Prologue: Dreams and Destiny

Everything was green. The floor, tiled in some kind of floral pattern, was emerald shade. The ceiling, high and domed, was shaded as it faded into the distance, but unmistakably verdant. The pillars, not perpendicular to the floor but slanted, were of a lighter tint, like leaves low on chlorophyll. The strange elevator shaft-like structure in the center was sided with electric green glass, marked with symbols of an unfamiliar language. And below that…

Homura Akemi realized that there was something below the glass structure. A kind of open space, marked off by a round set of arches, almost like an intricately built gazebo. From her position, she could only see the top of it, the bottom of the glass structure, but before her was a ramp – also green – that led downward, presumably toward that open space. She looked around; no one else seemed to be there. There certainly didn't appear to be any threats, and though the enormous room was strange – alien, even – it didn't feel the same as a witch's den. Witch's dens were chaotic, diverting your attention here and there while looking for a chance to swallow you whole. Here, Homura felt as calm as she'd ever felt in a long time. It was like a sanctuary dedicated to helping her think clearly.

She stepped forward, walking down the ramp. As she progressed, the gazebo-like space came into view. At first, she thought it was similarly empty, but then realized it was a trick of the light (wherever that green-tinted light might be coming from). The floor of that space resembled a large lotus flower, with long white flower petals lifting slightly upward. And in the middle of that flower sat what appeared to be a small child. As Homura approached, she could see more: the child had long silver hair, tied at the back in a soft ponytail. Her white dress in many ways resembled the large white lotus where she was residing. The child was facing away from her, but Homura noticed that her ears were long and pointed.

With a final step, Homura was level with that child. At that moment, the figure turned around to face her. The face was indeed childlike, but there was something striking about her emerald eyes, something that made the word "child" feel wrong in Homura's mind. She didn't know why, but she got the feeling that when those emerald eyes alighted on her, they saw more than merely her appearance.

"Hello. How can I help you?" The voice with which she greeted her was unmistakably young, but the manner in which she spoke suggested otherwise.

"...What is this place?" Homura was finally compelled to ask.

"This is the Sanctuary of Surasthana," the child replied. "It's…well, I suppose you could call it my home."

"And who are you?"

"Me?" The child placed her hand on her chest. "I'm the god of wisdom and the archon of Sumeru. But you can call me Nahida."

"The god of wisdom?" Homura repeated. "But I've never heard of you." Then, realizing the potential danger of demeaning a god, she covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

The girl called Nahida giggled. "That's okay, I'm not offended. I guess if you're not from Sumeru, it shouldn't be assumed that you know who I am." She then looked closely at Homura. "Though I will say, most people don't approach the Sanctuary without knowing at least something about the Dendro archon."

Homura looked around, as if her surroundings would somehow become more familiar upon second glance. They didn't. So Homura simply said, "I don't know. I just found myself here."

"Found yourself?" Nahida tapped her chin, looking to the side. Then her hand pulled away as her eyes widened. "Oh, I see. I think I know what's going on."

"What is it?" Homura said.

The small god shook her head. "I can't explain all the details right away, but I promise I will eventually. For now, let's just say that you've been brought here for a little visit."

"Brought by whom?" Homura asked.

"Hmm, that's a good question," said Nahida. "In my experience, visits like this occur because the visitor is searching for something. They may have a question, or are seeking some kind of advice. Something they've been struggling with, that weighs on their hearts. That's usually why people come to me. So…is there a question on your mind?"

Something that weighs on their hearts. Homura's hands began to tremble. Could it be? Was this the opportunity she'd been looking for?

"I do have something," she said.

Nahida clapped her hands, her eyes shining as she leaned forward. "Okay! Then ask away. As the god of wisdom, I'll do my best to answer."

Homura tried to steady herself, trying to put together the right words. But in her mind, all she could see was the sight that had haunted her for months: the broken body of a young teenage girl, her tears mingling with the rainwater she was lying in. Finally, the words came out, and Homura spoke. "How…how can I change fate?"

Nahida's eager expression fell slightly. She stood straighter and tapped her chin once more.

"Changing fate, huh," she repeated. "That's…rather difficult. In fact, I would venture to say it's basically impossible."

