Eula had never been more confused in her life.
She had expected condemnation. Rejection. The kind of hatred that her family's name always brought.
After everything that had happened—the bloodshed, the betrayal, and the chaos caused by the Lawrence clan—she thought the people of Mondstadt would despise them more than ever. Perhaps even call for their exile.
But instead... Barbatos himself, the Anemo Archon and the very god the Lawrences had defied centuries ago, had stepped forward to clear their name.
As for Schubert and his co-conspirators? They could rot in the Abyss.
Barbatos had publicly declared that Schubert had been manipulated by the Abyss Order—that his actions were not his own. Which meant, for the first time in generations, the sins of the Lawrence family were no longer theirs alone to bear.
It was unthinkable. A miracle.
Most of the family's elders were dead. The proud mansion was in ruins. Yet somehow, amidst the ashes, the Lawrence name had been reborn.
A heavy silence gripped the crowd gathered in front of the Cathedral.
For years, hatred toward the Lawrences had become second nature to Mondstadt's people. It was inherited, passed down like folklore and resentment. Even when Eula joined the Knights of Favonius, she had endured protests, sneers, and whispers behind her back.
But that had changed today.
She had fought. She had bled. She had stood against her own family for the city's sake.
And now... she had saved Mondstadt.
Wasn't that proof enough that a Lawrence could be loyal to the wind of freedom?
If anyone else had tried to say it aloud, it would have sounded like propaganda. But Barbatos himself had said it, his divine voice carried on the wind.
No one could argue with their god.
Even if it left a bitter taste in their mouths.
Faith ran deep in Mondstadt—deeper than wine in its cellars.
Someone began to clap. Just one person, hesitant, uncertain. Then another joined in. And another.
Before long, the plaza echoed with the sound of applause—louder, stronger, unified.
People were cheering for her.
Even if old grudges lingered, they could not deny what she had done.
Eula stood frozen. The sound felt surreal. The same people who once spat at the mention of her name now shouted it in gratitude.
And as the cheers rose higher, she felt their eyes on her—no longer filled with scorn, but with awe. Admiration, even.
She saw smiles. She saw men in the crowd elbowing each other, whispering.
The Lawrence heiress… she's beautiful.So noble, so graceful... maybe I wouldn't mind marrying into that family after all.
Eula nearly choked. Oh, now they notice?
They had hated the Lawrence name for generations, yet here they were, lining up in their minds to become "sons-in-law of redemption."
She would've laughed if she weren't still shaking.
It felt strange… comforting, but strange.
Maybe—just maybe—their deaths hadn't been meaningless.
The price she'd paid, the blood she'd spilled—it had bought her clan a sliver of redemption.
Then her eyes found Kael among the crowd, calm and silent, watching everything unfold.
Her heart tightened. That smug, scheming bastard definitely knew this would happen.
Of course he did. He and Barbatos had probably planned it all—the speech, the timing, the sympathy. All to make her look like a hero and the city's darling.
He wanted her to cry, to feel "moved."
Hmph. Not happening. She'd remember this forever.
Barbatos raised his hand for silence. His voice carried through the square like a clear breeze.
"I also wish to thank the Traveler from another world!"
He pointed toward Lumine, standing not far away.
"If it weren't for her—our Honorary Knight—Dvalin's suffering would not have been cured. The poison of the Abyss would have devoured him completely."
Lumine froze, feeling hundreds of eyes shift toward her.
An "Honorary Knight"? She didn't even remember when that title had been bestowed upon her. But now, hearing it spoken by a god…
No one dared question it.
She had saved Stormterror, and by extension, Mondstadt. That was more than enough to earn her that title.
Paimon fluttered beside her, whispering eagerly, "Lumine, don't you think it's a shame? If we knew things would turn out this way, we could've asked for more rewards!"
Lumine shot her a flat look. "You're incorrigible."
"Hey, Mora doesn't grow on trees!" Paimon pouted.
Lumine rolled her eyes but her mind was already elsewhere. She wasn't thinking about rewards.
She was thinking about answers. About her brother.
Barbatos wasn't just any god. He had connections—knowledge of the world few others possessed.
If anyone knew something about Aether, it would be him.
