Ch. 18 – A Golden Reverie

Kaeya feels like he's floating down a river, underneath the calm ripples of its surface and through the gentle waves. The fog in his mind grows thicker, threatening to take the last of his consciousness away. He doesn't know who he's asking for help from. His desperate pleas have gone ignored by those on the outside, his begging unheard by all.

The Sinner… they're the only ones here. They're with him, they can save him. A dull ache behind his eye causes him to groan. No, it's not a small, soft pain he can ignore anymore.

His eye is in agony. It feels like it's clogged by a foreign liquid that burns inside of its socket, and the tears that fall from it don't wash it out. He wants to claw at his eye, tear it out, and throw it into the deepest, darkest pit he can find. That would solve a lot of problems, wouldn't it? He doesn't need it to see. That eye is usually covered. He's used to being half-blind.

The pained sound he lets out is pitiful and makes him want to give up entirely. It hurts…

"Let go," the voice whispers in his ear, gentle and calm in this dark prison.

Kaeya wants to. He wants to give in so, so badly, he doesn't care what consequences there would be. His eyes begin to close themselves, but they remain half-open. Something is stopping him from giving in and allowing the Sinner to save him. His fingers are growing numb and a strange cold is starting to settle in his bones, making what little movement he has slower than normal.

Help…

The arms that feel like they're around him disappear and there is a new sensation. A palm he can't see cups itself around his cheek. Another hand feels like it intertwines its fingers through his, holding his hand as if it's trying to provide him comfort—and it's working. He squeezes the phantom hold, desperate for any kind of solace from this torture.

"I can help you. I can save us. You only need to let go." The hand from his cheek moves to the top of his head, running thin fingers through his hair even though the locks don't move. "Don't you want to leave the darkness, little one?"

He does. He wants to go home, he wants his father to hold him and tell him everything will be all right, he wants to see Diluc and watch his attempts to catch crystal flies. He wants Adeline to open the curtains in his room and wake him up from this nightmare, he wants to help Elzer make another bottle of wine for Crepus. I… want to… go… home…

The Sinner sounds sad when they answer, "You don't have a home, little one. It was stolen from you, long ago."

He pants, too tired to do much of anything else. No… it wasn't. The winery… is still… there.

"Crepus and Diluc will not let you back. You know this."

He does. As soon as they hear what happened to him and what is happening to him, they won't let him back. He knows they won't want to be anywhere near him. He doesn't blame them. All he brings is pain and all he is good at is tearing families apart.

"I can give you a place to call home."

He sees Albedo in front of him, smiling as a little girl in red waves delightfully beside him. Klee's mouth is moving, but he doesn't hear what she's saying. His home stands behind them, a little two-story townhouse in the middle of the city, and thanks to Albedo's care, the light blue flowers that hang from the window are as lively as ever underneath the bright morning sun.

He wants to take them both into his arms and hold them close. He misses teasing Albedo and telling Klee bedtime stories. He wants to help Albedo braid his hair in the morning. He wants to go fish blasting with Klee, even though they'd probably get caught and get in trouble with Jean. Gods, he wants to see Jean, tell her exhausted self to take a month-long vacation, and he wants to see Lisa and turn in those books that he never got a chance to return. He wants to see Diluc and bother him at Angel's Share with Rosaria and—

Albedo takes his hand and tugs his arm to get him to follow. The little squeeze he gives his hand feels too real, not unlike any hug Crepus had given him before…

Before what? He shakes his head as he struggles to reach for memories he knows he has. Why is it so hard to remember? This is Albedo. This is where he lives, so why does it feel like he doesn't belong here? Why... does this place feel so wrong?

"Come inside, Kaeya," Albedo says, his calm, soothing voice reaching his ears. "It's going to rain soon."

No, it isn't. The sky is bright. There isn't a cloud in sight.

A new voice, one he's heard before. He can't recall who it is. "You want to go home, don't you?"

Home? He's... home? He winces as an ache starts to form behind his eye.

No. No, this isn't right. He puts his free hand against his eye. It hurts.

