____________________
The journey to the domain of the Great Wolf was a journey into the wild heart of Mondstadt.
The cobblestone roads and well-tended fields gave way to dense, ancient forests. The air grew cooler, filled with the scent of damp earth, pine needles, and the faint, musky odor of predators. The sounds of the city were replaced by the rustle of leaves, the call of distant birds, and the eerie, haunting howl of wolves that echoed through the trees.
Artoria moved through the woods with a silent, fluid grace, a predator in her own right, though one with no ill intent. She was a ghost, a whisper of wind, her footsteps making no sound on the forest floor. She felt a strange sense of homecoming here, in this primal wilderness. It reminded her of the forests of Britain, of a time when her world was younger, wilder, and she was just a girl with a sword trying her hardest to become a knight and a destiny she didn't yet understand.
She had been walking for the better part of a day when she felt it. A presence. A cold, territorial intelligence that watched her from the shadows. It was not hostile, not yet, but it was a clear warning. She was in another's domain.
She continued her trek into the heart of Wolvendom, and as she drew closer she can sense the eyes of the wolves hidden in the bushes. They were not growling nor hostile, only observing, watching. They may not know who she is but she's sure that they knew that she's a being that none of them can withstand. They were watching a predator stepped in their realm, a non-hostile one, but a predator no less.
After almost an hour of walking, she arrived in her destination.
It was even grander compared to what the game had imagined. Here in the heart of the forest, stood an ancient gladiatorial arena-like structure with walls as high as three storied houses. Near its center, an ethereal blue claymore is plunged into the very stone floor of this ancient domain, the Wolf's Gravestone.
Artoria stopped near the weapon, the moonlight filtering through the canopy surrounding the ancient arena painting the stone floor in shifting patterns of silver and black. She did not draw the sword. She simply stood, her hands clasped behind her back, her posture calm and non-threatening. She could sense an immense cold and invisible presence around the arena, the largest she had felt so far since her arrival in this world. The Dominator of Wolves is here.
"I mean you no harm, Great Wolf of the North," she said, her voice a clear, steady note in the quiet night. "I am Artoria Pendragon Gunnhildr, current Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius. I seek an audience!"
There was a long silence, broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves. Then, from the very shadows of the arena itself, a figure emerged. Ice and wind coalesce around its form while frost begins to spread around the arena floor. It was not a mere wolf, not entirely. It was a towering, lupine creature, covered in thick, blue and white fur, its form a terrifying fusion of the essence of winter and beast. Its eyes glowed with a cold, blue light, and in its claws reflected the very moonlight itself. This was Boreas, the Great Wolf of the North, the former Lord of Frost, and one of the Four Winds of Mondstadt.The noblest and greatest of souls, who watches over the lupical of Wolvendom.
His voice was a low, rumbling growl, like glaciers grinding together. "Grandmaster. The knights have not come this deep into my domain in many years. Not since the time of Rostam. Why have you come?"
"I come seeking answers Lord of Wolvendom," Artoria replied, her gaze meeting his without fear.
"I come on behalf of Mondstadt. The people are restless, Great Wolf. They ask for their god. I seek to find him."
Boreas glowing eyes narrowed. "Barbatos. He sleeps. As he should. The world of men is loud, chaotic. It does not suit him."
"The world of men is also the world he created," Artoria countered, her voice firm.
"The freedom he gifted them is now a source of anxiety. They need a sign. A reassurance that their god has not abandoned them."
Boreas let out a low, rumbling sigh, a sound that seemed to make the very air chill. "The Archon is a gentle soul. He does not like the weight of expectation. He is more comfortable in the guise of a humble bard than on a throne of clouds. He finds solace in solitude."
"But where?" Artoria pressed, her patience wearing thin. "I have felt the ley lines of this land. They are strong, but they are... adrift. There is no divine presence. Where is he hiding?"
"I do not know," Boreas admitted, a flicker of frustration in his voice. "He did not tell me. He simply... faded. Like a song that ends too soon. The last I saw of him, he was flying towards the ruins of Old Mondstadt, to the east. He spoke of a... memory. A ghost of a friend."
