the sensation of his breath against his neck was almost imperceptible. Xiao felt fear prickle at his insides. What if Albedo was right, and he had come too late? What if he was dying?

Wangshu Inn rose ahead of him. It would not be the first time Xiao appeared under unusual circ*mstances. Albedo’s injuries would raise few questions, and any that were thought would be kept quiet. Heads turned to look as they passed, but no words were spoken. The people of Wangshu Inn knew Adeptus Xiao as a man of few words. Huai’an asked for nothing when Xiao requested a room. A promise of a fresh serving of almond tofu, sent up immediately, left his tongue before the door swung shut behind him. Xiao carefully unwound Albedo from his back and sat him as gently as he could onto a chair. Albedo’s hands were shaking as he peeled off his gloves and undid the clasp on his jacket. He lowered his hood.

Xiao winced at the sight of Albedo’s face. The cracks had reached his eye. The pupil was unfocused, and the iris had become discoloured and milky. Xiao didn’t need to ask to know that he’d lost his vision. The other eye was still the same, bright blue he remembered, and it focused on Xiao’s face with a tough precision that made him feel stripped bare.

“Why did you come after me?” Albedo asked.

“I have a request,” Xiao stated. It only occurred to him that it was the wrong thing to say when Albedo’s frown deepened.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Albedo questioned. “I offered you something in exchange for your help. You rejected it, and I set off alone. Why now have you deemed me useful enough to offer your assistance?”

“I spoke with the other Adepti,” Xiao replied. “Cloud Retainer provided me with the recipe for the medicine that Rex Lapis once crafted for me. I need you to make it for me.”

“Why do you think that I could?”

“Human medicine does nothing for Adepti. Yet, your medicine was able to heal me.”

Albedo’s eyes drifted to Xiao’s arm, where the wound had once been. His gaze shifted slowly back to his face.

“This is your request,” Albedo said softly. “In exchange for aiding me...you wish for medicine.”

“Yes.”

Albedo folded his arms over his chest. Xiao wondered faintly if he would say ‘no’. He didn’t seem the type. The only thing that reassured Xiao was the fact that they were both in a position of vulnerability. Albedo was the only one who was able to heal his wounds. Xiao was the only one who could prevent Albedo’s from getting worse. It was a fair trade, all things considered. But Xiao wondered what the long-term nature of their bargain might be once Albedo had no use for him. He pushed the thought away. He would not worry about that now.

Albedo still had yet to speak when one of the inn’s attendants knocked on his door and stepped inside. An array of treats laid across a tray was brought in and laid on the table next to the door. The attendant kept her head down as she nervously spoke out Wangshu Inn’s traditional greeting of the traveller, and a special one to welcome a high-ranking Adeptus.

“You may go,” Xiao said, when she had finished her formal tirade.

The woman bowed deeply before retreating and closing the door softly. The warm smell of almond tofu reached his senses, and Xiao’s mouth watered.

“I will help you,” Albedo finally said, then pulled a notebook from his bag. Xiao watched him flip through it, his eyes drifting over countless hand-drawn pictures of familiar plants, and animals. Neatly scribbled notes lingered next to each one in an elegant script. Albedo turned to a blank page and held his charcoal pencil. “What is the recipe for your medicine?”

Xiao didn’t know if allowing Albedo to write it down was a good idea. But he didn’t want to have to repeat it again when he worried it may fade from his memory. So, he recited it, Cloud Retainer’s voice echoing in his memory as a guiding reminder. Albedo didn’t pause in his note taking, and he never stopped to ask about an ingredient. His spelling of each word came without hesitation, and Xiao realized by the time he’d spoken the last of it that Albedo knew everything he would be working with.

Cloud Retainer had been right. He did need Albedo.

“What do you need this for?” Albedo asked, looking up at him.

Xiao massaged the back of his neck. How should he explain?

“It is the only thing that...helps me endure the effects of the karma,” Xiao admitted. “From fighting those demons, like the one in Huaguang Stone Forest.”

Albedo hummed as he read over the ingredient list once more. “It’s powerful,” he said quietly. “But I can make this.”

The certainty in Albedo’s voice had relief sinking into Xiao’s chest. “When? Now?”

“Not now,” Albedo shook his head. “Some of these ingredients are...difficult to come by, and challenging to collect on short notice. I have stores of them at my lab in Mondstadt. When we arrive, I can make you this medicine, and then I can find my master’s textbook. Then, hopefully, both of our problems will be taken care of.”

“What if you can’t find the textbook?” Xiao questioned.

Albedo looked up at him. His one, clear eye was placid and calm. The other looked hollow and empty. It was already dead.

“Then, Xiao, I may very well die, and I will be unable to help you.”

Xiao’s hands clenched at his sides. “I won’t let that happen.”

“There are some things in this world that are out of your control,” Albedo responded. “Whether or not my master left behind notes about me is one of those things. We may have to work harder to find them. She would not have left such things in a place where prying eyes might stumble upon them. She was not a foolish woman. Depending on what we find in Mondstadt, we may have to return to her old laboratory. She may have left something there that can offer us clues.”

“Where would that be?”

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

The first leg of the journey was arduous. Though a night’s sleep in a soft bed had done wonders to ease the pain in Albedo’s body, the road towards the Stone Gate was endless. Xiao’s strides were long, and impatient. Too many times did Albedo fall behind to catch his breath, and too many times did Xiao turn around to find him leaning heavily on a signpost, or against the railings of a bridge overlooking Dihua Marsh. Each time, he said nothing, but the quirk in his brows betrayed what he must’ve been feeling. Albedo couldn’t tell if it was irritation, or concern. Xiao didn’t give any clues aside from the way his hands clenched into fists at his side. Albedo didn’t dare ask him to carry him again.

He supposed he couldn’t blame Xiao for his rush. If it was true that the karmic debt from battling demons festered within him, then the pain must’ve been immense. Yet, he bore it as though it weighed little more than a backpack overstuffed with feathers. There was no sign of his suffering – no sign of his burdens. It made Albedo curious, and also a little worried. How constant was Xiao’s pain for it to have so little effect on him?

Albedo kept his musings silent as their steps took them closer to the border of Liyue and Mondstadt. Xiao’s pace eventually slowed, but it did not stop until the sun was inching closer to the horizon. For tonight, this was the end of the line. They would have to make camp, or risk the dangers of the night. Albedo knew Xiao could handle it. Albedo, however, likely could not.

“We should stop here,” Xiao said. “Can you get us a room with a window? I don’t want to be seen.”

Albedo nodded numbly, ignoring the way the side of his head throbbed with the motion. He massaged his forehead and headed towards the rest house. The receptionist glanced at the bandage covering the side of Albedo’s face. With his eye blinded, there was no need for him to keep it uncovered. He knew people would theorize what had happened to him, but he could not concern himself with such a miniscule thing.

Albedo was led to a room at the back of the rest house, one with a window as per his request. Xiao would slip inside when he was left alone. Until then, Albedo made small talk long enough to place a room service order for dinner, and left enough Mora to cover the bill, and a little extra to hopefully keep curious noses at bay. He slid his jacket off of his arms and hung it up on the hook by the door. He felt more than he heard the soft whoosh of the wind announcing Xiao’s arrival.

Albedo started unbuttoning his shirt. He had to check the damage the day had worn into him. Xiao said nothing as he stepped over to help him tug his aching arms from the sleeves. A few stray shards, and a handful of dust fell towards the floor. It wasn’t as bad as yesterday. Albedo breathed in slowly before allowing himself to turn around to observe his injuries in the mirror.

The flesh beneath the chalk was still pink, but it had dried to a discoloured crust that felt like a typical scar on a human body. It was soft, and ached when he brushed his fingers over it. But for the most part, it had gotten no better or worse than it had been before. Albedo wondered if his worry about falling apart was futile, and if he would come out of it more or less intact if the chalk was removed. Something about the appearance and texture off the flesh beneath his skin made him wonder. Could the chalk crumbling from his body be little more than an exoskeleton? If so, what was he underneath it?

Xiao helped him replace the bandage on his back. Then, he started on his face. Albedo didn’t look at it in the mirror, and only allowed Xiao to hold his chin and inspect it for him. Compared to the previous times Xiao had touched him like this, he was much gentler. He did not allow his fingers to drift anywhere near the cracks. His golden eyes were soft, but intense. Albedo tried to take comfort from them.

“It’s no worse,” Xiao said, releasing his hold. “But it’s not any better, either.”

Albedo sighed heavily. At least it hadn’t gotten worse. He could feel the stiffness of the cracks creeping towards the underside of his jaw, and the sensation made it difficult to smile. But it was good news. Today’s damage was minimal. He may make it back to Mondstadt, after all. Albedo sighed in relief and started pulling his shirt back on.

Xiao slipped back out the window when the attendant arrived to bring Albedo his dinner. He accepted it gratefully and passed her a coin for her trouble. Then, he settled in to eat as Xiao came back inside.

“Would you like some?” Albedo asked. “The portion is more than I can handle.”

Xiao shook his head, but sat across from him. “I do not like human food,” he replied.

“But you ate at Wangshu Inn,” Albedo pointed out.

Xiao shook his head. “Almond tofu is the only thing I enjoy.”

Albedo paused with his spoon in his mouth. Xiao wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were distant, and his expression impassive. Albedo wondered what he was thinking about. Was the journey tiring for him? Or did he have misgivings about stepping out of Liyue, even if his departure would only be brief? Albedo wondered if there was any sort of comfort he could offer the Yaksha, and if it would be well received. Xiao was similar to Albedo in many ways. He preferred to do things alone. If that was the case, then Albedo probing would likely be unwelcome. He’d best keep his questions to himself for now.

Night fell, and Albedo slipped into the bed as Xiao made himself comfortable where he could. He felt bad for taking the only bed in the room, but when the receptionist only thought one guest was present, it meant space would be limited. Xiao did not complain, nor did he mention the lack of beds. He did nothing more than take one of the pillows and curled up in the corner with Albedo’s travel blanket. For a time, Albedo worried that he would not find rest. But as the night wore on, the Yaksha’s stiff expression melted into one of placid calm as sleep cradled him in its gentle hands. Albedo pulled out his sketchbook. In a few, spare minutes, the memory of the Yaksha was imprinted upon the page. Albedo traced the lines with his fingertips, noting that it was the first time he had ever seen Xiao at peace. He smiled softly, and brushed his hand over the sketched bangs. Sleep well, he thought, and knew he meant it. Albedo set the sketchbook aside and moved to snuff out the candle.

That was when Xiao made a strange sound. It was not a word, nor was it a whisper. It was pained, and weak, and his body curled up on itself. Xiao shuddered as his night terror grew worse, and his cries became agonized.

Albedo threw himself out of bed and knelt next to him. “Xiao,” he whispered, unsure of how to wake him. Xiao writhed as Albedo laid a hand on his cheek. Albedo shuddered at the power radiating from his body.

“Xiao,” Albedo said again. “Wake up. It’s a dream. You have to wake up...”

But perhaps it wasn’t a dream. He could see the black shadows leaking from his skin and curling like smoke as they sought to curse whatever they could. Albedo concentrated as firmly as he could to keep the screams at bay, and prayed Xiao’s strength would be enough to keep the corruption contained. Perhaps this was a result of the karmic debt Xiao endured in his eternal war against the forces of evil.

Albedo did what he could. He held Xiao’s hand, and whispered words of encouragement, hoping that something he said could break through to him and ease his suffering. He thought of the medicine recipe within his sketchbook. One of the ingredients was Qingxin flower roots. The flower contained many immune boosting compounds and aided with sleep. It might not have the full effect of the true medicine, but perhaps it might help stabilize the chaos raging within him.

“I’m going to make you something,” Albedo promised, then pulled his hands away.

Xiao surprised him by lunging forward. His hands gripped his wrists and pulled him back to his knees. His gold eyes were wide, and very much awake, but pain twisted his features into something unrecognizable. Albedo could see his fear, and he felt it within his own, rapidly beating heart.

“Don’t go,” Xiao gasped. “Please. Stay here. Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Albedo promised, then laid his hand back on Xiao’s cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into it. He shuddered and laid still, though his chest continued to heave. The black aura pulsed around him and licked at Albedo’s broken skin.

“Say something,” Xiao pleaded. “Anything.”

“Once, there was a prince who fell from the stars,” Albedo recited, remembering the bedtime story Miss. Alice used to tell Klee. He told it from memory, having learned each word from the many years hearing it at night, and from the many times he’d told it to Klee when Miss. Alice was away. It was a story about a selfless prince of starlight who gave pieces of himself to grant the wishes of people who only took advantage of him. It was a sad tale, but ended with the moral statement that nothing ever truly came for free. For when so many took the power of the prince of the stars, they found that power lessened until it became nothing more than echoes of spoken wishes. Only the prince of the stars remained happy with the belief that he had brightened the lives of so many, and lived a fulfilled life until his death.

When Albedo finished the story, Xiao’s eyes had regained focus, and his breathing had eased to a steady rhythm. His face was flushed, and his grip was weak, but he had settled to a place where Albedo felt comfortable letting go.

“I’m going to make you Qingxin root tea,” Albedo promised. “Will you be okay?”

Slowly, Xiao nodded. He released Albedo’s hand and closed his eyes. Albedo clipped, peeled, and pressed the Qingxin roots as best as he could as he heated water over the candle. He used a pinch of oxidiser to make the candle burn with a hot, blue flame that recklessly ate the wick. The candle burnt to nothing more than a puddle and cinders by the time he was finished, but it had heated the water enough to make an infusion. He sat next to Xiao and helped him sit up so he could drink it. He grimaced at the taste and slumped into Albedo’s shoulder and laid still. Only a few shudders passed through his frame in the minutes that followed. His hand was curled into the front of Albedo’s shirt. Xiao did not thank him, but the display of vulnerability was enough for Albedo to know that he was grateful.

“Come on,” Albedo encouraged, and tugged Xiao to his feet. “Come lie down.”

Xiao didn’t protest. His legs were shaky as he stumbled over to the bed. He laid down, and Albedo sat next to him as best as he could on the small mattress. Another shudder wracked through him, and Xiao clutched at him once more.

Albedo told him another story, this one about a traveler who fought and freed a great dragon that had threatened Mondstadt. It was one he knew from the stories that circulated the city, and from the humble, embarrassed details he’d been told first-hand over a campfire. Slowly, Xiao drifted back into sleep, but Albedo remained awake. He closed his eyes and considered what more he should do. Would Xiao be alright in the morning? Or would his fit linger into the daylight hours? Albedo brushed the bangs from his eyes. He was at peace now, but would it last?

The night was old when Albedo found his own rest. He dreamed of things he did not recognize. Faces of unknown people, and places filled with meadow flowers he’d never seen. He walked paths through mountains he knew, but were shaped differently from what he remembered. Albedo realized he was seeing memories that did not belong to him. They were memories of Liyue from long before he was born. He didn’t wonder why, or even how. He knew they were Xiao’s dreams. His thoughts troubled him deeply enough that he was sharing his burdens, and allowing Albedo to carry the weight he could not endure alone. The dreams were beautiful, but the knowledge that such times were long gone made them feel bitter. Loneliness crept into Albedo’s heart, and sunk deep enough that tears prickled in his eyes. The memories were painful, and filled with loss and bitter longing. The grief hurt more than anything he’d ever felt before.

Albedo woke first, the last of the memories drifting away like cherry blossoms fluttering in the wind. The memory of the meadow flowers lingered most prominently, and Albedo wiped his damp cheeks before he reached for his sketchbook once more. On a blank page, he sketched the memory. The meadow, filled with wildflowers, and a tree in the distance spreading its branches towards the sky. Sketching the details numbed him to the pain, and brought to life a scene that could be witnessed in the present, rather than visited in a memory.

“Nantianmen,” Xiao said suddenly.

“What?” Albedo hadn’t realized he’d woken.

“Nantianmen,” he repeated. “The flowers were called bitterblooms, and they only grew in that valley. A great battle was fought there during the Archon war, and a dragon was sealed beneath the roots of that tree by the Adepti. It only serves to protect now, just as I do.”

“It’s still there, isn’t it?” Albedo asked. “The dragon.”

“Yes,” Xiao breathed. “And on the day it finds its way out, I will be there to stop it, and the face of Nantianmen will change once more. Just as it did on that day the last bitterbloom met its end.”

“You fought well,” Albedo said softly.

“But you think of the bitterblooms, do you not?” Xiao questioned. “You think it unfair that something so small was wiped out just for being in the way.”

“It is unfair,” Albedo agreed. “But I am an alchemist. As long as traces of the bitterblooms remain within the soil, I can find them again, and return them to Nantianmen.”

“That is a dangerous thing to do,” Xiao sighed. “What is gone is gone. What is dead should remain dead. This world goes on without bitterblooms, and it will continue to do so. That is the way of mortal life. It is not right for hands like ours to interfere in such matters.”

Hands like ours, Albedo thought numbly. How many things had his hands brought to life and introduced into the world around him? There was always something lingering at the back of his mind, warning him that creation wasn’t something to be trifled with. And yet, it filled him with a spark of accomplishment when something was given life by his hands. But perhaps that feeling covered up the danger of upsetting the natural balance of the world, and all things within it. Perhaps Albedo should practice more caution when creating, lest he fall into the spiral of desire that had resulted in the destruction of Khaenri’ah.

“You are correct,” Albedo agreed. “I merely thought it would be nice to know how they smelled when in bloom.”

“Like dandelions,” Xiao replied. “There was a specific type of bee – one with a green head – that thrived on the nectar. The honey they produced was bitter. No other creature would touch it aside from mortals who believed it to have special properties sweet honey did not. But you could only find it in Nantianmen. The bees would not survive anywhere else in Liyue.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Albedo said, closing his eyes.

“It was,” Xiao agreed. “And I am...sorry that such things were lost, even if you think I offer no pity to fleeting life.”

“It was wrong of me to say you did not,” Albedo said softly.

Xiao fell silent once more. The birds outside the window chirped voraciously in the morning light, beckoning them to continue their journey. But they remained still, and Xiao didn’t lift his head from Albedo’s shoulder. Their journey would start again when they were ready. For now, there was time to grieve. Xiao’s hand lingered on the edges of the sketchbook. He didn’t ask how Albedo knew what to draw. Perhaps he already knew. Whether or not Xiao was aware that he had shared his dreams was a question Albedo would not ask him.

But he was grateful. He was glad to have had the opportunity to see what he would not otherwise have witnessed. Even if it was a memory from a thousand or more years ago, it was a precious moment in time, and Xiao had shared it with him. And now, the memory lived on in paper and charcoal, brought back to life by Albedo’s hand. The way Xiao’s fingertips traced the bitterblooms with idle strokes of his fingertip told him that bringing it back in such a way was worth it.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

Although it was separated by little more than a mountain range and a river, Mondsadt was wholly different from Liyue. The trees they passed as they stepped across the border changed from squat, red leafed maples that clung to the rocks and riverbeds, to tall yews and oaks that thrived in the rich, solid soil. The mountains gave out to rolling hills and valleys deeper than some of Liyue’s largest cliffsides. The forces of wind and water that had once carved Mondstadt’s terrain were long gone, much in the same way the gods that had shaped the face of Liyue during the Archon war were but a distant memory. Xiao wondered how different things might have been if he’d been born in Mondstadt, rather than Liyue. Would he have been caught up in a war then too? Or would his life have been much less violent and bloody? Or was it his destiny to be corrupted, and forces similar to those that enslaved him in Liyue would have taken his freedom in Mondstadt too? Xiao shook his head. Dwelling on what could have been was useless when he knew better than anyone that the past was unchangeable.

But still, he wanted to dream. He wanted to dream like the mortals did and think of things that brought his heart peace. He wanted to wish for it until it ached in his chest like an iron spike being twisted and pulled until he felt tortured by its presence. How many dreams of the same, wistful nature did he consume? He could still remember their taste, and their delicate texture. He had devoured them eagerly, but not without being hounded by agonizing guilt. He had been taking something precious, but still, he could not stop. The raw pleasure he felt in the moment was overpowering, and he was helpless to the word of his enslaver.

Xiao grimaced. The wind whipped at his back. It caught his clothes and hair and reminded him that he was no longer in Liyue. Mondstadt’s wind was unobstructed by mountains, and it flowed wherever it pleased and carried with it the scent of a thousand things. Xiao felt the peace it brought with his body, though it still filled him with longing. Freedom was a beautiful feeling, and though he was still duty bound to the task given to him by Rex Lapis, compared to his past, he was free to make his own choices. The wind would always remind him of such a thing.

As they stepped deeper into Mondstadt, Albedo began to take a proper lead. His pace was still slow, but his limp was less pronounced. Though the lack of speed frustrated him, Xiao didn’t complain. He didn’t know the way, after all. And after the night at the Stone Gate, Xiao would never rush him onwards, or do anything that would potentially compromise Albedo’s well being.

Cloud Retainer had been right. He knew it with an absolute certainty he had only surmised back at Wangshu Inn. The fact that Albedo understood how to prepare his medicine was one thing. Now, he knew that Albedo guarding his mind at Huaguang Stone Forest had not been a fluke. Albedo’s mind was as steady as the most solid rock in Liyue. His voice, though quiet, was unstoppable and flowing. It wound through Xiao’s mind like a river, cutting down and washing away the worst of the violent thoughts that were arresting him, and allowing him to find stable ground to fight back. Without Albedo, he might have suffered long into the night. If he was lucky, he may have heard the titular sound of the flute that would purge the crippling agony and allow him to breathe again, but he wasn’t always so lucky.

Xiao didn’t like asking for help. It wasn’t in his nature to do so. But it seemed as though he hadn’t needed to. Albedo’s aid came freely, and though the infusion he’d prepared in the following moments wasn’t Rex Lapis’s medicine, it had soothed his spirit. It steadied the maelstrom to a manageable whisper, and turned the chaos raging within him to a tender dream. Though he slept deeply, he still felt Albedo’s presence by his side. He understood why when he’d woken. Albedo had been with him in his dreams. He had seen Nantianmen before the Archon war with enough clarity to sketch it when he awoke. Without realizing it, Xiao had shared his dreams – something that would normally bring him intense shame. But he did not regret the fact that Albedo had seen them. Sharing a time lost to darkness with Albedo had lessened the pain he normally suffered when he dreamed of that time. The grief hurt less, and the loss felt distant and dulled. But the exchange meant that Albedo had endured the grief with him. Xiao did regret that, but he couldn’t deny that they had grown closer as a result of it.

Every few minutes, Albedo would turn to look over his shoulder and tilt his head in a way that Xiao had come to know as his silent question of how are you. And Xiao would meet the eye that was not obstructed by bandages and hold his gaze until he turned away. Xiao’s silent response of I am fine. It was unconventional, but the small quirk of Albedo’s smile told him he was understood. Xiao could scarcely remember the last time he felt such a curious feeling. It put warmth in his chest like the caress of sunlight along his skin. It was a strange and foreign feeling to think he had a use for the word ‘friend’, but Xiao felt it in every pulse of his heart. It was undeniable, and unexpectedly powerful.

The sun had just passed high noon when Albedo let out a heavy sigh and sat down on a fallen log.

“Let’s stop here,” he said, then peeled open his bag. “I need a rest.”

Xiao nodded and sank to the grass. It was soft, and it welcomed him like a blanket. He ran his hands over it, watching the way it swayed. It felt fragile compared to the hardy grasses that grew in Liyue, yet its roots ran deep enough to keep it secure.

Albedo dug an apple from his bag, and sliced it into quarters with his pocket knife. He scraped out the core and offered a wedge to Xiao. He considered it for a moment before taking it from him. The scent was sweet and bitter, and it turned his stomach. He bit into it, chewed it, then handed the wedge back with a grimace. Albedo laughed softly and finished it for him before carving the core out of another wedge.

“Why is it that you don’t like human food?” Albedo asked. “I admit, I am curious.”

“I am not human. Maybe that’s why,” Xiao stated and wiped the side of his mouth with his hand. The taste of the apple lingered on his tongue and made him regret trying it. He’d hoped that perhaps it would be more enjoyable since Albedo had given it to him.

“I’m not human either,” Albedo replied. “Perhaps it’s because I require caloric intake, while you do not...but if you don’t need to eat, where do you get your energy from, I wonder...?” Albedo trailed off, then bit into the apple.

“Are you asking me that, or are you asking yourself that?” Xiao asked.

“It is a general question,” Albedo said with a shrug. “There are many ways life takes form in Teyvat, each one more peculiar than the last. You are but one more mystery I wish to understand, although you will have to forgive me for saying such a thing. I would not ask anything of you if it made you uncomfortable.”

Xiao didn’t reply. He focused on a butterfly making its vibrant journey through the wildflowers. Albedo’s musings were strange, and they made Xiao think in ways he never had before. He’d never considered his own immortality, or the ways he differed from mortals. He only knew that he was, and he never asked why. He just accepted. Looking inward was uncomfortable. He wondered how Albedo bore the burden of his own, strange existence as naturally as he would don a cloak.