Hope, intoxicating hope that was granted out of nowhere, in an instant, was dashed just as quickly.

"W-what do you mean?" Homura stammered.

"Hmmm…how should I put this…" Nahida mused. "You know that there are some trees that lose their leaves every year, right?"

"R-right," said Homura. "What does that have to do with fate?"

"Well, it's like this," said Nahida. She raised her hand and opened it, and something shimmered to life, hovering above her palm: a glowing, ephemeral leaf. "Every leaf of such a tree will eventually leave its branch and fall to the ground. Now, that journey from branch to earth may look different for each leaf. Some leaves detach early in fall and plummet almost straight down to the ground. Other leaves take their time; they detach late in the winter and spiral in a lazy way until they softly touch down. Some outside influences can affect the path of these leaves; sometimes the wind buoys a leaf far away from its tree, and sometimes a leaf lands on a carriage and doesn't feel the ground until days later.

"But the pull of gravity is irresistible." She tilted her hand, and the leaf in her hand slowly floated down. "All leaves, which grew from the earth, return to the earth eventually. And though there are many different paths, there is very little a leaf does to choose or alter its path." As she said this, the leaf made contact with the white lotus floor. As it did so, its form broke down until it dissolved into green motes of light that gradually faded away. "So it is with lives, and with fate. Our paths are set for us, and it's very hard for us to change them." Seeing tears well behind Homura's glasses, she hastily added, "Of course, human beings have more power than leaves. There are still a great many things that free will still decides –"

"Such as?" Homura pressed.

"W-well…" Now it was Nahida who stammered. "Our reactions, for one thing. The way we respond to the things that happen to us –"

"So I'm just supposed to accept it?" Homura demanded. "To let it happen? No, no…" She began to clutch her head, hunched over slightly. "I can't accept that. I can't. I have to save her…" She looked at Nahida again, her eyes now wide with tears on her cheeks, her glasses slightly askance. "There has to be a way. An exception. Some way to change fate – it has to exist."

Nahida didn't reply. She stood in the same place, looking at her.

"...Why?" Homura breathed. "Why aren't you saying anything?" Her brow hardened. "Who are you, really? You're not really a god, are you? You're lying…you have to be lying!"

"I'm not lying." Nahida's voice was just above a whisper. "But the truth can be hard to bear." She stepped forward, reaching a hand out toward Homura.

"No…no, stay away!" she shouted, instantly retreating. "Don't come any closer!"

Nahida obliged. "I'm sorry," she said in the same soft tone. "But that's the truth I've discovered. Even if it's a dream, you must believe me."

"...A dream?" Homura repeated.

"Yes. You're not here, not really. Your need brought your consciousness to me. But in a moment, you're going to wake up and return to your life."

"A dream," Homura repeated once more. "So none of this is real. Then…I still have a chance."

"No, listen," Nahida insisted. "It's my duty as the Dendro archon to reveal the truth in dreams."

"I'm going to save her," Homura whispered. "I have to."

The air shimmered around her. Slowly, the bright green shade of the sanctuary dissolved around her. But the piercing gaze of the god of wisdom was the last thing to linger. She could still see it for a brief moment when she woke up.

Homura was in a much worse mood when she arrived at the Sanctuary of Surasthana for the second time. She didn't waste any time taking in her surroundings (admittedly, if she had, she would have found them quite unchanged), nor did she stop to wonder why her dream had taken her here, for a second time. Nor did she take the time to reflect on a subtle realization: that dreams, even connected ones, weren't usually this vivid.

Instead, she marched right down the ramp. There, facing away from her, sat the god of wisdom once again. Well, the so-called god of wisdom. She would see about that.

Once again, Nahida turned around as Homura grew level with her. "Hello. Oh, it's you! I remember you." She frowned and tapped her chin. "Hmmm…but come to think of it, I never got your name last night. That was rude of me."

"That doesn't matter," Homura snapped. "How –" Finally, something gave her pause. "Wait. 'Last night?'"

"Yes," said Nahida. "Well, my dream with you in it was last night. Was it not for you?"

"It's been years since I was last here," Homura said. "Well, since I had that dream, I mean."