The ruins of Old Mondstadt. A good lead. But not enough.
"Thank you, Great Wolf," Artoria said, offering a small, respectful bow. "Your wisdom has been most helpful."
Boreas watched her, his gaze inscrutable. He had sensed a great power within her from the moment she stepped foot in his land. This woman was no mere mortal.
"You are not like the other knights, Grandmaster. You carry the scent of... something else. Something ancient. Something powerful. Be careful in your quest. The past is a dangerous place. It holds secrets that are best left buried."
Artoria turned back to the great wolf as she was making her way out of his domain. In an act of trust, she gave the Great wolf an answer about the ancient power that she apparently carries.
Artoria in a controlled fashion released a bit of her divine aura towards the Great Wolf.
It was a subtle release, not a show of force, a carefully controlled emanation of her true nature. Yet, for the Tyrant of the North Wind, her subtle release of power was more of a release of an overwhelming ancient might!
The very air in the clearing shimmered, a wave of pure, holy energy washing over the ancient forest. The grass turned greener, the flowers more vibrant, the moonlight brighter. The very frost conjured by Boreas suddenly melting!
Boreas took a step back, his blue eyes wide with a shock that bordered on awe and a small hint of fear. He was a spirit of the land, a former god who gave up his physical form to be one with the land itself. An ancient being of immense power, but this... this was something else entirely. It was a power that was both familiar and utterly alien, a light that was both gentle and overwhelmingly strong, a presence that felt... divinely royal.
"You... you are..." he stammered, his voice a low, guttural whisper.
"I am Artoria Pendragon," she said, her voice now filled with the authority of a goddess.
"A king from a land beyond this world's false sky. A ruler who understands the burden of a crown, and the loneliness of a god's power."
She then let her divine aura recede, leaving the clearing once again in its natural, moonlit state.
"I am a goddess, yet I'm not the god of this land, nor do I seek to usurp his throne, Great Wolf. But I will not let its people suffer. I will find Barbatos. And I will bring him back."
And with that, she turned and disappeared into the forest, leaving Boreas alone in the clearing, his mind reeling from the revelation.
He had seen a glimpse of her true self, a glimpse of a power that could easily rival, if not surpass, the Archons themselves. He had seen a goddess. And he knew, with a certainty that chilled him to his very core, that Mondstadt was no longer just a nation of freedom. It was a nation under the protection of a force far beyond their comprehension.
____________________
The ruins of old Mondstadt were a somber, ghostly place.
Located far north of Wolvendom, the ruins were once the capital of the old nation ruled by the god of storms, Decarabian, the old rival of Boreas and the god that was slain by a rebellion that would ultimately lead to the ascension of Barbatos as the Anemo Archon.
The skeletal remains of ancient buildings crumbled under the weight of centuries, their stone walls covered in thick, green moss.
The air was heavy with the silence of forgotten memories, a palpable sense of a past that was both glorious and tragic.
Artoria moved through the ruins with a cautious reverence. This was the city Decarabian had built, a city of tyranny and oppression, a prison for his people. It was also the city that Barbatos had destroyed, a testament to the god's power, and his commitment to freedom. It was a place of endings, and new beginnings.
She felt it the moment she stepped into the ruins' heart. A sorrowful, lonely presence. A deep, abiding grief that seemed to emanate from the very stones. It was the ghost of a memory, a fragment of a powerful bond that had been broken by time and circumstance.
She closed her eyes, extending her senses, her divine aura reaching out like a gentle wave, probing the depths of the ruins' sorrow.
She saw flashes of images in her mind's eye. A young, carefree Barbatos in the form of a humble Nameless Bard, his lyre in his hand, a song of freedom on his lips. And with him, a magnificent, four-winged dragon, its scales a shimmering cerulean, its eyes filled with a fierce, unwavering loyalty.
Dvalin. The Dragon of the East. One of the Four Winds.
