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Chapter Text

“Lord Kusanali and the General are having tea in her sanctuary, sir,” the woman at the entrance to the Sanctuary that had once been used to keep their archon prisoner, told Al Haitham as he walked past her. Now, it was Nahida’s personal room to use as she pleased. A workshop, bedroom, study, meeting hall- it truly was a jack of all trades. 

“Thank you… what’s your name again?” Al Haitham had been told it before, but she was a quiet girl who kept her head down, so it had never had reason to come up again. That’s why she had been assigned the arduous task of guarding their archon’s door. Literally so unremarkable yet capable that Cyno nor him had found anything that made her suspicious or untrustworthy. 

“Ashari,” she told him with a perk to her stance. “Sir!”

“Well, I’ll be sure to remember next time, Ashari,” Al Haitham told her plainly, opening the door and closing it behind him. 

“Ah, Grand Scribe! Come, we have tea, and my General brought cookies!” Nahida gave him a warm smile, swinging happily from her swing as if she truly was just a happy little girl having a tea party with friends, rather than an archon having a meeting with two of her most powerful people. 

“Oh, did he now? Surely that could be considered bribing his archon?” Al Haitham asked as he took a seat beside her. She gave him a cup of tea, comically large in her hands, and a plate of the cookies that Cyno had brought. Shortbread, from Mondstadt. A rather expensive treat, considering no bakery in Sumeru he knew of had them in their stock. 

“Amber sent Collei a recipe, and she of course had to try her hand at making them,” Cyno explained as he seen Al Haitham’s quizzical expression, “Lord Kusanali has never seen a shortbread before, so I figured she would enjoy some.”

“They are quite good,” Al Haitham said as he took a bite, “tell Collei she is a good baker. Kaveh could never .” 

“She’ll be happy you enjoyed it,” Cyno told him, smiling fondly at the mere thought of the girl. Honestly, Al Haitham thought it was a bit silly, how much he was a girl dad , as Kaveh said. Indulgent of every one of Collei or Nahida’s whims, always ready to do whatever it took to see ‘his girls’ smile. 

“Well, as good as these cookies are, they aren’t the reason I called this meeting. Al Haitham, the General Mahamatra and I have decided to reopen a couple of the cases that we have deemed to be ‘suspicious’, that were closed before he became the General, and before we overthrew the sages’ corruption. There are a couple that just do not sit right with us, for several reasons,” Nahida made a sour face, setting down her teacup.

“Alright,” Al Haitham took a sip of his own tea. It was a tea Kaveh had sent the archon, he realized, recognizing the flavor as the mint and rose tea that Kaveh enjoyed at home. Had the archon somehow known he also enjoyed it every now and then? “If you feel the need to reinvestigate, it is not within my right as Scribe to stop you.”

He looked over the two files on the table, having not noticed them before. One had a name he did not recognize, probably from long before any of the people he knew had even stepped foot in the Akademiya, but one had names he knew achingly well.

“Why is one of them my parents’ death? Their death was ruled an accident, everyone agreed,” he asked slowly. He had known the Akademiya kept files of all the scholars who passed while working for it, regardless of circumstances, but he had never had the opportunity to read through what they had found surrounding his parents’. Nor had he ever found the courage to.

“Al Haitham, I know this is uncomfortable, and you were young when it happened, but the more Nahida and I read, the more it just didn’t add up . Your mother was a Vahumana scholar, your father Haravatat like you. She translated poetry, history, and all he did was approve research projects and do presentations if the professor he worked for couldn’t make it. Neither of them worked with anything that could have caused a lab fire . The fire started from inside the lab, but neither of your parents had any smoke in their lungs. Don’t victims who die of fire have smoke inhalation?” Cyno asked, “and why would they be conducting dangerous experiments, knowing that it could result in the orphaning of their son?”

Al Haitham sat, in shocked silence, as Cyno gave him a hard, slightly pleading stare. He was right . It didn’t add up. Haravatat didn’t work with elemental energy as Spantamad did, and Vahumana was more historical contents and translating ancient forgotten works. And the smoke inhalation… Cyno was right. Even without knowing how smoke inhalation worked, logic dictated that if his parents had been alive at the time the fire starting, they would have inhaled at least a small amount of smoke. 