Albedo had finished his apple. The sound of his pencil scraping across paper was only just muffled by the wind. Xiao ignored it in favour of letting his eyes fall shut. The rustle of the leaves, and the swish of grass as it swayed together in an intricate dance, guided by invisible hands that plucked them like zither strings. If he opened his heart and mind, he could hear the faint breath that came with the trill of a flute, but no music accompanied it. His heart ached with how much he missed that sound, and he wondered if he would ever hear it again.

He became aware of Albedo’s attention. His sketchbook had closed, but the eye that wasn’t concealed by his bandages was observing him intently. His expression was unreadable, and his eyes betrayed none of the thoughts that lay just behind them. His focus was unnerving, but Xiao found that it did not bother him. It made his skin prickle down to his fingertips and toes. What did Albedo see? Did he see him at surface value? Or were his eyes somehow strong enough to see what lied beneath? Could he see the weight that hung upon his soul? Could he see the dark past that lingered in his memories? Xiao shouldn’t consider that he could see such things. It was impossible to read minds, after all. But Albedo’s eyes were alarmingly bright, and there was a depth to them that was as endless as a clear blue sky, or a mountain pond without a bottom. They were eyes that probed the secrets of the universe. Eyes that searched for hidden meanings and sought angles nobody had ever found before. Eyes that saw depths where there were only shallows, and found things that had been lost long ago. Albedo’s eyes should’ve terrified him, but instead, he found himself fascinated. He wondered, only briefly, if Albedo found Xiao’s eyes equally as arresting, or if Xiao was nothing more than an object of temporary interest that would fade when he found his answers.

He looked away. The iron spike of wishing twisted wordlessly in his stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was he wanted, but it ached all the same.

Albedo’s jacket rustled as he tucked his sketchbook away. “We should arrive in Mondstadt by nightfall,” he said. “I’d like to get there after sundown. There’s less chance we’ll run into someone. We can spend the night in the lab and leave before sunrise. We may have to go over the wall.”

The concept of the free city of Mondstadt being surrounded by walls was an irony that didn’t go unnoticed by Xiao.

Albedo sighed as he looked out over the grassy fields. In the distance, Xiao could see a spire rising high above the hills, accompanied by the tops of ever-turning windmills.

“We’ll get inside,” Xiao said with certainty.

Albedo hummed, then got to his feet. “Let’s get going, then.”

Xiao stretched his arms above his head as he stood up. Albedo watched silently, then took the lead once more. Xiao wondered if he was imagining things, or if Albedo’s cheek had flushed a pale shade of pink beneath the sunlight. The iron spike of wishing prodded him again. He sighed, and jogged to catch up.

...

Albedo had never disliked Mondstadt’s walls before. A few times in his life, he had stood at the foot of the church next to the statue of Barbatos and considered the tactical position of the city proper. Built in the middle of a lake, it was in a perfect defensive position, although the lone road in and out of the city would choke off supplies should it become blocked. The walls were thick and sturdy, and there was a safety beneath them, but also a restriction. Albedo had never truly disliked them until he had to find a way over them without being seen.

His position in the Knights of Favonius meant he knew when the changing of the guards would be, and at what times the patrols would pass the outskirts of the city. But it offered little solace, considering they had to find a way over the lake before they could even consider scaling the walls. A good eye would spot them from Springvale.

They took advantage of the guard change at the front gates to sneak beneath the stone bridge over Cider Lake. Xiao bundled Albedo onto his back and used the wind to leap from the shoreline and duck beneath the arches. The cold water licked at the cracks in Albedo’s skin as they inched their way along slippery stones. He winced, and tried not to make a sound as Xiao pulled them along the edge of the islet, his hands scrabbling at loose dirt and rocks. He winced when his hand slipped and sent pebbles tumbling into the water below.

“Use the tree roots over there,” Albedo whispered, then pointed the way.

Xiao nodded, then continued over. By the time they had pulled themselves onto the islet, they were both covered in water and mud, and Xiao had a smear of dirt on his face. Though Xiao was far from a child, it reminded Albedo so much of Klee returning home covered in mud and ash that he felt an overwhelming urge to wash his face. He shook the thought away and started for the wall. Lingering when a patrol could pass by at any second was a bad idea.

Xiao’s footsteps were nearly silent in the night. Compared to Albedo, who’s footsteps sounded heavier with each stride, Xiao trotted over the grass like a subtle wind. He stopped when the flags of the Knights of Favonius headquarters flapped overhead and held out his hands. Albedo took them, and clambered onto his back.

Xiao climbed the wall with startling ease. Albedo tried to be as little of a burden as possible, but he knew his weight must be threatening to pull him back to the ground. Yet, Xiao didn’t complain. Though sweat started on his brow, and his breath hissed between his teeth, he gave no sign that Albedo was holding him back. They were up and over the wall in a handful of minutes.

“My lab is in the basem*nt,” Albedo said softly. “But the room next to it has a window we can get through.”

Xiao nodded, then started down the other side. Albedo clung on tighter, finding that descending was a lot more nerve wracking than the climb upwards. He didn’t open his eyes until their feet were back on solid ground, and Albedo led them to the basem*nt floor window that separated him from his living area. Albedo dipped his fingers into a thick paste from his bag and pressed them against the lock. It shattered with an alchemical spark and swung open. He would repair it when they were finished here. Things that were unmade could always be made whole again.

Albedo’s apartment was dark when they slid inside. He reached for his matches and struck them to light a handful of candles to illuminate the space. Xiao stood upright and blinked at his surroundings. Albedo had left his bed unmade, and his desk was covered in scattered papers and bottles. A mug that once contained tea sat forgotten and unwashed. Albedo sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

If he’d known he would’ve had an Adeptus as a guest, he might’ve remembered to clean up.

“Let me...find us a change of clothes,” Albedo said, trying to draw Xiao’s attention away from his chronic inability to keep his private living spaces tidy. “Take your boots off and leave them there. I’ll sweep up the mud before bed.”

Xiao nodded, and pulled his boots off. Albedo dug through his closet until he found two loose shirts, and two pairs of baggy trousers. He tried to eye out what size Xiao was, and thought that they were roughly the same. He offered the clothes with a small smile.

“Change into these for now. I’ll wash the mud off your clothes,” Albedo said.

“No,” Xiao said, but took the clothes. “I’ll do it. You find your book.”

Albedo had almost forgotten about it. “I’ll make your medicine, then. The book I need should be on one of these shelves. It’s called Opus Magnum. If you have a minute, maybe you could find it...?”

Xiao nodded, then turned around to pull his shirt over his head. Albedo turned away and undid the clasp on his jacket. He changed quickly, then dumped his clothes into the washbasin. He lit the hearth, and pulled the drying rack a little bit closer to it. Xiao used the pump in the wall to fill the basin and knelt down to scrub away the dirt with an intense focus.

Albedo turned to the page containing Xiao’s recipe as he stepped into his lab. He pulled open drawers, removed ingredients he rarely had use for, and laid them out in a neat row on his bench. Then, he got to work. He followed the directions to the letter, grinding down ingredients and mixing them together into a bowl. The process was tedious, and several of the ingredients required special handling, and others required his Vision to break apart, and some required stabilization. Xiao had emerged from his room at some point and sat on a stool near one of the candles with the familiar tome clutched in his hands. His fingers were slowly peeling the pages apart, pausing only on the hand-drawn photographs and furrowing his brow as he tried to read what they meant.

When Albedo finished making Xiao’s medicine, he could feel its potency. It was a medicine meant to heal gods, and cleanse the malice of demonic souls. If any mortal should ingest it, it would surely burn them from the inside out. Albedo did not wish to touch it with his bare hands, even though he knew it was stable in this form.

“It’s ready,” Albedo said. “Do you want some now? I assume you know the dosage better than I do.”

Xiao set the book aside and stepped over. He looked strange in Albedo’s clothes. Not like himself. He looked less like a powerful Yaksha who suffered through an eternal war, and more like a young mortal with hopes and dreams of his own. Albedo resisted the affectionate thoughts that bubbled gently to the surface.

“Can you read that?” Xiao suddenly asked.

“Read...?” Albedo questioned.

“That book,” Xiao gestured to the Opus Magnum. “It’s...not written in any language I know of.”

“It’s written in the language of Khaenri’ah,” Albedo replied. “My master taught it to me so that I could understand the fundamentals of what she called ‘true alchemy’.”

“I believe I have heard of such a place,” Xiao tilted his head thoughtfully. “Though I never witnessed it for myself. I only heard it in passing. This is...the kind of alchemy that allowed one person to nearly destroy Mondstadt?”

“Yes,” Albedo sighed. “An alchemist who went down in history with the name ‘Gold’...Their true identity is unknown, but they created Durin, and an army of monsters one hundred years ago. It is only thanks to the bravery of Dvalin, one of Mondstadt’s Divine Winds, and Barbatos himself that humanity survived the onslaught.” Albedo sighed. “In truth, I fear that my master and Gold are irrevocably connected, either by blood, or by tutelage. Perhaps, even, they are the same person. My master is certainly capable of creating such a beast, but I did not witness it myself, so I have little confirmation.

“However, I do know that the life force that lingers within Dragonspine – within Durin’s remains – is very similar to that which sustains my own. I do not know if that is because Durin is, by definition, my brother, or if my master used his lingering life force to bring me to life. Both are possibilities, and I am not entirely certain which one I would prefer.”

Xiao remained silent. His fingertip scratched along the tabletop, picking at a spot of dirt that had burned into the surface long ago.

“Does it bother you?” Xiao asked suddenly. “To know that you are bound to such a destructive creature? Wouldn’t it be easier to not seek such answers and live in naivety?”

“Perhaps,” Albedo replied. “But understanding myself is also understanding my place in the universe. All life must have meaning and truth to become, and that is what I seek to discover.”

“You are strange, Albedo,” Xiao said, his expression impassive.

Albedo smiled humourlessly. “You are not the first to think so. You will not be the last.” He gently pushed the bowl of medicine towards Xiao. “Please; take what you need and get some rest. I will be up a little later. Thank you for finding my book.”

Xiao nodded, then picked up the bowl. He used one of Albedo’s spoons to measure his dosage. He mixed it with warm water and drank it quickly. Albedo took a moment to pack the rest into a leather pouch and tucked it into his carry bag so it would not be left behind if they needed to leave in a hurry. Though Xiao gave no complaint, Albedo still worried about whether or not he’d made the medicine properly. He took the Opus Magnum into his room and made sure Xiao was comfortable in the bed before sitting down to read.

One by one, Albedo turned the pages of the Opus Magnum, seeking his master’s minute handwriting, and any hints she may have left behind. His master, however, had not been so foolish as to mark up her textbook with theories and questions. She had used separate sheets of paper that she tucked between the appropriate pages. She had removed each and every one of them when she had gifted the book to him upon her departure, but Albedo could still see the faint traces of ink where the notes had not dried properly before being squashed between pages.

More than halfway through the textbook, there was a chapter on primordial man. Albedo had skimmed the chapter in the past, as he was much more interested in life itself rather than strictly the creation of humanity. But now, he gave it an in-depth look. There were sketches of anatomy on every page, many of them inaccurate to present medical knowledge. In the past, he had dismissed the sketches as an old fantasy; nothing more than people’s theories about what exactly made a human a human. But now, Albedo was seeing parallels between himself, and the figures drawn upon the pages. They were not humans, but humanoids, containing little more than the bare essentials – flesh, blood, and bone – encased in a shell of fired clay. Albedo traced the name the people of Khaenri’ah had granted to such creations. Homunculus Golem – humans crafted of flesh, blood, and clay.

There were faint shadows of ink impressions on the pages. He could see the shape of a body, though it was incomplete. A handful of words scrabbled and broke up as they fought with the book’s printed text and pictures. But one word stood out above all of the others. One that had been pressed so prominently that Albedo knew with an intense certainty that his master had written the word just before slamming the book closed and beginning her next task. It had his heart beating faster, and his blood thrumming with excitement and terror.

Chalk.

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

Xiao woke just before dawn. It was a slow, languid transition between placid sleep, and alertness that had him feeling an unusual sensation of tranquility. It had been quite some time since he had felt the comfort of proper rest. The corruption that normally harassed his sleep and drew his nightmares to the surface had slipped to a distant part of his soul. He could still feel the ache of the bruises left behind by the chains of malice, but the pain of their grip was but a memory. For once, he felt calm, and stable.

Albedo’s medicine had worked, just as Rex Lapis’s had in the past. It should have come as no shock, considering it was the same recipe. But the fact that someone not of divine origins had made the medicine he needed was surprising. The fact that it had worked was even more so. Albedo was an impressive man. Impressive, but still unusual.

Albedo had not sought rest while Xiao slept. He was asleep at his desk, papers strewn beneath his arms where he’d laid his head down. His pen was still uncapped. Xiao wondered if he’d fallen asleep waiting for the ink to dry. Albedo’s brow was furrowed, and his braids had come loose and were tangled around his cheeks. Xiao reached for him, and carefully brushed them out of his face.

He felt something soft and familiar as his thumb brushed Albedo’s temple. Xiao winced and pulled his hand back. Don’t, part of his mind whispered. Don’t do it. But Xiao found his curiosity undeniable. What did Albedo dream about? Sleep was a vulnerable period of time for any living being. It was when the subconscious lowered its walls, and mingled with the conscious mind. It was how dreams were born and made, and the slow, gentle process of thought and desire crafted things that were like nothing else in the universe.

Xiao had not touched a dream since Rex Lapis had freed him. There were times he was tempted. Sometimes, at Wangshu Inn, Xiao could sense the dreams of the mortals who slept there long into the night. Waking dreamers – sleep walkers, and sleep talkers – had the most tempting dreams of them all. Their dreams wrapped around them like a cloud and trickled through cracks in windows and doorways. Xiao normally sent for a bowl of almond tofu when such temptation tickled the back of his throat. In Albedo’s room, there was no almond tofu. There was no distracting himself from the way that dream had felt against his fingertips, perfectly soft and plush. He could already taste it on his tongue.

Xiao grimaced and shook his head. He laid a hand on Albedo’s shoulder and nudged him as gently as he could. Albedo mumbled sleepily, and the dream that had tempted Xiao so intensely melted like ice into water. Yet, he could still feel its presence in the knowledge that Albedo could dream. Aspiration and desire could linger in the conscious mind just as well as the subconscious. It was those dreams that Xiao had been forced to destroy on so many occasions. The fact that he still felt the lingering hunger for them so many centuries later made him sick to his stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Albedo asked, rubbing the sleep from his eye. “Did the medicine not work...?”

“It worked,” Xiao replied. “The sun is rising.”

Albedo hummed, then looked up at the window. He sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go, then,” he said, and moved to collect his clothes.

Albedo packed the Opus Magnum into his bag and slung it around his shoulder. He winced as it fell heavily against him. Xiao hoped he had found his answers, but he gave little sign of having done so. He said nothing as he climbed back out the window, and only paused long enough to repair the lock with another alchemical trick. Xiao pulled him onto his back again and began the climb up Mondstadt’s walls.

The last of the night cloaked their departure as they made their way back to the other side of the lake beneath the bridge. Albedo clutched his bag over his head as they waded. They climbed back up the bank and started onto the road. Only then did Xiao wonder where they were going next, and if the way Albedo steered them towards the distant peak of Dragonspine was one of instinct or intent. Albedo was always quiet, but this silence felt different.

“Did you find what you needed?” Xiao asked.

“I found a clue,” Albedo replied, his voice unexpectedly sharp. “But it’s not enough. I have to go back to Dragonspine.”

His tone was surprising. Xiao had gotten to know Albedo’s calm demeanour. To hear his voice pitched in a much less controlled manner had him wondering exactly what he’d found.

Albedo stopped suddenly, then he sighed and turned around. “I’m not going to ask you to come any further,” he said. “I’ve made your medicine, so if you would like to return to Liyue and resume your duties, you are free to.”

“What did you find in that book?” Xiao questioned.

Albedo didn’t respond. His lips pressed into a hard line, and he looked away. Xiao didn’t know what to think, or what to assume. Albedo’s face betrayed the emotional turbulence that lied beneath the surface, and no one emotion stood out aside from trepidation. He wondered if Albedo wanted Xiao to leave. He wondered if this was his way of dismissing him so that Xiao would not find out a very dark secret he intended to keep hidden. He wondered if Albedo was ashamed, and desired the solitude of the mountainside. Xiao did not know. He did not understand such human emotions. All he could do was guess.

“If you are coming with me,” Albedo said softly. “I will tell you what I have found. Otherwise, I wish you a safe return to Liyue.”

“I said I would go with you, as per our agreement,” Xiao argued.

“I am giving you the chance to dissolve our agreement,” Albedo responded. “You have what you requested of me. I would not blame you if you didn’t wish to continue this journey.”

Xiao froze. He had been bound by many contracts, each one just as unbreakable as the last. Xiao believed that promises were meant to be kept, and so he did not ever make one lightly. Albedo’s offer to break his latest promise with no hard feelings and no consequences was surprising. Xiao had not considered ending the terms of their agreement, even after receiving the medicine. He had not thought about leaving Albedo to endure the final, and the most difficult leg of his journey alone. Having the option to dissolve their agreement and go back to Liyue was tempting. But Xiao did not consider it for longer than a few, fleeting seconds. In some ways, he felt that he owed Albedo the healing he needed in exchange for the medicine he had provided, just as he owed Rex Lapis a debt of service for freeing him. But in another, more prominent way, Xiao knew that if he left now, he would never stop wondering if Albedo had made it safely to his master’s old lab. He would never stop wondering if Albedo was alive and well in Mondstadt, or if he’d met his end amongst snow and ice. He knew he could never live another thousand years with such thoughts lingering in his mind.

“I will go with you,” Xiao said, and Albedo’s eyes widened.

“Why...?” He asked, his voice raspy.

“I keep my promises,” Xiao said simply. I don’t want anything to happen to you, something helpfully added. The thought twisted in his chest. It was a feeling that he couldn’t put into words.

Albedo didn’t answer. He just nodded once and turned to face away from Xiao once more. He started to walk again, but his gait was still strange. Xiao wondered if it was because Albedo no longer wished to make this journey.

“Albedo,” Xiao spoke up suddenly, unable to endure the silence any longer. “Let’s stop. You haven’t eaten today.”

Albedo paused, then nodded. “There’s a camp at the base of the mountain. We’ll stop there.”

“No; we stop now,” Xiao said. He caught Albedo’s arm and pulled him off the trail to a fallen log and sat him down.

“Xiao,” Albedo protested. “Stop. I’m fine.”

“Don’t try to lie to an Adeptus,” Xiao said sharply, meeting his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Albedo flinched. “I don’t know how to explain this,” he said softly. “Just saying ‘I’m fine’ is easier.”

“Stay here. Don’t move,” Xiao ordered, then took his bag for good measure. He couldn’t go off on his own if he didn’t have the things he needed.

“Xiao—” Albedo protested, and tried to stand up. Xiao put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

“If any monsters appear, just call for me. I’ll be back,” Xiao promised, then slung Albedo’s bag over his shoulder.

“Leave me my sketchbook at least,” Albedo sighed.

Xiao relinquished it, and handed over the bundle of pencils with it. Albedo huffed, then slid off the log to use it as a back rest.

“Come back soon,” he requested, then peeled the pages open.

Xiao nodded silently, then turned away. Only when Albedo was out of sight did Xiao stop to ask himself why. Why was he doing this? How many times had he sworn up and down that he cared little for mortals, and their fleeting lives? Albedo’s different, something reminded him. He wasn’t human, so that made him different. Yet, Xiao knew that it wasn’t that simple. Albedo wasn’t different because he was inhuman. He was different because...

Xiao pressed a hand against his chest and sighed. Perhaps he should discuss this with Cloud Retainer. He wondered if she would be able to understand this strange and unreasonable feeling piercing his gut like a spear. All he knew with certainty was that if Albedo died today, Xiao felt as though he would stop breathing altogether. Seeing Albedo so weak and exhausted, when the bright spark in his eyes had brought wonder and curiosity to Xiao, was nauseating. He thought of the crystal flower, and the sparks that danced from his spear. He thought of the medicine that Albedo had painstakingly created from ingredients that were largely considered dangerous for humans to handle. Most of all, he thought of how Albedo, against all odds, had survived as a witness to his war. He had pushed through the black energy that poisoned the earth, and put his body and soul at risk to protect Xiao from the violent forces that wanted little more than to destroy him. How he’d told him an absurd bedtime story about a star prince that should’ve made Xiao roll his eyes, but instead, made him feel calm and sleepy.

Albedo had done more than his end of the bargain. More than what Xiao might have done if their positions had been reversed. In Xiao’s mind, it was a debt that may not ever be repaid in Albedo’s lifetime. Perhaps that was why Xiao was so desperate to make sure Albedo was okay. It was far too simple of an answer to explain the pain in his chest, but it was good enough until Xiao was ready to face it properly.

Xiao set Albedo’s bag on a riverbank and summoned his spear. It should’ve been easy to catch a fish, but he found them unreasonably flighty. By the time Xiao had finally managed to grab one by the tail and end its life, he was soaked, and his hair was dripping into his eyes. A nearby apple tree hung its fruits low over the riverbank as he started to walk back. He reached up and plucked two of the brightest ones from the branches and slid them into Albedo’s bag.

By the fallen log, Albedo had started a small fire, and he was gently prodding the coals with a stick. His sketchbook laid open in his lap, a rough drawing of the scenery displayed upon the pages. Albedo looked up as Xiao returned, and he offered a small, tired smile.

“You went to find food?” He asked.

“I caught a fish,” Xiao said, holding it up.

“Thank you,” Albedo said, then took it from him. He pulled out his knife and began to prepare it.

Albedo was meticulous when he cooked. It shouldn’t have surprised Xiao, considering he was an alchemist. But somehow, the way his hands moved when he prepared a meal was different from when he practiced alchemy. Xiao found it fascinating, and he inched himself closer to the fire to get a better look. The smells of the cooking fish were unappealing to him, but there was a distinct sweetness to it that wasn’t unappetizing.

Xiao did not hesitate to try it when Albedo held out some of it out to him. The flaky texture of the fish was not entirely disgusting, but it wasn’t to his liking. The taste did not excite him, either. But Albedo had made it himself, and that made the unappetizing mouthful just a little bit more enjoyable than it normally would have. Albedo’s eyes widened slightly when Xiao did not immediately crinkle his nose and turn away. His lips curled into a soft smile.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“No, but it’s not terrible,” Xiao admitted.

Albedo laughed, then started to eat. Xiao rejected any further bites he offered, and merely sat silently and made sure Albedo ate everything. He offered up one of the apples when he was finished, and observed the way Albedo’s hands carved the fruit with his pocket knife. One by one, he ate the pieces. Little by little, Xiao found himself relaxing as Albedo’s mood began to soften.

“Thank you,” Albedo said, wiping his hands. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

“I did,” Xiao replied. “We didn’t bring supplies.”

“I’ll buy some at Dragonspine’s base camp,” Albedo promised. Then, his peaceful expression dissolved once more. Xiao watched the light slip from his eyes. The painful twist in his stomach returned.

“You don’t want to go there,” Xiao observed, earning a startled glance from Albedo.

“It’s not that,” Albedo said, then slumped back against the log. He winced, then found a comfortable posture and sighed. “In truth, I am...afraid of what I may find there.”

“I’ll protect you,” Xiao promised. His immediate response startled them both, and Xiao found his cheeks flaming. Albedo’s pale skin flushed red as he looked away. He fidgeted for a moment, then looked back to meet Xiao’s eyes.

“It’s not a physical danger,” Albedo replied. “It’s...about what I might be.”

“What you found in your book...?”

Albedo nodded. “Khaenri’ah...was a place where little natural life grew. It was a nation that existed underground where no sunlight ever reached. Because of it, in order to keep is people fed, it relied on alchemy to create and produce food. Everyone in Khaenri’ah knew a little alchemy. They would take parts of the soil and earth and use the organic materials within it...”

Xiao watched Albedo dig a handful of dirt from he ground at his side. Before he had the chance to offer a protest, the soil in Albedo’s palm dissolved into a bright, gold dust. He clamped his fist around it, and when he opened his hand again, a sweetflower burst into bloom. It swayed placidly in the breeze, its roots curling around Albedo’s fingers as it searched for purchase. Albedo tucked it into the ground where he’d dug the hole and pressed soil over its roots. Xiao’s awe overcame the question of whether or not the newly formed sweetflower would have a negative effect on the environment.

“But...of course, due to its nature, Khaenri’ah was a place that had...difficulty sustaining a population. Should the kingdom ever need to go to war, or need extensive amounts of manual labour, the costs of maintaining such a force would be...astronomical.

