Intermission 1 - Some deserts of this planet were oceans once
6th of the 3rd Cycle
Wake up, Traveller.
Let me rest a little longer.
Don't rest when you're tired, rest when you're done.
Just a few more minutes.
Wake the fuck up, Traveller. We have a god to burn.
Golden eyes snapped open. Aether swivelled his head around, trying to get his bearings. Everything was dark and inky, and a great pressure was slowly crushing him.
Where… where am I?
The Vortex. The first phase of our plan was successful, don't fuck up the second.
Aether sucked in a deep breath, water rushed in through his senses. He began to panic, he couldn't breathe. The depths began to squeeze on him even more. He was sinking, Aether realised.
He inhaled again, and Paimon joined him. Void filled his lungs, purging water from his system. He no longer had to breathe. Then, he closed his eyes, and kick-started his second heart. Starlight rushed through his veins, reacting with his blood cells, reinforcing his physical body. From the corner of his eye, the water began to glow.
Aether turned to his right, and saw starlight gushing out from his shoulder, bleeding into the sea. He lifted his arm to see the problem, and saw bones. Panic set in once again, what had happened to his arm? He inspected it, they were connected to him with nothing more than the flimsiest strips of flesh and tendon. He was moving them with nothing more than sheer willpower alone.
He could salvage this. Slowly, he moulded the bleeding starlight around his skeletal arm, shaping it. First the upper arm, triceps and biceps. He moved downwards, starlight obeying his will. The forearm, flexors and extensors. Lastly, his fingers, starlight readily adopted the shape of his digits, curling around their bones.
He flexed his new arm, golden muscles rippled. It'll do, he can work on making it look pretty later.
He looked up once more, but he didn't know where. He couldn't see the light from the surface. Aether was sinking, but he didn't know in which direction. He materialised his sword, made of starforged steel and cooled in frozen moons, it was his most prized possession. He dropped it.
It sank 'down.' Bingo.
Aether aligned himself face down and swam after its ethereal glow. Into the Vortex. He pushed starlight into his eyes, and the world lit up.
The Vortex was beautiful in a bad way. Dark and murky water concealed the horrors of the deep. A ruined city, built from coral and seastone, barnacles covered the wall, darkness concealed what hid in great cavernous halls. Seastone spires reached high like jagged fingers of bone. There was no 'up' here, just as there was no 'down.'
Around him stalked the Children of the Deep. They were ugly and malformed on the surface, but down here in their home? They were strangely beautiful. Their smooth bodies adorned with colourful corals and trinkets, their scales twinkled in imaginary light.
They were following him, unaware that he could now see them. His sword was now just in front of him, the Children kept away from its glow to stay hidden. He grabbed its hilt and unsummoned it. He now knew his destination.
He began to near Osial's corpse, he could feel it. Gods don't have bodies, when they ascend to Celestia they abandon their mortal forms for a divine one. However, most gods prefer to take up a physical body, usually their old mortal body, or one of a human. The reason for this is because it allows them to interact with the mortal realm, and their subjects.
Most people think killing a god's physical body is synonymous with killing the god itself. This is not the case, they can simply create another body and return. But how long does it take to create another body? Very, very, very long.
All things in Teyvat, no, the universe, is constrained by entropy. Some call it erosion, others call it lifespan. The unstoppable march of time is absolute, everything will die in the end. This is why gods take great pains to ensure their body is as 'immortal' as it can be, because creating 1 body that lasts a millennia takes less effort than creating 10 bodies that last a century.
So they spend centuries, millennia even, crafting the most perfect mortal form they can before descending back to the mortal realm.
"Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, only transferred from one form to another." The reason gods spend so much time is because they need to gather enough energy to pump into the corpus to increase its lifespan. This means that a god's mortal body is essentially a massive battery, and when that energy runs out over time, the god 'dies' a natural death, like a human.
So what happens when a god 'dies' before their time? The corpus will either leak energy into its surroundings, or it becomes a bomb. Thankfully, in Osial's case, it is the former. Aether simply has to follow the energy trail back to his corpse.
Which is, really really far 'down.' He could feel it becoming thicker, until it felt like he was no longer swimming in water but syrup. Behind him, he could sense the Children following him down like a school of fish. They will be a problem.
