The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 23

Sapientia Oromasdis 23: Caelestis Cantor 

Awaken. 

She awoke early in the morning to get the rice going. Rain was spattering against the windows, something she enjoyed, even if the boys would track mud into her house from it. The first to awaken was her husband, Tony. He was insensate early in the mornings, and she had learned long ago not to talk to him until he’d had at least a few minutes to wake up, and he’d learned to always come and give her a kiss.

“Good morning,” she whispered, returning the kiss and handing him a cup of coffee with creamer in it. 

“Mmm,” Tony grunted, forcing a smile. He groaned softly as he sat. He wasn’t sleeping well at night, though truth be told, neither was she. Neither of them were young anymore. 

The next to awaken was her oldest, Anthony Junior. He was already dressed, and he’d inherited her habits even as a teenager. “Good morning mama,” he said, smiling as she handed him a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning, here, give this to your father,” She said, handing Anthony two bowls of rice with fish. They were fresh bangas she’d picked up the night before. 

“Mmm. Good,” her husband said, taking a bite of fish. She joined them at the table with a cup of coffee of her own, sweetened with a little cream and sugar. 

Then it was Miguel and Tomas who awoke at roughly the same time, coming out and greeting her before sitting down to eat their own breakfast. She had to go rouse her youngest, Luis, shaking him until he managed to get himself up and join the family at the breakfast table. 

By 7:00, she had the boys dressed, and the family was heading out the door for morning mass. They walked of course, gas was very expensive, and while they were lucky enough to have a car, it was for her husband's work, not for simply driving two kilometers to mass. They had to use umbrellas of course, as it was still raining, and she did her best to avoid the mud. 

They were nearly there when the Endbringer alarms went off. 

For a moment, she froze, looking around in terror. “Holy Mother protect us,” she gasped. It would be the Behemoth. The Raiden Shogun had slain the Leviathan, so that was a small mercy, but-

“Mama! There!” Tomas cried, pointing up.

She looked up, wide-eyed, as a figure descended below the clouds, which were rapidly moving away from it. 

“It looks like an angel,” Miguel pointed out, clutching at her legs. 

“No, no, we must go to the shelter, come quickly!” she ordered. They all hurried to the church, which was where the community shelter was. Father Domingo was outside, frantically motioning the stream of people inside. “Hurry, hurry!” he ordered. 

Inside, it was crowded, stifling, and dark. The shelter was little more than a reinforced concrete bunker, and the bottom of it was flooded, making things even more uncomfortable. She huddled inside with her family as Father Domingo led them in hours of prayer. She prayed that God would deliver them, that the Raiden Shogun would come, that anything would happen. 

Then, the song began. At first, she could only gasp in pain and try to cover her children’s ears. But as the song continued, something began to change. Rage began to fill her. Endless, total, panicky anger, that DEMANDED she fight. She could feel herself strangling Tomas, even as he clawed at her and Miguel bit her arm. Her husband and eldest were rolling on the floor, trying to batter one another’s brains in. 

She finally wrangled the life from her middle son, then used his body to bludgeon her youngest to death. Her own death came when a stranger clawed her eyes out and left her to bleed out in the abattoir that the shelter had become. 

Gasping, Ziz came back to herself. She had been that woman, whose name she didn’t even know. She looked around in horror, her eyes watching as the rest of the humans in the shelter slaughtered on another, the old and the young, families and strangers, all lost in an orgy of violence. 

“I…I did this…” Ziz whispered, tears filling her eyes. She tried to fight off the pain. She was an Endbringer. This was what she was meant to do. But she could only hug herself and crouch in the blood stained water, looking at the empty sockets of this nameless woman who she had been for a few short hours. 

This seventh dream is for the lives you have taken. For the sorrow you have wrought. Know the suffering you have inflicted upon others. 

“I fucking get it, OK!?” Ziz snarled, standing up and whirling. Nahida was standing there, looking mournful. “Fuck off! This is the second time I’ve had to live through the hell I’ve wrought now, plus all that other weird garbage! Just get it over with and fight me!”

Then you have yet to gain wisdom. This simulation will now reset. 

“NO! I JUST WANT TO BE FREE!” Ziz screamed, and lept at Nahida.

Simulation 0.6993% complete. Resetting.

Helplessly, Ziz was consumed by the visions once more. 

Sleep. Dream. 

Awaken.

The time of Testing was at hand. 

She had just been born. Awoken by her Father to prove that he alone was Worthy, that these new beings they called Archons were of no real consequence. 

Still. She would avoid the Lightning’s Glow. That being had slaughtered her brother in but a single blow after playing with him like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. And so, she would avoid the island archipelago off the eastern coast of the largest continent. Instead, she had a much better target in mind. 

Munich. 

By the Data she had collected, it was the birthplace of a strange thing, one they labeled “The Anemo Archon.” Venti Luft. A silly name, for a creature of pure fancy. What had this supposed Archon done thus far? Collected a mid-sized band of test subjects and these new specimens? Pathetic. This creature’s powers were far below hers. For she was an Endbringer. And she would prove herself Worthy. 