“So, the people of Khaenri’ah researched the creation of human life,” Albedo went on, his expression grim. “The formula was simple. They needed the natural composition of a human – enough to make the body – and something to maintain its shape. They took bones and shaped them into skeletons. They took flesh, and shaped them into organs and tissues. They took blood, and used it to connect and bind each piece of the body in order to sustain it. They covered the resulting body in clay – a material that is both resilient and easy to come by – and fired it inside of a crucible. Then, they took the residual energy that lingers within things that have died and brought it to life. They called them Homunculi...or Golems.”

Xiao swallowed thickly. “But...you are...made of chalk, not clay?”

Albedo nodded and pulled his knees up to his chest. “Chalk...is a material more precious and far more powerful than clay. Chalk is the purified soil – where life is at it’s most concentrated. The Homunculus Golems created by Khaenri’ah had one, key feature that set them apart from true humans. They had no soul. They could not speak, or think...they only obeyed the word of their creator. They were, by human definition, monsters, and if their masters were cruel, they too were cruel.

“My master was far too ambitious to consider creating such a thing. She would not be satisfied with doing what so many before her had done. So, she changed the formula. She used chalk, rather than clay, and something in her process was so different that I became what I am. I look human. I feel human. I require food and water. I think and feel emotion. I was given a Vision.

“And yet, I am still not human,” Albedo sighed, and closed his eyes. “No matter how much I look like one...I am still nothing more than a construct. In truth, I fear what my master may have done to create me. She is the kind of woman who would’ve stopped at nothing to make sure I was perfect. Seeking these answers with the intent to fix my body may lead me to something I might be better off not knowing. Because if the cost of creation is change, and sacrificing something to achieve a desired result...” he swallowed. “Xiao, I fear what my master may have done in order to give me a life like this.”

“What’s done is done,” Xiao interrupted. “What she did was not your decision. You didn’t have a choice. You did not ask to be born.”

Albedo exhaled shakily and pressed his forehead against his knees.

“Whatever you find on the mountain will change little. Accepting the past and moving on from it is what will decide your future. Not the actions of someone outside of your control.” Xiao watched Albedo’s shoulders tremble. He sighed, and looked away. “You were given the power to make your own decisions. Cherish that, and use that to become someone you believe in, and don’t dwell on the things that cannot be undone.”

“You are wise,” Albedo said breathlessly.

I am a hypocrite, Xiao thought tiredly. “When you’re ready, we’ll keep going.”

“I’m ready,” Albedo said, then stood up. He put the fire out with a burst of Geo energy and snuffed the remaining cinders with his boot.

Xiao handed his bag back and wondered. He wondered if he could take his own words to heart, and let go of the past. Though no karmic debt couldn’t be repaid in its time, Xiao still felt the most burdensome one lingering in his heart. All of the lives he had taken, the dreams he had destroyed...

Though it had not been his choice, the actions still weighed on him, far heavier than any amount of hatred and malice from slain gods could. The ever-present guilt would always fester inside of him. Perhaps the same would be true for Albedo. There was no doubt in his mind that Albedo walked with the nature of a human despite being entirely inhuman. The question Albedo had asked carried terrifying implications, and it had Xiao wondering. What was the cost of bringing something to life? What was the cost of a soul? Xiao understood Albedo’s fear now. The price of something so precious was beyond comprehension, even for an Adeptus.

Chapter 8 Chapter Text

Even at the foot of the mountain, the breath of Dragonspine was bitter. The icy hands pulled at his clothing and sought any cracks in the fabric with the intent to tear them open and strip the warmth from his body. The familiarity of the sensation brought him comfort – something he did not share with many others. Sucrose and Timaeus felt the cold wind sink into them from the moment they saw the first flakes of snow. Sucrose, as determined and strong-willed as she was, felt an overwhelming dread at the prospect of climbing Dragonspine. It was why Albedo usually opted to bring Timaeus along if he required an assistant, although his eagerness turned the cold of Dragonspine into the equivalent of a whip spurring a horse forward. The only one who had never been affected by Dragonspine, other than himself, was his master. But that was because she had called it home for a long period of her life, just as Albedo had.

Albedo walked alone into the camp, leaving Xiao to skirt the edges and meet him at the base. He hoped that he wasn’t being too affected by the dark aura that permeated the glaciers. Even from the foot of the mountain, Albedo could sense Durin’s power. It pulsed like a heartbeat beneath his feet, resonating with him and welcoming him home. He’d always felt an intense connection to Dragonspine, but he had spent much of his life assuming it was because he had grown up here. After isolating Durin’s power from the cursed sword, Festering Desire, he had come to the realization that Durin’s nature was similar to his own. The thrum of power that drew him like a moth to a flame began to make sense.

I wonder, Albedo thought, gazing up at the mountainside. Are you my brother...? Or are you something else entirely?

The pulse of the mountain offered no answer. Albedo shook it off and tied his cloak over his freshly filled shoulder bag. He hefted a second one and waved a farewell to the base camp.

He found Xiao standing behind a large boulder, out of sight of the camp, and in sight of the north eastern side of Dragonspine. From their location, Albedo could trace their path up the mountain until it became misted by blowing snow. It would be bitter, but luckily the weather could be considered reasonably clear. Their passage shouldn’t be difficult, as long as they kept warm.

He handed Xiao the second bag, and the cloak that would keep him warm as they made their ascent. Albedo helped him button the front, and made sure the hood was tied properly so the cold wouldn’t slip its bitter fingers down his neck. Then, he grabbed a bowl and poured a generous helping of goulash from the travel bottle he’d bought from the chef.

“I know you hate human food, but this will help keep the cold at bay,” Albedo said. “Try to stomach as much as you can.”

Xiao made a face. Albedo waited for him to say he didn’t need it, and did his best to begin preparing enough arguments to counteract any brash statements. But, to his credit, Xiao didn’t argue, and gulped down enough of it that Albedo was satisfied it would have an effect. Albedo finished the bowl off and wiped it clean.

“I can hear it,” Xiao said suddenly, his arms folded over his chest. “I cannot understand its words, but I can hear them.”

“It’s talking?” Albedo questioned.

“Yes,” Xiao sighed, his hands curling into fists. “It is...as though it is talking in its sleep.”

Albedo felt something dreadful sink into his stomach. He thought of Durin’s heart beating in Wyrmrest Valley. Was it possible that the foul dragon’s life force was enduring because it was not truly dead? Albedo shivered, and it wasn’t from the cold. If Durin was a construct, just as Albedo was, what did death feel like? Was it like falling into a permanent dream? Or was Durin awake and aware of the passage of time? Did Albedo also have a heart that would continue beating even after the destruction of his body?

“We should go,” Albedo said, then pulled a length of rope from his bag. “I’m going to tie us together so we don’t lose each other if a storm blows in.”

Xiao nodded and stepped closer to allow Albedo to tie the knot around his waist. When a snowstorm howled through the frozen valleys, and the falling snow and ice muffled voices, it would be impossible to hear a companion’s cry for help. If Xiao fainted, or became weak from the cold and fell behind, Albedo would feel it when the rope pulled taught. It was a safety measure that was also a double-edged sword. If either of them fell through a glacier, or slipped from the edge of a precipice, they would both go down unless the other party could hold on to something quickly enough. Many adventurers agreed that travelling to a place like Dragonspine required a bond of trust, and there was security in the knowledge that should they die, they would not be alone. Albedo did not know if Xiao trusted him, or thought him worthy of sharing his life’s final moments. Regardless of what the Adeptus thought of him, Albedo knew he felt that way about Xiao. He trusted him to not let him fall, and he would be comfortable having him by his side if death came to sweep him off to the next great mystery. His only regret would be that Klee would never see him again. He grimaced, then tied the other end of the rope around his own waist.

“There are mechanisms scattered up the mountainside that offer warmth to travellers,” Albedo said. “We will stop by them when we need to. Keep your hands in motion as much as you can. Move your toes inside of your boots. The cold will hurt, so if you begin to feel numb, or exhausted, tell me so we can seek shelter.”

“Do not worry about me,” Xiao sighed. “I have endured many cold winters.”

Albedo nodded, then tied the rope around his own waist. “Then...let’s go.”

Albedo sometimes wished that Dragonspine’s ruthless power was a gradual one. However, the very border between the mountain and the rest of Mondstadt was a clear, and bitter line of permafrost that could be seen changing rapidly as they walked forwards. From the moment they stepped onto the trail, the cold snapped at them and stole the breath from their lungs. This was where many adventurers doubted their sanity. This was where many took a handful of steps before deciding this journey was not worth the risk.

But for Albedo, the cold awoke him. His mind became alert, and his body thrummed with energy. Dragonspine embraced him like a long-lost friend and welcomed him home. It still hurt, and the cracks in his body burned from the wind’s brutal assault. But Albedo did not fear it as many others did.

“Are you alright?” Albedo called back to Xiao.

Xiao looked up, his eyes narrowed against the driving wind. Snowflakes were already catching in his bangs and frost had accumulated where his breath froze against his collar. He nodded and gestured for him to keep moving.

It would take what remained of the day to climb up to Albedo’s camp. They set a brisk pace, driven both by the desire to find warmth, and by the knowledge that should they remain stationary, the cold would sap their strength until they would never move again. The wind picked up as their ascension took them further away from the grass below. The snow blew into their faces and whipped at their clothes and clung to their eyelashes. Albedo felt Xiao fall behind a little, and he tuned to give him the chance to catch up.

“I am fine,” Xiao insisted once more. “This is nothing.”

“Now’s not the time for pride,” Albedo grimaced. “There is a mechanism up ahead. Let’s warm ourselves.”

Xiao made a disgruntled sound, but nodded his agreement. He stuck close to Albedo, his boots cleaving a path through the blowing snow rather than attempting to step over it. Though the snow buried his legs halfway to his knees, Albedo knew Xiao was dragging his feet. He frowned, and urged him forward.

One of Dragonspine’s biggest mysteries were the old mechanisms that contained a spark of alchemical flame when activated. Albedo pressed his hand against it, and the top rose of its own accord to reveal a warm light that had the snow caked to his cloak turning to steam in an instant. Though Xiao had insisted he was fine, he let out a surprisingly loud sigh when the warmth of the mechanism hugged him like a blanket. The wind still bit at their backs, warning them that they could not stay long, but for now, the warmth was a comfort.

Xiao stripped off his gloves and held them close to the warm light. His fingertips were a brilliant shade of crimson. Albedo tugged his own gloves off and pulled Xiao’s hands into his own. The Adeptus winced.

“I see that you were lying to me,” Albedo commented, a small smile on his face.

“This is nothing,” Xiao repeated, though he quickly gave up on trying to pull his hands away.

“Do not allow your hands to become any worse than this,” Albedo said. “This is how frostbite begins. How are your feet?”

“They’re...fine.”

“Xiao,” Albedo warned.

“They hurt,” Xiao admitted.

“I can make you a poultice to put into your shoes that will keep them warm,” Albedo said. “Keep your hands near the warmth here, but don’t get too close.”

Xiao nodded, then slid a little closer to the mechanism. He watched intensely as Albedo peeled open his bag and used strips of cloth to package iron dust, carbon, and small traces of other minerals before tying them tightly and giving them a shake. They warmed up quickly, and Albedo helped peel Xiao’s boots off and slipped them into the toes. Xiao grimaced, then sighed.

“Better?” Albedo asked.

Xiao nodded. “It’s not bothering you...?”

“I have a bit more insulation,” Albedo said with a small smile. “Don’t worry. By the time we get to my camp, I’ll be more than eager for a hot meal. Up here, it’s not about pride...and it’s not about how used to the cold you are. Dragonspine doesn’t care how many winters you endured – and neither does the cold. So please tell me next time if the pain becomes too great.”

“It’s not that,” Xiao said, then sighed. His fingers flexed in front of the mechanism. He pulled them closer to his face to inspect them. They were starting to take on a normal appearance again. “I’m...just so used to pain that this doesn’t bother me.”

Albedo smiled sadly, then stood a little closer. “If you’re ever in pain, just tell me. I’ll do what I can. You don’t always have to endure it, you know.”

Xiao nodded slowly. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his long, dark bangs were hiding most of his face. Albedo felt a soft flutter of wings in his chest as he looked away. Xiao’s hands were close to his as they warmed themselves. Their cloaks were steaming off the snow, and the bitter wind felt far away. Part of him wanted to sit down and rest in this moment, but he knew such a thing wasn’t an option. As much as the idea of laying his head on Xiao’s shoulder and closing his eyes appealed to him, he could not do such a thing when Dragonspine’s icy wind would inevitably negate the effects of the warming mechanism. Still, Albedo allowed himself to think of it, because the wish offered a warmth to him that fire could not.

Xiao pulled his hands away and flexed his fingers. He stuffed his hands back into his gloves and pushed them beneath his arms.

“I’m okay now. Let’s keep going,” he said.

Albedo nodded, then pulled his own gloves back on.

Leaving behind the warmth of the mechanism made Dragonspine’s cold bite harder. Albedo pushed onwards, reaching up to hold his hood in place as the wind picked up speed. Xiao wasn’t falling behind anymore, but it made Albedo wonder if it was because his feet were no longer hurting, or if it was because Albedo was now the one slowing down.

Suddenly, Xiao stopped. Startled, Albedo turned around. He followed Xiao’s gaze towards the carmine red stone jutting out of the snow. Albedo grabbed Xiao’s sleeve and tugged him to get his attention. He could still remember Xiao saying he could hear the voice of Durin whispering in his sleep. Albedo wondered if the sound was more powerful around the scarlet quartz.

“What is that?” Xiao asked, looking to Albedo, then looking back to the crystal.

“When Durin perished upon this mountain, his blood seeped into the landscape,” Albedo explained. “These crystals are where his blood pools. It leaks from the snow and ice and freezes to form these crystals. Unfortunately, they are quite warm to the touch, making them tempting for weary travelers. When broken, Durin’s power can be borrowed temporarily...but I don’t think I need to warn you to be wary of such a thing, do I?”

Xiao shook his head. “Keep walking,” he said. “I want to get away from it.”

“Stay close,” Albedo requested, then turned to continue up the weather-worn path.

A steep slope forced them onto their hands and knees. They climbed side by side, preventing snow from falling down onto the person below. The cold bit through Albedo’s gloves, and he glanced at Xiao to make sure he was holding on. He couldn’t remember with certainty where the next mechanism was.

The hill crested, and a flat cliffside stretched out before them. Not too far ahead, a broken bridge swayed in the bitter breeze. Xiao shook the snow off of his gloves and curled his fingers into fists. Albedo didn’t miss the way he winced, or the way he turned away to hide it.

“Let’s trade gloves,” Albedo said, then began pulling his own off.

“No, it’s fine,” Xiao protested. “You keep your hands warm.”

“We’re almost there,” Albedo promised. “We just have to get to the other side of that gorge.”

Xiao grimaced, then nodded. He peeled off his gloves to reveal the skin that was already reddening. Albedo pulled Xiao’s gloves on and found they offered little shielding from the wind, but there was a flexibility to them that felt like a second skin. Xiao tugged Albedo’s gloves on and flexed his fingers experimentally. Then, he nodded and started moving forward once more.

The cold stone bit Albedo’s fingers as they climbed across the gorge. The wind was too strong for him to consider using his glider. Ice and snow slipped from beneath his hands and feet as they made his way across and tumbled down into an unseeable ravine. Each step took them a little closer to the other side, but it still felt too far. Albedo’s hands ached from holding his weight up. The wind snapped the hood off of his head and bit down the neck of his cloak.

Albedo clambered into the snow on the other side, and Xiao followed a moment later. Albedo staggered to his feet and pulled his hood back up. His bangs had iced over, and the frozen hair was whipping at his forehead. He tucked it into place as best as he could before taking the lead the rest of the way to the camp that was tucked into the cliffside.

His time away had allowed snow to drift inside. Shelves covered in mismatched potion bottles sat frozen and unusable. An old burner had clogged with ice and would need to be thawed out before it could be heated again. Scales sat immovable from ice buildups. A board nailed with paper diagrams of various disproved theories Timaeus had left behind sat faded and frosted. Albedo sighed, and wondered if he shouldn’t give his protégé a lesson on tidying up after himself. But Albedo had to admit he’d probably picked up the habit from his teacher. Albedo was equally as bad at leaving things out of their proper places.

Albedo used a pinch of oxidiser dust to light the torches. Fire warmed the cliffside laboratory and turned the wind away. Slowly, Albedo began to feel comfortable enough to remove the gloves and leave his cloak to dry on a rack near the fire. Xiao tugged his boots off and shook out the poultices that were still radiating enough heat to warm their hands as they sat close to the cooking pot.

They sat in silence, shivering as the cold slowly left their bodies. They pressed close enough that their legs were touching, and then their shoulders. Albedo found the warmth of Xiao’s body to be equally as comfortable as the warmth of the fire. He dug his travel blanket from his bag and wrapped it around them both. Xiao clutched one side of the blanket and pressed closer with a small sigh. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

Outside, the sun began to set. Albedo warmed slices of bread on a stone, and baked apples next to the fire. He ate the warm meal, offering a handful of bites to Xiao that were swiftly rejected. He did, however, take a few more bites of the goulash when Albedo poured some into a bowl. Finally, Albedo melted snow and boiled the water to make an infusion of mint and sweetflower. Xiao drank his cup slowly as night crept over the mountain and drained the last of the warmth from the air.

Albedo didn’t notice when he’d fallen onto Xiao’s shoulder. But he noticed when an arm crept around him to hold him upright. Xiao’s hand gripping his waist startled his heart into a racing beat that had Albedo’s breath catching in his throat. His cheeks warmed, and he pressed a little closer, curling up against him. Xiao sighed softly, a sound that was neither tired, nor irritated. Albedo felt fingers brush the bangs from his forehead.

“If you’re tired, you should go to sleep,” Xiao said.

Albedo hummed softly. “There’s a bed behind the screen over there,” he said, not lifting a hand to point to where it was, but knowing the location would be obvious. “There’s another lantern, too...one that should burn all night so we’ll be warm.”

Xiao nodded, then nudged him gently. “Get up, then,” he said.

Albedo just barely bit back a groan of protest. He obliged, and sat up straight.

They stood up together, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around them. Albedo only left the comfort of it behind long enough to light the lantern and brush the snow off of the sleeping sack left bundled for the next time he would visit this place. He unravelled it and laid it out so he could climb into it. He caught Xiao’s sleeve before he could turn away. The request was unspoken, but Xiao’s expression betrayed his surprise – and then, his acquiescence.

Xiao laid down next to him, and Albedo did not hesitate to tug him close again. He tried to tell himself that there was little meaning to this aside from his desire to seek warmth in another person on a frigid mountain. But the way Xiao’s hands pressed softly between his shoulders, and the small of his back felt much more intimate. Albedo hid his face in Xiao’s chest, trying not to breathe the scent of sweat and something bittersweet too much. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Acknowledging that he had grown fond of Xiao was difficult. Albedo understood the feeling of attachment, though for him, it was a rarity. When he looked to the future, he could no longer comprehend a life without Xiao. He knew that their fates had become irrevocably intertwined when Albedo could make his medicine. Once their journey was over, any goodbye that was said would not be permanent. Yet, Albedo still wondered helplessly if Xiao would want to seek him out beyond their agreement.

Perhaps Albedo was a fool for feeling this way for an Adeptus. Perhaps he was overstepping a boundary that should never have been crossed in the first place. But even if Xiao could never return his sentiments, Albedo would be content in this moment. He would hold it in his memory for as long as he could. And when the time came for their paths to cross again in the distant future, Albedo would hold onto that memory too.

Chapter 9 Chapter Text

A curious feeling lingered soft and warm in Xiao’s chest. It was pinned in place by the painful spike that was beginning to become a familiar burn where Albedo was concerned. He tried to focus on Dragonspine – on the way the chilly air crept through the cracks in the blankets and warned him that the cold that had bitten his fingers and toes to painful appendages was ever-present, and hungry for more.

But the way Albedo slept demanded his full attention.

His breath was slow, and the warmth of it tickled the base of his throat. The flutter of his eyelashes pressed tender kisses to the underside of his jaw. Albedo’s dreams were subtle and soft – not gaining enough form to latch on to, but present enough that Xiao could feel them. He rested his cheek on the top of his head and allowed himself to indulge in the presence of the soft, tender thoughts that he could never have himself. Not when everlasting chaos roared like a storm through his mind.

The painful twist of longing ached in his chest. It hurt more than the karma ensnaring his soul. It hurt more than his hands and feet had when buried deep within the snow. It was sharp, and agonizing, and it had Xiao’s breath catching and a scream forming in his throat. It had him wanting to clutch Albedo close and never let go. He stayed his hands with the knowledge that he would wake Albedo should he do so. He settled for brushing his fingers through his hair, carefully undoing the braids that he hadn’t taken out prior to falling asleep. Albedo’s silvery blonde hair slid between his fingers like river reeds. He was beautiful – impossibly so. Xiao sighed and closed his eyes.

Was this allowed? The bitter part of him – the one that always had the loudest voice – told him no. He was a Yaksha, cursed to suffer the sins of an era long past for eternity. To associate with others – mortal or otherwise – meant risking their souls along with his own. It meant that his curse would find a way to attach to them too. If he stayed with Albedo for too long, he too would begin to develop the scars of negative karma, and it would pain him for as long as he lived. He had already endured too much of it. He might not ever be able to recover from the damage he had already sustained.

But could Xiao be selfish, even just this once? The small voice within him pleaded ‘yes’. The louder one whispered that one misplaced action could spell disaster. If he let his guard down...let Albedo closer to his broken soul...

The image of Albedo bound by karma pressed into the forefront of his mind. He saw his face twisted with pain, cracks spreading until he shattered into fine dust. Xiao flinched and shifted to climb out of the bed. But Albedo’s hands were clutched against his chest, and the soft mumble of protest that slid out of him even in the depths of sleep discouraged any further movement. It did not matter that Xiao was desperate to protect him from his curse. It did not matter that the thought of Albedo perishing beneath the crushing hands of corruption put a twisting agony into his heart. Albedo wanted him close. Albedo wanted to hold onto him, even subconsciously, and never let him go. The painful twist had something foreign bubbling to the surface. Something he had not felt in a thousand or more years. His eyes felt wet.

He had no name for this feeling. No words to describe it. The fact that it was so foreign and unrecognizable was terrifying, and it left him wishing he had someone to go to. Someone he could talk to regarding this matter. He could ask Albedo, but when these thoughts originated from him, talking about them seemed like more trouble than it was worth. How could he talk about how badly he wanted Albedo to stay by his side, and also push him away so he wouldn’t get hurt? Would Albedo even have a name for such a feeling?

Albedo murmured softly. His dreams swirled from his subconscious. Xiao felt them taking shape, becoming thick and malleable. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t touch, he told himself. But with Albedo so close, it was impossible not to. Soft whispers of Albedo’s dreams painted delicate images just behind his eyelids. Xiao felt like Albedo’s sketchbook being gently marked and shown something special. He sighed, and pressed his lips to the top of Albedo’s head.

The dream tasted sweet on his tongue. Xiao told himself he would not take it – would not consume it – but he would allow himself to look. Albedo murmured again, and his knees curled until they were pressed firmly against Xiao’s legs. He heard the soft echo of his name – Xiao – spoken in a dream, rather than from a voice. Albedo knew he was here. Albedo knew he was watching. He felt the dream like the brush of a hand along his cheek. It was an invitation to walk – to see things he would not otherwise.

Xiao slipped from the world and descended into sleep. When he opened his eyes, he saw the verdant grasses of Mondstadt, and the distant windmills of the city turning in the distance. He felt an ache of longing, and also fear, but with Albedo next to him, he wasn’t alone. There were friends waiting for him behind those walls, ready to welcome him home.

Xiao saw the young blonde girl first. She was short – her head only came up to the middle of his stomach, and she had no concept of personal space as she wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed. Xiao felt it like a vivid jolt in his gut, and heard the little giggle. Then, there was the young woman with bright green hair, rushing over with a stack of papers, and a flush to her cheeks. Her words were blurry, but her intent was understood. Pages of things he could not read, nor would he remember, flashed one by one before his eyes before they were scattered by a gust of wind. A broken mechanism and a young man with a nervous, but confused smile turned to face him. It just wasn’t calibrated properly...let me help. Xiao reached for the mechanism. Little by little, it was pieced back together until it functioned flawlessly with bizarre clinking and whistling noises. A tall blonde woman behind a desk; a woman in a library wearing a pointed hat adorned with a rose; a man with an eyepatch and long blue hair. Xiao felt his eyes roll in response to something he said and he shooed him away so he could be left to his work.

The feelings the dream brought were sharp and vivid. Xiao felt the ache in his chest as he realized this was what family felt like. Something Xiao may have once had, but could no longer remember. It was warm, and the dream wrapped around him like a comforting blanket. He had not realized just how much he wanted such a thing until this very moment. What would it be like, he wondered, to have someone always welcome him upon his return? What would it be like to have someone need him like these people needed Albedo?