Klee tilts her head curiously and her face breaks into a big, toothy, bright grin. "Let's go play, Kaeya!" She takes his other hand and tries to pull him inside as well. "I can show you my new bombs! They're perfect for fish blasting and Master Jean won't catch us again!"

He takes a step to follow her but he stops as the door opens. A wall of warm, cozy air hits him, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee with a hint of gunpowder and alchemy comes with it. One of his own coats hangs off the back of a chair, lazily thrown as if he'd come in from a hard day of work. It smells like home. It feels like home.

His heels dig into the ground in front of the door. This doesn't feel right. Something about this place feels fake.

He watches Klee run to the table and gather some of her tools that lay on top of it. She lifts her head and smiles at him. "Come here, Kaeya!" she calls eagerly.

This isn't real.

It's the empty look Klee has in her eyes that gives it away.

"Kaeya, come on," Albedo says and starts to pull him to get him inside the house.

It's the way Albedo is hurriedly trying to get him to go inside.

Klee is passionate about her projects. Albedo never hurries when he doesn't need to.

This… isn't real.

His voice is quiet and airy as though he hasn't had enough water to drink or spoken in weeks when he says, "Not… like this." He doesn't say this to Albedo. Not to Klee. Never to Albedo or Klee.

He lets go of Albedo's hand and puts it against his head. His mind feels heavy like he's drowning in the open air and something threatens to throw him back into a harsh reality he isn't expecting. He looks up at the townhouse. The home is so inviting, warm, and full of life. He glances inside through the open door. There's a table with a vase full of calla lilies, and a look to the kitchen lets him see some used coffee mugs sitting on the counter beside the sink. He's home, so why—

He winces as a dull pain pierces his skull. It's not real.

"It can be, little one," the strange voice gently assures him. "You can go home. You will be happy."

His heart aches at the way Albedo and Klee are both watching him with worry. They're calling his name, louder now as he stumbles back and away from the house. His hands tremble as scattered memories shatter and then put themselves immediately back together. Something is forcing him to see this, trying to convince him that this is real while something else entirely is fighting against it. It feels like there are two entities in his mind, warring for control and his mind is their battlefield. It makes it hard to think straight. "Get out of my head!" he begs them.

What is happening to him? He uses both hands to hold his head, trying to discern what is real and what is a hallucination. Stop it!

Albedo is trying to catch his attention, desperation on his face as he reaches up for him and pulls his hands away from his head. He doesn't resist it. His hands feel real, the tears that are filling Klee's eyes look real. He wants to lean down, hug her and comfort her, tell her that everything will be all right, but… but it's not her.

That isn't Klee.

This isn't Albedo.

Albedo's caring touch caresses his cheek, his soft voice asking him what's wrong and what he can do to help him.

It's not real.

Klee pulls his hand again, trying to get him to go inside so she can make him feel better. He doesn't know what to tell her. He knows he can't stay here.

This place isn't real.

It isn't real!

Memories start to rush in again. It makes him squeeze his eyes shut and he struggles to breathe as the pieces put themselves together.

Reality is a small, scared little boy with memories of a past life, bound and gagged like a violent criminal.

Reality is heading for the icy north, where he is locked in the dark and tiny storage compartment of a fancy carriage.

Reality is Il Dottore's mocking grin, humiliating him as he taunts and threatens him with inhumane experimentation.

His eye burns.

He screams as agony returns with a vengeance. He falls to his knees and reaches up to clutch the right side of his face as the dark veins burn him from underneath his skin and his eye. It feels like sharp claws are reaching from his eye and stabbing him from the inside out and slowly digging their way down his face.

Is he bleeding? He can't tell. His hands feel wet as he screams again, thick tears falling from his eye.

It hurts! Stop! Stop it, please!

The vision suddenly fades away, far more abruptly than the others from before. The pain disappears. He greedily gulps for air like a fish out of water and lifts his eyes weakly. Albedo and Klee are gone, the townhouse and the bright sky have also vanished. Dark clouds appear overhead while the air turns thick and murky like any other thunderstorm that threatens to strike. Strangely enough, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from Kaeya's mind.

