The places you love never do leave you. The dandelion seeds in your hair and the stones dug into your shoes – the smell of ozone on your clothes and the earthy promise of a vine wound around your wrist. The places you love will never leave you, even when all else has faded away.
The Knights of Favonius remain the backbone of your journey, don’t they? They make it so Mondstadt remains somewhere you can always call home. When your wanderings are waylaid by the magnificent fall of a puppet from a mighty war machine, their arms remain open to receive you. Glory has wishes to scatter on the breeze for her lover, and Ella Musk’s studies need an interpreter who can hold their own. The winds will forever find their way into your heart.
(And, Barbatos: how often you find yourself sitting against the tree at Windrise, humming the ballad which they belt out so confidently. How peculiar that you, so familiar with remaining at a distance, find the comfort of a sibling in their ready acceptance of your comings and goings. They cannot replace the twin you have lost, but the time spent with the Archon of Freedom expands your lungs, builds your endurance.)
The Liyue Qixing, who once suspected you of murdering their god, turn to you now for security. Theirs is a kingdom still in the throes of grief and building a bridge to independence. When crisis rises – be its name Osial, Beisht, or fair trade – they fight with their all. It is in the moments between that they sink beneath the waves. Young Que’er may always turn up her nose at you, and Tea Master Liu Su may never finish his winding story. The porous rock at your back helps you remember the nature of fragility.
(The one who discarded the name Morax, Zhongli, persists in their recollection of old history. They are at peace when you stand beside them and listen to their dialogues on kites, ancient toys, and the nature of flowing Mora throughout the centuries. You have clasped your hands around theirs to become an anchour. They have leant against you, surrendering the illusion that they are all-mighty, and you have cradled them in the absence of those who share the memory.)
The Tenryou Commission may forever narrow their eyes as you pass through Ritou. You, the unwitting catalyst that threw open the doors of Inazuma, do not like to linger overlong on being a pawn for immortal games and devices. If the machinations of the sly shrine maidens will not give you peace, then remember Shouta – remember offering Tri-Coloured Dango in Raiden Ei’s name so his prayers might be answered. Pick back up the story of Neko and the shrine slowly rebuilding, and know that a cat’s love for Hibiki will long outlive the conflicts of the day.
(You have seen the inside of Baal’s mind far too many times. You have worn her loss like a heart on the sleeve. The one who knows your pain best is she. Untethered from the natural world, you have shared pensive moments in the Plane of Euthymia once and again. You look past the one who locked blades with her own puppet to the Archon of Eternity’s heart: the manifestation of lightning who only wished to keep her sister’s memory alive.)
The Corps of Thirty and the Akademiya represent interests you have never held. It is Sumeru itself to which you keep your hands pressed. The work of the Forest Rangers to quell the Withering and the winding stories of the forest children keep you dreaming. The forgotten poison and the serenity of ignorance for what was lost put tears in your eyes. Offer your fresh eyes and ears to Ziryab. Carry the wisdom of medicine to Maruf in Aaru Village as many times as it takes. Wisdom is not the key here – it is rebirth. A new tree sprouts from a cut branch.
(Buer will always count you as her first Sage. Now, she keeps the company of one who tried to cut her down. She knows forgiveness the likes of which you have never seen. Passing through the Forest of Vanarana together, upon you she visits the finch’s song and the tiger’s growl. When tears she does not understand come to her eyes, you bend down to wipe them away. You will never be without the patience to dream by her side.)
What stands before you now is the land of a fallen city and justice in isolation. As you board the aquabus, headed for destinations unknown, you are accompanied by your stalwart companion. The Melusine conductor will regale you with the history of the craft whilst Paimon entertains an unending list of all the food you’ll taste. The broken pieces of your heart (the mirror inside of you which yearns for your sibling) will scream and cry, the loudest they have been in a century.
And when you forget the weight of freedom pressed into your hand, a silent gust will run through your hair and scatter those dandelion seeds.
When you are tiptoeing the edges of despair yourself, the rocks embedded in the soles of your shoes will come free. They will remind you of that unforgettable lesson.
With the smell of the ocean salt and the oncoming morning, the looming unknown, the ozone patterning your clothing will conduct static across your skin. You cannot be forgotten by eternity.
Once the vines around your wrist have long since come loose and fallen to the sea, your fingers will itch to play the melody of the Aranara on your lyre again. You will never be parted from the birth and rebirth of nostalgia – the safety of dreams.
You’ll take your deepest breath and hold out your hand. Paimon will attend you, floating in front of your face. She’ll extend her pinky, and you’ll wrap your own around hers.
Remember your promise.
The places you love will never leave you again.