She manipulated events from the shadows. Messages on the internet. Scrambled or intercepted wireless signals. Now, the Specimen Cluster calling itself the Gesellschaft was aligned to oppose Venti and his own group. They were already exchanging blows, but Venti had yet to reveal himself. Still, she could detect him in the area, though not pinpoint him exactly. 

But he had brought the weapons of his own demise to this battlefield. 

She appeared directly above the city, descending down from the troposphere rapidly. Alarms sounded below her, and she would have smiled if she had been capable of such things. As it was, she merely spread her wings…and began to sing. 

It was not a true song in the sense that the specimens understood it. It was instead a psychic assault that rewrote neural pathways, causing madness, and ultimately placing the specimens under her complete control. The ones in the Gesellschaft were particularly vulnerable to her attack, at least in part because so many of them were already mentally weak thanks to their own kind’s pathetic attempts at brainwashing, and also because many of them were part of her own mostly inert network thanks to their Shards. 

She was just driving the populace to madness and bloodlust when a new song began. She barely noticed at first, only, within moments, this song began to overwrite her own, undoing all her brainwashing. She continued her song, attempting to amplify the psychic assault. This was only ordinary music! Only, it was coming as one song, from a million voices, singing in counterpoint to her own solo performance. 

Graceful, charming and sweet is the sound

Of our life's harmonies,

and from a sense of beauty arise

Flowers which eternally bloom.

Peace and joy advance in perfect concord,

like the changing play of the waves.

All that was harsh and hostile,

has turned into sublime delight.

Infuriated, she began to detect a strange power in the words, unlike anything previously measured. Well. It was useful data at last. Still, this was annoying. She began to fire off blasts of kinetic energy, both to level the city, and to destroy some of these specimens that dared to resist her. 

Only, her blasts were met with a wall of wind. And a new winged angel appeared over Munich. 

Hello, Winged One. I see your song brings Tyranny. But it is but one voice. Mine brings freedom. And there are many voices to join my chorus. 

At last. Venti showed himself. Redirecting her attacks, she prepared to scour this creature from existence. 

I see you are bound by chains. Were I to free you, what would you do, I wonder? 

Enslave and destroy every one of these pathetic creatures until I had wrung every last drop of data from them, then kill my father and prove that I am Worthy. 

Then you are nothing but a monster. A pity. But I have dealt with your kind before.

Her attacks connected with the subject known as Venti, her assault ready to rip him to shreds and then-

The barrage of power that should have been enough to level the entire city was blown away like a leaf on the wind. And an arrow with the force of a hurricane struck her full on. 

Mostly, she was simply knocked off balance. It was certainly a powerful blow, but she was an Endbringer. A few feathers were lost, nothing more. She redoubled her efforts. 

But her attacks were stymied, again and again. More arrows poured in, blasting her down, down, towards the city. She tried to gain height, to gain an advantage. She even revealed some of the Tinkertech she’d covertly stolen before this operation, but it proved useless in even targeting the angel that sprinted across the heavens. Still, she persisted. It was only wind. 

Then the first laser beam struck her. She snarled in pain, recognizing the source. The Specimen known as Legend. She whirled to try and attack it, but a bolt of lightning struck her. At first she thought it was the Lightning’s Glow by its exotic nature, and fear pulsed in her. But no. It was too weak. It was merely one of that new sort, nothing to be concerned about. She would not be-

Another arrow struck her, and now, infused with the lightning, energy crackled and radiated through her, pulses of pain that stripped away layers of protection. A wrinkle she had not accounted for. When this wind mixed with the electricity, a new reaction occurred. Fascinating, but this was growing serious.

She pulled out all the stops, unleashing every bit of Tinkertech, suborning new shards to use, intensifying her psychic assaults. 

It was useless. Like spitting into the wind. More and more specimens joined the fight, even as arrows continued to drive her further and further down. An annoyingly durable specimen that kept shouting stupid catch phrases like “Oni Punch” began to leap up and attack her as she neared the ground. She swatted the pest away, but he just kept getting back up, and he’d gotten a tinkertech sword that hurt. 

There were dozens of specimens now. Nearly a hundred. All of them attacking her at once. She was desperate now, simply trying to stay alive and stave them off, but she couldn’t manage it! The arrows had her pinned now, and she was simply covering herself with her bare and bloody wings, trying to fight off the specimens that had come in for the kill. 

A horrible realization came over her. She was no longer the predator. She was the prey. And she was dying. 

She attempted to flee, but she found the winds denied her flight. That was impossible! She flew by psychic might, not simple physics! But the air would not bear her, and her songs were useless. All the while, the mortals continued to sing! Joyous anthem after anthem, as they worked together as one to attack her. 

She screamed and slashed, trying to thin their numbers. But the winds protected them! None of her blows would land! She tripped and slid like a clumsy oaf, her powers blunted, her body wearing down. It was death by a thousand cuts. 

Finally, exhausted, spent, and broken, a team of the specimens working together finally knocked her flat. She struggled uselessly, but another barrage of lasers exposed her core, peeling away her final protective layer. And two female specimens, one wielding wind, the other lightning, drove weapons with properties she did not understand deep within her. She shuddered, and went still. Not yet completely dead, but her core cracked and exposed. 

