The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 14

Comoedia Glacialis 14: The Damsel reveals herself as the Princess

In her short life, Kollei had seen many people face death. She had done so herself, scrabbling and clinging to life as radiation slowly wrested it away from her. Others had been less tenacious, simply giving up and lying down to die when the end was near. Kollei could understand that, because it was the easy way out. 

At other times, she’d seen people killed through violence, meeting gruesome ends over expired canned goods or a mug of clean water. Some faced that death like feral animals, struggling to the end, while others went out with quiet dignity and calm. 

Grigory the Secretary was like Kollei. He struggled and clung to life with all he had, weeping and pleading as the Fatui dragged him out of the truck, his fine clothing soiled and torn since his capture. Beside him, Agata the Crow. Looked sullen and defiant as she knelt in the mud, her face battered and bruised. Next to them, Vasili the Gauntlet had a vacant, empty look in his eyes, a bit of drool leaking down his chin.  

Whatever Ivan the Sleeper had done to him, Vasili was still alive, at least technically. But the horrors that had been done to him and his troops during their capture had driven many of them utterly mad, and the ones that were not had become pitiful, cringing creatures who wept at the slightest provocation. 

There were others, sitting there in the mud and dirt on the outskirts of ruined Moscow. Beside Kollei, her mother stood serenely upon the stage she’d insisted be constructed. Behind them stood Aunty Liza, and Uncle Ivan. Uncle Thoma and Big Brother Anatoly were still gone, Thoma hunting the missing Red Ghost in the Urals, while Anatoly was still in America.  

Assembled around them were not just the Fatui, but the people that Kollei knew best: the desperate and the destitute. The dregs of the world who were still stuck in the irradiated hellscape of Moscow. 

Swallowing, Kollei shyly tugged on her mother’s sleeve. “M-Mother…can’t you do something for them? L-like you did for me?” 

The Tsaritsa turned to her and smiled. It was a thin, chill thing, as was the hand that caressed Kollei’s cheek, but it still filled her heart with joy. This wonderful being fed Kollei, let her call her mother, and had healed Kollei from the point of death. How could she not love the Tsaritsa with all her heart? 

“Why do you think I have called the people here, but to heal their hurts and supply their needs? A god’s first duty to their people is to provide for them. How else would they be worthy of worship?” the Tsarista said. Not in an intimate tone, but in a loud voice that carried to the crowd around them. 

“Blasphemy! You are a blasphemer!” an old man in a priest's robes with a long grey beard cried. He stood amidst a group of important people from Saint Petersburg and other cities. Some wore military uniforms, others fine suits, and there were more than a few bearing gilded crosses and cosiers of the Orthodox Church, including the displaced Patriarch of Moscow. 

The priest who had spoken up wasn’t in the finer robes of the Patriarch, but instead in plain black robes, and his cross was wooden. He wasn’t from Saint Petersburg but was rather a man that Kollei recognized. 

“Father Aleksandr, please! The Tsaritsa is a god! She is the God of Love and the Cryo Archon,” Kollei pleaded. “And she is here to do a miracle!” 

The old priest shook his head sadly. “Kollei, my child, what has become of you? What happened to the pious girl who I prayed with for all those long years? This she-devil does some witchcraft, and you cast aside your faith for her?” 

 “She healed me!” Kollei said, tears springing to her eyes. She took a lock of her brown hair in her hands, holding it out. It was still boyishly short, but it was there, fully and healthy. “Look at this! I had lost all my hair from radiation sickness! You know I was dying, that I shouldn’t have survived the winter! But I did! The Tsaritsa healed me, but your God never did!”

There were mutters and a few cries from the crowd, some begging for healing, others echoing Father Aleksandr and proclaiming heresy. The Patriarch and the other ecclesiastical leaders from the big cities looked troubled, but most remained silent. 

At last, the Tsaritsa held up her scepter, and silence fell. She gestured across the field to the ruins of Moscow, the dead city eerily silent even in the fine spring morning. 

“There lies the corpse of your city. Priest, I give you a challenge: If your god can resurrect this city, I will relinquish my claim to this place, and pay him homage. If, however, he remains silent until noon, then I shall claim this place as my own, and cleanse this land and people. You and your fellow priests may pray and offer whatever offerings you wish. I will even give you precious metals and beasts for sacrifice should you so require it.”