Beneath the warmth, there was a subconscious fear. Xiao felt it like the shift of sand along a beach. If Albedo crumbled to dust...if he could not become whole again...all of this would vanish. The pain hit him like a stone striking his gut. He saw Mondstadt vanish in a spiral of ash. Flames licked the windmills and toppled them to the ground. He heard a scream – a plea for help. Why would you do this?! A panicked shout echoed. Xiao looked down at his hands and found them blackened with cracks. Poison was dripping from his fingertips, not unlike the monster he had fought back in Huaguang Stone Forest. Black smoke poured from his body, suffocating the people he had helped mere moments before. The dream had become ugly and hideous, and it tasted bitter and sickening on his tongue.

The dream shattered as Albedo woke. The sound he made was broken and agonizing. Xiao shuddered as he pulled Albedo against his chest and felt fingernails digging into his back. His breathing was uneven and harsh, and it took Xiao a few seconds to realize that Albedo was crying.

What should he do? What had Albedo done for him? Albedo had held him like this, and told him a story. Xiao ran his fingers through Albedo’s hair and realized he didn’t know any stories. None that were like one Albedo had told him, at least. The only stories Xiao knew were old folk tales that ended in death, and Xiao knew that was not what Albedo needed right now.

He thought of the bitterblooms, and of the green headed bees that flew amongst them. He thought of the wind in Huaguang Stone Forest before it had become a stone forest. He thought of the bright fields, and the butterflies that filled the meadow. He held the memory tight, and gently laid a hand on Albedo’s temple.

Albedo shivered as Xiao drew him back into sleep. The broad fields opened up before him, and the faint kiss of the wind was a familiar sensation. Sharing a dream like this would exhaust much of Xiao’s power, but if it brought peace back to Albedo’s heart, it would be worth it. He plucked at the grasses, and listened to the hum of the green headed bees. The scent was faint – almost imperceptible. Forgotten, yet as familiar as the breath of a dandelion. He felt the turmoil in Albedo’s mind slowly become at peace.

Xiao’s hold on the memory became unsteady. It faded away to a distant echo, then to a distinct flavour on his tongue. When Xiao opened his eyes, he met Albedo’s damp ones and brushed his cheeks with his thumbs.

“I am...sorry I cannot do more to help you,” Xiao whispered.

Albedo shook his head. “That was...enough. I’m...” he sighed, then closed his eyes. His brow furrowed and he held tighter to the front of Xiao’s shirt. “Please...don’t ever let me destroy Mondstadt.”

“I will not,” Xiao promised.

Albedo nodded, then his expression became relaxed once more. He pressed his forehead into Xiao’s chest as he closed his eyes. He tried to be reassured; tried to take comfort in how calm Albedo was. But that pain was back in his chest. If Albedo became that monster in his dreams, Xiao would have to stop him. He had sworn that his spear would never again drip with the blood of mortals, and yet, someday he feared it may have to. If the time came that Xiao had to stop Albedo, he would do his duty. But he knew that once he did, it would be the final karmic debt that would put an end to his life. Xiao could no longer see a future without Albedo. He could not imagine going forward, knowing he had killed a friend.

And so, Xiao decided on a new mission. He would always protect Liyue from evil. But now, he would do everything in his power to protect Albedo from the corruptive forces that could fester within him, much like the blood of Durin festered upon the mountainside. Xiao would never have to put an end to Albedo’s life if he never became corrupted.

“If you ever need me, call my name. I will protect you,” Xiao promised, and pressed his lips to the top of his head.

Albedo shivered. He pulled Xiao closer to himself.

“Thank you...” he breathed.

It felt like a false promise. Xiao knew that such a thing would be impossible to accomplish. Perhaps Albedo knew it too. Xiao could not always be there. He would try, but if Albedo needed him at a time when Liyue needed him just as much, he would need to make a choice that had no good answer. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“When this is over...I want to introduce you to them,” Albedo said softly. “My friends and family.”

“Who was the little girl?” Xiao questioned.

“Klee,” Albedo sighed. “My little sister.”

Albedo had a sister. Somehow, this piece of knowledge was both surprising, and also charming.

“She would like you,” Albedo said. “If you would allow me to introduce you.”

Xiao hesitated. Letting another person into his life, especially a child...

“You don’t have to,” Albedo said. “I just thought...perhaps it would be nice if Mondstadt could become a place where you can be free to live a mundane life...if it’s what you wanted. They could be your family too.”

“It’s not about what I want,” Xiao stated. “Such things are things that people like me should never touch. If I did as you asked, and danger ever came to Mondstadt and Liyue, my duty would be first to Liyue, and Mondstadt will...” he trailed off.

Albedo smiled, and gently squeezed his hand. “Mondstadt is strong. Its people will defend it to the very end. You need not fear for it.”

“And what of me?” Xiao questioned. “What of this karma? When it grows too great, it infects the world around me. I cannot allow such a fate to befall your home.”

“I will help you,” Albedo promised. “As much as I can.”

“No,” Xiao rasped. “You can’t...”

“I will,” Albedo said. “Once I am healed, I can endure it. I will help you. As long as it is what you want.”

Outside of the laboratory, the wind howled against the mountainside. The gusts were vicious, and Xiao knew that should a person stand in its way, they would be enduring the ruthless forces of blowing ice that would peel the skin from their cheeks. But the mountain would scarcely flinch in response. Perhaps over a period of centuries, pieces of the mountain would crack and fall away.

Against the rage of demons, and the raw power of the Adepti, mountains could crumble. Creatures of flesh and blood would be torn apart with nothing but echoes of their screams remaining. But someone like Albedo – someone made of chalk – the power had been nothing more than an erosive windstorm. His body had cracked, but his life was preserved. And should they reach his master’s old laboratory and find what he needed, Albedo could repair himself. He could restore the pieces that had fallen away, and bring himself renewal. He could endure, recover, and endure once more. He could provide the medicine that would help Xiao fight off the corruption. Albedo could share a painful burden, and heal it with his own two hands.

Release thy burdens, Cloud Retainer had said. Seek the man made of chalk...

“I will only bring you suffering,” Xiao whispered.

Albedo shook his head. In the dim light of the lantern, Xiao could see the cool gleam of his eyes. Though one was sightless, it made little difference. Albedo’s gaze was as arresting as it had been since the day they’d met in Huaguang Stone Forest. The crack on his cheek was not a terrifying wound that would bring about his demise, but a scar from a battle they had fought together. Looking back, Xiao realized that never once had Albedo resented him for the damage he’d caused. He had never blamed him for it. He had endured, just like a mountain, and moved forward through the agony without complaint. When he had hurt the most, Xiao had carried him, and likewise, when Xiao’s burdens had overwhelmed him, Albedo had supported him.

Perhaps Xiao had underestimated just how much impact the man made of chalk would have on him. Perhaps Xiao had never thought he could ever feel as though he didn’t have to be alone.

“If suffering is the price I pay for you...then I will suffer gladly,” Albedo said softly. “This pain means nothing to me. I would endure a century of agony if it means knowing you will be okay.”

“I do not deserve you,” Xiao breathed.

“The stars must not agree with you, or we would never have met,” Albedo smiled gently.

One must consider the possibility that such a meeting was fated... Xiao swallowed thickly. “What do you know of the stars...?”

“I am not an astrologist, but I know enough to know that when things happen, it is for a purpose, even if that purpose is not revealed for quite some time. I did not understand why I had to be a witness to your battle. It was coincidence that I ran out of Qingxin and violet grass, and had to travel to Huaguang Stone Forest.

“But now that I know you...now that I know that we are more alike than I had thought...I know that us meeting was written in the stars. They wish you a long life, and so, I was destined to cross paths with you.”

“But that means it is your destiny to suffer,” Xiao sighed. “Just as I do.”

Albedo shook his head. “It is not suffering to help another. It is not pain when it brings another relief. I am not angry, and I am not afraid. You are worth protecting, even if you may not believe it yourself. You deserve the chance to have a home, even if you think you don’t need it. As someone who spends much of their time alone, I know it’s easy to not have to deal with the hassle of people. But this journey...coming close to death, not once but twice...it showed me what I should be thinking about. Not some endless search for a truth I may never find, but...the people who would miss me should I leave this world. I want you to have that too.

“So, when I am healed, and we can return to Mondstadt, I will introduce you to Klee, and Sucrose, and Timaeus. And maybe you can come stay for the Windblume Festival...?”

Albedo’s smile was hopeful. Xiao felt that iron spike twisting in his gut harder than ever before. He came to the abrupt, and agonizing realization that dream walking had exposed his heart to Albedo, and allowed him to peer into the depths of his broken soul. How else could he have so accurately picked apart the very things he longed for, but knew he could never have? Perhaps he knew much more than that. Perhaps there was no secret that could ever be kept from a person like Albedo. And maybe Xiao was tired of keeping secrets. What if Albedo could witness the ugliest sides of him and not flinch away like so many other mortals had?

Albedo’s hand brushed along his cheek. Xiao’s eyes fluttered closed. They were wet. The pillow beneath his cheek was wet. The ache burned harder, and it flickered like ice cold fire. But Albedo’s hands were warm. They were warm enough that he felt them like a hearth beckoning him home. Stay, it whispered. Don’t be afraid.

Their foreheads pressed together. Xiao could smell the sweet, floral scent that permeated Albedo’s being, intermingled with biting snow and sweat. It was fresh and clear, and distinctly Albedo. Xiao closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in it, feeling the way Albedo pulled him closer. The painful spike grew warmer. It hurt less with the acceptance, but it lingered faintly with a twinge of regret. He would not forgive himself if he hurt Albedo, or anyone else. But Albedo’s reassurance, and his desire to stay close despite the danger, tempered the painful feeling.

When he slept again, Albedo was by his side. Their fingers were intertwined as they stepped slowly down the edge of a beach. The sky was blue, and the water was a perfect, placid calm. Behind them, the creak of Mondstadt’s windmills turning echoed in the distance.

For the first time in his memory, Xiao knew the comfort of home. He clutched the feeling tightly like he would a precious treasure.

Chapter 10 Chapter Text

Albedo woke as the wind steadied to a soft breeze. The howling that had permeated the late afternoon through the night had been a white noise that carried his sleep like wings on a tender breeze. Combined with the warmth of another body pressed against his own, it had been enough to grant Albedo the best sleep in recent memory. Waking up felt like a blessing and a curse in a single moment. He scarcely remembered the nightmare he’d had. It lingered only as a faint image, and a terrifying feeling. The sweet dreams that had followed were enough to soothe it to a dull ache.

Xiao was still asleep. It came as little surprise to Albedo. He had sensed the strange and mysterious power the Adeptus had wielded to manipulate his dreams. He had not known that Xiao was capable of such a thing. He had thought that Xiao’s abilities were limited to his combat ones. Yet, Albedo realized he should have suspected it. Xiao had shared dreams with him in the past, even if he hadn’t directly manipulated Albedo’s own. It had him wondering precisely what it was Xiao could do, and whether or not dreams were truly fleeting things that could not be measured. What if dreams were metaphysical? Albedo pondered a few hypotheses, but none felt correct. He supposed he could ask Xiao for details when everything settled down.

Xiao was at peace in the gently flickering light of the lantern by the bed. His cheeks were lit a soft golden colour, and it offered a life to him that Albedo rarely had the chance to see. He gently brushed his fingers through Xiao’s bangs, feeling the dark strands, highlighted with verdant undertones. He had tangles in a few places, and Albedo felt the urge to brush them out for him. His comb was in his shoulder bag that waited for him by the fire that had long since burned out. Albedo wondered if he could get it and return without waking Xiao. Part of him didn’t want to take the risk. But they also had to get moving before too much of the day slipped through their fingers. When they made camp once more, they could lay together like this again. Albedo smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Xiao’s ear and started to untangle himself from the sleeping sack.

Xiao grunted as Albedo climbed over him. He felt a hand grip at his shoulder, tightly at first, then loosely to allow his fingers to slip down his arm and clutch his hand. Albedo smiled down at his sleep misted eyes and crouched down.

“I’m going to make breakfast,” he said, then, because it felt like something he should do, he pressed a kiss to Xiao’s forehead. He heard the Adeptus’s soft intake of breath, and felt his fingers grip his hand a little bit tighter. Albedo squeezed it back, then untwined their fingers. Xiao huffed from the sleeping sack, but rolled over to catch a few more minutes of it.

Albedo restarted the fire and warmed the cooking pot enough to start reheating the goulash. He cut several slices of bread, and melted cheese over it. While he waited, he opened his sketchbook and began to draw. The image of Xiao in sleep. The image of Xiao waking up just enough to protest his departure. The tender expression on his face after Albedo had kissed his forehead. Albedo traced the sketches with his fingertips and smiled. Then, he closed the book and tucked it back into his bag.

Albedo stirred the goulash as he ate the bread. Xiao pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He settled down next to Albedo and threw one side of the blanket around him. Albedo smiled and wordlessly leaned against him before offering him a bite of the bread. Xiao took a small bite, but did not ask for more. He ate his helping of goulash without complaint.

“Your hair is really messy,” Albedo said as they started to prepare for the journey. “Come here.”

Xiao tilted his head, but stepped over. Albedo retrieved the comb from his bag and began to gently brush the tangles from his hair. Xiao sighed and closed his eyes. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be taken care of – not like Albedo whose hair was so thick it became matted if he didn’t brush it daily. It didn’t take long to tame Xiao’s hair, and when he was finished, it was glossy and cupped his cheeks elegantly. Albedo paused to observe him for a moment. Xiao was beautiful. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of such things, but it felt no less powerful in the moment.

Xiao tugged the comb from his hands. Albedo blinked as Xiao sat him down and began to return the gesture with gentle, albeit inexperienced hands. The comb snagged more than once, and Albedo had to reach back to carefully pick apart a particularly nasty knot. Eventually, Xiao gave up and handed the comb back to Albedo with an odd expression on his face. Albedo didn’t dare wonder if he was pouting.

“When we have more time, I will show you,” Albedo promised, then carefully began to comb his hair.

Xiao nodded and watched with his intense, golden eyes. Albedo felt his cheeks flush with warmth. The attention was overwhelming, yet he felt as though he wanted so much more of it. He shook off the feeling and began braiding his hair out of his face. He tied it back and reached for his cloak.

“Let’s get going,” Albedo said.

Xiao nodded, then reached for his own cloak. Albedo spared a handful of extra seconds to make a few more warming poultices for Xiao’s boots, then found a spare pair of insulating gloves in a drawer to keep his hands warm. Xiao tugged them on and tested the grip around his spear. He grimaced.

“If we get into a fight, I will have to take these off,” Xiao said.

“That’s fine,” Albedo said. “I would like to avoid fights, but if it comes down to one, I’m sure you can dispatch any offender before frostbite sets in.”

Xiao’s lips quirked. He banished his spear with a flick of his wrist and pulled the hood up around his face. His fingers fumbled with the tie, prompting Albedo to step over and finish it for him. He met Xiao’s eyes and found them impassive, yet surprisingly gentle.

“My master’s laboratory is in the depths of the mountain, through a place called Starglow Cavern,” Albedo said. “If we make a good pace, we can be there by nightfall.”

“Are you still afraid?” Xiao asked.

Albedo paused, then looked away in thought. Was he afraid? He knew that he had been. But the only feelings that lingered now were fragments of what they had been, mixed into a solution that left no true definable trait. If he focused hard enough, he could pick out the nervous twist, and a scrap of excitement, but not a trace of fear remained. He looked back towards Xiao and shook his head.

“No,” he said. “In truth, I cannot describe what I am feeling. But I take comfort in knowing you have made this journey with me. I am safe. I cannot be afraid.”

Xiao’s expression softened. He lifted a hand, as though he was going to reach for Albedo, but then pulled it back to scratch an itch on his chin. He sighed, then shook his head. Albedo saw the hint of a smile and felt warmth bubble through his chest.

“You are an unusual man, Albedo,” Xiao said breathily.

“I’m getting used to hearing you saying that,” Albedo said with a smile. He pulled the rope from his bag and started to tie it around his waist. “Let’s get going before it starts to snow again.”

The overnight wind had blown the snow on the cliffside to shin-deep heights. Xiao winced as he stepped through it, seeking shallower ground. Albedo tugged a broken branch from a tree and used it to prod the snow ahead of them, checking for the cliffside he knew was there. He found the path, then started up it. The rope around his waist pulled taught, and Albedo turned around in surprise. Xiao was staring out across the valley where the clear air allowed them to see the distant green fields of Mondstadt. But Xiao’s eyes were on the valley below where curved spires jutted out of the snow.

“I did not see this last night,” Xiao said when Albedo stepped up to his side. “Why have you made your camp so close to this...thing?”

“Ease of research, I suppose,” Albedo replied. “You may be surprised to find out that the composition of those bones is primarily calcium.”

“You’ve studied it,” Xiao said incredulously.

“Of course, I did,” Albedo tilted his head. “I’ll say it for you: ‘you are a strange man, Albedo’.”

Xiao snorted. “I’m surprised you aren’t dead already.”

“I take great care when handling dangerous things,” Albedo replied. “Down below, however...his heart still beats. I...will never enter that cave. The corruption down there is far greater than anywhere else on this mountainside.”

“You say that,” Xiao said softly. “But I take it that you’ve tried.”

Albedo inhaled slowly, then he nodded.

Once. He had tried once. He could still hear the sound of the heart beating in his ears in time with his own. The glow of crimson power that radiated along his body and over his skin. The power burned, but did not harm him. But he could feel it seeking ways into his flesh and bone. He heard the whisper of something he could not name. He knew now that it was nothing more than his chalk skin that had protected him from the hands of corruption. Any being of flesh and blood would be tainted in an instant.

“In truth...I am still curious about the nature of Durin’s corruptive power,” Albedo said, earning him another exasperated sigh from Xiao. “I wonder why it is the way it is, and why it is so enduring and powerful, even now. I would like to know more, not just because it is an answer I wish to find, but because he the same as I am. He, like me, is a construct who may have had thoughts and feelings, just like me. But I will never know, because Durin no longer speaks. His body was destroyed. Yet, his soul lingers within the snow and ice. It is that power – that force of will – that I long to understand. Perhaps it may give me insight into the meaning of life itself, and perhaps it will help me understand my own reason for being in this world.”

“Let’s get you put back together first,” Xiao said, then nudged him back towards the path. “Your search for answers will get you killed.”

“Perhaps,” Albedo said calmly.

“You accept death faster than fleeting mortals,” Xiao sighed.

“Death is but the next stage in the cycle of life. I do not fear it because it is not the true end of being – only the end to a life.”

Xiao shook his head and nudged him again, prompting him to walk faster. Albedo glanced at him and smiled to himself before starting up the path. He wondered if he had somehow made Xiao uncomfortable. He knew the Yaksha was unafraid of death, much the same as him. And yet, the way his hand pressed into the small of his back with enough force to keep him moving had Albedo wondering. Did Xiao fear death? Or did Xiao merely fear the death of those he held dear?

Mourning the loss of a life was a very human emotion – one Albedo could understand at a psychological level. But he had never lost someone aside from his master. In truth, though he accepted death would inevitably come for him, he did not fear for himself. He did, however, feel an ache at the thought of his family – Klee, and Sucrose and Timaeus – who would miss him more than he missed himself. Perhaps it was that same ache Xiao felt at the thought of losing a friend.

Albedo sighed and pulled the hand off his back. He threaded their hands together and squeezed. Then, he looked over at Xiao with a soft smile. Xiao did not return the smile aside from a small quirk at the corner of his mouth, but he did not let go of his hand, either. Albedo took it as a small blessing.

They crested a hill that looked down into another valley below. The rocky crags of Dragonspine had protected the path from the worst of the blowing snow, but the drifts still piled up in places that hid rocks from sight. More than once, Albedo caught his toes on uneven ground, and Xiao didn’t fare much better. Soon, they were both covered in snow and shivering as the wind picked up once more. At the sight of the warming mechanism, Albedo sighed in relief and quickly opened it. The embarrassment he felt from the sound he made was tempered by the fact that Xiao had made the same one.

“Are we almost there?” Xiao asked.

Albedo nodded, rubbing his hands together in front of the warmth. “Do you see those ruins over there? That’s the entrance. Once we’re inside, there will be less wind, but it’s no less frigid.”

Xiao nodded. His fingers were trembling as he held them next to Albedo’s. They were red, but carried no sign of frostnip like they had before. It seemed as though Xiao was keeping his promise to tell Albedo immediately if the pain became too great.

Away from the breath of the warming mechanism, the wind continued to rise. Albedo looked grimly up at the sky and sighed.

“A snowstorm is coming,” he said. “We need to move quickly. If we’re caught in this...”

“Then, let’s go,” Xiao said, and pulled his gloves back on.

The wind bit at their backs as they left the mechanism behind. Albedo pulled the neck of his hood up over his face to keep the cold away from his throat. Xiao copied his action as the blowing snow began to lift off the ground. Their vision slowly became more and more obstructed. Albedo kept their destination in his mind, and used the familiar landmarks and trees to guide their way up towards Starglow Cavern.

By the time they reached the ruins, the wind was rising to a vicious howl. Albedo ducked behind a wall and sighed. Xiao pressed close and peered out at the snow. He shivered, and his breath misted from between his lips. There was no going back now. Not until the storm passed.

Albedo shook the snow off of his cloak and turned towards the cavern leading into the depths of the mountain. As they walked, the sound of the wind turned into a distant, echoing whistle, and the gentle crackling of frost prickled all around them. Xiao exhaled softly as he looked around, pausing a moment to run his fingers over the fragile blue blossoms that rose from the permafrost.

“I have called them frostblooms,” Albedo said. “I do not know if anyone else has given them a name. But they only grow here, and they thrive in these caverns.”

“They are beautiful. How is it possible that something like this could exist in such a place?” Xiao asked.
“Where there’s a will to live, there will always be life,” Albedo replied.

“I thought you were talking nonsense,” Xiao said, catching up with him. “But now I see there is truth to what you told me all of this time.”

“If you understand this truth, the Art of Khemia should come easy to you,” Albedo smiled.

“I will not touch alchemy,” Xiao pursed his lips.

“That is for the better.”

Xiao grimaced, then looked back towards the cavern.

The cold began to grow still, but no less heavy on their skin. Within the depths of Starglow Cavern, the true bite of Dragonspine would creep slowly over their bodies. It was a docile cold that held none of the aggression of the wind, but it still sunk slowly through their clothes, creeping unnoticed until Albedo found himself shivering once more. His breath frosted on the collar of his cloak. The ice crystals rose like overgrown quartz, and hung from the ceiling in fragile stalactites that threatened to tumble downwards at the smallest tremor.

The cave opened into the very heart of Dragonspine. Old stone roads rose high and low, circling a central pillar. Albedo liked to imagine that the center of this mountain had once been a lively hub of commerce for the people who had once dwelled upon it. But now, it only contained ice and death. Here, the cold of Dragonspine crept in an endless swirl, blowing frigid air from the peak, and allowing it to sink down into the depths of the mountain to where it settled like a blanket. Xiao shivered and pulled his cloak tighter against himself.

“This place...” he said softly. “Something terrible happened here.”

“Yes,” Albedo replied. “Life and death in a precarious balance. Things never returning to the soil as they should. There are things that exist within this cavern that should not be.”

“I can hear them,” Xiao said, closing his eyes. “They are souls that rest without ever sleeping.”

Albedo shivered again, but this time, it wasn’t from the cold. “Let’s keep moving.”

Xiao nodded silently. He followed Albedo, his expression impassive. Yet, his eyes shifted from side to side as he watched and observed the steady drift of snow, and things Albedo could not see.

Little by little, they descended into the belly of the mountain. The cold rose and sank down the necks of their cloaks. The heart of the mountain sang a never-ending song of wind and cold. It was a gentle song – one that Albedo loved to hear, but one he knew would only end in death. Xiao stumbled and winced. Albedo caught his arm and held him upright.

“The poultices are wearing off,” Xiao said. “I’ll be fine.”

“We’re almost there,” Albedo promised.

The cold grew bitter and biting. Xiao winced as he walked, his hands clutched beneath his arms. Albedo could see the cavern off to the side – the one that led to the twisting corridors that would take them to his master’s old laboratory. His heart began to beat faster in anticipation. The cold did not bother him when he knew he was so close to the answers he so desperately needed.

Home, part of him whispered. Safety. My master...

“Albedo!” Xiao shouted.

Albedo barely had time to duck before the Frostworn Lawachurl burst from the snow. It roared loudly enough that it echoed through the cavern and sent icicles tumbling to the ground below. Xiao pulled him out of the way of a handful of falling shards.

“Take cover,” Xiao said, meeting his eyes. “And stay low. I will take care of this.”

“Be careful,” Albedo begged, and took the thick gloves from Xiao’s hands.