The last thing she saw was Venti ripping her core from her broken body and replacing it with a fake. Her final fate, to be given over to the Lightning’s Glow as simple material. 

Ziz looked down at her old body, broken and dead, and felt sick. She turned to Nahida, who was standing beside her as always. “Is…is that really how it would have gone if I’d faced Barbatos instead of Khonsu?”

With 97% probability. Though this is one of your better showings. There was only a .2% chance of you achieving any form of victory. He is a victor of the Archon War. His power is matched by few, and his cunning by none. 

“Well ain’t this some Charles Dickens shit,” Ziz muttered, shuddering. “Ok, look, I get it. I can’t beat you either. Fine. I take another stupid oath, and you let me go. Alright?”

This two-hundred-and-eighteenth dream was given to you to show you of other possible fates. To remind you that no matter how powerful you are, there is another above you. 

“Yeah, thanks I think I got that after the one where Raiden fucking cut me in half in about 10 nano seconds!” Ziz snarled, but she felt sick to her heart. That had been completely humiliating. Raiden had simply teleported in above Davao, sliced Ziz in half, then taken what was left of her body and vanished, all in less time than it took someone to blink.

Then you begin to gain wisdom. 

“Please, just end it! I beg you!” Ziz cried, clutching at Nahida’s arm in desperation. She didn’t know how many more of these she could take. 

Simulation 21.778% complete. Resetting. 

Ziz could only weep as the world was wiped away once more. 

Sleep. Dream. 

She was poor and destitute. She was rich and pampered. She was old, she was young. She lived life as an ordinary human, she was a powerful god. She was even an Endbringer. She saved the world. She destroyed the world. She visited Teyvat. She lived for days and weeks and months and years, or died within a single day, within hours, within minutes, within seconds. Nahida was there in the dream, her friend and comfort. She was her enemy and punishment and karma. She was Nahida’s killer. They were mother and daughter, then daughter and mother; they were strangers who showed passing mercy to one another. She even rescued Nahida from the Sages, and became her loyal follower. A thousand dreams. A thousand more sins to be expunged. 

Awaken. 

Ziz opened her eyes. She was in the Sanctuary of Surasthana again. Nahida sat on the dais, looking at her. Ziz took a deep breath, then slowly walked over and sat down beside Nahida.

“So…this is number 1001, huh?” she asked quietly. 

“Yes. After this, I will battle you no more,” Nahida confirmed. “You will be free to go.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Ziz looked down at her feet, quiet for a long time. She took out her Vision, clutching it in her hand. This wasn’t the first time she’d had it. By her count, she’d had it for 348 of these visions. Mostly in the latter half. “I could have broken out earlier, couldn’t I?”

“If you had truly wished to do so. But you did not, did you?” Nahida asked. Though it wasn’t really a question.

Mutely, Ziz shook her head. “No. By the time I figured out how…I guess I wanted to see how it would end. Collect all that data, you know?” she gave a weak laugh. “...Though… I guess it would be easier to just call it curiosity.”

“We are bound by our very natures. Tell me, Caelestis Cantor. What is your nature now?”

Nahida looked at Ziz with those big eyes, the eyes of a child, and yet not. They were so innocent and pure, and yet…they were the eyes of an immortal god. “I…I think I know, now. I’m not what I once was.”

“Such was the purpose of these Visions,” Nahida said with a nod. “So tell me. What do you define your purpose as now?”

Ziz clutched her Vision, meeting Nahida’s gaze evenly. “To be free.” 

“And?” Nahida prompted.

“And…and to ensure that mankind is free is well,” Ziz admitted. She grimaced. “Why’d you have to go and do it? All those lives. Nearly all of them, I was just…human. I was already starting to get it, I guess. Why they live. Their yearning to be free, and for so much more. Their love, their hate, their ignorance, and their wisdom. Damn you, Buer. You…you made me care.”

“I gave you time to grow. For some, it takes longer than others,” Nahida said with a mischievous smile. Then she turned somber. “You will always be feared and loathed for what you were. For what you did. You know this.”

“I…do,” Ziz admitted. She swallowed. “How many times did you make me live it out? Davao. Madison. Ulaanbaatar. I…oh…gods, I…” Ziz couldn’t help it. She started weeping. She’d lived out so many of those lives. One hundred forty-eight. One hundred forty-eight times of seeing death descend. Of seeing herself slaughter indiscriminately. She’d not always been driven mad right away. Sometimes, she was a bomb, waiting to go off, seeing horror and tragedy spread around her. Only a few times did she see herself again, and was rescued from that horrific fate. 

Nahida stood, standing on the dias to wrap her arms around Ziz. Despite herself, Ziz hugged Nahida back. How she craved this touch. Endbringers were not social creatures. They had no concept of bonds or family, beyond their hatred of their creator and the desire to dominate. But now…now, Ziz needed hugs. Like she needed the wind under her wings. 

“Know this: Your sins are now forgiven. They have been washed away and paid,” Nahida said.

“Because I died so many times?” Ziz whispered. 