He reached what looks like an underwater canyon, and gripped the ledge of the cliff. He looked down. As expected, the rotting corpse of a five-headed hydra lay on the seabed. From heads to tails the corpse stretched miles long. Swimming around it like vultures were even more Children. Were they eating their progenitor?
No… they were killing each other. The Children were ripping each other apart and letting their entrails fall on Osial's corpse, they were offering him their own lifeforce. They were trying to revive the Overlord through their own blood.
Behind him, the Children following him came a little closer, they must have realised something was amiss.
He began to pump more and more starlight into his right arm, and it began to glow harshly. A single source of light in everlasting darkness. He turned around.
"You think I couldn't see you?"
The Children screeched and rushed at him, eager to devour.
He grinned, pulled out his arm and threw it at them.
"Eat this."
He swam down the cliff face like seven hells were after him.
BOOM
The shockwave pushed him towards Osial's body at great speeds, his reinforced body straining against the force. His arm had exploded like a massive firework in the night sky, everything in a hundred leagues must have noticed. He had bought himself some time, but very little.
In his mind's eye, he saw the blueprint of his right arm and used it to create another. His sword appeared in his left hand, and a spear took shape in his left.
Swarms of Children were rushing at him from every direction now, but the ones in front of him were the closest. They had stopped killing each other and were now swarming at him.
He pumped his spear full of starlight, and threw it.
BOOM
Aether swam through the hole in the swarm, feeling their entrails wash over him. Disgusting.
He reached the corpse, and threw another spear behind him. Then he impaled a Child that came too close. Turning back around, he began swimming towards where he believed Osial's Godhead was.
He scanned the body with golden eyes. Even gods are restricted to the physical laws, at least in the mortal realm. A body this big must take several hearts and brains to operate. Godhead's are very important to gods, they are essentially their house key, after all. So they keep them very close to the heart, mayhaps even literally.
Aether glanced backwards, the Children were getting closer again. He turned back around and began cutting through Osial's chest. Once the cut was large enough for him to fit through, he entered its body and sealed up the wound behind him.
As suspected, the Children stopped dead in their tracks, they wouldn't dare touch their progenitor, let alone harm. He returned to the task at hand.
He stared. The Overlord's body was so big the inside was like a cavern, even with all the bones and organs. He sighed, this was going to take some time.
Found you.
Osial's Godhead took the shape of a conch shell. He had to dig through a massive boulder-sized heart to retrieve it. Aether couldn't help but feel giddy, he held a god's fate in his hands.
Now then, time to get started.
He began to apply pressure on it. Aether had to first usurp the Godhead from Osial, and that meant fighting it in a battle of wills. The god was not dead, after all, merely dormant, trying to recover enough energy to revive itself.
Aether's consciousness was forced out of the Godhead. He sighed, this would be impossible for him. He was powerful, yes, but Osial was a god that had lived for thousands of years. It is natural it would have a much stronger will.
Luckily, he had a god of his own.
Shall we, dear?
With Paimon's consciousness backing him, they were slowly forcing Osial's identity out of the Godhead. Then a migraine hit them like a truck, and now they were on the back foot. The Overlord had called upon its Authority to aid him, now they were not only fighting the Overlord but the tens of thousands of Children of the Deep that obeyed him as well.
Shaking his head, Aether struggled to come up with another plan.
He thought back, why does this situation seem so familiar?
…
The Tower. How did Barbatos bypass Decarabian's Authority?
Barbatos didn't fight Decarabian's Authority, he convinced the wind spirits to join him. Aether doubted he could do the same for the Children.
So he decided to take it a step further. He would convince Osial to join him.
His consciousness entered the Godhead once again.
Osial, I've come to bargain.
You… DARE?
He winced. Alright, what can he bargain with?
…How ironic.
If you allow me, I can give you freedom! Isn't that what you crave?
I crave vengeance, starspawn! You dared attempt to usurp my Godhead, what freedom can you give?
That was a… mistake. But please, you will never get the vengeance you want, Morax and Barbatos are allied, and too powerful! If you accept my offer, I can at the very least allow you to see the world beyond the Vortex!
That craven god has made a pact with the Lord of Wind?