“Al Haitham, why are you crying?” Nahida asked gently, floating up to be eye level with him. Her small, cool hands gently grasped his face, eyes shining with concern. “Why are you so sad?”

“You just told me my parents’ could have been murdered ,” he whispered, “I am sad because I don’t want it to be so. My- my parents were kind people, they didn’t have enemies, who could have hated them so much to want them dead? To- to subject me to a life without my family?”

“I don’t know,” Nahida whispered softly, “but the general and I will work to find out who could do such a thing. I personally believe that it was not an accident. We will see justice for them. Your parents will see their son get the justice and closure that they did not.”

“Nahida is right, I, as General Mahamatra, will do all that I can to seek justice for those who have been wronged, living or dead. Should there be a deviance in the records of the law, their sins shall be brought before the scales and shall weigh upon their soul in the judgment chamber of the divine.”

Cyno spoke with a slight echo to his voice, his eyes coated in a violet glaze. He was not speaking as just his friend, or the General Mahamatra. He was speaking as a vessel of the divine himself, the god who dwelled inside his body would deliver justice, however cruel. 

“Go home, Al Haitham, enjoy your supper and dreams. We will update you if we find anything,” Nahida told him kindly, “try not to dwell on anything too much.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure this is where she lives, General? It’s very… rundown,” the Matra who had come along with Cyno asked as they stopped in front of the house where a former colleague of Zakar and Hedaya’s lived. In its prime, the house had to have been lovely, with a nice yard and flower beds that laid along the paths, but now it was overgrown with several windows boarded up. Vines trailed from one of the upper windows, and Cyno wondered, deeply, if the matra was right.

“This is the address her landlord gave me, so this is where I am assuming she lives… Miss Calliope? Are you home? It’s General Cyno, Mahamatra of the Sumeru Akademiya.”

Several seconds passed, and then a frantic woman’s voice echoed from the other side of the door.

“ I know who you are! Leave, my experiments were funded!”

“Ma’am, I’m not here about your experiments! You left the Akademiya some time ago, but while you were there, you worked with a Haravatat scholar and a Vahumana, a husband and wife? I’m here to ask you some questions about the research you did with them!”

“You! You can come in; the boy stays outside! ”

“Sir, she can’t do that, law dictates-”

“I know what the law says, Karim. Can’t you see she doesn’t trust us? She’s not an official witness; we’re just asking questions. Nothing more, nothing less,” Cyno told him. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get anything out of Calliope if he didn’t play by her rules.

Calliope. Haravatat scholar. Deemed mad by the Akademiya and was sentenced to be exiled to Aaru Village. However, fled before being caught and fell off the face of Teyvat. Had not been seen by anyone in Sumeru for over ten years. Coincidentally, she happened to be deemed ‘insane’ not long before Al Haitham’s parents passed, as if they were trying to get rid of them all together. 

She had stayed the entire time, but evading capture by the sages? It had to have been a lonely existence. 

The door creaked open, a violet eye peering back at his red.

“Come in,” Calliope whispered, pushing the door just far enough for him to squeeze through. She slammed it in Karim’s face, turning back to Cyno with a frown.

“Why are you here? I left the Akademiya.”

“I know you did, Ma’am. However, we’ve reopened a case involving your former colleagues. Hedaya of Vahumana and Zakar of Haravatat? Do you recall ever working with them?” Cyno asked. Calliope blinked, eyes like twin violet stars, and then jerkily nodded.

“Yes, I worked with them for some time. Lemon water?” She offered a cup to him, as a cat twined around his ankles. “Please, sit! Oh, Mister Whiskers, leave our guest alone! So sorry about him, he’s terribly nosy.”

“It’s quite alright, Miss. I don’t mind cats at all,” Cyno took the cup from her, sitting on the sofa across from her. 

“Hedaya and Zakar were a lovely couple, so bright and happy. And oh so in love! Most scholars, they didn’t get along with anyone outside of their darshan, but I guess opposites attract when it came to them!” 

“Yes, but the research ?”

“Research? No, we never did any research together, we were just friends. I was in their wedding!” 

“Miss Calliope, you did do research with Zakar and Hedaya. Do you have any copies of the notes, or any files of your findings? The Akademiya, the files were not there, or they had been so badly damaged by the fire they were unreadable. Please, ma’am. I’m trying to get justice for their son, I believe they were murdered, and I think you can tell me the right direction to go.” 