The Yaksha yanked his mask from his belt. Albedo threw himself behind an ice wall as best as he could and buried his hands into the snow. His Vision pulsed as he felt the tremble of the mountain, and the soft footsteps of Xiao. He urged a flower to grow between Xiao and the Lawacurl, praying his assistance would be enough. Then, he curled himself into the tightest ball he could and whispered a prayer to the Archons.

The screech of the wind roared through his ears as Xiao unleashed his power.

The Frostworn Lawachurl roared in rage as Xiao fought. Albedo did not watch out of fear that if he did, he would be caught in the same torrent of power that had stripped the chalk from his body in Huaguang Stone Forest. Yet, when he looked up, he could see the wind swirling black and vicious – Xiao’s building karma, unleashed upon the world. The ground shook, and the snow blew pristine and white before shattering beneath the rippling waves of Xiao’s power.

The Lawachurl roared again, and Albedo heard the sickening thud of a powerful hit landing. Xiao’s cry echoed through the cavern, and his body flew into the snow and landed with a brutal thud. Albedo winced as he realized the cold must have sapped much of Xiao’s strength already. Unleashing his Yaksha power had drained it even further. The night before, he had used his power to help Albedo shake the nightmares he had endured. Albedo should have realized how weakened he had become.

The Lawachurl growled as it shuffled into sight. Xiao had already done a significant amount of damage to it. Its blood leaked crimson red across the snow, and its teeth were bared as it sought to finish off its prey.

Xiao was not moving.

Albedo did not think. He rushed to his feet and let the power of his Vision rush through him. A flower burst at the feet of the Lawachurl, making it stumble. Feral eyes landed on Albedo, and for the first time since he faced the demon in Huaguang Stone Forest, fear clutched at his chest.

Albedo threw himself out of the way as the Lawachurl lunged towards him. Pain flared in his body; the cracks irritated by his movements. The cold bit through his cloak, and threatened to shatter the flesh beneath the chalk. Albedo felt dizzy with it, and he knew that their time was limited. He had to finish the Lawachurl quickly, and take Xiao to safety.

The Lawachurl lunged again, and Albedo pulled another flower from the earth. His sword danced as he took a strike at the beast from behind. Sparks danced beneath his sword, but it wasn’t enough. The Lawachurl’s thick hide deflected all but the most powerful of blows. Albedo turned and ran, trying to keep it as far away from Xiao’s limp body as possible. He could see Xiao starting to stir; his head shifting from side to side. Albedo felt cold sweat start on his forehead.

The Lawachurl swung its fists towards Albedo. His reaction was much slower, and the fist caught him in the side, sending him tumbling. Pain rushed through his back, warning him that the cracks had become worse. Albedo heard his scream echoed back at him like a mocking dream. He stumbled up to his knees and his eyes found glimmering crimson.

Albedo counted his blessings and picked up his sword.

The blossom stood between himself and the Lawachurl. He had time. Not much, but he had time. Hefting his sword, Albedo turned his attention to the scarlet quartz. He struck once, and felt the surge of power burning up his arm. A second strike, and the crystal shattered and oozed blood red through his blade. Power swirled around him, vicious and crimson. He heard the whisper of a distant voice he could not recognize, yet felt just as familiar as his own.

Albedo summoned the power within his Vision. With a wave of his hand, crystals burst from the earth and sent sparks dancing around the Lawachurl. Albedo saw a flash of carmine fire – destructive, and beautiful – burn across the Lawachurl’s battered body. The monster’s roar became a groan, and it fell at Albedo’s feet.

Fire raced through Albedo’s blood, but he could not address it now. He banished his sword and ran to Xiao’s side. He clutched the side of his face and shook him gently, hoping and praying he had not come too late.

“Xiao,” Albedo whispered. “Xiao, open your eyes.”

Xiao groaned softly. His eyelashes fluttered. Albedo dug through his bag, seeking a potion that would help revitalize the Yaksha. He held the back of his head and pressed the bottle to his lips.

“Drink this,” Albedo encouraged. “Please. Swallow it.”

Xiao winced, but responded just enough that he took a mouthful. His body shuddered, and his face twisted with discomfort. Albedo recorked the bottle and set it aside and waited. Slowly, Xiao’s eyes opened.

“Albedo...” Xiao breathed.

“You’re okay,” Albedo said. “Just get up, and we’ll get to the lab. I will treat your wounds.”

“Albedo...your face,” his fingertips reached up to trace his cheek – the one that had likely shattered far more than before. The one that burned with a fever pitch that made him feel as though he was melting from the inside.

“I had to finish off the Lawachurl,” Albedo explained. “I know it’s bad, but—”

“No,” Xiao shook his head. “Your eye is turning red.”

“What?” Albedo pressed a hand to his face. The chalk came back dusted with carmine red. Fear flooded him as he yanked the sleeve of his cloak up, revealing the shattered skin of his arm. The flesh beneath the cracks was interlaid with crimson blood. The burn was familiar and powerful. It crept up his arm and made it feel distant and numb.

Master, a voice that was not his own whispered through his mind. I have found my answer.

“O-Oh,” Albedo gasped as the world became a blur. “N-No...”

“Where is the lab?” Xiao demanded, gripping his shoulders.

Albedo could only point – with his left, not his right. His arm had left him, and so had his mind. The voice of Durin was powerful and demanding, and Albedo was helpless to stop it from entering.

Chapter 11 Chapter Text

The tunnel was too long, and Xiao could not run fast enough. The Lawachurl had been too powerful, and Xiao had been too weak. Albedo was dying, and Xiao could only blame himself.

Beneath his hands, Albedo’s skin was feverish. The crimson blood that had infiltrated his body was leaking out through the cracks in his chalk skin. The corruption had taken root, and now, it was festering. Xiao knew what came next, but he was loathe to consider it.

He had made a promise to do what he must. He had made a promise to prevent Albedo from ever harming Mondstadt should he become corrupted. And yet, with Albedo falling prey to the demon that lied upon Dragonspine, Xiao could not bring himself to do what he must. The thought of losing Albedo was a burden too heavy to bear. Not now. Not when he had shown him his world. Shown him Mondstadt, and the family he loved. He had made a promise to introduce Xiao to his little sister. Xiao had disregarded the thought so readily before, but now, on the verge of losing Albedo, he had never wished to share his life more.

“No...” Albedo groaned, and writhed in his arms. Xiao felt something dark and familiar trickle from Albedo’s consciousness. Longings that were not his own. Desires that were corrupted and vile. Dreams that smelled of fire and brimstone – as sickening and as thick as the miasma that tore from the earth from the corpses of long dead gods. They had Xiao wanting to throw Albedo’s body aside and run for his life. But Albedo was still inside somewhere, fighting for every inch. Battling against the corruption just as Xiao did.

The doorway appeared suddenly and without warning. It was wooden and worn, and inlaid within the walls of an old structure. Xiao smashed the door inward with his shoulder and kicked it closed with his foot. It was black and cold inside the old laboratory. Xiao only had the light of the Vision on the back of his gauntlet to guide the way.

He laid Albedo on the first flat surface he could find and groped in the darkness for a torch.

“Albedo,” Xiao whispered, clutching the torch. “Can you hear me?”

“F-Fire,” Albedo gasped. “S-Silver j-jar. G-Gold label...In m-my bag...”

Thank the Archons, Albedo was still with him.

Xiao fished the jar out, using the limited light to guide him. He prayed he had found the right one. The material felt hot in his fingers and he quickly threw it onto the torch before it could burn him. The dust caught fire on the torch, and Xiao was able to see the true extent of Albedo’s master’s old laboratory.

It was large, and cavernous. Frozen tools sat rusting and unused. An old crucible sat cold and dark in the corner, and bare tables were patterned with burns and long-dried spills. The empty hooks on the walls told tales of tools that had once been, and the books left on the shelf were fragmented by the frigid cold. It was a place very much like the camp Albedo had kept on the mountainside, but with a distinct flavour that spoke of long-lost secrets.

On the table, Albedo moaned something unintelligible. He writhed and pulled at the cloak covering his body. Xiao winced and finished lighting the other torches before stepping to his side.

“Xiao,” Albedo gasped.

“I’m here,” Xiao said, then brushed the sweaty bangs from his forehead.

Albedo’s eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused and lost. His right eye had turned a sickening shade of crimson red, and the blood red cracks on his neck were inching towards the diamond star tattoo on his throat. Xiao could sense the power tearing through Albedo’s flesh, searching for a way to emerge and manifest. It was nothing more than Albedo’s powerful will that kept it at bay now. The cracks in Albedo’s chalk skin had given Durin’s corruption an entry point.

“P-Please,” Albedo gasped. “D-Don’t let him t-take me.”

Why now? Xiao questioned. Albedo’s left hand clutched at his chest hard enough that his fingernails scratched the skin beneath. Why now when they had come so far did Albedo have to fall prey to corruption? The answers they sought lied in these very rooms. Albedo’s recovery was within sight. But because Xiao had failed to protect him; because he had been too weak...

“I failed you,” Xiao whispered, and felt the hot damp of tears spill from his eyes. “Albedo, I have failed you...”

“No,” Albedo shook his head. “You c-can st-still stop th-this...”

“I can’t,” Xiao whispered. “I can’t...”

“Xiao...” Albedo’s face twisted in pain.

Xiao closed his eyes and grimaced. He laid his hand on Albedo’s cheek – the one that had been torn apart by the journey. Torn apart by Xiao. If he hid it, he could see the true side of Albedo. The one with brilliant, curious eyes, and a comforting smile that never failed to make Xiao wonder if there was more to the world than the destruction he knew. He held the hand against his chest. The hand that could bring life, while his could only bring death. Now, all of that was fading away. Albedo was losing his battle. Albedo would die just as their journey had come to an end.

“Please...” Albedo whispered.

“Don’t leave me,” Xiao begged.

Albedo grimaced. His body trembled. His eyes fluttered closed and another wave of those filthy, sickening desires flooded from his mind. Xiao could taste them on his tongue. They were manifesting and becoming reality. Xiao realized there was one, last thing he could do. Perhaps it would kill them both. But it was better than allowing Albedo to succumb to the festering corruption. It was better than Xiao taking a blade to Albedo’s throat.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Albedo’s forehead. He felt him shudder beneath him. He felt the dreams of Durin paint his tongue and knew that he was capable of devouring this, just as he had consumed the dreams of mortals in the past. Albedo’s hand dug into his chest. His voice became a pained cry. Durin had stolen Albedo’s voice and made it his own. Yet, it sounded just like him. It was almost enough to make Xiao stop out of fear that he was hurting Albedo.

Durin’s dream tasted of blood and sulfur. He heard his voice in his mind, and felt the filthy dream as though it were his own. He felt the desire to destroy and please a master who had long since gone. He saw the dance of flame and ash; blood, painted across healthy soil. He saw a dragon soaring the skies – Dvalin, he knew in his heart – and longed to soar with it. He longed for a body after his had been taken from him. He longed for life, when he had been offered nothing more than death.

He began to understand the true desires of a being as evil as Durin. It tasted vile, and made his stomach churn. He wanted to spit the dream out. It swirled like a vicious turmoil, yet the texture was as soft as the dreams he remembered. Even if the dream was filled with the disturbing desires of an evil creature, it was still a dream Durin longed to see come to fruition, even if Xiao would never allow it to be so.

He heard Albedo’s voice, distant and painful against his ears. Durin’s voice roared against his mind – a plea to stop. Xiao knew what he was doing. He understood that the moment he stole this dream and devoured it, the monster known as Durin would have no further meaning for his existence. He may not cease to be, but he would continue as a shadow would, lingering, without knowing why. Durin, like Albedo, was a construct – immortal, until its core was destroyed. While Durin’s core lingered, so to would his meaningless life.

“Xiao, let it go,” Albedo’s voice begged. “Let it go.”

Xiao growled. If he let go now, it was not likely he would ever get his hands on this dream again. If he let go now, Durin’s dark desires would linger upon this earth forevermore. But if he bit down – severed that connection between dreams and reality – he could swallow the dream and be done with it. He could destroy the evil power that would corrupt Albedo forever.

That was when he felt something else against his lips. Something warm – something soft. Softer than dreams, and softer than the almond tofu he consumed so eagerly.

Xiao let go of Durin’s dream. He felt it slither away like a wounded snake, leaving nothing more than Albedo. His hands were in his hair, pulling him down against him. Albedo’s lips were dry and chapped from the cold, but they were no less soft. His eyes were wet, and his skin had returned to the familiar shade of pristine porcelain.

Albedo released him, and Xiao pulled away. His breath caught at the sight of Albedo’s eyes – blue as the daytime sky. Durin was gone. Durin had taken his dreams and fled for the safety of his own perpetual consciousness.

“You let it go,” Albedo whispered, and stroked his fingertips along Xiao’s cheek.

“Why did you want me to?” Xiao asked.

“I understand now,” Albedo said softly. Tears sparkled from his eyes and dripped onto the table below. “I know what death is like for beings like us. It is lonely...and so cold...” he closed his eyes. “To take Durin’s last desires would have been too cruel of a fate, even for a creature such as him.”

“You pity him,” Xiao breathed.

“Yes,” Albedo confessed. “He corrupts because he still longs to finish the final task his master left him – one he may never accomplish. He and I...are far more alike than I ever could have imagined.”

“But his life is over,” Xiao stated. “And his desires are too evil to allow them to exist.”

“I know,” Albedo said. “But it is one thing to walk the earth with a dream that will never be fulfilled. It is another, far more agonizing reality to exist without a dream at all. To live without meaning is to never live...and for Durin, who can never truly die...I fear what such a being may become if it is left to seek something it has lost.”

“You were right to stop me,” Xiao whispered.

“It is a terrifying power you wield,” Albedo said, brushing his thumb along his cheek. “Being able to touch dreams...create and destroy them...Xiao, you are a fascinating individual. I hope that I will be permitted to learn more about you.”

Xiao sighed, then leaned into the hand on his cheek. Albedo truly was strange. He had witnessed Xiao’s true potential – the full extent of his power. He had seen the darkest and most dangerous sides of him. Yet, he still did not flee. He instead wished to learn more, which came with the implications of remaining by his side.

With his body free of corruption, Albedo had returned to the person Xiao was familiar with. The same, curious spark lingered in his eyes, and his life-giving hands held his death bringing ones with an eagerness that was both flattering, and unusual. Xiao had no name for this feeling. No words to describe the way the memory of Albedo’s lips made him feel. All he knew was warmth that the light of the torches scattered throughout the lab could not bring.

When he wasn’t distracted by the bitter taste of Durin’s dreams, he could fully appreciate Albedo. He tasted sweet, and the smell of snow and sweat became a familiar comfort. His lips were not dreams, but they felt like one, and it was a dream that Xiao knew he could feel again and again as long as Albedo walked this earth with him.

“How are your wounds...?” Albedo asked breathlessly, pulling away to search for his injuries.

“It’s nothing,” Xiao promised. “Only bruises.”

Albedo’s expression told him that he did not believe him. Xiao sighed and tugged the cloak from his shoulders.

“Only bruises,” he promised, then pulled Albedo upright. “But you look as though you may fall apart any second.”

“If I am still moving and in one piece, that is good enough for now. I am quite tired...” Albedo sighed and pressed his forehead into Xiao’s chest. “Though I wish to search for my answers now, I am afraid that I do not have the energy.”

“I will watch over you,” Xiao promised, and lifted Albedo upright to bring him to the remnants of a bed in the corner. He kicked the debris off of it and laid Albedo down as gently as he could. “I will check the books on the shelf while you rest.”

Albedo hummed, then rolled to a more comfortable position. He bundled the hood of his cloak beneath him for a pillow. Xiao shook out his own cloak and laid it over him like a blanket.

“Bring the books over here,” Albedo requested. “Sit with me.”

Xiao nodded, and carefully pulled the old books from the shelf. He did not know what he was looking for, and he didn’t know if he would find it without Albedo’s help. But for his sake, Xiao would try. He settled down on the floor next to the bed with the books piled at his side. He cautiously opened the leather cover of the first, wincing at the sound of frost crackling between the pages.

Albedo fell asleep as Xiao was fumbling to peel two pages apart. He felt the caress of his dreams before he heard the sound of his soft breathing. Distracted, Xiao paused and turned to watch. He set the book aside and laid his cheek next to him. He brushed the hair from Albedo’s forehead and sighed.

Albedo must know, Xiao thought distractedly. He must’ve felt how much worse the damage had become. Durin’s corruption had found its way in, and clawed at every ounce of Albedo’s being to gain a foothold. The powerful forces had damaged Albedo’s chalk skin even further, and much of the right side of his face had become mangled and unrecognizable. He didn’t dare touch out of fear that the ragged flesh would be fragile.

It did not bother him. Xiao had little interest in the cosmetic, and even if Albedo could not repair himself, he knew he would still feel this bright spark of warmth in his chest. He only feared that Albedo would never be able to return to Mondstadt. He feared that the people who did not know him as Xiao did would look upon him and see a monster.

Xiao closed his eyes. He laced their fingers together beneath the cloak. His right hand felt thin, but his left felt comfortable and secure. He heard Albedo hum softly, and the gentle trickle of his dream welcomed him to come visit.

Xiao drifted away, and found himself in a familiar place in Liyue. Perched on the edge of a cliff in Huaguang Stone Forest, Xiao smiled at the view. He felt the brush of the wind on his cheeks, and heard the gentle rustle of dust. At his side, Qingxin flowers bloomed and swayed. He heard the soft scratch of a sketchbook, and saw his face imprinted upon snow-white pages.

Chapter 12 Chapter Text

Albedo had prepared for the worst. Yet, he still felt afraid. He could feel the chalk inside of his gloves, painful and raw. He could feel the bitter cold on the skin of his cheek, and knew that it was likely nothing more than raw flesh.

Xiao’s expression was impassive. Albedo could only look away as he paced, back and forth, back and forth across the cold stone floor of the laboratory. Albedo didn’t want to know what Xiao saw. A tentative touch from his own fingertips warned him of the extent of the damage done to his face. His right eye could no longer detect light. It felt wrong. It felt inhuman. It felt monstrous.

But he had to face the truth. Much of his right arm had already succumbed. He could still feel it – still sense warmth and cold, and feel the pressure of touch, but it felt distant and numb. His hand curled around the chalk inside of his glove. He shook it out, then closed his eyes as he pulled it off

his hand.

The chalk fell to the table like sand from an hourglass. Slowly, he opened his eyes and grimaced. His hand did not feel like his hand. It moved when he wanted it to, but it did not feel like his own. His right arm functioned, but not without aches and pains. He could not grip tools tightly enough. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide from his shoulders. More chalk fell, and Albedo could truly understand the extent of the damage done to his body. His right arm was entirely void of chalk up to his shoulder. From there, cracks rose in the chalk and stretched across his neck. His waist and abdomen were shattered, and Albedo knew if he dared remove his shorts too, he would find cracks there, too. Durin’s corruption had all but destroyed him. If Xiao had not saved him when he did, he would have been torn apart from the inside out. He didn’t bother hoping that the body beneath the chalk was durable.

Xiao laid his hands on his unbroken shoulder and squeezed gently. Albedo let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. He leaned back against Xiao’s chest and felt the warm, spark of gratitude that was becoming more and more familiar with every passing moment. It was okay that Xiao did not know how to reassure him. In truth, Albedo did not expect him to. This was something Albedo had to face alone. Xiao would be with him, but ultimately, the results came down to Albedo, and what he chose to do next.

Flesh and bone, encased in clay... Albedo eyed the crucible against the wall. He shook his head, then sighed.

“Was there nothing in the books...?” Albedo asked.

“I didn’t check them all,” Xiao admitted.

Albedo nodded, then stood up straight. “Let’s look now, then.”

Research. Research would give him the answers he needed. Though his hand and arm felt like rusted hinges, it still moved enough that he could peel apart pages. The lack of fingernails made it difficult, and Xiao began to pull books towards him so he could loosen pages in advanced to ease Albedo’s trouble.

Immersing himself in books distracted him from his inner turmoil, and gave him something to focus on. It blocked out the memory of Durin’s voice. It blocked out the faint waves of nostalgia that threatened to overtake him. The burn on the corner of the table. The odd, pale green smudge next to the door. The chip in the stone bricks that looked natural, but had not been there when this place was built. The burn had been caused by Albedo accidentally dropping white phosphorus. His hands had been trembling under the intense eyes of his master. They’d both watched it fall – watched it ignite. Albedo had frozen, but his master quickly stifled the flame before it grew out of hand.

“Repeat the exercise. I will not tolerate failure.” She had said.

Albedo shifted one of the books so it was covering the burn. He couldn’t do anything about the green smudge that had once been a plant. It had melted when Albedo attempted to change its physical structure. Testing the capabilities of his Vision had caused the chip in the stone. All were remnants of errors made with inexperienced hands. There were countless other memories woven into the foundation of his master’s old laboratory, but many of them he had no recollection of. When he’d asked about the remnants of an old, deformed set of scales, he was merely told that her previous pupil had made the last error he ever would. She did not answer when Albedo asked where they went.

One by one, Albedo leafed through the pages of the textbooks. Every few pages, he found the faded imprints of half-dried ink. Most of it was illegible, but the ones that were readable, he made sure to write down. His disfigured hand made it difficult to hold his pen, and it kept slipping from his grasp. Frustration built in his stomach, forcing him to stamp it down. He could not become angered now. His answers were here somewhere. They had to be. But the books offered no insight. They only told him things he already knew.

“You should rest,” Xiao spoke up suddenly, setting another book he had meticulously broken the frozen seal on aside. “It’s been hours.”

“It’s nothing,” Albedo replied, pulling the next book towards him. “I’m fine.”

Xiao grimaced. “You are five books in, and you haven’t found anything. Are you certain your master would have left something for you?”

Albedo gritted his teeth. “Something has to be here...if it’s not...”

Xiao sighed, then stood up. He shifted towards Albedo’s bag. He removed an apple and began cutting it into slices. His brow was twisted into a frown as he concentrated. His wedges weren’t as neat as Albedo’s were, but they were welcome all the same. Albedo bit them one at a time, trying to ignore the way Xiao’s brow furrowed; the way his golden eyes watched him with a painful intensity. It made Albedo feel fragile – like Xiao was waiting for him to shatter any second.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Albedo finally said.

Xiao didn’t answer. He only sliced into the apple again and began lining the wedges across the table for Albedo to take when he felt the need to. He remained silent and still enough that Albedo almost forgot he was there. If it wasn’t for the apples steadily browning on the table, he might have.

Pages turned, one by one. Words were scrawled in an increasingly more illegible manner. No matter how many he found, none of it added up. Albedo’s impatience grew, and so too did Xiao’s stillness. His stomach twisted with hunger, and his forehead throbbed from the intensity of his thoughts, but he did not wish to stop. Not when he was so close. Not when his answers could lie in the next book...or the next book...or the next...

Albedo groped across the table for the book pile and found nothing. His fingers scratched at the wooden surface, as though his actions would spontaneously produce another book. They could not have looked through every book. It was impossible. The words Albedo had copied down were meaningless, even when he tried to make sense of them. There was no answer. His master had left him with nothing more than the Opus Magnum. She had not thought to leave him with the truth about himself. Perhaps she wanted him to find out on his own. Perhaps she never wanted him to find out at all. Perhaps this was his punishment for his final failure. He could not find the truth of the world, and so, his master had left him to fester in an unfindable answer. Albedo would never know his place in the universe. He was not meant to. Perhaps it was because he had never belonged in it in the first place.

Xiao’s hand landed on top of his, stilling his fingers. They ached from how hard he had been clawing at the tabletop. Xiao’s hand was a firm distraction. It brought him back down out of his thoughts, but it made the pain clutching his chest feel ever more prominent.

“She left me nothing,” Albedo rasped, his voice not sounding, nor feeling like his own. “All of this...it was all for nothing.”

Xiao did not respond. Albedo didn’t know what he would say if he did. In truth, he didn’t know what he wanted to hear. The reality that his master had taken every scrap of information about him with her when she departed was unbearable. In times past, he had never thought about going looking for it, fearful of the truth and fearful of his own unnatural nature. He settled like a cuckoo within the walls of Mondstadt and pretended that he was one of the many – a normal human, just unusually gifted. Now, should he return to that nest, he might not be welcome back. His place in the world depended on him finding the answers he needed and putting himself back to normal. He could not maintain his life when his body was shattering fragment by fragment. If it became worse, he would end up like Durin, immobile, but with his core still intact, allowing him to think and feel, but never truly die. Albedo did not fear death. But he did fear the loss of his material form. He feared the loss of his home, and the people he cared about.