That's right, and he is waiting for you as well. The moment you surface, he will just seal you again! Even if you do revive, you will be stuck in Vortex for the rest of eternity, hiding from Morax. Isn't that fate worse than death?
And yet, you swindle me with promises of freedom. Why can you give freedom, but I cannot with mine own power?
Because you have to die. I will kill your mortal vessel, then forge it into something more inconspicuous. This way, you will no longer be 'Osial,' but still retain your consciousness.
I have battled the Lord of Rock for decades, he will recognise me, even in another body.
Morax has faked his own death. The only reason he stands vigil on your grave is to ensure you do not endanger his people. If you do not move against him, he will not move against you.
And if he does?
Then I will take action.
Another god?
Indeed. This one is Paimon, Lord of Void.
…
How about it? Do we have an agreement?
Swear it all. Swear it all on your blood and bones. Swear it on ice and fire. Swear it on earth and water, on star and void.
I swear it all.
Thunder roared in the distance, Aether heard it all the way down in the Vortex.
Pact made.
Pact made.
The Overlord's consciousness retreated from the Godhead. Aether sighed in relief, and began moulding.
Osial's bones began to crack, his body began to disintegrate. In his mind's eye, Aether envisioned what he wanted, and began to craft it from the god's bones. Around him, 'fresh' seawater ran across his skin, the Children stared at him, but stayed out of the way.
The Overlord's vertebrae created the keel, his ribcage the frames. Flesh and muscle covered the outside of the frames, forming a hull. Patches of skin, driftwood, seastone and shells layered over the hull, making it more pleasant to look at, albeit haphazard. Coral spires created three masts, seaweed draped over it and made its sails.
When completed, an ethereal galleon sat on the seafloor, looking every inch the ghost ship that sailors liked to talk about. Except this one was a living, breathing ship. 32 cannons adorned the ship. 13 on each side below deck, 2 on the prow as chasers, and 4 stern guns. Each thrummed with the Overlord's dormant power, his rage given form.
The stern lacked a rudder, and in its place were the Overlord's 7 tails. They looked like tentacles, squirming and wriggling, they would act as the rudder and as propulsion. On the prow was the pièce de résistance, as Fontaineans liked to say. A living figurehead, shaped in the likeness of the Overlord's 5 heads, they roared and bit and snapped.
And in the vessel's centre was the beating heart of the ship, a massive green conch shell, Osial's Godhead. It held it all together, and harboured the god's consciousness.
Aether leapt onto the ship, tired beyond belief, and marvelled at his creation. He had to give it a name, to bind it all together. Names had power, they are declarations of what to be, and what were. He had accomplished something none had done before, and what he named the vessel now will have altercations of the future.
He patted the deck.
"You will be named… Deicide."
Creation shivered. This was no name, but a challenge. The ultimatum reverberated throughout the leylines of Teyvat. What he had just done was tantamount to challenging the Celestial Order.
The Children of the Deep swarmed under the ship, and began to lift it up.
Up and up and up.
Out of the canyon, out of the ruined city, past its tallest spires. More and more Children joined, and the vessel ascended even faster.
They hit the 'top,' and broke through the thin film of reality that separated the Sea from the Vortex. They passed the awake but trapped Sea Gods pinned by the Stone Forest, they passed by Beisht, who gazed forlornly at her husband.
Aether felt guilty, and resolved to visit her sometime.
The waters got brighter and clearer, sunlight reached this depth. Up and up, Aether's ears popped, his blood began to bubble. He ran starlight through his veins again, it would be stupid to have the bends at this time.
Further, further, water rushed by him. Rays of sunlight hit his face, and he could now see the surface.
And like a breaching whale, the ship roared as it broke through the surface, announcing its presence for all of Teyvat to know.
Aether stared at the Sun high above him, still lying down on the deck. Water ran down his face, his chest heaving. And he laughed, jubilation stirring within him. He laughed, elation in his soul.
The Overlord laughed along with him, the ship rumbling with humour. Aether had achieved what no one had done before, and he had now a ride to Inazuma. But Osial had received something much greater, something Man had fought and died for, something gods had fought and died for.
For the first time in three millennia, Osial felt the wind caressing his skin, the fresh air in his lungs, and cried.
"FREEDOM."