The city changes to a jungle, a small clearing, and in Klee and Albedo's places, a lone hilichurl stands before him, only a couple paces away. It turns to face him and from behind its mask, Kaeya has a feeling it's staring straight at him. He knows this place—he's seen it in his dreams before. "You must be confused," the monster says.

Kaeya's eyes widen in surprise. He can only nod dumbly. He is extremely confused.

The hilichurl walks up to him. It's taller than he is, like most people are these days. It helps him sit up and he lets it take the hand that is over his face in one of its own. "I'm afraid I can't do much to help you, not like this." It turns his hand over so that his palm faces the sky. "When the time comes, you will understand."

"I want to know now," he admits. "Everyone else seems to know what's going on, even the Fatui. But I don't know anything. It's… not fair." He shakes his head again. "What's happening to me?"

The hilichurl's ears flick and uses its other hand to run its thumb underneath his golden eye. Its touch is gentle, more real than the vision he just saw. It wipes something off of his face and with it, the lingering pain disappears. "You mustn't let the Sinner win. Do not give in to his lies. What he shows you, what you experience—none of it is real." It pulls its hand off of his face and cups his palm, fully encasing his hand in both of its own. "Next we meet, I promise I will tell you everything."

"When will that be?" he mutters. He's not ready to go back to reality. He doesn't want to leave—he'd much rather stay here, with the strange hilichurl and the thunderclouds that cover the sun.

"Soon." He looks down at their hands, feeling something heavy suddenly resting against his skin. The hilichurl leans forward so that its mask is right next to his ear. "Wake up."

-x-

Kaeya jerks himself awake—when had he fallen asleep? He lets out a muffled noise of distress as pain suddenly returns, shooting up his arms and shoulders, cutting through his ankles and up to his knees. Oddly enough, his eye feels fine, like it hasn't been the cause of his pain at any time. He shivers from the cold permeating the air and slowly opens his eyes. There's a strange light coming from behind him…

It's cold.

His eyes widen in realization.

This chill is nothing like the bitter, bone-biting cold of Dragonspine, nor of the winter that is starting to fall over Mondstadt. No, this is different. He knows this calming cold, he knows its strength and where it's coming from. He hasn't felt it in months, not since he woke up in his childhood bedroom all those months ago.

Awareness begins to cut through the fog in his mind and the numbness that had crept alongside it slowly retreats with newfound hope and resolve taking its place. There's something heavy in his hand, the same one where he'd felt someone holding it. He twists his head as far as he is allowed and through the piercing darkness, a dim blue glow cuts through it and allows him to see how little room he has to move around.

His hand squeezes the hard object that's suddenly appeared in his palm.

He's holding a vision.

His vision.

He could start crying with relief right now. He decides to thank Barbatos properly at another time. He has more pressing issues to take care of at the moment.

Cryo explodes from the vision, cutting through the bonds around his wrists with ease and he wastes little time to do the same to his legs. He winces as he pulls his arms in front of him again, his shoulders groaning and cracking in relief. His back also burns from the movement, but he ignores it to rip out the gag. He takes a deep breath, lets out a huge gasp of sweet release, and with his newfound freedom, he reaches his fingers through the top to find a latch. He feels it brush against his fingers near the middle of the top edge and with a little cryo manipulation, it clicks open and he instantly shoves the compartment open.

It feels like he can breathe easier the moment he pushes himself up. He blinks a few times to get rid of the sudden brightness of the carriage's interior and then looks at the vision in his hand. Two sets of wings and a familiar gem embedded with cryo's signature emblem sit there, innocently staring up at him as if it has never left him. "Now you decide to show up," he says to it bitterly.

Its mocking glow never fades as he pockets it.

Kaeya stumbles out of the makeshift prison, his legs feeling weak as he trips over the edge of it. He catches himself on the opposite bench, slowly pulling his legs out. Despite having finally acquired his vision, he can't heal himself without fighting. His arms are shaking and he can finally see the redness around his wrists, the little cuts that are still bleeding and the bruises already forming. Thankfully, it doesn't look like they're seriously injured, but he is still in no condition to fight anything, much less the second harbinger.