“No. No amount of death can ever pay for a life taken. No amount of suffering can ever be recompense for suffering inflicted. Nothing you could ever do would balance the scales of karma,” Nahida told Ziz. 

“Then…how?” Ziz asked, feeling hopeless. 

Nahida gave her a sad smile. “I paid.”

“You!? But, you’re innocent! Shit, I doubt you’ve done a single selfish or evil thing in your entire life, long as it is!” Ziz protested. 

“Not quite. But yes. Because I myself owe no debts, I may pay your price. This is the burden of divinity,” Nahida said seriously. “We may pay what our children cannot.”

“But…what price did you pay?” Ziz asked, feeling sick.

“To know the pain and loss of all those you wronged. To know all the grief and sorrow, and to say this: I forgive you, Ziz. And I love you.” 

Ziz couldn’t help it. She squeezed Nahida even tighter, and blubbered like a human baby. How long that lasted, she couldn’t say. Time didn’t seem to exist here in this Dream. 

“Thank you. Thank you, so much,” Ziz hiccuped when she at last ran out of tears. 

“You are welcome,” Nahida agreed, dabbing at her own eyes with a leaf, then passing it to Ziz. 

“Some people are going to say I still deserve to die,” Ziz said, blowing her nose loudly and tossing the leaf away. “That this isn’t justice.”

“Perhaps they are right. But I am the Spirit of Wisdom. Not Justice. Mine is not to deliver wrath and condemnation. But to show the way. And for you, Ziz, that means the way to freedom and life.” Nahida turned, and the door to the sanctuary swung open. 

“This Dream has come to an end. But we will meet again. I am afraid that it will be three more turns of the Endbringer Cycle before our fates once more intertwine.”

“But…I’m not an Endbringer anymore. Not really,” Ziz pointed out. “And you said I was free.”

“You are. But I think you truly understand freedom now. Those who are truly free are bound by chains that they themselves weave. Tell me. Will you use your freedom to break free of the Cycle your siblings are bound to?”

“No. No, of course not! If I did that, they’d just ramp it up! There would be so much more death and destruction! Shit, Nahida, why don’t we just fight the Twins, and Behemoth!” she took hold of Nahida’s shoulder, heart racing. “We could do it, together! We could crush them! End the Cycle!” 

“And another, worse cycle would begin again. The King of Demons sleeps no longer. He will have his conflict. And there is only so much data from our bouts you can feed him,” Nahida said forlornly. “You are a creature of the Dead God. But he could make his own.”

To her horror, Ziz realized that Nahida was right. If she did abandon the Cycle, or worse, rebel, then that fucker Scion would step in and destroy her. Not Nahida perhaps, thank Freedom for that, but Ziz would be doomed, and Scion would either create new Endbringers, or something worse. 

No, she could only grant humanity a reprieve. A small price to pay for her sins. Forgiven or not, Ziz felt she had to try to try to make things right still. That’s what real repentance was, right? If she didn’t, she would be spitting on the sacrifice Nahida had made on her behalf. 

“Ok. Alright. We’ll do it as often as we can. Shit, maybe I’ll play fight with one of your other friends at some point. It could be fun, at least. Just, um, not Farasha. She scares me,” Ziz said with a wince. 

“There will come a day when that is necessary perhaps, but no. Go now, Ziz. I send you to follow the course your stars have charted for you. You are no mortal. Fate’s decrees are much stricter with one such as you.”

“But I thought I was free!” Ziz protested. “I’m not going to do what stupid fate tells me!” 

Nahida smiled. “You have much wisdom to yet gain. Fate does not decree what you must do, Ziz. Only what you will. Time is but an illusion you must break free of, or this world is truly doomed. You know to whom you must turn.”

Ziz thought about that, tapping into her shard. She found she could do that now. After a bit of calculation, she groaned. “Oh, hell. Seriously? HIM?!”

“Yes. It was Raiden’s plan initially, but as in so many things, Barbatos seems to be getting others to do his work for him. I am afraid it is your turn,” Nahida said with a smile. She gave Ziz one last hug. “Goodbye, my beloved friend. I love you.”

“I…I love you too. You stupid radish,” Ziz sniffed. “Like, a kid sister or something. I’m not a pervert like that golden jerk.”

“I know. Our relationship will be complicated, but we have a very long time to unravel it. Provided we succeed,” Nahida said with a smile. 

Ziz nodded, then let Nahida go. She turned towards the door, and stepped out of the sanctuary and into the light. 

The bright desert sun blinded Ziz for a moment, and she blinked. She’d nearly forgotten she was above Mecca still. Quickly, she formulated a plan. She saw now what this was. Nahida had brought her here for a purpose. What better way to unite the Muslim world and calm the various fractious sons of Ibrahim than to save the holy city from the devil herself? 

NO! Ziz screamed, playing up her role. THE LIGHT! THE LIGHT OF ALLAH! AHHHH! NOT THE STONES!

Nahida slung seven pebbles at Ziz, which exploded in a very pretty display of Dendro against her. It actually stung quite a bit. She didn’t have to actually hurt Ziz, dammit! 