"Years?" Nahida kept tapping her chin as she took that in. "That's interesting. Time flows differently for you than it does for me. This may be a dream, but I assumed there was real communication going on." It seemed that something occurred to her, as her face brightened as she looked at Homura again. "You are in Teyvat, aren't you? You look like you come from Inazuma."

"I don't know what any of those words mean." Homura's reply was curt, but Nahida didn't appear to register any offense. Instead, she pondered her response further.

"I have to consider the possibility that you're from another world," the small god murmured to herself. "But this kind of incursion could attract the attention of the Heavenly Principles…"

"I want to ask you something," Homura cut in.

Nahida looked up, and finally looked a bit put off. "Oh! Right, of course. Something…clearly seems to be bothering you. You can ask me anything you like."

"How do I change fate?" asked Homura.

Nahida sighed. "I already told you before," she answered, in a clearly placating tone, "that changing fate is basically impossible –"

"'Basically.' What does that mean?"

"Well, it's an imprecise term, but for all intents and purposes –"

"There is a way. Isn't there." It wasn't phrased like a question.

The small god sighed. "My knowledge only applies to my world. But Teyvat has its own laws, and they may not be the same as yours — assuming that you're from another world. If so, then my thoughts on fate would indeed be irrelevant."

"Fine. Then let me ask you a different question," said Homura. "I undertake the same task several times, but always fail. What's the best way to change my result?"

"Hmmm…" Nahida tapped her chin. "Without the context of fate, that is a markedly different question. Incidentally, one that I have personal experience with."

"Really?"

"Yes. In my situation, the way I changed my result was to keep a record of everything that had happened so far. All the methods I tried, and all the ways I failed." Nahida held out her hand, and again something appeared above it: a glowing yellow crystal, with leaf-like protrusions jutting out of its sides. "I used this Knowledge Capsule. It records data and experiences and can transmit that information directly into the mind. But you might not have access to that technology. That's okay; you can use alternative methods of record-keeping, like a journal or a video diary."

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Homura. "Why would I relive the painful memories of my fr- of my past failures?"

"It can be hard to look back on those memories," Nahida agreed. "But failure is the best teacher. There's a reason why they say hindsight is 20/20 – retrospective analysis gives you a unique perspective. Understanding what you did wrong is often the first step in correcting yourself. But it's hard to see that in the moment, when time is short and things get hectic. Looking back on it afterward is the best way to see the whole picture."

It made sense. Homura knew that. But she couldn't bring herself to agree. "There are so many memories," she said. "Things I'd rather forget. That I can't bear to relive."

Nahida nodded. "I understand," she said, and there was something in her manner that instantly convinced Homura that she meant it. "But that's actually why keeping a record, instead of holding everything up in your memories, can be beneficial. Memories in your head are subject to your emotions, and can be clouded by imperfect recall. But a record can be objective. It can be distant and neutral. It can help you process what happened in a more rational way."

Homura didn't have time to linger on her reluctance, as the air began to shimmer around them. "I'll think about it," she whispered. "I'll…I'll try."

She thought she saw Nahida's eyes widen and her mouth open, raising a finger as if she had something to add. She wouldn't know, though, because that was when she woke up.

When Homura arrived at the Sanctuary for a third time, she immediately turned around and looked behind her. There was what appeared to be a door to an elevator shaft behind her, but when she approached it, she saw there was no control panel. She tried prying the door open, but it didn't budge. She banged her fist on the door several times, but it made no response.

"Are you alright?"

The voice came from behind her. Homura turned around, and sure enough, there she was again: Nahida, the child-god, dashing up the ramp. Concern colored her childlike face as her eyes took in her visitor. "It's you again. But you look…different." Indeed, the Homura that stood before her had foregone the red-framed spectacles and pigtails she'd worn the previous two visits. Now her long black hair was untied, and no glass obstructed her now cold gaze.

"I did what you said." Homura's voice was dull and cold. "I wrote down everything. Everything that happened until that point, and then everything that happened afterward. I looked at it every time I failed, trying to learn something new."