As much as he wants to allow himself a brief rest inside this carriage, he has to move. He can't stay. Dottore is bound to come back any time. He grunts as he forces himself up and throws open the door. It's barely light out, meaning it will be completely dark in a few short minutes.

Despite the darkening sky, he's immediately greeted by rain and mud, and the sight of a pyro agent crashing into the ground, groaning in pain as the soggy ground soaks his coat. Kaeya flinches away from him and nearly falls back down. Then he spots dark energy sprouting from a wound in his shoulder and he lifts his eyes to see a familiar man staring back at him.

Dainsleif looks mildly surprised to see him as well, and he lowers his arm. "I see you were able to escape," he says, unconcerned. Then his eyes study him and finally narrow after Kaeya steps outside of the carriage. "You nearly lost your will. I could sense it as clear as day."

He refuses to look away as shame grips his chest. "I know," he replies quietly. He steps outside of the carriage. "I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' means nothing. I have already warned you what would happen should you lose yourself to him."

Frustration claws its way through his shame. He knows apologizing won't help, and he remembers the cold warning he had been given. He barely holds it back as he retorts, "I'd like to see you become a kid again and try to fight off four fully grown men without a weapon or a vision and a voice in your head giving you visions you think are real."

Dainsleif's eyebrow twitches, but he doesn't say anything more about it when the bushes near the road crack as someone steps on its small branches.

Dottore steps forward, clapping his hands together as if he's just watched the greatest play in all of Teyvat. "Bravo," he says slowly, smiling that shark-tooth grin and sending it their way. Dainsleif turns around to face him, face neutral and his lips in a thin line. "You must be the wandering Khaenri'ahn. Dainsleif, am I correct?"

Dainsleif doesn't answer, but his cursed arm starts to let off that strange magic, black and blue power dancing around it.

As if he expected a lack of response, Dottore looks down at the fallen pyro agent and clicks his teeth in disappointment with his tongue. "How uncouth, going and beating my men like this." He kicks the agent's leg uncaringly. "I was going to use this one, too." Then he turns his masked gaze to Kaeya. "And that one belongs to the Fatui. You have no business being here, Bough Keeper."

Kaeya shrinks away from his stare. His eyes trail to the fallen agent's knives that lay in the mud. Even if he can grab the weapons, he wouldn't be able to take him on. He'll collapse of exhaustion before Dottore begins to get out of breath. The most he can do is hope he stays still long enough so he can freeze him in place, give him time to flee, and hope to all the archons he doesn't break free of the cryo.

Dainsleif steps in front of him, holding his other arm out in front of Kaeya's face in a clear stance of protection. Kaeya looks up in shock, trying to process why he would protect him, of all people. "Dainsleif…?" he asks.

"Mondstadt is south of here," he tells him, his eyes never leaving the harbinger in front of them. "Do not stop running. I will find you when I am finished with this one."

Dottore laughs, his posture relaxed and he leans back on one leg. "Finished with me? What makes you so sure you'll defeat me? It matters not where he runs; I will find him."

Dainsleif ignores him. "Go, Kaeya."

Kaeya hesitates. Dainsleif is strong enough to fight him off, right? He thinks he can trust him… He didn't immediately kill him again, so that's a good sign. He nods and looks back up at him, trying to ignore the way Dottore is still staring past the man and right at him. "Thank you," he mutters loud enough for the blond to hear him.

He only gets a tiny jerk of a nod in response.

He turns around and runs, looking behind him to see that the two men are still standing in front of each other, tense and clearly about to attack each other. He looks ahead to see where he's going and knows that if he looks back again now, he won't see them through the trees that he sprints by.

He has no idea how long he runs for until his lungs start begging for any kind of respite. The sun is long gone by the time he stops running, and he eventually slows down, gasping for breath to get a clear look around him. South… South… Which way is south? He briefly stops to get his sense of direction in check. He must be near Stormbearer Mountains, or maybe on the opposite side of Cider Lake and closer to Stormterror's Lair. Whichever it is, he'll be able to get a better view once he reaches a higher vantage point.