“God will do as God wills,” the Patriarch said after a long moment of silence. “If it is His will, these people will be healed, and one day, this city restored.”

The Tsaritsa snorted in disapproval. “A pathetic excuse. Go then. Pray and play at your little rituals. But if your god does not answer, then you will bow down and declare your love for me. For I am a jealous god, and I will tolerate the worship of no other in my lands.”

“You heard the Tsaritsa,” Liza said, stepping forward with a wicked grin on her face. “Pray, you dusty old frauds. Do so loudly. Perhaps your God is asleep, or relieving himself.”

“Do not spit scripture back at me, witch,” Father Aleksandr spat. Then he turned, fell to his knees, and began to pray loudly, his wooden cross lifted to the cloud-speckled sky. 

For the next several hours, the Patriarch and other priests led the faithful in prayer as the Tsaritsa and her followers looked on. Kollei half hoped something would happen, that kind old Father Aleksandr’s faith would be rewarded. 

But as had happened for so many long years when Kollei prayed for salvation, the sky was silent. 

Maybe God did answer our prayers. Maybe…maybe he sent the Tsaritsa to save us. 

The voice was small and quiet, but Kollei couldn’t quash it. She had prayed, and her prayers had been answered. If perhaps in a rather unexpected manner. 

After a few minutes, the Tsaritsa ordered a parasol brought to shade her from the sun, as well as tables and chairs for her party to take tea upon. 

“I wonder, is their god sleeping, or dead?” the Tsaritsa mused. “Perhaps the false Sustainer killed him, along with this world’s other gods.”

“M-maybe he brought you here?” Kollei offered. 

The Tsaritsa didn’t dismiss the notion out of hand, sipping contemplatively at her tea. “Perhaps. I know not what force brought me hither. But I shall allow no other claimants to the love of my people.” —She tapped Kollei’s nose with a soft smile. — “I dislike sharing what is rightfully mine.”

In the end, as had happened for so long on Earth Bet, there was no answer to the voluble prayers of the assembled faithful. And when the sun reached its zenith, the Tsaritsa stood, striding to the center of her stage. 

ENOUGH. 

The word cut to the bone like ice, causing even Kollei who had experienced the divine power of the Tsaristsa unveiled before to flinch and gasp in shock.

IF YOU HAVE NOT BEEN ANSWERED BY NOW,  THEN NO ANSWER IS FORTHCOMING.  

Now the Tsaritsa’s mein had changed, from a merely incredibly beautiful woman to an ethereal goddess of Ice and Splendor, her face glowing with power. 

“We…we still have faith that the Lord hears us!” a defiant Father Aleksandr’s voice cried, but he was unheeded most of the assembled bowing down in forced reverence to the god that stood amongst them. 

The Tsaritsa ignored the defiant nay-sayer and held aloft her gnosis. BEHOLD, THE ACTIONS OF YOUR GOD, WHO LISTENS TO HER PEOPLE. 

As the Tsaritsa spoke, the sky darkened, and the temperature plummeted. Unnatural snow began to fall, glowing crystals of cryo energy that spread an invigorating chill when they touched flesh, or a faint puff of elemental energy when they landed on the ground. Many cried out as the ice struck them, and Kollei watched as radiation sickness was purged from those on death's door, withered limbs were made whole, and even the common cold was cured. 

Soon, however, Kollei was not watching the healed, but the prisoners. Their mouths, even Vasili the Gauntlet’s, were stretched open in silent screams.  Kollei watched in fascination as flecks of burning crystal were drawn out of the captives, vanishing into a mist that was then woven into threads of a fine tapestry that flung themselves out over the ruined city. 

Soon, the ruins of the city began to be transformed by both the shining snow, and by the threads streaming from the now writhing prisoners. All the while, the Tsaritsa used her scepter to direct the work, and patterns began to emerge. Shining buildings arose up out of the city, not the brutalist architecture of the old city, but elegant buildings with sweeping angles and curves in the Naryshkin Baroque style. 

For over nine hours, the Tsaritsa wove a city from ice and power, until the captured parahumans were nothing but shivering, shriveled wrecks at her feet, the people kneeling in awestruck worship, and the city of Moscow restored to something beyond even its previous dingy splendor. 