Calliope stiffened, her eyes narrowing to two flinty pinpricks. “You need to leave,” she decided, “I’m done with the Akademiya. I do not know what research you’re speaking of! Hedaya and Zakar were my friends, it was a tragedy that they died, but I cannot help you in any way! So leave!” 

Cyno sat, eyes wide, as the woman frantically stood up, beginning to dust some of her bookcases. “Ma’am, if I’ve upset you in anyway, I apologize, but what you’re saying is contradicting our records. You did do research with Hedaya and Zakar, and then two weeks after you were deemed a mad scholar, they supposedly burnt to death in their lab. Please, Calliope, if you believe someone will hurt you for the truth, I can offer protection,” Cyno told her. Someone had to have gotten to her, made her fear for her life if she ever told the truth. She wasn’t a mad, loony scholar. She was a scared woman, who had seen two of her friends pass, too brilliant to let that happen to herself.

“No, I cannot help you, please leave now. I have a lot of cleaning to do,” Calliope whispered. 

“Okay ma’am, I’ll go. If you think of anything, you can send a letter to my office,” Cyno said, rising to his feet and opening the door. Karim stood up from where he had been sitting on the ground, weaving blades of grass together to make miniature baskets.

“Did you find anything out?” Karim asked, “she sounded awfully upset with you-”

“Something is scaring her,” Cyno told him, “Watch the house, tell me if anyone besides her comes and goes. If she seems suspicious of you, back off. If she needs help in any way, help her. Carry in her groceries if you have to. She successfully fell off the grid for ten years, we can’t let her do that again. We’d never find her if she did.” 

“Yes sir!” Karim saluted, “sir, where are you going?”

“I’m off the clock; I’m having supper with my friends. Get started.”

“Yes sir!”

Chapter Text

“Oh, hey Cyno! We were wondering where you were! We’re having curry shrimp tonight,” Kaveh babbled happily as Cyno entered the house and took a seat beside Tighnari. The smaller man gave him a bowl, and Cyno begun eating with no other comment.

“Oh, okay then, be that way,” Kaveh sniffed as Cyno swallowed, reaching for the wine bottle and taking a drink directly from it.

“Oh, hush Kaveh, he’s fine,” Tighnari chided, “like you haven’t done the same when you get off work.”

“Worse,” Al Haitham commented from the hall, returning with a book in his hands. The pages were more yellowed than his other volumes, and opening the cover revealed a handwritten title.

Hedaya and Zakar’s Wedding

“Haitham? Why are you looking at your parents’ wedding photos?” Kaveh asked. Haitham shrugged, opening the book to the first page. It showed Hedaya’s henna night, and Kaveh could see that Alma, Haitham’s grandmother, and even his own mother was in attendance. They were all sitting in a circle as henna designs were being drawn on their feet, proudly displaying their hands that were already decorated. A brown-haired woman was in the back, laughing heavily from the red flush to her cheeks. She too had henna drawn on her.

“She really was beautiful,” Kaveh whispered, putting his hand on Haitham’s. They had both done the henna night before their weddings, untraditional, but still fun. Kaveh had gotten Haitham’s name, written in ancient Sumerian, and Haitham had gotten his written. Hidden cleverly into the designs that Faruzan had sketched up, Kaveh smiled as he remembered Haitham holding his hands for hours, searching for his name amongst the swirls and flowers. 

There was a picture of the groom and his men, all gleefully laughing at something. Kaveh’s father was on one side, Cyrus and Tighnari’s father on the other.

“I… Grandmother always told me my parents were upstanding people, model citizens really. What if… what if they didn’t tell her everything? What if my grandmother was wrong?” Haitham closed the book, eyes wide and haunted as if he was a man whose worldview had been shattered before him. He did not know who or what to believe and was unsure if he wished to hear the truth. 

“What if my parents were secretly monsters, and she just didn’t know? I- I don’t want my parents to have been evil, but if they were- am I a bad son for saying their deaths might have been justified ? Am I a horrible son for even second-guessing my parents’ integrity?!” 