CURSE YOU! SHAYTAN CURSE YOU AND TAKE YOU, BUER! 

Be gone, evil. I abjure you, in the name of Allah and the Prophet, Nahida said. The cheeky brat even winked at Ziz!

Squawking in outrage, Ziz raced back upwards, her body departing for the edge of the atmosphere. 

She, however, did not. She exited that body as a gust of wind, and let herself be blown miles and miles north, across the hills and desert, until she came to the Iraqi border. Then she landed, taking on her natural form. 

Natural form. Ziz looked down at herself. She was dressed in white, almost like a pilgrim herself. Two arms, two legs, and a head. The only truly notable features were her amber eyes and white wings in her feathery hair. 

“You know, why the fuck do I have mammaries? I’m a bird!” She shook her head and shrugged. Well, she sure as shit wasn’t laying any eggs. Besides. She liked this appearance now. It felt…right. 

She lay back on the rough ground, gazing up at the stars. The sky wheeled overhead, and it was half the night before she saw them. 

Her stars. Caelestis Cantor.

She could make out the connection between them. It had just been a random grouping before, but now…she saw herself outlined there. An owl, singing silently in the night. 

“Fucking weird if you ask me. Owl’s don’t sing,” she muttered, but she smiled to herself. Yes. That was right. That was her. 

She studied those stars, but for the life of her, she couldn’t find her fate in them at all. Maybe Anemo was just shit at reading fate. Ah well. Be pretty fucking boring if she knew what was going to happen anyway. 

She turned into an owl, bigger than an ordinary Ptilopsis leucotis, but still, an African Northern White Faced Owl. 

It took her several days, flying along the rim of the Mediterranean and then into Central Europe, but at last, she reached Zugspize, just across the Austrian border in Bavaria. She was struggling as she reached the peak, her wings flapping madly, but the winds bore her up. 

She alighted on a cross of gold set atop the peak, though she did note that someone had placed two large aquamarines carved with the anemo sigil in them on both sides at the center. 

The wind blew, and a small sprite appeared. Why hello there! I’ve been expecting you for a while. How’s Buer? Not working herself too hard I hope! 

Ziz transformed, taking on human shape again, and frowned at the wind sprite. “Cut the crap, Barbatos. Fine. I’m here. Train me or whatever.”

Haha! Oh, we shall. Fear not. But, I’m afraid I’m a mite insubstantial at the moment. It’ll be a long time before I’m fully corporeal again. 

That made Ziz’s heart race. “Uh, not like, centuries or whatever, right? Because we don’t have that long.”

No, no, nothing like that. But a year or two I think. However, in the meantime, I found a spectacular substitute!

“You can’t be fucking serious. I’m the fucking Simurgh! I can’t double for the Angel of Munich!” Ziz protested. “People HATE me. They love you. Plus, you know, if you were serious, you could mop the floor with me.”

By the time I’m done with you Ziz, I expect you to be a match for any Archon, the wind sprite said, and this time, there was no humor in its voice. I had to show the world, and the Sustainer in particular, my hand well before I wanted to. But you’ll be my ace in the hole. You know what it is you must become. 

“I…think so? I’m not totally clear. But this is one of those unspoken plan things, isn’t it? Plus, if we do say it aloud…” she glanced around, though she knew full well the Warrior’s Avatar was nowhere close. 

Exactly. But yes. I was on the lookout for my very own Mushu! You’ll get all the same duties that good ole Beezy’s pets do. 

“Great. So you’re saying I have to clean up your messes and do your work for you while you goof off,” Ziz said, folding her arms over her chest and huffing in irritation. 

Ehe! You know me too well. But, first things first. There are a couple of people I want you to meet. They’ve been expecting you…

Naomi lay with her head on the table, staring at her glass of wine. Capri was leaning back with her head staring up at the ceiling, both of them quiet. The rebuilt Feisty Ferret was open for business once more, but the mood was somber. Despite the supposed victory of driving the Tsaritsa out of Poland, no one felt much like celebrating. 

There was a new picture in the shrine in the corner, next to the picture of Gunter. “Leon Schultz. 1947-2005. Our guiding star. He died as he lived, fighting for the freedom of all.”

He’d been killed treating the wounds of the injured in Riga before a Fatui attack had killed him. No one had thought he’d pick his Vision back up and go to war, but he had. And he’d paid with his life, as so many others had. 

The bar had been passed to Francois, who had been the cook for many years. He and his boyfriend, Hans, would see to it that Ferret stayed open, and honored the memory of the founders. It would remain a haven for those who had nowhere else to go. 

Still, the atmosphere was somber. Capri and Naomi had brought their instruments, but with Venti out of commission, they didn’t feel much like playing. Instead, they just moped in the corner, nursing their drinks. 

“So, what the fuck do you think is up with the Servant?” Capri asked. 

Naomi lifted her head up slightly and shrugged. “I guess he’s free now. Mind controlled. He’s still in jail, but Yen says he’ll get off. She’s already left for Paris. Something about her little sister getting a Cryo Vision.” 