At last, breathing hard, with her breath forming great clouds of condensation before her, the Tsaritsa lowered her arms. “Behold. Your sickness is cured, your wounds are healed, and your city restored. I ask you now: Who is your god?”

There was silence for a long moment. Then, the Patriarch himself stood on trembling knees. He walked forward, then cast his ecumenical crown at the Tsaritsa’s feet, and abased himself before her in worship. “You are truly the god of Russia. I shall serve you, my Tsaritsa!” 

Nearly all the bishops and priests in their finery hastened to cast aside the symbols of their former office, trampling upon crosses of gold in their haste to come and pay homage to their new god and queen. 

But not, Kollei saw, Father Aleksandr with his cross of wood. He stood defiant, his long grey beard fluttering in the wind. 

“I will never bow before a false God. I serve the Lord, and the Lord alone! I will never submit to you!”

“No,” Kollei whispered, and tears filled her eyes as several score of others, all of them peasants and low ranking priests like Father Aleksandr.

“Your Majesty, do you wish them…dealt with?” the Sleeper asked. “I can make it painless. Or not.”

“No,” the Tsaritsa said, shaking her head. “I am not a monotheist as they are. But there is no place in my Russia for those who reject me. From this day hence, they and all those like them are banished. They will be exiled to other lands. Those who will not love me and serve me have no right to my divine protection.”

“As you command, my Queen,” Liza said. She stepped forward, snapping her fingers for her attendants. “Round them up. Put them in trucks. No need to be overly gentle about it, but don’t kill them. We will do as her esteemed benevolence commands.”

Fatui hastened forward to arrest the stubborn Christians, who looked half surprised that they would not be martyred on the spot. Kollei spared one last prayer for stubborn old fools, then turned her face towards the newly created city. 

“Behold, my capital! New Moscow!” the Tsaritsa declared, gesturing broadly. “Fetch my sleigh. I will sleep tonight in The Ice Palace.”

The procession into the city was one of silent awe. The buildings around them were half made of ice, half from materials so alien that Kollei could not recognize them. Each building was unique, a work of splendid art to make a master weep for its beauty. Some were towering spires, others squat and low, others great long buildings, many smaller dwelling places. There were buildings obviously meant to be shops, with market squares and broad avenues, while smaller streets spiraled off into residential blocks.

“This is no Potemkin Village,” the former Patriarch breathed. He’d been welcomed into the sleigh with Kollei and her mother, as she evidently had plans for him. “This is…real. Will it…melt? Vanish, like a fairy dream?”

“Melt? Perhaps if one were to invite the Pyro Dragon to bathe the city in flames,” the Tsaritsa said with evident amusement. “It will always be chill in my new city, but I am fond of the cold.”

“But…how many will it house? It goes on for kilometers in all directions,” the prelate said, shaking his head slowly. 

“Hmm, several millions I suppose. It is neither quite as large nor as dense as the old city, but it can be expanded upon through more mundane means,” the Tsaritsa said with a shrug. “And do not fear: I am no fool. There are adequate sanitation facilities, though I suppose something will have to be done to bring in all that electro this world is so reliant on.”

“Several millions…” the old man laughed, then shook his head, tears forming in his eyes. “My Lady…where were you all these years? Your people have prayed for your coming for so long…even before the Behemoth came.”

“Even the gods are subject to the whims of Heaven. Would that I could have arrived sooner. I may have lost one people, but I have found another,” the Tsaritsa said, resting a chill hand on Kollei’s shoulder. 

When they reached the city center, Kollei instantly knew the Ice Palace. The vast, sprawling complex with onion domes and ornate scrollwork on the sides of the building had been woven out of pure Cyro energy, and even in the starlight overhead, it sparkled and glowed like something from a fairy tale. The vast square before it had what looked like fountains, but were in fact swirling snow globes. 

And at the very center, a tall spire stood. Upon it rested the form of a young woman in thick robes, a scepter in her hands, seated upon a throne. The statue itself glowed with Cryo power, and projected a sense of divine awe about it. When the sleigh stopped, Kollei went over to examine it, putting one hand upon the surface. A jolt of power ran through her fingers, and she withdrew her hand hastily, wiping it on her coat. 