“Al Haitham, no one would think of you as a horrible son for asking questions,” Tighnari told him, “Least of all your parents. They were, first and foremost, your parents . They loved you, without question. Question their beliefs, their motives, their work, but the one thing you cannot deny is the fact that they loved you with all their hearts.”

“Tighnari’s right. Whatever we discover, it doesn’t change the fact that they are in fact your parents, and you love them. They loved you, and that’s enough," Kaveh added, taking a bite of his food.

“Archons… I wish they were still here, maybe he could’ve made sense of all of this, or my mother would’ve been able to guide us in the right direction. I can’t even read any of her notes, she wrote in a code, and the decipher was burnt in the fire,” Haitham grumbled, “I’ve been trying to decode what she wrote since I was eight, I- gods this is stupid- I used to think she wrote me secret letters, telling me she loved me or wanted me to have a good day at school.” 

“Let me see her notes,” Tighnari said, hand out. Al Haitham dug into the wedding album, pulling out a sheet of paper that had long lines of numbers, each one separated by dashes.

“You three keep on talking, I want to see if I can crack this,” he muttered after a moment, studying the paper and muttering to himself as he did.

Cyno shrugged, turning to Kaveh. “You wouldn’t believe what Azar did the other day.”

“What did that overgrown weasel do now?” Kaveh sighed, leaning on the couch. 

“He sat on poison ivy while digging up roots in the forest, so now he has a rash all over his ass,” Cyno giggled, nearly kicking his feet like a schoolgirl in glee. 

“He didn’t ,” Kaveh scoffed, “no way he’s that stupid.”

“He did,” Cyno confirmed, “yelled and fussed for two hours while poor Tighnari had to smear cream on his ass.”

“Damn, Tighnari needs to be financially compensated for dealing with all those corrupt sages, apparently they’re all dumb as rocks,” Kaveh laughed. “Or I need to be compensated for the mental image of Azar’s butt.”

“Al Haitham, I’ve cracked it,” Tighnari announced, showing Al Haitham the paper and then his own scratch paper he had been writing on.

“What? How?” Al Haitham picked the paper up, “I’ve tried for years, I used every code I’ve ever heard of-”

“Your mother was a crafty one, I’ll hand that to her,” Tighnari chuckled, “she was aware that anyone who found it would think, that as a brilliant scholar, she would use a complicated and hard to decode code and cipher. So, to throw them off, she used the most basic one. Collei uses this code when she wants to write something she thinks I can’t read. Mostly ‘Tighnari is dumb’ or ‘I can’t write’.”

“Each number corresponds to the place of that letter is on the alphabet, H is 8, E is 5 and so on. The first row of the note reads: Hedaya’s Finding No. One. In the code this is 8-5-4-1-25-1 6-9-14-4-9-14-7 14-15 15-14-5. It looks complicated, but it’s really simple to learn once you know what the cipher is,” Tighnari explained. Al Haitham studied his mother’s handwriting for some time, beginning to understand what Tighnari was saying.

Mother really was brilliant, to know people in Sumeru would try to overthink it. 

“Oh, there is a letter to you in this little bundle. Do you want me to decode it for you?” Tighnari asked. Al Haitham nodded his head, closing the book.

“Not yet, now that I know the cipher, I can begin to decode her work myself,” Al Haitham smiled, “maybe reading her notes will make me feel closer to her. I don’t remember what she was like, really. It’s been a long time.”

“I don’t really remember either,” Kaveh sighed, “I’ll have to write to mother and see if she has anything.”

“Maybe Faranak will be able to tell us more about what happened right before the accident, she was close to all of our parents,” Cyno told them, “It’d be a good chance for closure, if anything.”

“Al Haitham?” Tighnari’s voice went softer, causing the three others to look at him. “For what it's worth, I think your parents were wonderful people. They had to be, to have a son such as yourself.”

“I… I wish I could believe you right now, Tighnari, but with everything-” Al Haitham looked unsure, and Kaveh’s chest ached, his arms wanting to hold his husband and shoo away any doubts he felt. 

“I understand,” Tighnari gave him a nod, “hopefully Cyno and Nahida find something soon.” 

Chapter Text

“Sir? A woman stopped by just a moment ago, she dropped this box off and then went away before we could ask her anything. It’s addressed to you?” Ashari came into Nahida’s sanctuary, eyes wide as she lugged in the large, unsuspecting, brown box. 

