The voice is thunderous, deafening. It splits through the air and strikes Ventus with the force of a thunderbolt, ripping through his body as acute physical pain rather than auditory sound. It’s a singularly overwhelming wave of sensation that tears through and disembowels him in a heartbeat, more than enough to send Ventus sprawling to his knees–
–and he only realizes that he blacked out for a moment when there is another arm urgently pulling him upright. A soothing wave of healing Anemo energy washes through him, and Ventus dimly realizes that there’s blood covering the side of his face.
“What just happened?” Ventus asks hoarsely. Or tries to, at least. He can feel his lips part and his throat move, but somehow, nothing comes out.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Ventus is stricken by the thought that he was somehow been rendered mute–
Until a pair of warm hands cover his ears, accompanied by another pulse of familiar Anemo energy.
Instantly, sound filters back into his world. The roar of the howling winds surrounding them, the rumbling of the earth as it literally crumbles beneath their feet–
“I have to go,” Barbatos’ hands move away from Ventus’ ears. His gaze is firm, resolute.
… No longer a minor wind spirit but now a deity in his own right, Barbatos does not appear as a small elf but instead as another human. The shape that he has chosen looks as if he could be Ventus’ twin, save for the tinted white hair. A pure shade of snow-white that is undoubtedly homage to the true god of Mondstadt, the god whom they had slain in their unknowing ignorance–
The first time that Ventus had seen Barbatos’ new form, he’d been… flattered, humbled, and scared. Because Ventus knows all too well that he is only human. A human who has made many mistakes, and he does not deserve such regard from Barbatos–
Yes, you made mistakes. So did I. But you’re not running from your mistakes, Ventus. And your heart was always in the right place. So don’t talk like that about yourself; I’ve never regretted meeting you, and I’m glad to call you my friend.
“… I have to go,” Barbatos repeats, as the winds around them heighten in intensity. “Ventus, take this opportunity and leave. Grab Gunnhildr with you and–”
“What are you saying?!” Ventus grips the fledgling god’s wrist, before he can pull away. There is a sudden panic that carves out a hole in his chest, a sensation that he can’t let Barbatos go by himself–! “You intend to confront Decarabian by yourself?! Don’t say foolish things –we started this together, and we’ll see things through to the end together as well.”
For a brief moment, Barbatos’ eyes soften, before they harden with determination.
“I noticed,” Ventus deadpans.
“… Yes, well,” Barbatos coughs, before managing to school his features back into seriousness. “I need to make sure that the destruction from his rampage is… contained. And I’m not powerful enough to do that if I have to worry about protecting you and the others.”
Never has Ventus felt more helpless about his own mortality than in this very moment. He wets his dry, blistering lips, and swallows roughly.
“I… I know that something about the ritual to revive Lady Balor went wrong.” Barbatos had acted swiftly to protect the people of Mondstadt, as soon as the warm, golden motes of light gathering towards the altar had suddenly turned black, tainted by some energy that sent chills down Ventus’ spine just by proximity alone. That hadn’t really been enough for Ventus to deduce just what it was that had gone wrong, though. And if they didn’t know what the problem was, then how could they possibly fix things. “But what–?”
LOATHSOME WRETCHES, HATEFUL MORTALS. CONTEMPTIBLE INGRATES, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU.
YOU WOULD REPAY BALOR’S MERCY AND PROTECTION BY CHAINING AND CORRUPTING HER REMNANTS, INSTEAD OF ALLOWING HER TO REST?
Even through the glowing barrier that Barbatos immediately created around them, Ventus’ ears are ringing from Decarabian’s incensed rage. “What… what in the world is he talking about? The ritual to restore Balor, through the power of Mondstadt’s gratitude and worship… how would this corrupt her? Barbatos?”
“Someone interfered with the ritual. I don’t know who did it, but…” Barbatos’ jaw clenches. Though their physical features are the same, there is still something about the individual beside him that is undeniably all Barbatos. And as inopportune as the thought might be, Ventus cannot help but think that Barbatos is beautiful in quiet fury. “… they managed to infect the ritual with Abyss energy.”
“Abyss energy?!” Ventus’ eyes widen in shock.
“Yes. It’s what Sal Vindagnyr–” Barbatos cuts himself off, roughly shaking his head. “We don’t have time for this. Balor is half-resurrected and corrupted by the Abyss as a force of disaster right now, and Decarabian’s fury is incandescent. If this gets any worse, and Celestia decides to intervene… we can’t afford to let that happen.”
A single moment of silence, as the gravity of the situation weighs down upon them.
“We need to divide our forces,” Barbatos declares decisively. “I’ll go and stop them however I can, while you and the others find the culprit who brought the Abyss into things.”
Because only then will they be able to find a way to resolve this mess.
Ventus sucks in a long, shaky breath. “… Alright. I will. Take care of yourself, Barbatos –I’ll be back as soon as we figure out how to remove the Abyssal energies. Don’t–”
His throat clogs up, choking in on itself.
Don’t die. Please, don’t die.
“I won’t,” Barbatos says, even though there’s no way that he could’ve possibly heard Ventus’ unspoken words. The young god straightens, stepping lightly into the air –and a pair of massive white wings unfurl from his back. “And the same goes for you, too, Ventus!”