Behind her, the Tsaritsa gave a throaty chuckle. “Be careful. I have recreated the Statue of the Seven in Zapolyarny Square as best I could. Leylines have already begun to form in this world, and this should help coax them in the proper direction.”

“Leylines?” Kollei asked curiously. “What are those?” 

“The memories of this world, and the elemental energy they contain. One day, they will be a source of great power. But for now, they have only just begun to form,” the Tsaritsa explained. Then she extended a gloved hand. “Now come. It is time for us to take our rightful place as the rulers of this land.”

Kollei hastily took her mother’s hand, and together they mounted the icy steps up to the palace. Kollei had to place her feet carefully so as not to slip, but the Tsaritsa glided forward confidently, as surefooted as if on solid ground. 

When she reached the top, the Tsaritsa turned, and extended her scepter forward. “This I give you, my beloved subjects. In return, I ask only for your devotion and obedience. Under my guidance, we shall restore this nation not just to glory, but ascend to the Heavens themselves, becoming the greatest nation in all the world. It shall be Russia that saves all mankind from the tyranny of Heaven, and breaks the Cycle and its oppression for all time!” 

The thousands of people who had entered the square all cheered in delight, and before long, trucks rumbled up, bearing cargos of food, fuel, and warm clothing. It had cost nearly everything in the Tsaritsa’s treasury to provide this, but there was food enough to last until the fall harvests. Harvests that could now be planted and harvested in abundance, thanks to the Peace that the Tsaritsa had brought. 

However, Kollei and her mother did not stay for the party that night, or even make many appearances in the next few days. After her short speech, the Tsaritsa glided into the Ice Palace, now leaning  heavily on Kollei’s shoulder. For the first time, Kollei noticed how exhausted the Tsarita looked. 

“Are…are you well, mother?” Kollei asked, full of worry. 

“Yes, my child,” the Tsaritsa said, but her voice was ragged and weak. “I am merely wearied. Even for a god, and even with the gnosis, the work I have wrought today was of the like to rival Morax in his creation of the Guyan Stone Forest during the Archon War.” 

Those names were alien to Kollei, but so much of the world was unknown to her. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” she said as she guided the Tsaritsa deeper into the palace, towards the royal chambers she knew would be at the very heart. “I-I’m still just an ignorant peasant girl.”

“No, you are not. You were the first to love me. And so, I shall love you in turn,” the Tsaritsa said, this time with real tenderness in her voice. “You are no longer what you once were: you will be the Imperial Princess, and my heir. Beezelbul was wise to choose a mortal child to be her own ward, and I shall do the same. Should something happen to me, there must be a Cryo Archon who will continue the work in my name.”

“What work is that?” Kollei asked, though she knew the answer. “You mean…to defeat Scion? Is…is he Heaven?”

“He is a Descender, and has made himself king of Cycles and Heaven. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself. Time enough for you to learn all this later, my child.”

Gritting her teeth, Kollei soldiered onward. Not because the Tsaritsa was a heavy burden to bear: even with her thick coat and jeweled crown, she was no heavier than Kollei was, no more than 50 kilos. No, it was because Kollei herself was a heavy burden. She didn’t know enough! She needed to learn more, so that she too could make a better world for the people of Russia. If she was to be princess, then Kollei had to be wise and powerful enough to care for and protect the ones she loved. 

Ignorance was not a bliss that Kollei could afford ever again. Because if she didn’t learn fast enough, this palace would become her prison. 

Though you lack learning, you have the Wisdom to see your own ignorance. 

The voice whispering in Kollei’s mind made her look around for someone else, but the icy hall they were walking down was empty save for her and the Tsaritsa. 

“Buer,” the Tsaritsa suddenly growled, forcing herself to stand and gripping Kollei by the shoulders as her eyes bored into Kollei’s. “Don’t you dare…”

“M-mother?” Kollei gasped, suddenly frightened. 

While you dwell in a frozen land, your Ambition is to foster Life, and your Vision is the Dream of tomorrow.

Something began to take shape in Kollei’s mind. Something powerful. A warm, nurturing presence that came with the voice. And power. The power she needed to realize her dreams, and Kollei reached out for it desperately, even as ice from the Tsarita’s fingertips spread into her bones. 

