Chapter 41 : Surtalogi's Offer

"The third," he finally concluded, his voice full of finality, "is long dead and their remains were used to create sources of power they called a Gnosis, a tragic thing. so their time is at an end, and they no longer walk amongst us."

The statement brought a pang of loss in Orion, for which he wasn't sure why. Probably because he was part of something way older and bigger than himself-a lineage of beings who had gone through trials and dangers he could hardly imagine. Now he carried that weight.

Surtalogi was silent for a while after that, his face darkening as it seemed to be a struggle for him to find the words once more. Orion did catch that shift and felt there was more to the story.

"And the second?" Orion pressed, curiosity piqued by the sudden pause.

Surtalogi's eyes flashed with something-hesitation, perhaps, or something deeper, something unsaid. "The second..." he began, his voice now more quiet, almost contemplative. "The second has been dead for the longest time, he lost an important battle and thus the world has been reshaped to the victor's will"

A shadow crossed over his face, and for a moment, Orion saw a flicker of sorrow in the otherwise impassable man. It was gone in an instant, but it had served to make Orion ponder over the importance of the second Descender. Who were they? What did they symbolize? Why was the weight of Surtalogi's voice so heavy when he spoke of them?

Orion stood in quiet, absorbing it all as the tale came to an end: the Heavenly Principles, the sealed fourth, the long-dead third, the mysterious second that was gone so long. The enormity of it weighed upon him like the threads of some titan tapestry sewed all together and he was the center.

"And now, there's me," Orion whispered, almost to himself, rather than to Surtalogi.

Surtalogi's eyes refocused on him, sharp and clear once more. "Yes, Orion," he said with loaded intention. "Now there's you. The fifth Descender."

Orions' eyes narrowed; his instincts were on fire with silent underpinning-feeling a manipulation. "Then I assume you want something from me," he said flatly, a cold undertone threading through his voice like the glint of a blade to cut the tension. He glanced sideways at Skirk, who had brought him here at such peculiar circumstances. Since she brought me here, there must be some reason behind it.

Slightly leaning back, his eyes stared intensely, though never to leave Orion. "Of course," he said with an amused smile, as though satisfied with Orion's perceptiveness. Yet before Orion could press further into this mystery, Surtalogi raised his hand. "But first, may I ask you something, Orion? Do you feel like you are getting weaker?"

Orion blinked, thrown by the question. He thought for a second, running his gaze down his body, remembering fights and trials of late. "Weaker?" No, that wasn't right. "Actually, quite the opposite."

"I am not weaker," Orion replied resolute. "If anything, I feel far stronger. Every day, the power grows. But." he stumbled as one struggle came to mind. "Except my light powers. Still can't use them right. It is as if. something holds them back."

As Orion finished speaking, he saw Surtalogi's eyes widen, glinting with some unreadable emotion. And then, to his surprise, the old man began to laugh. Not a gentle chuckle of amusement, but a full, deep, almost triumphant laugh that echoed around the room.

Orions scowled, turning to look at Skirk. But she only shook her head in a silent gesture for him not to think too hard upon it. The growing disquiet in his stomach intensified.

Until at last Surtalogi's laughter faded away, though his eyes still gleamed with mirth. He leaned forward slightly, a strange gratification seeping into his tone. "Brilliant. Just brilliant. Celestia was smart enough to curse you. They knew what kind of threat you'd pose."

Surtalogi nodded. "Yes. The mark left by Celestia. It was meant to weaken you, to restrict your light powers. But here's the thing—" He spread his arms, gesturing toward the world around them. "They can't find you here. Not in this place. And here, Orion, I will help you regain what was taken from you."

Orion folded his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing to slivers of gold. "You aren't doing this out of the goodness of your heart, are you?" His voice came flat, laced through with distrust. "What do you want?"

Surtalogi smiled, his lips twisting in a sly, knowing pattern, like a serpent coiled around its victim. "You catch on quick. I do want something from you." He fell back again, relaxed in position but commanding of manner. "I want you to meet someone and. convince him to side with us."

Orion raised an eyebrow. "Convince him?"

Surtalogi nodded, but now a shadow had fallen behind his smile. "He's not fond of me, or the others. He calls us sinners because we saw how futile the battle was, and he didn't."

"Wait, slow down." Orion's brow furrowed deeper as he struggled to understand what Surtalogi was trying to say. "Who is this person?

"Dainsleif," Surtalogi said, his voice caressing the weight of a great significance behind the name. "The Twilight Sword of Khaenri'ah, my home."

The name shifted vaguely in Orion's mind and stirred something from deep beneath. "i know about Khaenri'ah" His frown deepened as he tried to grab onto the faint threads of a dream he had almost forgotten. "Dainsleif that name… I've heard that before. In one of my dreams. a voice telling me to find him, But I didn't think much of it."

"Interesting." Surtalogi's voice sounded contemplative, as if some invisible thread of fate was weaving itself before him. "Then it is fated."

Orion said nothing for a few moments, his mind racing to put everything together. "You said he calls you sinners," Orion started, putting the pieces together. "Why?"

Surtalogi's expression hardened slightly, a grim shadow passing over his features. "Because we five 'sinners' refused to defend our homeland against the Heavenly Principles. At least, that's how Dainsleif sees it." His voice held a hint of bitterness that issued from an ancient scar, one from times long past. "Actually, we were just too weak then to defend Khaenri'ah. We had power rivaling the gods, yes, but not the divine might of Celestia. We were simply outmatched."

Orion listened closely, his head reeling under the enormity of what was being revealed to him. Khaenri'ah, Heavenly Principles, the war against Celestia—this was way beyond anything he had conceived when he had first entered this place.