She saw how he first descended into Teyvat, born from the convergence of elemental energies from the high heavens. She saw how the people initially treated him with fear due to his unworldly presence making the young dragon confused and hurt.
She saw how he first met Barbatos, allured by the music played by the Archon through the Holy Lyre der Himmel, a meeting that birthed a friendship that lasted for a thousand years.
She saw their victories, their joy, their shared dream of Mondstadt, the nation of freedom established by Barbatos himself. And then she saw the slow, painful separation.
The Archon, a god, bound to his divine duty, and the dragon, succumbing to the ravages of time, and to the creeping poison of a world that feared what it did not understand.
The sorrow in the ruins was Dvalin's sorrow. A thousand years of loneliness, of waiting for a friend who would never return.
Artoria opened her eyes, her heart aching with a strange sense of kinship. She, too, had known the pain of separation, the loneliness of a crown. She, too, had lost friends to the unyielding march of time.
"Dvalin," she called out, her voice a soft, gentle whisper that carried on the still air. "I know you are here. I feel your pain."
There was a long silence. Then, from the highest tower of the ruined city, a titanic figure emerged. It was a dragon, magnificent and terrifying, its scales a deep, sorrowful blue. Its eyes were filled with a deep, ancient sadness, a weariness that went beyond mortal understanding.
Artoria however sensed something wrong with this dragon, although he may look fine right now, there appears to be a sort of corruption within him, the same one she felt in Bennett all those years ago.
The Abyss.
From what she can recall from her memories, Dvalin fought the corrupted Abyssal Dragon Durin 500 years ago during the Cataclysm. Though Dvalin and the rest of Mondstadt triumphed over the abyssal abomination, Dvalin was gravely injured and a small portion of abyssal power went inside his body. Dvalin retreated into a long slumber in order to heal himself but this did not stopped the corruption of the abyss from slowly spread across his body throughout the centuries. It was this abyssal corruption that shaped the events behind the Archon Quest Prologue: The Outlander Who Caught the Wind!
"Abyssal..." Artoria whispered to herself, yet a thought came into her mind, one that made her smile.
This is the perfect opportunity to test her powers and perhaps to purify this corrupted dragon that is considered to be one of the closest companions of Barbatos!
She could easily do it, like how she cured her precious son, but doing so would cause an enormous amount of divine energy to radiate out from her. A surge of energy that could potentially be felt for miles!
But she must help the dragon. It is one of Barbatos's most loyal friends. To save him is to save a piece of Mondstadt's history, a piece of Barbatos's heart.
She made her decision. She would take the risk.
"You are not alone, Dvalin," she said, her voice filled with a warmth and compassion that seemed to penetrate the dragon's ancient sorrow. "I am here to help."
The dragon let out a low, rumbling growl, a sound filled with pain and suspicion, the abyss had already started to corrupt his mind. "Help? Who are you to help me? You are a mortal. You cannot understand my pain."
"I understand more than you think," Artoria replied, her voice soft but firm.
"I have felt the sting of betrayal. I have known the loneliness of a long, long life. I have seen friends fall to the darkness, their hearts corrupted by forces they could not control."
She took a step forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. "The Abyss has poisoned you, Dvalin. But it is too late for it to claim you. I can help you. I can heal you."
The dragon's eyes narrowed, his suspicion warring with a desperate, flickering hope. "Heal me? How? The Abyss is a poison that cannot be cured. It is a void that consumes all it touches."
"True, the Abyss' corruption would be near impossible to purify by 'ordinary' means," Artoria conceded. "But…how about through 'extraordinary' ones? It is a corruption of the soul, a stain on the spirit. And I... I have a light that can wash away the darkest of stains."
She then saw it, a large purplish lump at the back of the dragon oozing with foul corrupted energy. Artoria recalled through her memories of the past, that must be the culmination of the corruption Dvalin had received hundreds of years ago during the cataclysm, when he fought Durin, whose remains now lie in Dragonspine. Artoria can see the great pain in Dvalin's eyes. He has been fighting this pain for 500 years.