Though the world is cold and heartless, you will break free of your chains to help those you cherish, even if it costs you everything.

BUER! SHE IS MINE! The Tsaritsa screamed, her voice breaking the barrier of space and time and finding Kollei and the voice within Kollei’s very soul. 

For a  moment, the voice hesitated, drawing away from the Tsaritsa’s wrath. 

Please! I need this power! I need to bring life back to this frozen land! I need to know more! Kollei pleaded. 

Then let your Vision guide you, Daughter of Love. And Child of Life. 

A glowing emerald gem formed in the palm of Kollei’s hand, and a wonderful sensation of warmth and life flooded her body, bathing the dim hall in a brillant green light. 

Clutching the gem, Kollei met the Tsaritsa’s eyes, her heart fluttering rapidly in her chest. Would her mother be moved to anger? Would she be sent back out into the cold to die?

Instead, tears began to stream down the Tsarita’s face, and she sagged to her knees, even as Kollei hastened to pick her back up. This time, it was easy. Life itself pulsed in her veins, and strength she had never before experienced allowed her to easily lift the Tsaritsa back up, so much so Kollei actually lifted the Cryo Archon off the floor for a moment before gently setting her back down. 

“I-I’m sorry! I, I just…I needed something, something so I wasn’t so weak and worthless,” Kollei pleaded, clutching at the weeping god emperor. 

“No, I…I am not wroth with you, child,” the Tsaritsa said, visibly forcing herself back to calm. She swallowed, and her tears turned to ice, falling away from her face. “But Buer cannot claim you. You are mine.”

“Yes! Always! I…I just…now I’m not just a powerless child anymore,” Kollei said, though it felt like a lie. Next to the Tsaritsa, or someone like one of the Harbingers, what was Kollei but an ignorant peasent with the dream of power?

“Yes. It is good that you have become an Allogen. I had merely thought…well. There is nothing to say that someone who walks one path now cannot change to another. Nor any reason you cannot learn to wield Cryo along with Dendro. Even if they are inert together.”

With that, the Tsaritsa closed her eyes, then pressed her lips to Kollei’s forehead. YOU ARE MINE, KOLLEI BRONISLAVANVA MOSKAYLOVA. AND I NAME YOU MY HEIR. 

The power that had come with Kollei’s Vision had been but a trickle compared to the flood that entered her now. It was like an entire glacier had been slammed into mind, and ice and love was all that she knew. It was overwhelming in its magnitude, and Kollei felt as though she could feel the beating heart of every man, woman, and child in all of Russia, perhaps even all the world. 

Then, it suddenly cut off, and Kollei passed into the land of dreams. 

And there, waiting for her, was a little silver haired girl with a green and brown headscarf, playing beside a cool oasis in the desert on a swing of living vines. 

“Hello,” the little girl said. “It’s nice to meet you, Kollei.”

“H-hello,” Kollei stammered, looking around her with wide eyes. She’d never seen a sky so blue before, nor water that looked so inviting. It was like stepping into a story from 1001 Arabian Nights, with palm trees and…were those dinosaurs?!

“They aren’t really dinosaurs. They’re actually elemental creatures born of Dendro,” the little girl said, hopping off the swing and coming to stand by Kollei as she watched the tall, strange lizard-like creatures with flowers blooming from their backs and heads. The little girl’s feet were barefoot in the cool earth near the oasis, and where she stepped, flowers bloomed to life in her wake. 

“You…you’re Nahida Saeed,” Kollei said, kneeling down so she was at eye level with the girl. “The Dendro Archon! It was your voice I heard!” 

“It was,” Nahida said with a nod. “But before we discuss that, we need to wait for your mother.”

“My…” Kollei’s eyes went wide, and she stood up. “W-where am I!? This can’t be real, I-I was just in the Ice Palace! What’s happened?!” 

“You still are, don’t worry. This is just a Dream,” Nahida said, then pointed. “Ah. There she is.”

Following Nahida’s finger, Kollei saw the sands turning to ice as the desert transformed into a glacier. Striding across the ice was a furious looking Tsaritsa, though not the one that Kollei was familiar with. Instead of her queenly raiment, she wore only a simple dress not unlike that of a Russian peasant from several hundred years ago. And instead of a Gnosis, she bore a glowing Cryo Vision. And she looked…younger. More human. 