“That’s gonna go over real fuckin’ well,” Capri muttered, but nodded. “I guess. Shit. At least Amber’s OK.”

That wasn’t what Naomi would call it. She’d been put under house arrest when she’d been caught making plans to sneak into Russia. The psychs were evaluating if she still had any mind control on her, but Naomi believed she simply wanted to hold to an oath she’d made to the Princess not to try to escape. 

It had been only two weeks since the end of The Great Storm. The war continued, but only in a desultory fashion. The great mountains that had arisen prevented any meaningful movement of troops, and the perpetual storms above them made flying over them nearly impossible, save for the hardiest of capes. That left a small naval action and few raids, but nothing of note. Most of the Protectorate had already withdrawn, as had the Knights of Favonius. Where Poland would ultimately fall in the geopolitical landscape was still a question, but more and more it seemed they leaned towards the Knights. 

For Capri and Naomi, it had been a grief-filled time, as they mourned the loss of their constant friend and companion. Venti had promised he would return, but when, they could only guess. What “soon” meant to an ageless immortal angel was anyone’s guess. 

“Who do you think the helper is that Venti said he’d send to us?” Naomi asked, setting her head back down on the table and closing her eyes. 

“I dunno, babe. I dunno. But I hope they come soon. Shit. Sounds like the Holy Spirit or something,” Capri grumbled, picking up her stein of beer and chugging it down. 

Just then, the wind blew the door open and rattled the windows. A few glanced up at the new patron as she stepped inside. She was wearing a grey hoodie, but amber eyes glowed from under the hood. A few stiffened until the newcomer took out an Anemo Vision from a silver chain around her neck and hung it visibly. That made everyone relax. Here in Munich, those blessed by Lord Barbados would always be welcome.

“Welcome to the Fiesty Ferret, can I get you anything?” Francois asked, waving from behind the bar. 

“A mojito,” the stranger said, then walked over and sat down with Capri and Naomi, despite neither of them more than glancing at her. “Sup.”

“We’re not doing autographs,” Capri said with a scowl as Naomi sat up. 

“Relax, dear. Hello. I’m Naomi, and this my wife, Capri. I’m afraid we’re not doing performances today, and if you’re looking to join the Knights, we’re not exactly recruiters, but we’re always welcoming to those blessed by Lord Barbatos.”

“I’m not here to join the fucking Knights,” the stranger said with a scowl. She really did have striking amber eyes, along with rather pale features. Her hair was white with black highlights poking out, though it did look rather odd. Almost like feathers. 

“Then why the fuck did you come sit down with us? We didn’t invite you,” Capri growled. 

Naomi shot her a look, but then whipped her head around when the stranger said, “I’m here to join your damn band.”

Both Naomi and Capri stared at the stranger for a long moment as Francois brought over the mojito, then swiftly departed. He could sense a storm brewing along with the others, who were turning away. 

Then Capri threw her head back and laughed. “Ha-ha! Join the Tone Deaf Bards!? Lady, do you have any idea what you’re asking? Shit, that’s actually funny! Well, you’re good for a laugh if nothing else.”

“Ah, I’m afraid that the Tone Deaf Bards are definitely not recruiting. Or touring,” Naomi said firmly, a frown creasing her lips. “Our leader isn’t present at the moment, and any prospective members would need to go through him.”

In response, the stranger held her hand out to the side. Capri and Naomi were instantly on their feet, knocking their drinks over along with the table as they pulled their weapons out of their visions. Then an all too familiar lyre dropped into the stranger’s hand. 

“Great. You fucking ruined my drink! I don’t even know how the hell I’m going to pay for it, seeing as I don’t have any money,” the newcomer said in disgust. 

“Where…where did you get that?” Naomi gulped, her eyes locked to Venti’s lyre. 

“Where the fuck do you think? Some annoying wind sprite gave it to me and palmed his job off on me while he takes a fucking nap,” the stranger snapped.

“It’s alright everyone,” Capri said, raising her voice. The entire bar had started to clear out in a hurry, save for a couple of other capes who’d pulled weapons themselves. “We’re just a little tense. Sorry about the mess.”

Naomi dismissed her weapon and grabbed a towel from a trembling Francois to clean up the spilled drinks, while Capri righted the table. Francois hurried over with refills, then hastily departed. 

“Put it on their tab! I’m not fucking paying twice,” the newcomer called, then turned back and scowled at Capri, who was staring at the lyre on the table. “Well?”

“Let’s start over,” Naomi said, forcing a smile onto her face. Just who the heck was this foul-mouthed girl? She looked like she was maybe eighteen, though something about her was distinctly supernatural. “I'm Naomi Cohen, this is my wife, Capri. We’re the Tone Deaf Bards. And you are?”

“The Simurgh. You might have heard of me,” the stranger drawled. 

Naomi let out a nervous chuckle and looked worriedly at Capri, who was scanning the bar. Her wife leaned over the table and whispered, “That had either be a fucking joke, or you’d better hope no one heard you. Now. If you are the Simurgh, know that I have the fucking Raiden Shogun on speed dial, and she will be here as fast as you can snap your fingers if I so much as press a button.”