Albedo pulled his hand from Xiao’s. He stood up and stumbled numbly over to the bookshelf. Denial pushed him to run his hands over every shelf once again, seeking any scrap of paper – any shred of ice and dust – anything that would give him a sign that his master had wanted him to know the truth. But there was nothing but empty shelf. The sound of Xiao standing reminded him that what he was seeing was real. He wasn’t dreaming. This wasn’t some terrible nightmare that he would wake up from and shake off before resuming his search. The search was over. Albedo would never restore himself. He slumped against the shelf and fell to his knees. The cold stone floor pressed against his shins. It sent shivers down his spine and made his cracked flesh ache. Everything ached. He felt worn out and used – like a tool that had been pushed to the brink. In his lap, his hands betrayed his reality. The left, intact to the wrist, but the right a mangled remnant of what it once had been. Soft, scarred flesh beneath a chalk exoskeleton.

Albedo grimaced. His forehead pressed against one of the shelves. The wood was cold, yet perfectly solid despite the countless years spent in the frostbitten caverns of Dragonspine. The imprints left by the books that had already been removed, and the faint shadows of objects that had once been in place was the only thing that told tales of the shelf’s age. If he looked back far enough – if he scoured his memories of his master – he could remember what had once been there.

“Here, on this shelf, is the number of times you have disappointed me,” his master had said as she laid out the malformed objects one by one. “Should this shelf no longer have room for more of your errors, you will have disappointed me for the last time.”

A half-formed perpetual motion machine. A misaligned skeleton created from bone shards. A plant that had turned to dust and was left to crumble inside of a cracked pot. Vials of mystery liquid in varying colours and toxicity. Broken puppets and papers covered in spilled ink. A mortar and pestle scorched badly enough it had cracked. Albedo’s greatest failures, put on display to remind him of just how in over his head he was. Reminders of just how little he truly knew of the world around him. How foolish he was compared to his master who was perfect and never made mistakes.

The shelf was empty now. But the memories lingered painful and raw. The shelf had been nearly full when he had returned to find his master gone, and nothing more than a book and a letter on the table. In his despair, Albedo had been certain that he was and always would be a failure. He had been certain the shelf hadn’t been filled, but in those moments, he felt harsh, bitter doubt. His final task – find the truth of the world – still felt daunting and nigh impossible. If he could not find such a simple answer, how could he possibly restore himself from nothing?

He closed his eyes and felt the hairs framing his face tickle his cheeks as the soft, slow drafts of cold leeched the warmth from the air. Part of him wanted to stay here and let the cold slowly lull him into sleep. Part of him wanted to get up and keep going. Part of him longed for another chance at life when his was slowly crumbling to dust. He wondered if it was worth it. He wondered if he could endure another wave of disappointment.

“Come back to Huaguang Stone Forest with me,” Xiao spoke up suddenly.

Albedo froze, then turned towards Xiao. He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find his words.

How long ago had it been that he had thought that Huaguang Stone Forest was where he would go on the day he wanted to escape from humanity? It had been a whimsical thought – one he considered, yet never thought would come to fruition in the near future. What would it be like, he wondered, to spend the rest of his days with Xiao – with the Adepti – in a place where few mortals dared to tread? What would it be like to give up on ever restoring himself and living as a half-formed being of unknown origins? Would he be satisfied with such a life? Or would he always question the what ifs?

Xiao grimaced as the silence dragged onwards. Then, he sighed. “If this is really the end, and you’re ready to give up...and Mondstadt can no longer be home for you...at least find solace there. Those who wish to find you will be able to find you again, but...you’ll be safe there. From people who might...misunderstand.”

Albedo didn’t need to ask to know what he was talking about. He tenderly touched his face, feeling the hot, fleshy skin. He was afraid to look in a mirror. But he was also afraid of what it would mean if he accepted Xiao’s proposal and disappeared. It was an uncertain future. A life with Xiao, but an empty one. A life without Mondstadt – without Klee, Sucrose, and Timaeus. A life where he had to rebuild his laboratory to continue his work – or potentially not have work at all. A life of patching up Xiao’s wounds, and avoiding death at every turn. A life where the power of the Adepti would inevitably turn him slowly back into chalk dust. It was not a future. But he couldn’t see a way out. His mind was clouded with doubt and despair. He didn’t know what to do next.

Xiao stepped up to his side. Slowly, he hooked his arms beneath Albedo’s arms and tugged him to his feet. Albedo protested, but couldn’t muster up the energy to push him away. He slumped back into Xiao’s chest, then found himself being carried over to the bed. Xiao laid him down then bundled the cloak around him once more.

“You stay here,” Xiao said, then moved one of the torches closer.

“Where are you going?” Albedo asked.

“To find food,” Xiao replied, then tucked him in tighter. “I’m going to make you sleep.”

“Xiao—”

“Don’t protest,” Xiao said, then pressed his fingertips to Albedo’s forehead. “I will wake you when I return.”

Albedo did not want to sleep. He knew that if he slept, his dreams would be filled with nothing more than misery. Yet, being awake was equally as agonizing when his heart and mind were filled with the coagulating thoughts of self-loathing and regret. Yet, Xiao’s power over dreams made him helpless. By now, he knew enough about Albedo to know his deepest desires. He grabbed onto one and pulled it to the forefront of Albedo’s mind and pressed him into the realm of sleep.

Albedo sank into a dream of Mondstadt, where Klee was stringing a small bow and arrow in eager preparation for the Windblume Festival. Her babbling was gleeful, and Albedo was carefully weaving a crown of flowers for her to wear instead of her hat. A small scrap of sadness lingered in a place he could not reach for. Xiao’s power made it impossible.

And so, Albedo dreamed not of darkness, but of hope as he laid beneath his cloak in a laboratory filled with memories better left forgotten. He dreamed of the things he longed to see once more. It awakened his thoughts, and allowed him to consider the future possibilities. In the dream, his hands were whole, and his face felt like smooth chalk. He could see the bright, clear colours of the grass and sky with both of his eyes. Albedo did not know if it had been Xiao’s intention to provide the inspiration he needed to wake the hopeful side of his mind back up, or if he merely wanted to distract Albedo from his pain. Whatever his intention was, it was working, and little by little, Albedo felt with a deep certainty that he knew the answer. He could not seek it just yet, but when he woke up, he would.

And so, Albedo continued to dream.

Chapter 13 Notes:

My sincerest apologies for the incredibly long delay in this chapter. Writer's block had me really bad, on top of a few other things that left me with little time to contemplate on how to tie up loose ends. (The release of Inazuma did not help in the slightest; I hope you guys have been having as much fun there as I have)
With this chapter, we are approaching the final stretch of Castle of Glass. There will be 16 or 17 chapters in total. I want to thank everyone with their patience with me~
Special thanks to Ruru for beta reading this chapter and the next, and helping me organize my thoughts.
And now, please enjoy the chapter!

Chapter Text

The chill of Starglow Cavern cut through his clothes like the claws of a vicious beast that craved his demise. Xiao pulled his cloak higher on his neck. It didn’t matter how many times he would experience this cold, it was something he would never get used to. The pain of the frost and ice was like no winter he had ever endured, even the ones that had left him shaken and numb in a makeshift shelter during the Archon war. If it wasn’t for the occasional snow fox and martin he startled into the underbrush, Xiao would’ve thought such a desolate landscape was inhospitable. But the sight of even a single creature gave him hope that he would make it. That they would both make it.

Albedo needs food, Xiao reminded himself to keep moving. He hasn’t eaten all day...

Xiao grimaced and pressed forward. He climbed the swirling paths out of the frigid depths of Starglow Cavern. Up high, the wind howled noisily enough that very little else could be heard. Yet, still, the souls of those buried by snow and ice lingered above all other things. Xiao could sense them everywhere. His skin prickled with their presence, and if he looked in the correct spot at the right time, he could see the faint imprint of one in the blowing snow before it was shattered back into memory. They were the souls of people left unburied. People who had been lost and would never be found. People who would never find true rest in the afterlife. They were harmless, but their unfulfilled wishes and desires would linger forevermore.

The paths through Starglow Cavern brought him out onto the mountainside. The wind whipped against him and snow clung to his clothes. Xiao shivered and gently blew on his hands. He activated a mechanism to warm his aching body. He had come this far and had obtained nothing more than a few mints and pinecones. A weasel was perched nearby, gnawing on a pinecone. Xiao hurled his spear like a javelin and pinned it into the snow. Good. Albedo would have something more than pinecones and herbs to eat when Xiao returned.

Xiao bundled the weasel up. As he lifted his head, his eyes were momentarily distracted by a distant, blue light. He squinted through the blowing snow and saw the shape of wings and hands held aloft. The whistles of the wind through the cracks in the mountainside were nothing like the sound of the flute in his memories. And yet the sight of the statue and the sacred, snow-filled wind swirling around it brought him comfort. Despite the inhospitable environment, the influence of the Archons lingered here.

Xiao clambered up the side of the mountain. The cold bit his fingers, but he pushed the pain aside. The cliffside levelled off into an old, frost covered ruin. Stone hewn from the dark granite that made up the mountain sat strong in some places and crumbling in others. Frosted cracks told tales of the centuries that had passed since this once great land had been filled with life. Xiao ran his hands over the worn carvings, his fingertips catching on uneven bumps.

In a way, Xiao felt at home amongst ruins. He could not view the past – such a thing was beyond his power – but they were reminders that the world was an enduring place. That things could always linger in memory, even after destruction tore them apart. Scars and battles were never truly the end when the bones of what was could linger for centuries. The fact that the old ruin still stood after centuries of intense battering of snow and ice was a testament to the raw determination of the people who built it. The Archon statue they erected within its walls was barely scathed. The stone was warm to the touch, filled with the blessing of Barbatos. Xiao knelt in front of it. His Vision glowed softly on the back of his glove. He bent low and touched his forehead to the statue’s base.

“I don’t know if you would come to a place like this,” Xiao said quietly. “Or if you’ve gone to a place where you can’t hear your people...but one of your people needs help. I need help to help him.”

It felt like a useless prayer. More of an admission of his own insecurities and weaknesses than a true plea for help. When Xiao lifted his head again, the statue of Barbatos was unmoving. Xiao didn’t know what he was hoping for. The warmth of the stone kept the cold at bay, but Xiao still shivered.

He felt helpless. More helpless than he had felt watching his comrades fall victim to madness one by one until he was the only one who remained. More helpless than he had felt when he heard of the news of Rex Lapis’s demise. Time and time again, when Xiao felt close to someone – became what he could consider their ‘friend’ – something always happened to them. Perhaps that was nothing more than change brought about by the passage of time. But when no individual being remained by his side, it began to feel less and less like the shifting tides of time, and more like Xiao’s influence brought it about. If Xiao had not gotten close to Albedo, this never would have happened. Albedo would still be safe and oblivious.

But that wasn’t true, was it? Xiao’s hands clenched in the snow at the base of the statue. It didn’t make a difference whether or not Xiao had been there. Albedo had gone to Huaguang Stone Forest of his own free will. If Xiao had not been there, Albedo may have been consumed by the demon that had broken free of its prison beneath the earth. Xiao had saved him from such a fate, but as a result, his body had crumbled. The fact that they had not found a way to fix it was not Xiao’s fault, either. Yet, Xiao could not simply blame Albedo. Not when their journey had entwined their fates the way it had.

He did not understand human emotions. Time spent far away from them had tampered with his ability to sympathize. He had no words to say to Albedo, not because he didn’t care, but because he didn’t know what to say to make it better. The confident man he had come to know had crumbled like a like a paper lantern set aflame by its own candle. Though those flames had been doused for the time being, Xiao did not know how to make it whole again. Perhaps it was not his place to do so. Perhaps the only thing he could do was carry the ashes to a safe place until it was ready to be repaired. Xiao didn’t know if it could be.

“Just...give me an answer,” he pleaded, gazing up at the serene stone features of Barbatos. No answer came. Xiao was not surprised, yet disappointment pooled in his stomach. An ache began to fester at the depths of his consciousness. The pain; the regret; the fear and malice; the longing for the unattainable, and the rage that a long-sought goal could never come to fruition. Xiao’s pained cries were smothered by the wind. He clutched the statue with a desperate hand, as though if he held it tight enough it would take away the agony. Voices pounded inside of his mind. Voices of the damned, the dead, and the lost. They were louder than the wind; louder than his voice; louder than his own thoughts. He could scarcely focus on anything beyond himself and the crippling pain in his body.

It was unsurprising that the karmic backlash would return so fiercely when he was at his most vulnerable. Not here. Not like this, Xiao internally begged. He clung to the one, sole thought that stood out like a beacon in a storm. Albedo was resting in the depths of the mountain, waiting for him, and Xiao had to return to his side. He wrestled with the voices. He shouted at them until his voice grew hoarse and they began to fall quiet. His body burned and ached, but he forced it to move. He used the statue’s knee to haul himself upright. He clung to it like a log in a raging river and squinted his blurring eyes through the blowing snow. Shadows swirled around him and pierced his skin. You cannot save him, they reminded him. Give up, just like he did.

“No,” Xiao growled.

Albedo might give up on himself, but Xiao would never give up on Albedo.

Little by little, the pain began to recede enough that he could stand upright. He leaned back against the statue, allowing the warmth to permeate his chilled body. He wished he’d brought some of the soup Albedo had given him. As horrendous as it tasted and felt on his tongue, he could not deny that it had the effect of keeping him warm from the inside. The thought of leaving the statue behind and facing the bitter wind again made him tremble. As much as his pride wanted him to believe he would be fine, he knew the mountain was a patient killer. He’d met his match. As frightening as it was to face an enemy greater than his spear, admitting it to himself was cathartic. But now, he had to make it back to Albedo.

He pushed through the last of the ache in his body. He leapt from the platform suspending the Statue of Barbatos above the mountain and caught the wind. It was wild and unpredictable, and it swirled around him like the breath of a vicious beast, but Xiao could use it to guide him down the mountainside. His fingertips began to ache, and his toes had lost enough feeling that Xiao wondered if he would feel the ground when he touched it again. Would he make it back, even with the wind guiding him? The malice inside of him threatened to rise up once more. His vision blurred. He fought the urge to curl up and let himself plummet into the snow below to keep the pain at bay. Surely the ice and snow would numb him enough that he wouldn’t feel the dark energy tear him to pieces from the inside.

Xiao shook it off and nearly collided with a pine tree. He gripped it tightly and dangled from its branches. His hands were shaking, and his cheeks felt numb. Everything hurt. What did Albedo say about the cold hurting? That if it stopped, he should tell him...but Albedo wasn’t here. Xiao had to get there before the pain became numbness. His body hurt so much that he longed for emptiness, but if he didn’t get back to Albedo, he would die alone in his master’s old laboratory.

Xiao stumbled back into Starglow Cavern. The cold pressed onto him like a vice and froze the breath in his lungs. His hands were curled into fists in his gloves, and yet they still felt cold. Just a little further, Xiao told himself. The further he descended, the colder he became. Soon, he could scarcely feel it at all. A curious feeling was overwhelming him. Though he knew he was cold, he felt as though he was overheating. It tempted him to pull the neck of his cloak open to let it out. He gripped it tighter, trying not to give in. He turned into the cave that led to the old laboratory. Just a little further...

He froze at the sight of a person, upright and as vivid as though he was real. He had not seen anyone in this wretched place aside from himself and Albedo. And yet, this man stood before him as though he had always been there. His hair was short and dark, and his clothes were unlike anything Xiao had seen before. His muddled thoughts just barely managed to consider that his clothes were an old Mondstadt style, and that he wasn’t looking at a person, but a spirit of a person who once was.

“H-Hello...?” Xiao’s voice was a harsh croak.

The person did not acknowledge him. He merely stared at a place Xiao couldn’t see with eyes void of feeling. Xiao staggered forward, unsurprised when the man disappeared without a trace. Not even footprints remained. Still, Xiao took a moment to kick his numb foot through the snow. It bumped against something hard. A little more digging revealed a stone encased in ice. Xiao dug a little deeper, using his spear to scoop the snow and ice free. He paused after a moment and wondered what he was doing. Just because a spirit had been looking at something didn’t mean there was something here. He had only just begun to turn away when he saw the metallic glint.

Xiao fell to his hands and knees and dug a little more vigorously. When his fingertips grew numb, he stood once more and used his spear to pry the ice away. The curved handle of a trap door emerged. The boulder covered most of the door itself, but could not completely hide the wood beneath it. Xiao stabbed at it a little more, but found the ice growing harder and harder to break. His strength was fading. He was wasting time. He had to get back to Albedo.

Xiao staggered. He could scarcely walk, but he pushed himself to do so. He clutched the wall for support and used his spear as a cane where he couldn’t. Little by little, he made it back to the laboratory door. He fell against it and pulled the latch. It swung open, and Xiao collapsed in a heap on the floor, his energy finally spent. He dragged himself closer to the torches and kicked the door closed behind him.

The warmth felt like agony compared to the blissful numb of the cold. Xiao wasted little time stripping off his cloak and discarding it on the floor. On the bed, Albedo was still fast asleep, undisturbed by Xiao’s abrupt entrance. His shattered face was placid and calm. Perfectly serene. Xiao loathed the thought of disturbing him.

He brushed his frozen fingertips over Albedo’s forehead, finding his dream, and pushing it back into the recesses of his mind. Albedo’s brow furrowed. He woke slowly and massaged his forehead.

“Xiao...?” he squinted through sleep blurred eyes. Then, they widened upon realizing his condition.

“How long were you out?” Albedo demanded, pulling him upright and wrapping him in his cloak, and then the cloak he had discarded on the floor. Albedo glowered when he tried to shed them. He yanked off Xiao’s gloves and boots and flinched. Xiao was barely aware of the fact that the appendages were his own.

Albedo stuffed Xiao’s hands into his thicker gloves, then bundled his feet up in cloth. He pulled the torches closer to Xiao, and used his sword to break one of the old tables to fuel the kiln. Heat began to fill the laboratory little by little, and the sensation was agonizing. Xiao curled himself up on the bed and clutched his hands to his chest.

Albedo melted snow, then poured it into a wooden bowl. He tested the water with his own hands before bringing it to Xiao. The water was lukewarm – just barely hot enough to be considered a bath – but it burned Xiao’s feet enough that he groaned in pain when Albedo submerged them. He dropped his forehead against Albedo’s chest and trembled. Albedo’s hands slid around his back and pulled him closer.

“Don’t...Don’t go out like that without me ever again. I don’t care why you did it,” Albedo interrupted, just as Xiao opened his mouth to speak. “Xiao, you could’ve died, and all I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help you.”

“I h-h-had to,” Xiao shivered.

“No,” Albedo shook his head, then laid his cheek on the top of his head. “No, you didn’t...”

“I f-found s-something,” Xiao whispered.

Albedo froze. “That’s...that’s not important right now...”

“Th-There’s a t-trapdoor,” Xiao lifted his head. “It’s h-hidden under a rock.”

Albedo’s expression was impassive. Yet, Xiao didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to the door for the briefest of moments. Yet, still, no matter how desperate for answers Albedo might’ve been, his focus returned to Xiao immediately afterwards.

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Albedo stated. “Then, you can show me.”

“I’ll be f-fine,” Xiao said, then laid his forehead back on Albedo’s chest. “This is n-nothing...”

“It’s not nothing,” Albedo sighed, but stroked his fingers through his hair. “I need to get more water.”

Xiao grimaced, but sat up straight to let him go. Albedo warmed another bowl over the kiln, casting careful glances over at Xiao. The fresh bowl of warm water was just as lukewarm as the last when he laid it in Xiao’s lap.

“Hands in,” Albedo said, then gently pulled the gloves off of Xiao’s hands. He was more prepared for the pain this time, but it still made him flinch. Beneath the water, his fingertips were a shade of deep red, and pale patches burned into the skin stood out like blood on snow. They throbbed painfully as they warmed, but it didn’t take long to get used to it.

“There’s f-food in my b-b-bag,” Xiao stammered. The shivers racking his body was making it increasingly more difficult to speak. Still, Albedo understood. His hands ran through his hair again, stroking his bangs away from his forehead in a way that had his eyelids fluttering. Peace descended into his chest. Albedo’s touch was soothing.

“I’ll take care of it,” Albedo promised. “Just...keep your hands and feet in the bowls. Don’t try to stand, and don’t rub them together.”

Xiao nodded. The loss of Albedo’s touch left him feeling worse off than before, but the new found confidence in Albedo’s actions reassured him. Things had taken another turn for the worse, and Albedo’s body still wasn’t healed, but his immediate reaction to Xiao’s condition, and the meticulous way he prepared his meal revealed the same Albedo Xiao had come to know and care for. Yet, Xiao did not miss the way his head would turn towards the door. His furrowed brow betrayed the hidden emotions. His foot tapped impatiently, and his hands fumbled with the spoon when he wasn’t stirring the soup. He paced when he wasn’t checking to make sure Xiao was keeping his hands and feet submerged in the water. Not for the first time, Xiao wondered what he was thinking, and whether or not Albedo’s mind was a pleasant place to reside.

The soup was warm and sweet. Albedo held it while Xiao sipped just enough broth to help subside his shivering before he was shaking his head.

“You eat,” Xiao said. “You need it more.”

Albedo didn’t argue, and instead sat next to him. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, Xiao closed his eyes and leaned against him. The warmth of Albedo’s presence brought him more comfort than the two cloaks he was wrapped in.

“Xiao,” Albedo spoke up suddenly, setting the empty bowl aside. “Can you promise me something?”

Xiao briefly thought that he would promise Albedo anything, but he stayed the thought.

“What is it?” Xiao asked.

“Don’t put me to sleep like that again,” Albedo said.

“I did it to ease your mind,” Xiao responded.

“I know,” Albedo frowned. “But then you left, and you were in danger. I never wanted to wake up, and I might not have if you hadn’t come back. So please, don’t ever do that again.”

Xiao sighed. “I...could promise you this...”

“Thank you,” Albedo sighed, then laid his head on Xiao’s shoulder.

His weight was a comfort, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sitting upright with his hands and feet submerged in water, Xiao might’ve fallen asleep too. Instead, he remained where he was, pondering the future, and the thought of what Albedo had feared. Losing him, while he slept through a sweet dream, helpless to stop it.

Chapter 14 Notes:

Content Warning:
This chapter contains potentially disturbing content, and body horror.
If you need spoilers, you're free to contact me @AlchemicalStars on Twitter

Chapter Text

Xiao’s recovery was frustratingly slow. Albedo could scarcely keep him off of his feet longer than a few minutes. His frostbitten fingers and toes were recovering quicker than they would have if Xiao had been human, but it wasn’t fast enough given the circ*mstances.

After the second day of recovery, Xiao attempted to brush Albedo’s hands away in frustration.

“I’m fine – we should go find that trap door now.”

“Xiao,” Albedo warned, gripping his wrist to hold it still so he could apply another layer of salve and bandages to the peeling skin. “Enough.”

Xiao huffed, but submitted to Albedo’s medicine. His feet looked the same as his hands – peeling and bruised – and Albedo didn’t miss the irritated purse of his lips as he realized he wouldn’t be allowed to walk today. Albedo had been doing his best to speed Xiao’s recovery, but it still wasn’t fast enough.

“Give it one more day,” Albedo said, tying the bandages into place.

“You know I’ll be fine,” Xiao said, folding his bandaged hands.

Albedo sighed. “It doesn’t matter. If your hands and feet freeze again in this condition, the damage will get worse.”

“It’s not my condition you’re afraid of,” Xiao argued. “I know you can prevent that.”

Albedo sighed again. He knew Xiao was only arguing with him because he was restless. In truth, Albedo was restless too. They were locked underground on a frozen mountain, unable to go anywhere. For Xiao, it was worse. He could not wander like he was used to, or drill with his spear to keep boredom at bay. If their positions had been reversed, Albedo knew he’d probably be on his feet by now, conducting research projects despite knowing that he shouldn’t.

Every night, Albedo kept himself awake thinking about the trapdoor Xiao had found. He had never heard of one being nearby. As far as he knew, Rhinedottir only had one laboratory, and it was the one they were residing within. She may have had more of them elsewhere in Teyvat, but Albedo had never known about them. The trapdoor was most likely a remnant of the kingdom that had once resided on Dragonspine. But, if he did not confirm what was behind the door, he would never stop thinking about it. They would have to investigate soon. It was the only lead they had left. He just didn’t know if he was ready to face the disappointment.

Albedo’s lack of response prompted another heavy sigh from Xiao. He leaned back against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. His bandaged toes wiggled half heartedly.

“Tomorrow, then,” Xiao said. “I won’t wait another day.”

“You’re too stubborn,” Albedo retorted.

“No worse than you,” Xiao’s lips quirked into something that could be considered a smile, but looked more like a grimace. Albedo snorted and shook his head. He turned back towards the work table to re-sort his ingredients for the tenth time in two days. The work was useless and unnecessary, but it kept his hands busy.

While Xiao rested, Albedo spent time experimenting with Khaenri’ah’s golem recipe. He tried to use the bones from the weasel Xiao had brought back, grinding them to a fine powder, and using alchemy to reshape them into a skeleton. Despite his occasionally successful attempts, he was still missing several key ingredients – flesh, blood, and a powerful enough spark to bring it to life.