The darkness in Surtalogi's eyes deepened, his voice remaining even. "Now it's different. Celestia is weakened thanks to the Tsaritsa's failed but fruitful attempt at rebellion, The tide has turned and the time has come to finish what wasn't done. Dainsleif must be made to realize that. We cannot afford for this wheel of pain to keep on. United, now, for an absolute and ultimate end to this tale of sorrow. You, Orion," Surtalogi said, his eyes piercing my soul, "are a substantial part in this battle. Your strength, your position in this world. it means so much more than you can fathom."

"So you want me to convince this Dainsleif," Orion said, his voice slow as the weight of the task before him bore down. "And if he does not listen?"

Surtalogi smiled again, though this time it was thin and cold. "Then we shall cross that bridge when we come to it."

Skirk stepped forward, her shrill voice cutting through the heavy air left in the wake of Surtalogi's words. "One more thing, Orion," she said, the violet eyes locking on his. "I dragged you here for something entirely different. Someone's looking for you in Mondstadt."

Orion's brow furrowed, suspicion creeping into his tone. "Someone? Who?"

Skirk crossed her arms, her gaze steady but serious. "I can't think of another reason he'd be there, not with how out of character it seems for him." She paused, her lips pursed as if she were considering how much to reveal. "Though I cannot get a clear idea of what he wants. I do know this much , he is powerful."

A twinge of unease pricked the base of Orion's spine. "And who that might be Skirk ?"

Skirk's eyes narrowed, her lips curled into a slight smirk. "An Archon."

Orion-who was still crossing his arms-furrowed his brow. "I thought all of the Archons were missing," he replied under obvious confusion from Skirk's own statement.

Surtalogi laughed as the laughter rumbled deep and almost mockingly from his chest. "The usurpers. missing?" he repeated, his eyes dancing with amusement. "I wish it were so for them."

Orion's eyes narrowed, more puzzled yet by the response of Surtalogi.

Surtalogi spoke further into a hue of dark comprehension. "They are not missing. They are in hiding, inactive, concealing their faces out of sight from Celestia's keen watchful eye for the time being."

Orion frowned. "Inactive?"

Surtalogi nodded, his face serious. "Yes , it has been that way since the Tsaritsa's failed rebellion, her loyal Harbingers still fight in the shadows, they are a powerful ally, like our dear Childe."

Orion's eyes narrowed, asking the one question that had been burning within him since he first encountered these creatures of the Abyss. "Are you part of the Abyss? Are you the ones sending all those monsters to the surface? I have recently come to a conclusion with a friend of mine, that they're being controlled by Celestia."

Surtalogi's face contorted, and for one quick instant, anger flashed across his features before it was covered by a placid, measured tone of voice. "Are we part of the Abyss?" he repeated, his voice low and deliberate. "We do wield abyssal powers- and powers from beyond, yes. But control over the Abyssal creatures? No, that lies with the Princess-her dominion, not ours."

He waved his hands about him in a circle, gesturing at the weird pets populating the castle. "These pets you see here, they are not of this world, much like the Abyss. But those wreaking havoc above? That is the doing of the Princess. She holds sway over them." His eyes darkened, his gaze growing distant as if memories of pain flooded his mind. "The Princess. is the twin of the fourth Descender. And like her twin, she suffered the same fate twisted by Celestia's hand."

Orion tensed, mind racing as he recalled the myths and shards of truth that he had pieced together. "The same fate?" he asked more cautiously.

Surtalogi nodded gravely. "Yes. She, too, fell under Celestia's influence, and now the two of them—twin beings marked by fate, have a measure of control over the Abyss and the ability to purify it as well. But make no mistake," his voice hardened, edged with barely-contained fury, "it was never meant to be this way. The Abyss was not their birthright. It was thrust upon them by Celestia’s actions in Khaenri’ah. Their control... is nothing more than a tragic consequence of that event."

Surtalogi's voice fell lower, flames within his eyes growing stronger as his anger enveloped him. "But they can still be saved. All of them." His hand closed into a fist, quivering with emotion. "The people of Khaenri'ah,. they aren't lost. They can be freed from the curse binding them to the Abyss, free from the punishment of Celestia, by destroying the Heavenly principles. "

Surtalogi's words hung in the air, heavy with weight as Orion tried to process it all-the rebellion of the Tsaritsa, the Harbingers, the curse of Celestia-a web of allegiances and betrayal, of power struggles, unsteadying him. His brain swirled with questions; his fingers tightened on his polearm as he tried to make sense of it all.

Orion shook his head. Frustration was there, in his gold eyes. "By this stage," he began, low-voiced, almost to himself rather than them, "I don't know who's right or who's wrong anymore."

He paced a few feet, his eyes drifting to the ground beneath his feet. "I thought I understood, at least a bit, this world in terms of good and evil, order and chaos-but now." He broke off, abruptly exhaling, confusion and anger mixed into his tone. "Celestia, the Archons, the Harbingers, you. everyone seems to be fighting their own battles, pulling strings behind the scenes."

He looked up at Surtalogi and Skirk, his eyes reflecting turmoil that had been inside. "I'm caught right in the middle of it all, marked by Celestia, hunted by an Archon, and now you're telling me I'm some kind of Descender? How am I supposed to trust anyone?" His voice rose with frustration.

His eyes darted between them. "What if the ones I thought were good are no better than the so-called 'villains'? What if I'm fighting for the wrong side without even realizing it?"

There was deep vulnerability in his voice, something so unlike the strong and composed Orion. He wasn't bewildered; he was exhausted-weary from the uncertainty seeming to have no end, weary of the loyalities shifting by whim of anyone's word, and an overwhelming feeling whatever he chose, he was but a piece to be moved in another man's game.

He ceased his pacing and turned to Surtalogi. His voice was quieter now, but no less determined: "How do I know who to fight for. or if I should even fight at all?"