For 500 years he has been fighting a losing battle against the creeping darkness.
"Dvalin, my friend. I need you to trust me."
"I... I can't." Dvalin rumbled in his sorrowful voice. A small dark portion of his mind was already shouting towards him to deny the request, and embrace the abyss. "What if you make it worse? The pain... it's already too much."
"Trust me, Dvalin. I will not make it worse,"
Artoria said, her voice now filled with a divine authority that brooked no argument.
She then took a step forward, her hands still raised, a soft, golden light beginning to emanate from her palms. The light was warm, gentle, but it held a power that was both ancient and immense.
"I will now ask you one more time, Dvalin. Will you trust me?" Artoria's voice is now laced with a divine power that seems to compel the great dragon to nod his head in agreement.
The dragon, great and ancient, let out a low, rumbling sigh. He then slowly, hesitantly, nodded his massive head, his cerulean eyes filled with a desperate, flickering hope.
"I will trust you... human."
Artoria smiled a gentle, reassuring smile. "Good."
The last sliver of her doubt vanished. If this act was to reveal her true nature to the world, so be it. The safety of this land, and the peace of its people, were worth the risk.
She closed her eyes, her hands still raised, and she began to channel her ascended divine power. The golden light that emanated from her palms grew brighter, more intense, a small, contained sun that pushed back the shadows of the ruins.
The dragon recoiled at the sudden display of power, his instincts screaming at him to flee, to fight, to do anything but stand before this overwhelming force. But he held his ground, his trust in the strange mortal…..no, not a mortal, a deity, overriding his primal fear.
Artoria went deep into her core, the memories of her Caster self, Artoria Avalon, surfacing, her knowledge and wisdom manifesting in her very being. Her hands began to move, tracing complex, arcane patterns in the air. The golden light followed her movements, weaving itself into an intricate, glowing tapestry of pure, holy energy!
It was a beautiful, mesmerizing sight, a dance of light and power that seemed to defy the very laws of nature.
She then took a deep breath, and she began to sing.
It was not a song in the common tongue, but in a language that was older, more ancient, a language of power and creation. It was the language of her home world, a language of the Faey, the beings who were the very extensions of her world, a language that the gods themselves had spoken in the dawn of time.
The song was a prayer, a plea, a command. It was a song of healing, of restoration, of rebirth. It was a song that held the power to mend the broken, to cleanse the corrupted, to bring light to the darkest of places. And the song…was carried by the winds throughout all of Mondstadt and even beyond.
***
All throughout Mondstadt, a gentle melody was heard by every single soul. From every alleyway, to crowded Taverns and to each bedroom of people who are going to sleep that night, all have heard the song, and all paused, mesmerized by the otherworldly melody.
They can hear it, a whisper in the wind, yet very much present in all directions. The language was unknown to them, yet felt ancient, it felt wonderful, it felt perfect.
The aches and pains of a hard day's work, the worries of menial problems, and even the whispers of anxiety, all seemed to vanish when the people heard the wondrous tune.
They felt safe, they felt happy, they felt that they were loved.
And one single name echoed in their collective minds as the song continued to be heard.
'Barbatos'
***
In the halls of the Gunnhildr Estate, the maids and staff that served the prestigious family, knelt in their places. Their works and obligations for the night halted upon hearing the echoes of the comforting melody.
Led by Elspeth, the staff clasped their hands in prayer as the song continued to be heard all throughout the mansion. Their hearts filled with love and happiness to the one person who they believed the song had originated.
'Our Lady, our esteemed Archon'
As the staff were holding their silent vigil, a different and peaceful situation was happening inside the bedrooms of the three most precious children in Mondstadt.
All three, Jean, Barbara and Bennett are asleep. They went to bed early today since their Mama is not present and would be out for a day or two, yet if one would look closely, each one of them had a smile on their sleeping face.
The song that Artoria had sung from Old Mondstadt, the song that appeared to have captured the hearts of everyone in the country, felt like a soothing lullaby for her three children. Hushing the nightmares away and slowly guiding them into happy dreams.