The relentless rain isn't helping him and it doesn't look like the rainstorm will let up any time soon. He's soaking wet and he coughs as uses the back of his hand to wipe rainwater from his chin. Gods, his legs hurt, his wrists sting, and his back is burning from where the agent's weapon had hit him. He pushes his hair back as he starts walking, his feet splashing against the puddles and ignores the water getting into his shoes.

He knows Dainsleif told him he would find him, but… it's been so long now. He can't say how much time has passed, but his adrenaline has worn off and he's left thoroughly exhausted. He can't keep this up, he'll collapse if he doesn't find shelter soon.

He glances over his shoulder with worry. Is he able to hold off the second harbinger? He doesn't doubt his strength, but he knows Dottore is no pushover, either. He turns back around to keep going, hugging himself to keep what little warmth he has to himself. He's miserable, in pain, cold, and tired. He wants to just go home, curl up in a warm, dry bed and wake up tomorrow morning with nothing to worry about.

Home…

He looks up from the ground, continuing to trudge through the mud with a grunt of effort. Diluc is probably wracked with inconsolable worry right now. With any luck, Adeline and Elzer can keep him from doing anything stupid, such as running off to find him. He would hate to think that he would be the reason if anything happened to the older boy.

He hopes Crepus is able to get out of whatever jail Eroch has thrown him into. He wouldn't doubt the inspector is playing dumb, telling Crepus and Master Varka that it was a mistake even though his arrest was unwarranted and downright illegal—but that's if Master Varka even knows what happened to his adopted father. He nearly trips over a tree root and stumbles a couple steps before he catches his footing.

He is lucky he hasn't come across any monsters, but even creatures of the Abyss wouldn't want to be out in this gods-awful storm. A flash of lightning makes him jump. It briefly lights up the night sky and the raindrops in front of him, reflecting the light that is gone in an instant. Thunder rumbles a few seconds later, and he curses. "Wonderful," he sarcastically mutters as the rain falls harder.

He looks around. He needs to find somewhere to hide until the storm passes. Somewhere the Fatui and monsters alike can't find him, but a place that Dainsleif can. He shivers as a wave of cold washes over him. Gods, it's freezing out here. He must be closer to Snezhnaya than he thought. How far is he from Mondstadt? He can't be too far, it hasn't been a full day since he was taken, right? Movement catches his eye and stops him in his tracks.

A figure moves in the dark and turns to face him. They step over something, a bush or tree root most likely, and a clear metallic noise reaches his ears, like a sword is being pulled out of its sheath. Lightning flashes across the sky again and he backs away from the horrifyingly familiar figure as his heart thumps harder.

This is no dream.

Reality has him panting as panic seizes him in its tight, unyielding grip.

His back hits a tree as he tries to get away. It's the same herald that killed him, the same one he saw in his dream the night before. His throat closes up, fear stopping him from saying anything to it.

The Abyss Herald stops just a few inches away and the attached blades on either arm never rise to harm him again even as it moves its arm across its chest in a deep bow. It's so close to him that he can feel the cold of cryo coming from it, and the stench of the Abyss reeks as it says in the common tongue, "My prince." Its voice far gentler than he remembers, with no hint of any ill intentions lacing its distorted voice. "We came as soon as we sensed your presence."

Kaeya's breath picks up. Dainsleif—where is Dainsleif? Why hasn't he come yet? He said he'd find him—

Before he can even think about raising his hand to throw cryo at it, the herald's hand is suddenly against his forehead, its grip cold and secure. He reaches up to push it away just as something cold penetrates through his skull. He staggers in place, held up only by the grip on his head. What's happening to him? Why… is he so tired…?

"You are finally ready, as granted by our lord," he hears it say through the waves of fatigue that wash over him. "We haven't much time. Our salvation awaits."

He falls forward and it catches him before he hits the ground. He can't move, can't speak. It's as if his limbs have frozen and turned into jelly. He's lifted up for the second time that day by an unwelcomed being, but this time he isn't thrown over a shoulder haphazardly nor struck across the back of his head. The herald takes care to bridal carry his exhausted body, holding him close like he's the most precious thing in the world and it turns toward a portal that opens nearby.

The last thing he sees is a gate of stars and a golden halo before everything goes dark.