“Buer! What have you done?!” the Tsaritsa snarled, stalking forward, her hands balled into fists. 

“I did as is my duty, and recognized the Ambition of a mortal,” Nahida replied, curtsying prettily to the Tsarisa. “And hello, I don’t think we’ve met. Here, you can call me Nahida. What should I call you?”

The Tsaritsa paused, taking a long breath through her nose. She looked behind her wake at the trail of frozen destruction, and frowned. She shook her head, and the ice vanished, replaced by sand. “Very well. You may call me Bronya. If we are going by our mortal guises.”

“I was never a mortal,” Nahida admitted. “But I pretended to be one for a year, with my father, mother, and sister. It was…enlightening. I learned so much about what it means to be human, though I still don’t fully understand it. I am, after all, the Branch of Irminsol that has been given consciousness and form to walk amongst mortals.”

“And you know all too well my history,” Bronya said, folding her arms and scowling. Then she glanced at Kollei, and sighed, unbending slightly. “But, for the sake of my daughter, I will explain: I was born a mortal woman, as I have said before. I was only elevated to the Throne of the Cryo Archon upon her death at the hands of Celestia for the sins of mortal men. I am unique amongst the living Archons in this matter, for even Mauvika of Natlan was merely a mortal woman borrowing a god’s power. I became a god in truth.” 

“Is…is that’s what’s happening to me?” Kollei asked, glancing back and forth between the two Archons. Nahida was…not what she expected. If it wasn’t for the silver hair and pointy ears poking out of her shawl, Nahida would have just looked like an especially cute little peasant girl. Not at all like the otherworldly and regal Tsaritsa. Though at the moment, the Tsaritsa too looked like a mortal girl. Her hair was even straw blonde instead of silver. 

“The process has begun, though all Allogens, what you call Vision Holders, have the potential,” Nahida explained. “Mortal Ambition is the seed of divinity, though it does not often grow into that.”

Bronya jerked a nod. “I have accelerated the process in you. You are now my designated heir. Should I fall, and in the coming days that may be likely, you will become the next Cryo Archon.” Bronya turned to Nahida. “I see you have made a Dragon Sovereign. An interesting choice.”

“The power of the Gnosis is not rightfully mine,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “It is only right that it be returned to a true daughter of this world, and allowed to blossom.” 

“Folly. A god with a Gnosis is far stronger than a Sovereign,” Bronya scoffed. “And do not think I will overlook your attempt to steal my daughter away from me, nor that you stole the Gnosis I had claimed when I needed it most.”

“Interesting. From my perspective, what you brought to this world was nothing but an inert lump, while the Dendro Gnosis I carried with me here was always the one given to me. I hope that you can overlook this, and become my friend, Bronya. I do not know you: the Cryo Archon of my world was not Dantilion. I come from a Teyvat very different from you and the others.”

“Oh?” Bronya blinked, then shrugged. “Well, that matters little. You are still essentially the same fools I know from before. This changes nothing in the slightest.” 

“Turn aside. The path you walk now, the path you would lead Kollei down…it leads to destruction and sorrow,” Nahida suddenly begged, extending a chubby little hand towards Bronya.

The older woman, was she older? Appearances probably meant little to gods, glanced at the hand, then turned her back. “Come, Kollei. There is much you should learn.”

“I could teach her! She could come to my school! I, I could send someone to you, in exchange!” Nahida offered, clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please! To save this world, we must all work together.”

“You had your chance to defy the Descender and his Cycle the day I arrived. You chose cowardice,” Bronya said, and began to walk away.

Kollei didn’t even hesitate. She waved a hasty goodbye to Nahida, then hurried to fall in at Bronya’s side. “I’m with you. Always. M-mother.”

“Yes, my child. I know,” Bronya said. “Now come. There is great work to do.”

They left the Dream behind, leaving the Oasis of Knowledge and returning into the Heart of Ice.

After all, they each had their roles to play in the coming days.

Author's Note:

Sorry if you got multiple pings today, I had tried to post this on mobile as I am on vacation, but something went wrong.