Karim ran through the doors before they had a chance to close, eyes wild as he fought to catch his breath. “General! General she disappeared! I tried to find her, but it’s like she vanished! Her house is empty; the cat is gone-” 

“Cyno? Who has gone missing?” Nahida asked, eyes wide as she turned to the general. “Is this an emergency?”

“No, if she’s disappeared, there’s nothing we can do about it now. The box must contain all the research and notes she compiled while working with Hedaya and Zakar. It was Calliope, a former scholar of the Akademiya and friend to Al Haitham’s parents.”

“Calliope? Wasn’t she deemed a mad scholar?” Ashari asked, “I remember my father telling me about it. Supposedly, she ran off into the desert before they had a chance to take her to Aaru Village.”

“So, the story goes,” Cyno commented dryly, “only Calliope knows the truth, and she’s gone to the wind.”

He opened the box, finding a note addressed to him at the top. Nahida floated up to look over his shoulder, reading alongside him.

To the General, 

By the time you read this, I will be long gone, with little hope of you ever finding me. I evaded the ‘Hunting Jackal’ once and shall do so as many times as needed. This box contains what you asked of me, no more, no less. 

Hedaya and Zakar were my dearest friends, so I pray you give them the justice they are owed. They were killed, and whoever had done it would’ve killed me, if I had given them the chance. 

Regards,

Calliope of Haravatat 

“Is that true, Cyno? Did this Calliope really know Hedaya and Zakar?” Nahida asked, green eyes wide. Cyno nodded, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. 

“She was in their wedding, so I’d say so. Are you still planning on doing what you were planning on, Lord Kusanali?” 

Nahida nodded, “Yes. I believe it will give us the answers we need.” 

“Sir, do you want me to go look for her?” Karim asked, standing beside Ashari. Ashari looked at Cyno as well, her hand on her staff.

“I can as well, sir! Just give the order!”

“No, you’re to remain here, to guard Lord Kusanali. Karim, I want you to go back to your post at Port Ormos, if she’s leaving the country by boat, that is where she will go to get on one. However, send word if you haven’t seen her after three days.”

Ashari nodded as Karim bowed, rising to his full height before running back out of Nahida’s office. 

“For what it’s worth, sir, I don’t believe he’ll find her. She’s evaded capture once, she can easily do so again,” Ashari commented lightly. Cyno nodded, his expression growing sterner. Ashari was young, so she had yet to grow the sense of fear of authority that the senior Matra had. It did not help that she was taller than Cyno, and had regularly aided him in reaching the coffee cup that people unknowingly moved to a taller shelf. 

“Maybe so, but it is not your place to judge. Return to your post, Ashari,” Cyno ordered her firmly. Ashari did as she was told, Cyno walking after her.

“Please be careful, Lord Kusanali, I would hate to extend my workload because Irminsul started a catastrophe,” Cyno gave her a slightly pleading look, and Nahida smiled at the worry that flooded his thoughts. Her general had become so…warm to her, as if she was but another daughter for him to fuss and worry over. He hid it under amusement and jokes, but his dreams and thoughts could not hide from Nahida. 

“Don’t worry, General,” Nahida gave him a serene smile, holding out her hand to the branch of Irminsul that laid before her eyes, “I will be careful.”

Her words did little to placate his worries, but he left her to continue her search. Scanning the leaves and branches that laid before her, unseen to the naked eye, she searched for the two names who could very well hold all the answers.

Everyone in Teyvat who ever existed, or even was ever thought of, each has a leaf in the world tree. Their entire lives are recorded in the stem, their century the branch it lays upon. If you want to know what records and humanity forgot, you need to go there. Wanderer had told her, when asked how he had known exactly what to do to erase himself from Irminsul. 

Irminsul records as it is, not as it should be, Nahida thought as she located Al Haitham’s leaf, lovingly tucked up against three wilted leaves. It was young, the fuzz of a bud having yet to fall off the tender flesh. She smiled, her friend had many years left to grow, and would live a long, productive life. 

Alma, that is the name of his grandmother, so that means the other two leaves he is attached to are… yes! 