Even from afar and even as they slept, each one of them felt that their beloved mother was with them, gently embracing them close to her heart.
***
(Bishui Plain, Liyue)
In the easternmost edge of Dihua marsh, a lonely person stood amongst the vanishing remains of demons he had just slain. His lonely figure illuminated by the moonlight radiating from above.
The person was by no means a mortal. He has dark medium-length hair with teal undertones, pale skin, golden irises with avian pupils, and red eyeshadow. A purple diamond marking can be seen on his forehead and a green tattoo around his right arm.
In his right hand rested a jade colored spear that is coated with the blood of his now deceased foes.
The person had just cleansed the area from foul demons, an act he had been steadfastly performing for the past thousands of years under loyalty to his master, secured by a binding contract set upon stone.
Yet, years of exterminating demons and foes that threatened Liyue had begun to take its toll upon the last remaining Yaksha. Karmic debt left behind by his slain foes accumulated throughout the centuries had now begun to chip away at his very body, at his very soul.
The warrior suddenly found himself kneeling on the muddy marsh, his body clinging upon his spear as it was racked by an episode of unimaginable pain!
He had endured similar bouts in the past, yet this one is probably the most severe that he had experienced. His vision began to darken, his mind already clouded by dark whispers. He….was fading, inching ever closer to the fate that had befallen his brothers and sisters.
Then, as the darkness was about to take him, he heard a song.
A faint song carried by the wind coming from the north.
The song, the very melody itself, though faint, carried a presence unlike anything he had felt before. He couldn't make out the language of the words being conveyed, yet it appeared to be a prayer…..and his body was somewhat responding.
To his immense surprise,the pain caused by centuries of karmic debt was slowly receding. The very karma that accumulated in his very being, though still present, had appeared to have slightly diminished to a bearable point.
After a few moments, the warrior slowly stood up, the clarity in his vision had already returned as he stared towards the north. Towards the very direction of the source of the miraculous song.
Towards the direction of Mondstadt.
***
(Back in the ruins of Old Mondstadt)
The golden light that formed around Artoria, now imbued with the power of her ancient mystical song (which was inadvertently broadcasted throughout Mondstadt and its borders), shot forward, a beam of pure, holy energy that struck the purple, Abyss-corrupted lump on the dragon's back.
The dragon let out a roar of agony, a sound that shook the very foundations of the ruined city.
The pain was immense, a searing, white-hot agony that threatened to tear his very soul apart. But beneath the pain, he felt something else. A warmth, a comfort, a sense of peace that he had not felt in a thousand years.
He could feel the Abyssal corruption, the dark, malevolent force that had poisoned him for so long, fighting back. It was a desperate, frantic struggle, a battle for his very soul, for his very being.
But it was a losing battle.
The divine light, the song, was too powerful. It was a force of nature unlike anything in Teyvat, a tide of pure, holy energy that could not be stopped, could not be denied.
He watched in awe as the purple, corrupted flesh began to recede, the dark, malevolent energy being washed away, purged, erased by the relentless, overwhelming power of the song. The pain faded, replaced by a sense of wholeness, of completeness, that he had not felt since he was a young dragon, soaring through the skies with his friend, Barbatos.
Artoria's song reached its crescendo, a final, triumphant note that echoed through the ruins, a declaration of victory, a testament to the power of light over darkness.
And then, it was over.
The golden light faded, the song ended.
Artoria stood, her body bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. She didn't even feel tired, a testament to the scale of her true divine strength.
The dragon, Dvalin, stood before her, his scales now a shimmering, vibrant cerulean, his eyes clear, free from the shadows of pain and sorrow. He was whole. He was healed.
The dragon looked at his wings, his claws, his body, a sense of disbelief, of wonder, in his ancient eyes. He was... whole. The pain was gone. The darkness….the corruption of the Abyss was gone. He was free.
He then looked at the human woman….no, not human, her very aura itself heralds her true nature.
A deity, a goddess.
Dvalin's heart filled with a gratitude that was so immense, so profound, that it almost brought him to tears.