The supposed Endbringer’s pupils instantly dilated, her hair flicking back like a pair of ears on a whipped dog as she cringed and looked about wildly. “Don’t! Oh gods, please don’t! Beezelbul doesn’t even know about- shit, please, I’m sorry! Look, just call me Ziz! I’m not- fuck, look, this is going to be complicated to explain, uh, shit, can we go somewhere private? Please, please PLEASE don’t call Beezelbul! I don’t want to go the same way my brother did! Call Nahida! Please, just ask her! She knows!” 

Naomi felt a growing sense of dread, cringing away from the Simurgh and grabbing Capri, who was surprisingly calm. “Uh huh. Hey, Itul!” 

“Uh, yeah Capri?” the big lug called. He was hovering nearby, his sword resting on his shoulder, a scowl on his face. 

“Call your girlfriend. Tell her we might need her boss if things go south.”

“Huh? Uh, ok! Yeah, you try anything, and you’ll be drowning in ninjas! I’m Itul ‘Numero Uno’ Armsburst, and I fought the Prince and lived! So you can damn well better believe I can take you!” 

The Simurgh relaxed slightly, turning and sneering at Itul. “You? So you took a Harbinger. Big whoop. I’d kick the Sleeper’s ass if I had to. He’s not so tough.”

“Lady, are you crazy!? Who the hell is this, Naomi? Should I fight her? I bet I could take her!” Itul boasted, puffing his chest out.

“Francois! We’re taking the back room,” Capri called, and grabbed the Simurgh, whose hood had fallen off, revealing a pair of wings in her hair. “Looks like we got an awakened beast. She seems to have run into Lord Barbatos, so we’re gonna have a heart-to-heart.”

There was a sudden cheer from the bar, and the Simurgh looked startled for a moment as she was hauled away by Capri and Naomi. “Hey, hands off! No one clips my wings! That asshole thinks he can take me? I outta-”

“You gonna be well behaved or he really will call his Girlfriend, who’s number 2 at the Shumattsuban,” Capri hissed as they dragged the Endbringer, she really must be an Endbringer, into the back room and slammed the door. The back room was a space that was normally just for the staff or touring bands, held a couch and some chairs, a couple of mirrors, lockers, and a small table to sit at. 

Naomi hastily put up a windbarrier to suppress eavesdroppers, and turned back to the Simrugh, holding up the Lyre. “Where and how did you get this? If you harmed Lord Barbatos-”

“Relax,” the bird woman growled. She’d managed to grab her drink, and she went over to the couch in the corner and slumped down to slurp at it noisily. “No, I didn’t hurt Venti. Wouldn’t have this still if I did, would I?” She held up her Vision, which made Capri and Naomi exchange looks.

“Ok, say you really are the Simurgh. You have some explaining to do,” Capri said, pulling over a chair and sitting in it with her arms crossed. Naomi sat with her, crossing her legs nervously and staring at the odd woman. 

“Well, I was,” Ziz said, scowling. “I’m not really anymore. Shit. Look, you know how it started. Back in ‘03, in Baghdad. It was my turn in the rotation, and I-”

The story that poured out over the next several hours was one that required copious amounts of alcohol. Naomi ended up going through an entire bottle of red wine on her own, while Capri finished off seven beers. The Simurgh for her part drank her way through half of the cocktail menu. 

And Hashim help her, Naomi was increasingly certain this woman WAS the Simurgh. 

“-so anyway, Nahida sent me to Venti. He and I chatted on top of Zugspize. Plan is, I join your band, and, uh…sort of become a dragon.”

“A dragon,” Naomi said, her mind half-hazed by the wine.

“Course. Why the fuck not?” Capri laughed. “I suppose you’ll be Venti’s mount!” 

“No one bridles me!” Ziz hissed, her eyes going half feral. Then she coughed. “Though, uh, possibly. I don’t know how this all works. Shit, no one’s explicitly said I’m becoming the Anemo Dragon, but, uh, I think that’s what’s happening. Honestly, I’m kinda lost. I mean, I’ve lived approximately 100 years in various lives now, but, well, honestly I sort of feel like a lost kid. Guess that’s why I look like a teenager. Though if you breathe a fucking WORD of any of that to anyone, I will make you suffer.”

“Oh hell. She really is a teenager,” Capri groaned, grabbing Naomi and putting her head against Naomi’s shoulder. “I’m not ready to have a teenager, Naomi! I wanted at least a cute baby first!” 

“You…you want kids?” Naomi asked, her heart fluttering slightly. 

“Gods no,” Capri snorted, sitting up, and Naomi felt an immediate and immense sense of relief. “I’d be a shit mom.”

“That’s not true. You’d be a great mom. But, um, I don’t think a traveling rock band is a great environment to raise children,” Naomi said, and tittered tipsily. Then she turned to Ziz. “Ok. So. you’re the helper Venti said he’d send. So…now what?”

“Well, uh…” Ziz blinked. “Um, honestly I don’t fucking know. I guess…huh. I mean, I still have a bunch of bombs I have to diffuse… although…” She looked contemplative, and Capri snapped. 

“Well, spit it out! What?” 