As the crowd slowly dispersed, Venti—Barbatos—stepped forward again. His tone softened, but his words carried a weight that silenced the murmurs.
"Remember this day, my friends. The Abyss Order is not an enemy of one nation, but of all Teyvat.
When the nest burns, no egg remains untouched."
He looked toward the sky, where faint traces of abyssal corruption still lingered in the wind.
"This is not the end," he continued quietly. "Only the beginning.
May the winds of freedom always protect you."
And with that, Venti mounted Dvalin's back. Together, the Archon and the Dragon ascended into the sky, disappearing beyond the clouds.
His words lingered like a song after the final note—melancholy and prophetic.
The Abyss would return. Everyone could feel it.
But for now, Mondstadt had earned its peace.
Later that evening, under the shade of Windrise's ancient oak, Kael and Venti sat at the base of the tree, waiting for Lumine and Paimon.
The wind was gentle, the grass swaying like the rhythm of a soft tune. The air smelled faintly of wine and roasted meat.
Venti took a sip from a bottle and froze mid-swallow. His eyes widened. "Wait a second—this is one of Diluc's finest vintages! How did you even get this? When I tried to sneak one, he almost exiled me from Dawn Winery! This bottle costs five million Mora!"
Kael smirked, tearing into a roasted chicken leg. "That's because when he was busy yelling at you, I took a few bottles off the shelf. He probably knows but decided not to make a fuss."
Venti groaned. "Unbelievable. The bard gets lectured, the mysterious traveler gets the good wine."
"Maybe because the traveler actually pays for what he takes," Kael teased.
"That's unfair! I am Mondstadt's god!"
Kael raised an eyebrow. "You just don't act like one."
Venti grinned, conceding the point. "Touché."
After a moment, Kael's tone shifted. "Anyway… Mondstadt's stable for now. My work here is done. It's time I moved on."
"You're leaving already?" Venti's voice softened.
Kael nodded. "The Abyss won't stop here. There are other nations—other leyline ruptures spreading corruption. I need to prepare."
Venti leaned back, staring up through the leaves. "Right. You've got your own path. Still, it's funny... you've received the power of gods, but you don't feel like one."
"I don't plan to," Kael said quietly. "Power without restraint is just another form of tyranny. I'll only use it to keep the world standing."
"Spoken like a true Archon," Venti said, raising his cup. "You're not the god of wind, Kael—but you're something greater."
Kael smiled faintly. "I need at least two more Gnoses before I can stabilize the world's barriers. If I can do that, the Abyss won't be able to breach Teyvat so easily. The corruption in the ley lines will finally fade."
"Then I'll be cheering for you," Venti said, voice softening. "You might just become the kind of law this world needs."
Kael didn't reply, but his golden eyes reflected the wind-tossed sky—a promise written in silence.
Moments later, Lumine and Paimon arrived, dusty and hungry.
"Sweet Madame!" Paimon squealed, spotting Kael's meal. "I smell Sweet Madame!"
Amused, Kael tore off a wing and tossed it to her. "Here, greedy little thing."
"I'm not greedy," Paimon said indignantly, stuffing it into her mouth anyway. "I'm hungry! Fighting giant dragons takes energy!"
Lumine crossed her arms. "You didn't fight. You just screamed and made commentary."
"I was providing morale support!" Paimon said, muffled by chicken. "Anyway, Kael's food tastes even better than Good Hunter's!"
Kael chuckled. "It's from Angel's Share. Diluc's chef cooks better than most restaurants."
But Lumine wasn't smiling. She was studying Venti, who was sipping his wine under the tree, pretending not to notice her gaze.
Finally, she asked quietly, "Do I call you Venti, or Barbatos—the Anemo Archon?"
Venti looked up, his expression soft. "Just Venti. A bard, first and foremost."
Her eyes narrowed. "You noticed me long before all this began. Tell me—was it because you knew I could purify Dvalin? Or because you already knew what I am?"
The wind stilled. Even Paimon stopped chewing.
Venti's smile faded slightly. His eyes, usually playful, now held centuries of weariness and wisdom.
He swirled the wine in his glass, letting the silence stretch before answering.
"That," he said softly, "depends on whether you're ready to hear the truth."
To be continued
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