The leaves were wilted, not much larger than Al Haitham’s own, and shone with barely there flecks of silver, compared to the bright white glow of the leaf bearing her scribe’s name. Nahida felt tears prick her eyes at how short the stems of the leaves truly were. These were two people who had died at the prime of their existence. They had meant to live long, beautiful lives, side by side, with their son. Their leaves were beautiful, even in death. 

“Show me, oh great tree, the lives that lay amongst these veins,” Nahida whispered, cupping the leaves in her hands. They were cold to the touch, soft and silky against her skin. “May they bear fruit of knowledge, and may thy servant know one more truth of this world…”

Hedaya, guidance. Zakar , handsome. These are who I seek. Reveal thyselves, oh long departed souls. 

Maybe in Irminsul, the truth of their death would be revealed. 

Chapter Text

“Habibi~ stop looking at those dusty books and kiss me! I’m gonna die without your kisses~” Kaveh flopped dramatically onto the couch beside Haitham, pursing his lips at his husband dramatically, making stupid noises as Haitham looked at him.

“If I kiss you, will you leave me alone? I’m still decoding my mother’s notes,” Haitham asked dully, looking down at Kaveh as he wriggled his way into laying his head on Haitham’s lap. He made a noise of happiness when, swiftly, Haitham leaned down and pressed his lips to Kaveh’s before returning to writing down the decoded notes. 

“You! That was hardly a proper kiss, what are we, still engaged?!” Kaveh brought himself up to lean against Haitham, not at all bothered with invading the other man’s personal space. What was Kaveh’s was Kaveh’s, and what was Haitham’s was also Kaveh’s, and by the blond’s definition, that also meant personal space was free real estate. 

“I wish my mother had been at our wedding,” Haitham whispered suddenly, “she- this letter says she can’t wait for me to meet someone, and then- she never got to see any of it. It- all of it was taken away from her. I-my father never got to play ball with me, or take me to work with him as he planned-”

“I think they know,” Kaveh whispered, “do you want me to read her letter to you? Tighnari told me you still haven’t worked up the courage.”

“I don’t think I ever will,” Haitham admitted, closing the book and burying his head in Kaveh’s shoulder, “I-I shouldn’t still miss them- I- I thought-”

“You never stop missing someone, Habibi,” Kaveh told him, “The pain just becomes less sharp, until eventually it scars over. Your scar got re-opened when you found out they might have been killed by someone; it’ll take time for that wound to repair itself.”

“ Please ,” Haitham signed, tears in his eyes as he tried and failed to open his mouth to speak, “ read to me. Letter. Mother’s letter.”

“Okay, I will,” Kaveh knew that Haitham loved to be read to, had done so every so often since moving in with the man. It stemmed from his childhood, when his grandmother would read to him every night, because the doctor told her that it would help with his language deficit from being deaf and then mentally divergent. 

I didn’t talk with words until I was nine, Haitham told him once. First it was because I couldn’t hear the words people were speaking, and then it was because of my developmental delays. 

Kaveh couldn’t imagine how lonely his childhood had been, with so many large thoughts and feelings inside him, but nothing to describe them. No wonder his mother recalled Haitham having meltdowns to rival those of the most spoiled prince, everything must have been so much to such a small boy. 

“Okay, here it goes…”

My sweet son, 

How are you, my dearest one? I hope this letter finds you well. As I write this, your father, Zakar, is bouncing you in his arms, you are staring up at him with nothing but wonder in your eyes. You have my eyes, or so your father claims. I believe they hold his kindness, but he claims your beauty is mine alone. You truly are a beautiful child, with large eyes and the perfect cherub face. 

Many nights I have tried to write to you, a letter I would give you when you enter your adult life, but each time the words seemed to fall short. What more could a mother say? I love you? I hope you achieve your goals? Both of those are so broad , but encompass so much of what I, Hedaya, hope for you.  I hold so much hope for you, Haitham. I hope you have your father’s kindness and become a man who would stop at nothing for those he loves. I hope you have my wit, so that any challenge may crumble in defeat at your hands. I love you so much, the stars do not seem as bright unless I am looking at them with you. 