"Who... who are you?" he asked, his voice a low, rumbling whisper.
Artoria smiled, a gentle, knowing smile. "I am a friend, Dvalin. And I am here to help."
She then approached the great dragon, her hand outstretched. The dragon, hesitantly, lowered his massive head, allowing her to touch his snout. Her touch was warm, gentle, a reassuring comfort that soothed his ancient soul.
"The pain... it's gone," Dvalin said, his voice filled with a childlike wonder. "The darkness... it's gone. I... I am whole."
"You are, my friend," Artoria said, her voice soft and reassuring. "You are whole once more."
She then looked into his clear, cerulean eyes, her expression serious, her gaze intense. "Now, Dvalin, I need you to tell me everything. Where is Barbatos? Where is your friend? I need to know."
Dvalin was silent for a long moment, his mind a whirlwind of memories, of a thousand years of loneliness, of a friendship that had been broken by time and circumstance.
"He... he is asleep," Dvalin finally said, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. "He has been asleep for a long, long time. He found a place of peace, a place where he could rest, away from the noise of the world, away from the weight of his divine duty."
"Where?" Artoria pressed, her voice firm.
"He... he did not tell me," Dvalin admitted, a flicker of sadness in his voice. "He is a unlike any other gods, a 'humble' god, to the point that he would appear to the eyes of others as someone who is constantly slacking off his duties. He values his freedom above all else. He is more comfortable wasting his days drinking wine than ruling his nation."
He then paused, a flicker of memory in his ancient eyes. "But... he did speak of a place. A place of great importance. A place where the first of his mortal friends ascended, becoming a spirit in the sky."
Artoria's heart leaped into her throat. She knew exactly what he was talking about. The great oak tree in Windrise. The Symbol of Mondstadt's Hero. The place where according to her memories of the in-game lore, the first Grandmaster, Vennessa, had ascended into godhood.
"Windrise," she said, her voice a breath of understanding.
"Windrise," Dvalin confirmed, his voice a low, rumbling whisper. "He spoke of the wind that whispers through its leaves, a song of freedom, a reminder of the promise he made to his people. I believe... I believe that is where he rests. Awaiting the day when he is needed once more."
A slow, steady smile spread across Artoria's face. The final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. She had her destination. She had her answer.
"Thank you, Dvalin," she said, her voice filled with a profound, heartfelt gratitude.
"Thank you for your trust, your friendship, and your wisdom."
She then gave a small, respectful bow. "I will not forget this."
As Artoria was about to leave, she heard the dragon speak once again.
"Wait....please, take me with you!" Dvalin suddenly spoke, his voice a desperate, pleading rumble.
Artoria turned back, very surprised by the sudden desperation in the dragon's voice.
"Take you with me? Dvalin, you are a creature of the sky, a guardian of the east wind. This is your domain."
"Was my domain," Dvalin corrected, his voice filled with a deep, ancient sadness.
"For hundreds of years, I have been a prisoner of the Abyss, a ghost haunting these ruins. My domain is gone. My purpose is lost. I have nothing left."
He then looked at her, his cerulean eyes filled with a desperate, flickering hope.
"But you... you have given me back my life. You have shown me a warmth I thought I had lost forever. Please, let me repay you! Let me serve you! Let me be your companion, your guardian, your friend!"
Artoria was silent for a long moment, her mind racing. To take a dragon, one of the Four Winds, as a companion... It was a monumental decision, a responsibility that would change the very course of her journey, of her life.
But looking into his eyes, seeing the desperate, pleading hope in his ancient soul, she knew she could not refuse him.
Artoria sighs, "But Dvalin, look at you. You're HUGE. People would panic if they saw you walking next to me." Artoria giggled at the thought. A giant four winged dragon, one of the four winds of Mondstadt following her like a pet dog.
"Please! I'll do anything! Just don't leave me alone here again." Dvalin's pleading voice sounded like a sad puppy, which made Artoria even more amused.