After several skeletal constructions and deconstructions, Albedo began questioning his morality and whether or not he was right to be conducting such an experiment. The creation of something as complex as faunal life felt like a bastardization of the process of evolution. The fact that Khaenri’ah had willingly created humanoid creatures and wrote the recipe into a book began to feel more horrific than impressive. He had a handful of ideas left, but he did not know if he should carry them out. To remove temptation to experiment further, he threw the powdered bones of the weasel into the kiln to char into ash. Xiao’s expression was unreadable as he watched Albedo turn the coals over.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” Albedo whispered, adding a few more pieces of wood and watching the flames rise and heat the old laboratory to a comfortable temperature.

Xiao nodded silently. He shifted when Albedo came to sit beside him. Bundled up in the same cloak, it was easy to forget the world around them, but Albedo still found his mind distracted. What had his master done to create something like him? Something like Durin? How many bones had she used? How much chalk? How had she brought it to life?

Albedo slept in short bursts, awakening to the gentle touch of Xiao’s bandaged fingers in his hair, and falling asleep again to the sound of his breathing. Hours later, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up, and unravelled Xiao’s bandages. His fingers and toes had taken on the soft appearance of freshly healed skin. It wasn’t perfect, and in better circ*mstances Albedo would prescribe another day of rest with some light exercise. But there wasn’t much more time either of them could spend cooped up inside the old laboratory when the potential for answers was close enough to touch.

Albedo made four poultices to keep Xiao’s hands and feet warm. He made sure they were in place before Xiao pulled his boots and gloves on. Albedo paused by the door, turning to look back at Xiao. His expression was impassive, but his nod was encouraging. Albedo pushed it open and stepped out into the bitter cold of Dragonspine’s depths.

Xiao led the way. His steps were slow and cautious, betraying the fact that he was still in pain. Albedo grimaced and wished he could do more to help him. But Xiao would always insist he was fine even when he wasn’t. His strength, while admirable, held traces of deep stubbornness and refusal to admit weakness. Aside from the nightmare he endured at Stone Gate, and his request for Albedo to make his medicine, Xiao had not asked him for help. He wondered if someday Xiao would come to rely on him as much as Albedo was relying on him now.

The boulder covering the trapdoor looked to be a piece of the cave wall that had come loose in an earthquake. But the perfect placement of it made it seem much more deliberate than that. Albedo laid his hand on the boulder, testing the weight, and wondering how it had gotten there. If the trapdoor did indeed contain his master’s buried secrets, had she hidden them upon her departure? If they were someone else’s secrets, did they hide them on purpose, or was this little more than the passage of time closing off the truth?

Albedo focused the power of Geo in his palm. He could not move the rock, but the power of his Vision could find the veins in the stone. Little by little, it began to crack. Small pebbles began to chip off, and Albedo felt an ache form in his arm. His Vision flickered. He gave it one, final push and with an echoing crack that echoed through the cavern, the rock split in two and fragmented into manageable stones. The half of the boulder Albedo had been unable to break tumbled into the snow and settled.

Xiao’s hands gripped his waist from behind. Albedo hadn’t realized he had become unsteady on his feet. The stones pooled over the trap door had blurred together, and a sharp pain was throbbing behind Albedo’s eyes. The Vision at his throat was glowing brighter than usual, and he wondered if he had pushed the limit of what it was capable of. Perhaps reshaping the earth was a gift granted only to Gods. If such a thing was the case, then Albedo was lucky he had done this much.

“I’m okay,” Albedo said when he was certain he could stand on his own. “Let’s clear this.”

Together, they dug through the stones. Some were large enough to need both of them to lift, others could simply be tossed aside like pebbles. Little by little, the trapdoor became exposed. The wood was cracked and caved in, and the handle had been heavily warped beneath the weight of the boulder. The door broke apart when Xiao pulled it open, and the distant sound of petrified wood thudding down a set of stone stairs echoed up at them. A frigid smell, intermingled with the scent of damp earth, wafted up at them. Their eyes met; a silent acknowledgement that no matter what they found, they would make it work. Somehow.

They descended into the trapdoor. The dark closed over their heads a few steps down. They held up the torches they had brought, and Albedo lit them with a sprinkle of dust. The warmth kept the cold at bay, but lit the eerie passageway and highlighted the drifting dust held aloft in the drafts.

They came upon an old, locked door. Xiao did not hesitate to heft his spear and pry it open. The lock, brittle from cold, shattered easily beneath Xiao’s strength. The door swung open, and another wave of the frigid, damp earth smell rushed out to meet them.

“Be careful,” Xiao whispered, keeping a tight grip on his spear. “This place...it feels wrong.”

Albedo drew his sword with a nod. The metal gleamed in the torchlight. He could not sense what Xiao could, but his warning was too intense to go unheeded. Albedo held his torch higher and stepped into the sealed room.

The room was large; big enough that the torchlight didn’t reach every corner. But the light revealed just enough. There were piles of debris, some coloured, some unidentifiable, all stacked in neat rows across the floor. There were piles of glittering gadgets. Broken things made of metal and shattered glass. Objects that no longer had a shape. Mismatched skeletons tangled together like piles of kindling. The remnants of a melted kiln thrown against the wall with the unburnt fuel still lingering in its belly.

In the corner, something stood out like snow amongst the darkness. It was another, distinct pile of things Albedo could not name. Yet, somehow, this one drew his attention like a moth to flame. Stark white, where the floor was a cold, steel grey, the debris sat placidly like every other pile of garbage thrown into the depths of the tunnel. As Albedo approached, he began to make out shapes. A knee. The shape of a hand missing three fingers. A torso, laid on its back.

A head, with blonde hair dripping towards the floor.

The torch fell. Sparks scattered at Albedo’s feet and burned spots into his leather boots. He didn’t feel himself fall, but Xiao’s hands caught him beneath the shoulder’s before he could touch the ground. He felt the moment Xiao had seen what he had seen. His grip turned painfully tight, and Albedo felt bile rise in his throat. His eyes lingered on the shapes of one, two, three...more than five distinct heads with shining blonde hair. The one on the top – the one sprawled on its back – was almost entirely intact. Albedo could trace the familiar shapes with his eyes. He could follow the cracks and fragments in the body until it reached the throat. Albedo touched his own – the place he knew the golden diamond tattoo lingered upon his flesh – and wondered if the body had once had the same mark on his skin. Yet, all that remained now was a broken hole filled with chalk dust.

Albedo didn’t realize he was crying until the sound of his sobs echoed back at him. Here, before him, was the truth he had been searching for. The process his master had used to create him. Visual proof of the threats she had made against him. If Albedo had made enough mistakes, he would be buried in this cave just like the others. How many more had there been? Did she still have the mold she had used to shape his body? Could she make another, or was there something about Albedo that had finally brought her enough satisfaction that he had been permitted the gift of life, and no other would come after?

Xiao’s grip began to loosen. He began pulling him upright, though Albedo still did not know if he was capable of standing. But there was something so distinctly shaken about Xiao’s countenance that Albedo knew he had to pull himself together. He gripped the Yaksha’s hands tightly and drew his eyes. But Xiao would not look at him beyond a glance. The ache in Albedo’s chest grew.

“What are you thinking about?” Albedo asked. “Tell me.”

Xiao’s eyes finally focused back on his face. His lips were thin, and his gaze held the menacing aura Albedo had not seen directed at him since they had met at Huaguang Stone Forest.

“Your master,” Xiao said, his voice barely a growl. “Has played with life in a way she should never have. She is a vile mortal. If I ever meet her, I will kill her myself.”

Albedo winced. Xiao let go of him and stepped away. Though Albedo longed to call for him and beg him to stay by his side, there was something in the grip on his spear that warned him not to. Xiao’s anger ran deeper than he had let on with his words. Albedo wondered if he would look at him differently from now on. Would he would see him as a remnant of the transgressions his master had committed in her process to create a being such as him? The answer of precisely what his master had done was still hidden from Albedo’s view, but the more he looked – the more he pondered the truth he was seeing – the more he began to understand that his master’s actions were unorthodox, and perhaps far more immoral than Albedo could fathom.

Left alone in the cave, Albedo knew he had to face his truth alone. He knelt down next to the pile of discarded homunculi and hesitated. Should he touch them? Or should he let them remain at rest? Were they people with souls that would haunt him should he disturb their bodies? How badly did he want his answers? How badly was he willing to face a horror Xiao could see, but he had yet to truly comprehend?

Albedo touched the bare skin of his arm, feeling the stiff flesh and the bones that lay underneath. He could feel his pulse, and see the veins through the disfigured skin. The chalk that coated his body was the one thing that seemed to have peeled away. The life within him lingered still. He could touch and feel with that skin, it just looked unpleasant. Perhaps in the end that was the only thing that made him different from the golems Khaenri’ah produced. Yet, Albedo knew deep down that such a thing was unlikely. But he would not get the answer he desired unless he performed an experiment. He had to know for certain what lied beneath the chalk.

Albedo raised a hand in front of him. He did not touch the bodies, but he had no need to. The chalk on the discarded homunculi began to crack and flake, turning gold and silver as Albedo peeled the layers away. He eventually met resistance – something that was not chalk – something he could not alter the way he could shift stone with his Vision. He made no attempt to do so as he continued to strip away the chalk, the dust flying into his palm and converging in a golden spiral. Little by little, the being beneath the chalk became exposed. Disfigured flesh, exactly like the skin on Albedo’s body. A human face meticulously constructed and altered by time. A face that bore no resemblance to himself, or anyone he knew. A body that was little more than a frozen mummy left to lie in the cold depths of Dragonspine.

The chalk dust swirled around him, held aloft without a form to take. Albedo waved his hand and allowed it to settle in his palm. It formed a tight, solid ball that he could take back with him. He wondered if he was right to take the chalk from the bodies. He wondered if he should’ve just left them undisturbed. He shook his head and turned away. He’d already taken it. He couldn’t put it back now. Doing so would certainly disturb them, and then he would be no better than his Master.

Xiao was waiting for him in the corridor outside, his arms folded across his chest. His eyes drifted down to the pale ball of chalk in his fist. His lips pursed again.

“Have you found your answers?” Xiao asked.

Albedo did not immediately reply. He glanced back at the room of discarded experiments. Had he found his answers? He could not feign ignorance. He understood what must’ve gone into creating a homunculus that could think and feel, require food and sleep, and be capable of enough ambition to be granted a Vision. He did not know what had brought a thing such as him to life, and perhaps he didn’t want to know. But at least he knew enough that he could replace his skin, protect the body he had been given, and prepare it for a future by Xiao’s side. He could alter himself, but he would never be able to restore it. This body was the only body he would ever have, and that was how it should always be.

“My skin...appears to have been the only thing damaged by our journey,” Albedo replied. “If anything else was damaged...I believe it cannot be repaired, or replaced. So, I will only repair my skin. That is all I can do.”

Xiao nodded and unfolded his arms. Albedo’s answer seemed to have relaxed him, and yet there was still something deeply unreadable about Xiao’s expression. It was frightening, and yet, Albedo knew the hostility was not directed towards him. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder what Xiao would do if he ever crossed paths with Rhinedottir in the future.

They left the corridor behind, and Albedo did not hesitate to roll the remnants of the boulder back over the trap door to bury it once more. Though adventurers exploring this deep into Dragonspine were rare, he did not want to risk anybody stumbling upon his master’s hidden secrets, and the discarded homunculi should remain undisturbed. It was a terrible burial – one he knew he might someday need to rectify – but for now, it would have to do.

He followed Xiao back to the old laboratory where the warmth of the torches could burn off the chill damp of the chamber, but the memories lingered. Xiao sank onto the old bed and tugged off his boots. He shook the poultices out and laid them over his toes. Albedo set down the ball of chalk on the table and turned to face him.

“Do you despise me?” Albedo asked.

Xiao looked up at him. His eyes were intense, and it took him more than a few heartbeats to answer the question. But then, he shook his head.

“What is done is done,” he finally said. “I cannot hold you accountable for the choices your master made, and I will not. But I hope you understand what you are and how you came to be well enough to know why your master’s actions are unforgivable. Should you make the same choices she did, I will not forgive you, either.”

Albedo nodded. Though Xiao’s warning was intense, he felt reassured. His master’s sins could not be forgiven. But at least her sins had given him a chance to walk the earth – see Teyvat with his own eyes – and meet somebody like Xiao.

“Thank you,” Albedo said softly.

Xiao sniffed. Albedo smiled.

“Thank you for helping me find the truth.”

“Just...go take care of yourself,” Xiao sighed.

He was still angry. Albedo should let him rest. He turned towards the old laboratory. There was work to be done.

Chapter 15 Chapter Text

Albedo clutched the ball of chalk in his hand. It was such an ordinary thing. But the truth of what it was did little more than twist his stomach with unease. This had been on the bodies of homunculi that came before him. Homunculi that might’ve had the same name as him. Homunculi that had been tossed aside and discarded to be replaced with the one that would come next. Homunculi that had failed in his master’s eyes and led to his own creation. Albedo had been the last in the line. But he still wondered if he truly was the final result.

Albedo placed the ball on the table. It wobbled for a moment before settling. Albedo curled his shattered hand into a fist and watched the tendons and muscles flex. He would have to bind the chalk to this hand. Seal it to the body he wore. Attach chalk to nerve endings and alter the matter of his structure to ensure it behaved like flesh. He already knew it would be painful. He would have to tap into everything he knew about bioalchemy. He massaged his palm and thought about Sucrose. The idea that she might be able to examine his body and know what she was looking at was tempting. But could Albedo risk letting her see him like this? Could he let her find out that her teacher wasn’t human? Would she even be able to help if she knew? Would she even want to help?

Albedo shook his head and sighed. Then, he tugged his shirt from his shoulders to begin his observations. He didn’t dare return to the room of failed experiments. It would’ve been easier to collect data if he could take samples from the discarded homunculi, but Albedo didn’t dare disturb their bodies any further.

He started with a physical examination of the body he could see, then compared it to the cracked chalk on the rest of his body. Though the broken chalk looked horrible enough to suggest major injury, the body beneath was surprisingly functional. He took his time observing the cracks he could see, testing how well it was bound to his skin, and flaking off pieces that crumbled easily and added it to a small, growing pile of chalk on the table. Parts were still very much stuck to his body, and pulling on it felt no different than pulling on wounded flesh. It was painful, and he didn’t dare try to tear it off. The chalk was bound to him like an epidermis. The inorganic material had maintained its chemical component, but the binding process had changed it from chalk to flesh. With the right materials, such things could be done. With chalk’s naturally porous properties, it would be easy for a catalyst and subsequent reactions to fill in the gaps with enough organic material to create a thick, durable skin that behaved like true flesh. More still, the alchemical power of pure chalk was unmatched. It would take the changes as easily as breathing, and it wouldn’t need exposure to high temperatures beyond the heat energy the catalyst produced. It made him wonder exactly why Khaenri’ah opted for kiln fired clay to make their homunculi. Perhaps the answer for that lied in the plasticity of clay. It was easier to work with for inexperienced hands, and less reactive. And pure chalk was a precious material. Perhaps the answer lied not in skill, but in the avoidance of using valuable materials to create a pseudo-human. Had Khaenri’ah viewed homunculi as worthless? Had his master chosen her own method because she cared more about her creations than the people who wrote the Opus Magnum?

Slowly, Albedo began to take notes. He wrote his thoughts; his hypothesis; his questions to be answered. He read over the recipe in the Opus Magnum, taking into account the binding catalyst they’d used to seal the clay to the crafted flesh beneath. He wrote down the materials, and examined their individual properties. He isolated the active ingredients, then turned towards the chalk that had fallen from his skin. Though the material had detached from his body, traces of the catalyst must still be present in the material. He chose a sample, and set to examining the properties. Then, he compared those properties to the catalyst written in the Opus Magnum. The process took hours that stretched far longer than Albedo would’ve wanted. He paced as equipment bubbled and brewed. He muttered to himself as he tried to sort out his own thoughts. He did not stop until he’d mixed a final catalyst and gripped the ball of pure chalk in his fist. He was unsure if it would work. Rhinedottir wouldn’t have been able to reuse the chalk for the purposes she needed it for. But Albedo had his Vision, and with it, he had been able to remove the pure chalk without contaminating it with the used catalyst. He gripped the chalk in his hand until it began to crumble into a fine dust. Then, he held a bowl beneath his hand and poured the chalk into it. His Vision gleamed against his chest, and his hands shook with exhaustion. Finally, the last of the chalk ball fell into the bowl – enough to cover his entire body and have plenty to spare. He washed his hands and closed his eyes.

What came next would be the hardest part.

A cup of hot tea settled on the table in front of him. Albedo glanced up at Xiao, meeting his eyes. The weight of the silence between them finally settled like a heavy weight over him. He tried to be reassured by the knowledge that if Xiao no longer desired to be around him, there would be nothing he could do to stop him from leaving. In his own, quiet way, Albedo felt he still wanted to see their journey through to the end. Even if he never forgave his master’s transgressions; even if he never looked at Albedo the same way again, he still stayed.

Albedo reached for the hand as it retreated from the cup. He held it with the hand that wasn’t as damaged as the other. In some ways, Albedo thought of it as the real one. What he was beneath the chalk skin did not reflect his truth. It was his circ*mstance, but not his truth. From the way Xiao looked down at his pale skin and gently squeezed his fingers, Albedo let himself believe that Xiao knew it too.

“I need to be honest,” Albedo said softly. “I do not know if I will be able to succeed.”

Xiao blinked. “You keep saying that.”

“I might kill myself by mistake,” Albedo went on. “If that happens...just leave me here. Seal the door so nobody can find this laboratory. Leave this body to rest with this laboratory as my tomb.”

Xiao’s expression was impassive. Though he didn’t respond, Albedo had no doubt Xiao would follow his wishes. Albedo wondered if he would cry, or if he would miss him. But that was a foolish thing to consider. While the time they’d spent together was precious, Albedo could not imagine Xiao would have developed enough attachment to him to grieve. And yet, the slight twitch of his hand as it gripped Albedo’s just a little bit more made him wonder. Perhaps this tight, aching feeling that lingered within his own, still beating heart was the same one that made Xiao hold him closer.

“Come rest,” Xiao finally said. It was an easy answer. Procrastination wasn’t part of Albedo’s nature, but when his life was on the line, he was in no rush to continue his work. If the binding process killed him in the end, at least he could spend one, final night with Xiao.

He drank the tea. It was warm and minty and it soothed his nerves. Then, he stepped over to the bed to settle down. He had not realized how exhausted he was until he was off his feet. He barely registered Xiao pulling him against his chest before he was descending into the void of sleep.

...

Xiao laid awake, despite the exhaustion creeping at the back of his mind.

In his arms, Albedo slept. He was peaceful at rest, and it was a contradiction to the turmoil plaguing Xiao’s mind. Though he tried to ignore it, the ache in his chest was festering. The pain was different from the one he was used to. Somehow, that made it a lot harder to disregard.

Xiao was used to anger. He was used to wielding it when it was a useful motivator, and tempering it when it was not. The understanding of what Albedo was and what his master had done to create him had sprouted a seed of anger so vast that it could not be so easily dispatched. It grew and grew until there was nothing but a fiery heat in his chest that wouldn’t be sated until the atrocities had been made right. Until the person who desecrated the precious cycle of life and death would never do so again. Until the proper balance had been restored to the word.

But restoring the balance meant killing Albedo too, and Xiao could not fool himself. He no longer believed he was capable of such a thing. He had sought an alternative when Albedo had been infected with Durin’s corrupting poison. He had hesitated long enough that if his intervention had failed, Mondstadt, and the rest of Teyvat by extension, would certainly have been doomed. In the end, Xiao reasoned with himself that it would be better if Albedo failed his final experiment and destroyed his own body rather than restoring it. But that potential resolution came with the cost of the agonizing ache in his chest.

It didn’t matter that Albedo’s existence was a desecration of what he knew to be right. Albedo was not at fault. He had not asked to be born, nor did he walk the earth with the intention for Xiao to someday meet him. Even Cloud Retainer and all of her wisdom had not seen anything amiss with their meeting. Though a man made of chalk was most unusual, she had believed that he could take up the mantle Rex Lapis had left behind upon his death. She had bestowed Xiao the recipe for his medicine so that Albedo could make it for him. She had believed their meeting to be fated, and perhaps it was. Perhaps Albedo’s permanence as an unnatural form of life was the reprieve he had been desperate for without knowing he needed it. In his arms was a man who could fight by his side against the worst of the demons in Teyvat. He could resist the karmic backlash and endure the full force of Xiao’s power without being killed. Xiao had not had such a thing since the demise of his comrades. Xiao wanted to count his blessings. But still, the doubt burned hot and heavy in his chest. Was it right to feel this way?

Albedo’s breathing had steadied, and the dreams that swirled through his mind tickled his lips and tongue. Xiao hesitated, then allowed himself to taste them. He tried not to think that this might be the last time he would feel Albedo dream. There was a cold relief in knowing that he might soon lose something. It meant he had time to prepare for the loss. But the knowledge made the grief ache more. How would the future look without Albedo? How long until his medicine ran out and the corruption would take hold and build within him until it took his mind and body away just like his allies? How long could he move forward alone and without him?

Xiao sighed and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t think about that right now. After all, Albedo was here right now. He was beside him. He had to hope that Albedo’s alchemical skills were enough. He would survive. Then, Xiao’s concerns about the worst would be obsolete.

Albedo mumbled softly in his sleep. His dreams leaked free with the words. Xiao sighed and pressed their foreheads together. Should he find out what Albedo was dreaming? Or would his worries only infect him and turn the dream into a nightmare? Xiao stroked the hair from Albedo’s forehead. He shouldn’t look. But he should do what he could to make sure Albedo’s dreams remained sweet so he would be well rested. He would take any nightmares that came forth and replace them with memories and soft wishes.

Despite his determination to take care of Albedo while he slept, Xiao found himself drifting off shortly afterwards. He descended into the dream as though he had sunken into a vast ocean. Words and sounds swirled around him, and though he recognized that he was dreaming, he did not attempt to pull himself out of it.

Xiao settled slowly, his eyes opening. In the distance, he saw a smear of white and gold. A voice caressed his ears. Albedo’s voice. He did not know what he was saying. Xiao strained to hear and stepped a little bit closer. The smear of white and gold became a familiar figure, and the sound of Albedo’s words grew more audible. Words formed sentences, and thoughts manifested into the image of the icy cliffsides of Dragonspine.

“I always wondered when you would come,” Albedo said, his back to Xiao. “And if you ever would.”

Xiao didn’t respond. Despite hearing the words, he knew they weren’t meant for him. Xiao did not belong in this dream. Albedo’s words were spoken to someone else. Someone Xiao could not see.

“I have asked you before,” Albedo continued. “What purpose does life have in this world? Why are things born if life is so fleeting? Does life truly cease upon death, or are the mind and the soul intertwined, and we transcend from the physical world when our flesh deteriorates and becomes lifeless? Is death real? Or is it a state of being that can only be perceived by those classified as living? You told me these are answers we can’t receive until we know for ourselves. And yet...I do not wish to find that answer.”

Xiao closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be listening to this. He could feel the grief and denial radiating from Albedo, even in his rest. He did not wish to die, but he both knew and feared that to be an inevitability. Xiao wanted to hold him closer – to offer a reassurance he could not guarantee. But this was not something Xiao could help him with. This was something Albedo had to come to terms with on his own.

“Even now, I do not know the answer to the final question you left me with,” Albedo went on. “Perhaps that truth is what I fear the most. Perhaps this world is little more than a temporary plane crafted by the hands of the Gods – a place where life exists, but another lies on the other side of a door many wouldn’t willingly open. If that is the truth you wished me to find, I will never discover it. Perhaps you managed to do so. Perhaps you even crossed that bridge without ever experiencing that which this world calls ‘death’. If that is the case, then we will never meet again. I suppose that is better for us both. You will never see me fail for the last time, and I will never witness your disappointment.”

Albedo sighed, turning his gaze up towards the sky. The snow swirled down, settling over the valley below. The shadows of the bones of the corrupt dragon Durin were highlighted in stark white. Albedo stepped forward, and the world began to turn. Xiao had to rush to keep up and was nearly overcome by dizziness. He heard a heartbeat in his ears. Blood thumping deep and wet. His breath caught as he opened his eyes.

“Perhaps you can ask him, master,” Albedo said, gesturing to the crimson heart that beat before him. “If there is anyone more qualified to talk about the truth of the world...of the instability of life and death...he would know. He was your creation too, wasn’t he?”

Albedo turned. His gaze was blank and unseeing. The lights in his eyes were dim. He could not see Xiao. Yet, his gaze was focused on something just beside him. Xiao turned to look. The faintest outline of a woman was cast in the snowflakes. They could not pass her, for she was real within the dream. But Xiao could not see her image beyond this ephemeral state. Albedo’s dream was contained to the small corners of his subconscious. Xiao would not be able to see anything more unless he forced Albedo’s mind open further.