"O-oh…"

"But nothing changed," Homura continued. "Each time I thought I learned something new, it didn't work. Every time I thought I'd gained an advantage, it turned out to be useless in the end. I haven't made a single step of progress."

She fell silent, but the god of wisdom did not answer for a while. After what seemed like a few minutes, she asked:

"What exactly…are you trying to do?"

Homura's cold stare was unremitting. "I'm trying to prevent my friend from dying. Or becoming a Witch."

"How does she die?"

"Walpurgisnacht. A powerful Witch. Either Madoka dies fighting her, or she becomes a Witch in defeating her. I can't let her die. She mustn't even become a Magical Girl. But it ends the same every time."

Out of all the information revealed at once, the god of wisdom keyed in on one thing. "Madoka," she repeated. "Your friend's name is Madoka."

"What difference does it make to you?" The question would have been derisive if not for Homura's flat tone.

Again, Nahida took her time before replying, "My friend's name is Dunyarzad. We were both trapped in a samsara loop. Each loop, she didn't die, but she was brought closer to death due to a critical illness. After hundreds of loops, she was bedridden, unable to function, and a puppet took her place. And then she almost died for good. It was…harrowing." She looked at Homura. "From what you've told me, it seems that you're trapped in a samsara loop, too."

"I'm not trapped," said Homura. "I'm the one who loops."

"Really? I see…" said Nahida. "Then are you sure your loops aren't causing any long-term damage?"

Homura's answer was immediate and unwavering. "Nothing matters except Madoka."

"Hmm…" For the first time, the god of wisdom seemed unsure. "That's a potentially dangerous mindset. In my experience, samsaras that are engineered have unintended consequences."

"Your world has its own laws," Homura pointed out.

Nahida sighed. "Yes, I did say that." Then her eyes lit up. "Oh! That reminds me – there was something I wanted to say before, but I ran out of time."

"What is it?"

"You asked before how I changed the result – how I broke free of the samsara. It's true that my records were instrumental, but I neglected to mention the most important part."

"That would have been helpful a hundred loops ago," Homura commented dryly. "Well, what is it?"

"I had help!" It was not a statement that Homura would have associated with pride, but Nahida put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest as she said it. "Two outlanders helped me explore the samsara and find the key to ending the loop. I wouldn't be here without them. They even rescued me later on!"

Nahida giggled, but then was startled by a hollow laugh. "That's it?" asked Homura. "That's your secret? Some hired hands?"

"I wouldn't call them 'hired hands,'" Nahida protested. "They're my friends. Probably my closest friends now."

"Friends can't help me now," Homura sighed. "All my friends die in the end. Or turn against me. Either way, I always end up alone." She shrugged. "That's how it should be, anyway. This is my fight. So I'll do it alone. No matter how long it takes."

At those words, the small god's countenance became crestfallen, until she raised her head again with alarmed eyes. "How long it takes," she repeated. "Wait. You mentioned a hundred loops. That was just a hyperbole, right? An exaggeration to make a point?"

"It wasn't a hundred loops," Homura replied.

"Okay, phew." Nahida put a hand on her chest.

"99."

"H-huh?"

Homura's voice betrayed no emotion as she said, "It's been 99 loops."

Nahida's already pale face became even paler, and she took a step back. At that moment, the air around them began to shimmer.

"You can't," Nahida made out. "You can't go on like this alone."

Still Homura didn't answer. Instead she allowed herself to wake up.

In Homura's world, her eyes met a familiar sight: pure white walls, a white ceiling, and white curtains. But to her the color was cold and sterile. The symbol of a clean slate felt more like a curse than an opportunity. But it wasn't like she had a choice.

She threw off her blanket, stood up, and walked toward her mirror. She held out her hand, and a small purple gem materialized above it.

In Nahida's world, her eyes lingered on a familiar sight: deep green walls, a shaded green ceiling, and green plant-like pillars. It was a color in which she always felt comfort. The symbol of life was synonymous with the symbol of reason in this world, not with rash decisions. But now, she was pondering a dangerous choice.

She turned around, walked down the ramp, and seated herself in the middle of the white lotus. She held out her hand, and a small yellow crystal materialized above it.

"Record data," she commanded, and the crystal began to glow.