Artoria then had an idea. A mischievous idea, one that would require the application of a bit of transformation spell towards the now pleading dragon.
She then raised her hand and gently placed it on Dvalin's snout. A soft, golden light emanated from her palm, a warm, gentle energy that seemed to soothe the dragon's anxious soul.
"Alright then, I will not leave you, Dvalin," she said, her voice soft and reassuring. "But you must trust me on this one. Close your eyes."
The dragon, now without a shade of doubt, closed his massive eyes, his newfound trust towards the goddess that stood before him, overriding his primal fear.
Artoria then began to channel her divine power. The golden light that emanated from her palm grew brighter, more intense that pushed back the shadows of the old ruins. The light then enveloped the great dragon, a warm, comforting embrace that made him feel safe, secure, loved.
Dvalin then felt a strange sensation, a tingling, shrinking feeling, as if his very being was being compressed, condensed, reshaped! Yet, it was not painful, not even in the slightest. It was a warm, comforting feeling, like being wrapped in a warm, cozy blanket on a cold, winter night.
He then felt himself getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until he was no longer a towering, four-winged dragon, but a small, round, plushie-like creature, no bigger than a house cat!
He opened his eyes, his vision blurry, his senses overwhelmed by the sudden change in scale.
He looked at his body, his now tiny, plushie-like body, a sense of disbelief, of wonder, in his ancient eyes. He was... small. He was cute. He was... adorable?!
He then looked at the goddess before him, his heart filled with a mixture of shock, confusion, and a strange, undeniable sense of joy. He was... a plushie. A living, breathing, sentient plushie.
"What... what did you do to me?!" he asked, his voice a high-pitched, squeaky whisper.
Artoria giggled, a sound that was like the chiming of a thousand tiny bells.
"Well, since you insisted that I take you with me, I just made you more portable!" she said, her voice filled with a mischievous amusement. "Now, you can come with me without causing a mass panic."
She then reached down and picked him up, her hands gentle, her touch warm. She held him in her arms, like a small, precious child, her emerald eyes filled with a fond, maternal affection.
"You are... surprisingly soft," she said, her voice a soft, amused whisper.
Dvalin, for his part, was too stunned to speak. He was a dragon, one of the Four Winds, a creature of immense power and ancient majesty. And now... now he was a plushie. A living, breathing, sentient plushie, being held in the arms of a goddess who had the bearing of a loving mother!
The sheer absurdity of the situation was almost too much to process. But as he nestled in her arms, feeling the warmth of her body, the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat, he felt a sense of peace, of contentment, that he had not felt in a thousand years.
He was no longer a prisoner of the Abyss, an old relic haunting the ruins of old Mondstadt waiting for the time that his friend would come back.
Dvalin, after a thousand years finally found a new master, a new friend that he was sure would love him and cherish him.
He had now found his new home.
(End of Chapter)
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(Unique Skills)
Since becoming a goddess with the amalgamation of all her variations and aspects, Artoria was able to access new abilities.
A). Soul Sharing
B). Divine Arms Mastery
C). Marble Phantasm (Avalon)
D). Song of the Faey (Can y Tylwyth Teg)
- The Song of the Faey, is the crystalization of the ideals of Artoria Avalon as the second Fairy of Paradise, just as Excalibur is to her heroic aspect.
- This ability emerged in response to her ascension to godhood, elevating the magecraft skills that she possessed into 'True Mysteries', sources of all supernatural phenomenon, whose levels of power are just below or almost on par with that of 'True Magic', the highest class of Mystery.
- Since fairies or faeys are extension of the world itself (or the case of fairies from the nasuverse), this is potent in manipulating the very foundation of nature itself, and can be use to conjure up or dispell storms, cause the sudden proliferation and growth of flora, and even halt and disperse the rot of darkness.
- Hymn of the Ancient: a song of creation and renewal, an ability which if sang can command the very forest and ground itself, and bind it to ones will.
- The Song of the Faey can also be classified as a Noble Phantasm since it's the crystalization of the ideals of Artoria Avalon.
E). ???
F). ???
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