“You never told me I had brothers,” Albedo said softly. “You never told me about how they perished before I was brought into this world that I never should have been a part of. And yet, I am here, created by forces that break the cycle the universe so meticulously holds in balance. I have made memories. I have felt things I never could have dreamed of feeling. People know my name and the sound of my voice. I am alive and present, just as they are, but I have never been like them. I’ve always known I was different. But you made me this way. You sent me to live among them as though I always was one of them.

“But I’m not...” Albedo whispered. “I never was, and you never told me why. Did you ever care?”

Silence fell, like the way the wind faded away just before a storm rose to a tempest. Xiao held his breath, and the dream shifted again. It spiralled in a blur of colour – red, white, green – and Xiao scrambled to clutch onto whatever he could. There was nothing to grasp – no solid shape to focus on. There was rushing in his ears. Blurry images like a sketchbook flipping page after page of incomplete images until they all unified as one, unidentifiable monstrosity that had Xiao’s head spinning. Then, there was a scream – a scream so pained and broken that Xiao felt it lurch through his chest. I don’t want to die!

Xiao found something solid. Whether it was within reality, or within the dream world, he no longer cared. He felt the warmth of a body against his own and pulled it closer. Albedo, he realized, when he felt a paralyzing grip clutch at his chest. Slowly, the dream began to settle like softly falling snow. The pages of the sketchbook fluttered onto a single, blank page. A numb chill soothed him. Xiao pressed his lips against Albedo’s forehead. The nightmare was bitter. Albedo sighed in relief as he willingly gave it up. It flew into a nameless void to be forgotten, as many dreams left behind would always be. A soft dream took its place. Warm sun, and green grass. Bitterblooms and green-headed bees buzzing in harmony with the sound of the wind.

“Thank you,” Albedo sighed, pressed against his side. His eyes fluttered closed. His breathing steadied. Xiao felt his hands curl into fists against his chest. Caught between dream and reality, Xiao kept his eyes closed. He stroked Albedo’s hair softly and hoped that this would not be the last dream they ever shared. He pushed the thought away.

In the depths of Dragonspine, Xiao could not tell time. Hours passed, and the fire in the kiln began to flicker and die. Xiao unwound himself from Albedo’s arms to revive it. They would run out of wood soon, and the laboratory would become just as inhospitable as the rest of the mountain. But by then, they would no longer need to stay there.

Before Xiao could return to the bed, Albedo sat up. Though his expression was tired, there was resolve in his eyes. He looked up as Xiao stepped back over to him. He did not speak. He only watched him. Xiao could only imagine the thoughts turning great circles in his mind. Words he longed to bring into existence but couldn’t find the method or the order to put them in. Xiao didn’t need to hear them to understand. Words weren’t necessary. They both knew what was next. They both knew what needed to be done.

Xiao gently held Albedo’s cheeks and leaned forward. The kiss was light, and the cool brush of his lips were the only words he needed. The moment was precious. Xiao hung onto it as long as he could, committing it to memory. Even if things turned for the worse, he would not forget the slight roughness of Albedo’s chapped lips. Even if Albedo’s existence was blasphemy, the warmth of his skin and the gentle way his fingers stroked the hair trailing over his cheek would be a comforting memory.

Albedo was the first to retreat, and the last to let go. He stepped over to the table to begin his preparations. Xiao recalled his words from before. “I might kill myself by mistake. If that happens...” Xiao swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He needed to leave it up to fate. If Albedo was not meant to walk in this world any longer, this would be the end. Xiao would have to accept that.

Albedo inhaled sharply as the cold of the laboratory touched his skin. Little by little, Albedo stripped his clothes away until he was naked. Xiao looked away out of politeness, yet he fretted that he should watch. Remember. Just in case something went wrong. But nothing would go wrong. It couldn’t go wrong. Xiao squeezed his eyes shut. His fingers curled into fists on his lap. Barbatos hadn’t answered his call. Rex Lapis was gone. He had no desire to pray to Celestia. All he could do was hope that Albedo’s abilities were enough. That his skills as an alchemist would protect him as he reforged himself with the material he’d synthesized for just this purpose. Xiao opened his eyes again. Albedo had applied a paste to the cracks in his skin, and the bare patches that had come loose. Like this, Xiao could see the shadow of the Albedo that had always once been. Pale, pristine skin free of imperfection. A man made out of chalk.

Albedo’s gaze was sharp. His left hand was held upright, his fingers positioned to snap them together. He didn’t speak. He only breathed deep, once, then twice. Then, he closed his eyes. His fingers snapped, and a brilliant, golden light exploded in his hand.

The reaction was instantaneous. The golden light raced up Albedo’s arm and into the rest of his body. He lit up like a torch, brighter than the sun. Xiao had to cover his eyes, and even then, the brilliance of the light was too much to block out. Xiao felt his skin tingling white hot where the light touched it, and he buried himself instinctively beneath one of the cloaks to protect himself. If Albedo had been in pain from the beginning, he did not express it until that moment. His cry was earth shattering, and if Xiao had been able to see, he would’ve thrown himself over the table to clutch him close. Instead, all he could do was listen, fear clenching his chest and bile rising in his throat. A dozen and more memories came to the forefront of his mind. The pained cries of the dying. The shrieks of madness as karma took his comrades. The sound of stone cracking and the screams of a village caught in the landslide.

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. The light faded, and Albedo’s scream faded to a soft, barely audible sob. Xiao heard a thump, then a gasp. He squinted through the laboratory. The light of the fire was dull in comparison to the light had filled the room moments before. As the last of the reaction was fading away, Albedo’s limp figure was a beacon in the dark. Xiao raced to his side, carefully reaching for him. His skin was painfully feverish.

Slowly, Xiao turned him onto his back. Albedo’s rasping groan was a relief, but also a terrible sign. Fear clenched Xiao’s chest. He laid his hand on Albedo’s cheek, watching the last of the glow begin to fade. Golden cracks became flesh that seamlessly blended with the body around it. Old scars had healed to new skin. Albedo’s face had been restored from broken to porcelain smooth. The skin was plush beneath his fingertips. Xiao inhaled sharply. When they’d met, the damage had already been done. Until this moment, he had never seen Albedo whole. Even if the forces that created him was something he could not forgive, he could not deny that he was something very beautiful.

Slowly, Albedo’s eyes fluttered open. Both were a bright shade of sky blue, flecked with silver. His cheeks rolled upwards as his lips curled into a smile.

“How is it?” Albedo asked, his voice still hoarse. “I’m alive, right?”

Xiao didn’t know how to answer. Instead, he pulled him against his chest. Albedo let out a raspy laugh, then wiped the heel of his trembling hand against Xiao’s cheek. A streak of cold wet lingered where Albedo’s touch had been. Xiao inhaled sharply and buried his face in Albedo’s shoulder.

Thank you, he prayed to nobody. Thank you for letting him stay with me.

Albedo stroked his hand through his hair and held him close.

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Notes:

Ending a story is difficult for, in truth it contributed to a years long writers block in which I rewrote this chapter no less than three times because I wanted to get it right. For everyone who had patience with me, I thank you with more than words.
This is the final chapter. I had intended for there to be one more after this, but as it turned out, all that I wanted to say could be fit into one. I'm satisfied, and I hope you all will be too.
Thank you for coming on this journey with me, Xiao, and Albedo, and I thank you for indulging the little thoughts that ended up becoming something much more than I expected from the start. I treasure all of you!

Chapter Text

Though the reaction had gone exactly as Albedo had hoped, the pain plagued him afterwards. He could scarcely move beyond the slightest twitch of a muscle, and an overstretch would make him feel as though his skin was tearing open all over again. But when he checked, all he found was smooth, unblemished skin. Albedo wondered if the pain was the price to pay for extending his existence in Teyvat.

While he recovered, Xiao hovered over him, bringing him food, warm drinks, and making sure the fire stayed lit. Albedo watched him work as an unfamiliar, but welcome warmth filled him. When they slept, Albedo let the comfort of Xiao’s embrace ease the aches in his body.

Little by little, the pain became bearable. His hands began to feel normal enough that he could write down observations in his journal between stretches. He hypothesised that the pain was nothing more than his body healing. Only time would confirm it, but it was a reassuring hope that it wouldn’t last forever.

Though Albedo expected bed rest and light stretching would help ease his adjustment period, they could not linger longer than it took for him to be able to stand on his own again. With the last of their wood already burning to ash inside the kiln, they were out of time. Xiao moved quickly, more than eager to leave the miserable, cold laboratory and its dirty secrets behind. But Albedo felt an ache gnawing in his chest as he looked upon the dimly lit room. He could still remember the last time he had stood in the doorway with the intent to leave for good. Back then, he had thought he would never see it again. He would have no reason to return, unless his master called him back. She never had. Yet, he found himself standing within the doorway once more with the same thought. He would not come back here again. This time, he knew it to be a certainty, rather than a pitiful ‘what if’. He would bury the laboratory if he had to. He never wanted to see it again.

Xiao took the lead as he scouted for danger, and doubled back to make sure Albedo was keeping up. Dragonspine’s bite numbed the pain in his body, but it also made his joints feel stiffer than they had before. Too many times Albedo found himself tripping over his feet. He struggled to maintain his pace in the deep snow and was forced to lean heavily against frost covered walls to catch his breath. He tried to pick up the pace when he saw Xiao coming back for him. But it only resulted in the pain in his legs seizing him and forcing him to slow down once more.

“Come here,” Xiao finally said.

“I’m fine,” Albedo panted.

Xiao didn’t respond. Instead, he sighed and reached for him. He wrapped Albedo’s arms around his neck and hoisted him onto his back. The jarring motion made Albedo flinch. He buried his face into Xiao’s shoulder to keep the wind away.

“Thank you...” he murmured.

Xiao hummed and began to climb through Starglow Cavern towards the surface. “Tell me if you get cold.”

Albedo nodded gratefully. Now that he wasn’t moving, the chill would sink into him a lot faster. But the persistent ache in his body made him glad that he was off his feet. At the pace they were moving at, it would be a long journey back to Mondstadt. Albedo didn’t know whether to be glad for it or frustrated by it. It was both a relief and a torment to have their journey finally start coming to an end. If he thought back to the very beginning – back to that day in Huaguang Stone Forest – it felt like a lifetime ago. He had been afraid that he would never be able to return to his life in Mondstadt. Now, he wasn’t sure things would be the same when he did. His world had been turned upside down. The weight of who and what he was lingered so heavily over him that he was certain he would never be able to hide it. The truth felt like a stain on his skin. When he returned home, his friends would take one look at him and know his secrets. They would know he was born from alchemy and not by natural means. They would know everything and find him disgusting. But when he touched his face, he found no damning evidence. He only found the familiar texture of the skin he had before he’d met Xiao. Even if he had been changed by his journey, nobody would see him any differently than they had before.

Xiao stepped into the blinding sunlight of Dragonspine’s western slope. Albedo shielded his eyes with his hand and inhaled the cold air and the sweet scent of pine. The sun glistened on frosted rocks and the pale blue and grey shadows of the glaciers below. His fingers itched for his paints as his eyes drank in the sight. It was the first time in days he had seen sunlight. He felt as though he had been reborn from the depths of the mountain.

Xiao’s heavy exhale misted in front of his face. His golden eyes were squinted against the sunlight. The distant mountains of Liyue beckoned in bright golds and greens between frost covered ruins. To the north, craggy cliffs hid the verdant valleys of Mondstadt from sight. Home was within reach, no matter which direction they headed in. Yet, the cold urged caution. It was not safe to let their guards down just yet.

Xiao started down the western slope. The addition of Albedo’s weight made the descent treacherous. Xiao’s feet lost their footing on small rocks and ice hidden beneath the snow. Albedo gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Let me down,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Xiao hesitated, but then, he nodded. Albedo’s aching feet touched the snow once more. Xiao stayed close to him, his hands outstretched to catch him should he fall. Albedo reached out and looped his arm around his. The closeness was a comfort and a security, but it also pulled at a deeper ache in his chest. He would miss this. When their journey was over, Xiao would return to Liyue, and Albedo would resume his duties with the Knights of Favonius. They would move onward from this journey on their separate paths. They might never meet again. Albedo didn’t want to say goodbye for the last time. Though their lives had been intertwined for the briefest of times, it was hard to remember what things had been like without him.

As the slope levelled out, the snowy trail turned into frost covered riverbank. Snowflakes drifted down from the peak and settled on their cloaks. Small, hardy flowers bloomed on the edges of Dragonspine’s icy reaches. The warmth of the sun on his cheeks sent a shiver of relief through his body. In front of them, Dihua Marsh stretched towards the distant peaks of Jueyun Karst. On an island within the crystal-clear water, Wangshu Inn stood tall amidst the branches of the golden ginkgo tree. Nostalgia tightened Albedo’s throat. He had changed, and yet, the world remained the same as it always was.

Xiao exhaled softly and tugged the hood of his cloak down. Melting snow tumbled to the grass at his feet. His eyes were distant as he gazed across his homeland. Albedo wondered if he had missed it, just as Albedo missed Mondstadt. But Xiao’s expression was impassive. Albedo could never be certain of what he was thinking. Albedo squeezed his arm and smiled gently.

“You can go back now,” he said, though the words ate at his heart. He didn’t want Xiao to go home just yet. But he also knew that he’d kept him from his duties far too long. “If there’s anything you need to do, I won’t stop you.”

Xiao shook his head. “Everything is as it should be,” he said quietly. “There is no need for me to return now.”

Albedo felt a guilty relief trickle through him. “Are you certain? Even if there’s no reason to, you can always return home because you wish to.”

Xiao nodded, though he did not take his eyes off Liyue. “I am certain,” he eventually said.

“Then...let’s keep moving. We should reach the border by sundown.”

Xiao nodded silently and trailed after him. As the chill of Dragonspine faded behind them, they shrugged their cloaks off to welcome the warm sun. The ache in Albedo’s body became a dull throb the further their steps took them. His limbs felt heavy with exhaustion. He massaged his shoulder absentmindedly, working out the knot in his shoulder where his bag hung heavily from it. Xiao’s hands abruptly took it away from him, making him pause.

“You’re still in pain,” Xiao stated, slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

Albedo felt the hot trickle of shame. Despite his best efforts to hide it as the day wore on, Xiao had still noticed.

“Just a little bit,” Albedo admitted. “It’s...not as bad now. I can carry my bag.”

Xiao shook his head. “We should find a place to rest.”

Albedo didn’t have it in him to argue. It was already midafternoon. Dusk would come in a few hours, and Albedo felt too worn out to wait for it.

A small grove of trees was their refuge. Xiao knelt to dig a small hole in the earth that he filled with dry branches. Albedo lit the fire and settled down against a fallen log. Xiao lingered long enough to make sure the fire would keep burning before disappearing into the small forest of stunted trees at the base of the mountain.

Albedo tugged out his sketchbook. The familiar pages felt different than they had before. There was a nostalgia to them, like the images drawn within them were made by a person he no longer was. One by one, he turned the pages, reliving the moments of his past. Klee playing in the fields. Sucrose hard at work. Timaeus’s smile. A Knight of Favonius he couldn’t remember the name of, but had sketched after witnessing a moment of inspiring joy. Art of a scene from an unillustrated light novel he’d read.

The cliffsides of Huaguang Stone Forest at sunset.

The journey had started there. Albedo had sketched multiple flora and fauna he’d spotted on his journey. These were made by hands that had never been broken. Hands that had never met Xiao. Hands that had never touched the dark secrets of his Master. He traced them delicately before turning the page. Qingxin flower. Violetgrass. Snapdragon. Sweetflower. Bright yellow berries. Then, Xiao himself. The day he had first seen him sleep. His rough edges smoothed gentle, and his slips slightly parted with each breath. On the next page, the image they had seen in Xiao’s dreams. Fields full of bitterblooms.

Xiao dominated the following pages. Albedo turned each one almost reverently, feeling what he had felt as he had created such sketches. Sucrose had once asked him if he drew the things he cherished the most. Albedo had denied it, and said that he drew the things he found interesting, and worth remembering. Sucrose didn’t believe him. Albedo wondered if she was right.

When Xiao returned, his footsteps were almost too quiet to hear. He had filled his pockets with apples and pine nuts, and a bundle of branches was carried over his shoulder. He set them down next to the fire and handed Albedo one of the apples. He took it gratefully and cut into it with his pocket knife. A comfortable silence settled between them. Xiao’s arm was close enough to his that he could feel his warmth radiating against him. Albedo closed his eyes and let it soothe him. He breathed the scent of wood smoke and relaxed.

“Thank you,” Albedo said.

Xiao did not respond immediately. He sat in silence and prodded the coals of the small fire with a branch.

“For what?” He finally asked.

“For not giving up on me,” Albedo replied. “For everything. I am in your debt.”

Xiao shook his head. “No. We are even.”

Albedo hummed. “I’ll be honest, even if I am no different, I feel as though nothing is as it was before.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Xiao questioned.

Albedo shook his head. He smiled gently, then leaned against him. “No,” he said softly.

Even if things had changed, he wouldn’t take any of it back. There was a certain relief that came with the knowledge of his own existence. There was security in knowing that there was someone out there who could share that knowledge. More than that, there was a contentment that came from understanding that though he was as fragile as any other lifeform in Teyvat, he was given a second chance to experience the joy of being alive. He closed his eyes, feeling the prickle of the fire’s heat on his skin. The kiss of the cold air blowing down from the slopes of the mountain. The smell of bruised leaves, earth, and grass rippling in the wind.

...

Albedo had fallen asleep. Xiao listened to the soft sound of his breathing and took peace in a comfort he had not felt longer than he could remember. Yet, the tiny voice at the back of his mind rippled cruel words. That this was transient. That Albedo would soon be away from him. They were both returning to their respective corners of the world, never to see each other again.

But that wasn’t right, was it? Xiao closed his eyes. He matched Albedo’s breathing with his own. He felt the soft trickle of dreams along his eyelids. He let Albedo enjoy them in peace. Xiao needed this moment of solitude. But thinking made his chest ache. He wanted to talk, but he didn’t have the words to express this feeling. All he knew for certain was he wanted Albedo by his side, but he feared losing him. He had already lost so much that the idea of something being permanent felt illusory.

But Albedo was real. His weight against his shoulder was reassuring. He was not a fleeting dream. The light of the fire reflected off his pale, unblemished skin. Xiao absentmindedly ran his fingers over the back of Albedo’s hand. He was real. It was just hard to believe it. Surely, at any moment, a force outside of his control would come to take him away, just as it had taken all the others. He did not know if it was worth feeling such hope when he would inevitably lose it and hurt more than before. After all this time, and all the painful burdens he carried, shouldn’t he be allowed such a warm, contented feeling?

Xiao closed his eyes, but he did not sleep. He meditated on the world around him. Of the grass beneath him, and the cold wind blowing down from the mountain. He allowed the whispers of the wind in the trees to soothe his turbulent thoughts until all that remained was the weight of Albedo at his side, and the presence of the ever-building karmic debt curled like a patient beast in his chest. He would never truly be free from the pain. But at least he could feel something else alongside it to ease the suffering.

The next morning dawned gently, with the sun shrouded by clouds on the horizon. Albedo woke with a sigh, and a gentle groan as he stretched his body out. Xiao poked at the coals of the fire to wake it just enough to bake a few apples on the rocks next to it.

“How do you feel?” Xiao questioned, glancing over at Albedo. His lips were twisted into a grimace.

“I’ll feel better when we start walking,” he said, then picked up one of the apples to eat. Then, he paused and looked towards Xiao. “Will you...be coming with me?”

Xiao frowned. “Did I not already say that I would?”

Albedo shrugged. His eyes darted away. His cheeks were faintly flushed. Xiao sighed, then folded his arms across his chest.

“I will see your journey to its end, just as I promised,” he said. “That means making sure you return safely to Mondstadt.”

Albedo nodded once. “Alright,” he said, though there was something in his tone that bothered Xiao. His brow was furrowed. His lips were pursed. It had Xiao wondering if Albedo was also grasping for words he could not find.

When they broke camp, the morning clouds were giving way to clear skies. The further they moved away from the chilly reaches of Dragonspine, the more the warmth of the sun could be felt against his skin. It was an embrace that soothed him, and made it easy to forget the horrors he had witnessed entombed in snow and ice. He hoped Albedo was experiencing the same sentiment. Though Xiao felt he knew him well enough after their journey, he was still hard to read. His blue eyes were watching the horizon with an empty gaze. His thoughts remained unvoiced. Xiao stepped closer to him, then tentatively reached for his hand. As their fingers entwined, Xiao could at least allow himself the comfort of knowing that Albedo’s unspoken burdens were not rooted in his presence.

The stone walls of Mondstadt appeared too soon. Though subtle, Xiao noticed Albedo’s pace begin to slow. Each step began to feel purposeful and significant. It was like the turning of the final chapter in a novel that had been read for the first time. The ache of too many questions left unanswered, and the hope that all would be resolved on the final page. All stories came to an end someday. This was another ending he would have to learn to live with. His chest felt tight. Though their finale would be a gentle one, Xiao already felt the pain of loss.

“There’s a campsite here. Let’s stop,” Albedo said abruptly, then stepped off the worn pathway. Xiao followed him to the small campsite where many adventurers and wanderers had stopped even before their arrival. Tent pegs had been left in the ground for the next camper. A fire pit had been brushed clean of ashes. A pile of excess wood was tucked neatly beneath a log to keep off the rain. Albedo sat down next to the empty fire pit and gazed into it.

“Are you still in pain?” Xiao questioned.

Albedo shook his head. Xiao sat down next to him. The weight of unspoken words felt heavy on his tongue. He did not know how to express his unfamiliar thoughts. He did not know how to ask Albedo to voice his. The silence lingered and pressed down on them like a fog rising over a pond. Finally, Albedo took a long breath and sighed.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” Albedo said.

“What do you mean?” Xiao questioned.

“I want to see you again,” Albedo answered. “After I get back to Mondstadt, I don’t want it to be the last time I ever see you.”

Xiao felt the ache burn tenfold in his chest. “Humans and Adepti...we can’t—”

“I know,” Albedo responded. “And I know that by spending any length of time around you I could be injured like before, or worse. But I want to keep you safe, just as you’ve kept me safe.”

“If you get hurt again—”

“It will be my own decision,” Albedo responded. “I wish to continue making your medicine.”

“You’re not obligated to,” Xiao protested. “Just because that was our contract until you were safe—”

“It’s not the contract,” Albedo refuted. “It’s because I care, and I want you to be well.”

Xiao opened his mouth to respond, but could not find it in him to argue. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Images of Albedo’s skin cracking danced before his eyelids. He heard the screams of fear and pain from the dream they had shared when Albedo was on the brink of death. The thought of being responsible for Albedo’s pain was a yoke he could not simply discard.

Albedo’s hand gripped his. Xiao flinched, then held on.

“I don’t want you to get hurt again because of me,” he whispered.

“If I do, I can fix it,” Albedo promised. “Don’t suffer alone anymore.”

Everyone he’d ever known was gone. Someday, Albedo would disappear too, and Xiao would be left alone once more. Time eroded all things, no matter how resilient. Xiao would not hope for forever, because it was an impossible future. But perhaps he could find peace in the present.

Xiao looked at their hands. Albedo’s grip was real, and it held more strength than Xiao would expect from somebody who had nearly left the world. His presence felt sturdy, not like a rock being torn from the cliffside by waves, but like the cliff itself, which would shed fragments to weather storms. As mountains changed their shape beneath an unrelenting wind, Albedo too would change. Xiao could not believe in forever. But he could believe in Albedo’s strength.

Xiao’s fingers clenched around Albedo’s hand. Then, he nodded.

Albedo’s smile was warm. The press of his forehead against his was real. Xiao let himself breathe. The storm within him subsided. The ache began to fade. It was a feeling from long ago that Xiao had forgotten. He had no name for it, and he did not seek to find one. He allowed himself to feel, and contented himself in the warmth of the sun, and the presence of a person he never wished to bid farewell.

Though nations would separate them, Xiao would not forsake him. He would continue to uphold his promise to protect him from harm, for as long as he lived in this world. He made his promise in silence, and did not speak it out loud. Albedo might try to bargain, and Xiao did not wish to argue.

“Let’s get you home soon,” Xiao said.

“Just a few more minutes,” Albedo answered. “Then, we’ll go.”

Xiao nodded once, then stretched his legs out to lean back. He heard the rustle of paper, and the sound of sketchbook pages turning. Xiao did not watch Albedo sketch, but he felt the titular pressure of his eyes on him.

It was a small, insignificant thing, but Xiao found himself smiling.

Castle of Glass - AlchemicalStardust - 原神 (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Notes:

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Notes:

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Notes:

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Notes:

Chapter Text