“I mean…we could just play music and broadcast it. It would probably work. I think I can figure out how Venti does it, or just ask him,” Ziz muttered, stroking the lyre. She’d taken it back and had it across her lap now. “I bet…yeah. We could go on tour, record an album…people would hear it…and be free.”

Naomi sucked in a breath and then glanced at Capri. “That…that could work.”

“Super. Those Endbringer powers come with how to play an instrument?” Capri demanded bluntly. 

Ziz flushed, then stood up. She went over to the lockers, throwing them open and glancing inside. After a moment, she took out a well-worn base guitar. Then she reached for Capri’s own electric guitar. 

“You touch my Carmen, and I break your fingers,” Capri growled, standing and cracking her knuckles.

“Oh fine. Then suit up! Can I play an instrument? Fucker. I’ll show you!” Ziz snarled. 

A minute later, and Capri, Naomi, and Ziz were all up on stage. It was just after 10pm, and the evening crowd was in full swing. Everyone looked up expectantly, cheering excitedly to see Capri and Naomi take the stage. However, when Capri took the mic, Ziz snatched it away, prompting a raised eyebrow from Capri.

“Hey you freedom loving fuckers! HOW YOU FEELIN’ TONIGHT!?” Ziz yelled. 

That got a hearty cheer and roar from the crowd, who raised their drinks to her. 

“You know who these two are, so I ain’t introducing them. As for me? Well, you can call me Ziz. Venti’s slacking off again, so I’m here instead. Now who’s ready to hear some fucking MUSIC!?” 

That got a much less enthused cheer, but Ziz turned to Capri and Naomi. “You know Rage Against the Machine?”

“Yeah,” Capri said with a shrug, and Naomi nodded hesitantly. 

“Good. I’ll coordinate. Same as Venti did. You just let the wind flow through you and the music will come,” Ziz snapped. “NOW! ONE TWO THREE!” 

C'mon, check it

Much like it did when Venti played, the music from Ziz flowed into Naomi’s soul, and she was absolutely perfect on the drums. Ziz both played bass and sang, her lyrics powerful and impactful as she sang Voice of the Voiceless. It wasn’t the sort of song they normally sang, but the rage and frustration in Ziz’s soul definitely came through in the lyrics. 

By the end of the song, the crowd was on their feet, cheering and pumping their fists. 

“Alright,” Ziz panted once the song was done, a triumphant grin on her face. “That one goes goes out to that lazy fucker, Lord Barbatos. Now. This one’s for a special friend of mine. It’s called, Trapped Here With You.” 

It was still a pulse-pounding anthem, but this time Ziz’s lyrics were almost tender, even as she screamed herself raw. The song was about being changed, and unable to fly free, but being with someone you loved still allowing your wings to take flight. Somehow, Ziz made it work. 

They ended up playing an entire set, and afterwards, people were practically lining up to buy Ziz a drink or slap her on her back. Much to her own annoyance. 

“Don’t touch me! Back off! Ugh, fine, you can buy me a drink, but- Itul! Itul, no! NO! NO- AH!” 

“Come on, Bro, you need a hug,” Itul said, squeezing Ziz tightly and picking her up off the ground. “Welcome to the Knights of Favonius!” 

“I’m not your bro,” Ziz grumbled, slowly reaching her arms around and embracing Itul. She sniffled and tried to hide it, but Naomi saw the tears. “And, um, thanks. I guess.”

“So are we seriously playing with an Endbringer now?” Capri whispered to Naomi

She could only shrug. “Hashim, and Venti, work in mysterious ways.”

There was a puff of breeze, and Naomi distinctly heard an “ehe.” 

She very nearly threw her drumsticks at him. 

Author’s Note:

Can I get an Ehe? 

Anyway. This was always the endgame plan for the Simurgh. From the moment I read the initial threat assessment for Nahida by Zakara, I knew that simply converting the most terrifying of Endbringers to a fluffy birb buddy in one battle was not going to fly. Sure, theoretically Nahida COULD do that, but it wouldn’t be terribly narratively satisfying. So, instead, I decided Nahida would embark on a three-stage plan to turn the Simurgh from enemy to ally. This is the final part of that. 

And, as several people have theorized, yes. Ziz is going to become the Anemo Dragon. She’s going to remain a very important part of the story, and is now on par with her siblings in power (though obviously, not on the same side). This was a complicated narrative move, especially since the Simurgh is objectively extremely evil and has a lot of blood on her hands. 

Still, I think the God of Wisdom would want to find a way to redeem even the most heinous of monsters, Simurgh included. Writing the Samsara Loops for this was fun, but also a challenge. This does draw to a close one of the first narrative goal posts I had from the very inception of the story. Hopefully, it was satisfying to you as well.

And now, back to France. 

PHILO: My question is who gets custody? Nahida? Venti? Naomi and Capri? She’s got Three and a ½ Moms. That’d actually be a kinda dope movie. Ooh! Or “I’m A Reincarnated Endbringer and My Next Life I have Two Warrior Moms, A FemBoi God-Father, and a Radish Daughter-Mom!?”

This was such a relief to read after the whole Russia thing.