It was spring in Mondstadt. Flowers bloomed left and right and there he was, sitting alone once again, this time on a windmill.

His lyre was in his hand and he was tuning it without a care in the world. Seelies floated around him, trying to get a glimpse of the music, and the Windwheel Asters that usually twirled west had twirled east instead.

Venti— Barbatos ' hair fluttered with the wind, the tips of his hair gently glowing the familiar cyan color. Birds chirped and cheeped, cheering for the return of the bard they all know and love...the bard that played endless songs for all of eternity.

However, once the people of Mondstadt had looked upon the face of the so-called familiar bard, their smiles dropped and their eyebrows were raised in confusion. "T̸̨̺̦̗̖͇͔̈̓̓̄͘͝r̷̢̭͈͇͍̣̩̯̈̓͌̐̃͛̚̕å̵̢̡̭̦̭̺̽̄͛̾̂̌͘͝v̴̼̪̯͈̺̫͙͈͂̓́̈́̽̕͝e̸͈͇͎̺̹͋́̉ļ̶͔͓̜̩̹̟͚̉̂̍̾̊͊͝e̶̛̪͎͚̤͉̖͓̾͒̋̍͜ŗ̴̣̺̰̳̺͒̑͌̌̓̚͜͠?̴̢̈́͐͛̾̂̋͘" They called out. Their confused expressions turned into that of relief and cheer.

"I didn't know you were still in Teyvat!" Timmie exclaimed happily. He was no longer a child. He had long flowing hair that draped softly down his shoulders. He was taller and more masculine; his hair was wild and flowing with the wind. "I didn't know that you could play music as well!"

Barbatos didn't know what to say; instead of responding, he dashed away leaving behind his people in a confused state. As wind gathered at his feet, his breathing quickened.

God.

He wasn't ready to meet them yet. It was his fault after all. It was his fault things turned out this way. It was his fault he couldn't even look at himself in the mirror.

Barbatos took a deep breath in and sat down on the grass. Dandelions were scattered around the plain; a single Windwheel Aster lay on top of the grave.

It seemed like his body brought him here again. Barbatos could still hear his sound— how it had a beautiful rhythm . It was simply ethereal, much more than any song ever sang or written.

He could hear his laughter and Barbatos could see his figure sitting and laughing with a younger version of him. The archon could see how they both had a flower crown consisting of Barbatos's favorite flower.

He could see how they had sang and danced around the field. Barbatos remembered bringing the wind to them, making said wind sway around. It would cause the dandelions to fly around landing on their hair as they laughed all their problems away.

Barbatos remembered.

He always had.

Things changed a lot after the incident. Barbatos briefly remembered how he bought himself a house and living in it. Barbatos remembered how he would knack at him for not having a house and whacking him with a ladle. It was a funny sight.

An archon getting whacked on the head by a mortal.

Would Barbatos say he loved him?

No. Barbatos knew he didn't love that person. Instead, he treasured him with all his heart. He would only think this way to that person for the rest of his life.

No other mortal shall enter his heart in such a way ever again.

It was reserved for him . His name was etched on his heart's walls, never to be erased. Even if nobody remembered him , Barbatos would.

The archon opened his eyes and sighed as he walked back home.

The house was small but it was comfortable for him. It had a second room reserved for him . The room was unused but it was always tidy— he had made sure it was .

He gazed at the only mirror he hadn't broken yet.

The once familiar green-ish eyes were no more; it was replaced with a brilliant gold color. His dashing dark hair was now blonde, though his signature blue highlights were still there.

His outfit had changed as well to that of... him .

Barbatos' hair was braided and reached his legs. His earring was burnt beyond recognition but it laid comfortably down his earlobe, swaying with the wind.

The archon stared into his eyes once again and saw the same traveler he had grown to love. The now blonde archon's hand subconsciously made their way to the mirror, touching his hand. The hand then made its way to his cheek on the mirror.

Small droplets of tears fell from his eyes as he tried smiling. However, he failed to imitate that same sparkling smile he made.

He took a deep breath in once more before exhaling. Glancing to his drawer, he walked over to it and took out his lyre that he had given him a long time ago...during the festival.

With a lyre in hand, he hummed a tune to the night sky, hoping Aether would hear it.

Barbatos was sorry for failing to protect the young traveler. He was sorry for taking on his form—he was sorry for taking his identity.

Either way, he hoped the best for his old friend.

May the wind guide him to the afterlife.

__Fin__