I hope your life is peaceful, and happy. It is a mother’s wish that her child leaves the world better than the one he was brought into, and I hope the same for you, my dearest son. I hope that someday, you look at all that you have created and know that everything you have was what your father and I dreamt you would someday own. He is singing you a lullaby, and you stop crying as you always do. The doctors say you cannot hear our voices, but you always stop crying when your father sings to you anyways. You feel the timbre of his voice and know you are safe; you feel the melody he is singing and know that you are warm and loved. Zakar says you love music, and you do. You always turn your head to look at him when you feel the vibration of his lute, and you always look at him when he stretches your arms above your head and singsongs “good morning, sun! Goodnight moon!”. 

Please know, my sweet boy, that your mother’s heart aches when I see your tears. Wherever you are at this moment, put this paper to your chest, and imagine it is my hug. I am hugging the paper now, pressing kisses to the parchment as if it is your forehead, and wishing we were together forever. Do not cry, my beloved Haitham, your mommy always loves you. May we see each other again, some day, and when you walk through the door to your childhood home as a man, know that your mother and father will always embrace you as we did when you were small. 

With all the love of my heart, and all the love of the world, 

Your mother, Hedaya. 

Kaveh folded the paper up and pressed it to Haitham’s chest, a sorrowful expression on his face as Haitham hugged the paper to his chest, shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked his body. Kaveh rubbed his back and shoulders, sitting in silence as Haitham grieved. What else could he say that the letter had not already told him? His parents loved him, and wanted him to be happy? That they were taken from him much too soon? 

Haitham should have been able to go to his childhood home, to open the door and see his mother and father’s faces, lined with age and wisdom, and hold them close to him as if he was still a child, clinging to his parents’ knees. Yet that childhood home had been sold to pay for his parents’ funeral, and later demolished. The warmth and love that had been there would never be brought back. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, Haitham, I really don’t,” Kaveh finally whispered. Haitham shook his head, sobbing harder. This was worse for Kaveh, seeing his infallible husband sobbing like a child. Maybe in this moment he was, sobbing out for parents who could not come to pick him up and cuddle him to their chest. He had cried the day he fought with Kaveh, back during their school years, and he had reportedly bawled the day of his grandmother’s funeral. 

Anytime he cried, it was because he had lost something. Kaveh wished he could bring everything Haitham had ever lost back to his husband, to stop those tears from ever falling down his face again. Be it people, possessions, even the stupid strawberry shaped hair clip Kaveh had given him as a joke, but Haitham had later lost it- he wished he could give it all back to him. 

“Don’t-” Haitham sucked in a breath, choking on the air and then wiping his eyes, “-you don’t need to say anything. Just- please stay.”

“I will,” Kaveh told him, “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever you need, just say the word. I’m here, habibi. I won’t leave you.”

Nahida’s eyes widened as she saw the silvery images of two people, one with long, flowing brown hair and the other a young man with close-cropped gray waves. They appeared to be arguing about something, both stuck in a stance that spoke of annoyance and irritation.

“ Why don’t you get it, Vahumana? The formula you came up with is wrong, not my calculations! You need to redo your half of the work, not nitpick over mine!” the young man snapped, the girl glaring at him.

“I have a name you know, Haravatat! It’s not my calculations that were off; it’s your research notes that the calculations were based on! No one can read them! You have chicken-scratch!” 

“Oh, so do enlighten me, great sage Hedaya , on what I, your lowly servant, did wrong!” 

“ Why you- ARGH!” 

Nahida watched as the silvery form of Hedaya threw her file at the boy, stomping off in a rage. Zakar picked them up, looking over them with confusion in his eyes before they widened. Nahida looked to see that Hedaya had redid his work, marking where he had made mistakes and explained what he did wrong. 

“I did do it wrong… jeez, now I gotta get her something to apologize, or my thesis is screwed…” 

The next scene revealed Zakar and Hedaya, older now, with Zakar placing a orchid in Hedaya’s palm. 

“I don’t know if you like flowers, but I wanted to apologize for how I acted when we were freshmen, it was stupid of me. I was wondering if- if you would like to go to the Sabzeruz Festival with me? As a date?”

“Why me? You’re the most popular guy in our class, Zakar. I’m just the country bumpkin who has a temper and takes your top spot in academics.”

“I could have anyone I want, but I want you,” Zakar gave her a shy smile, “I don’t care about anyone else. You’re the only one who can even hope to come close to my brain. I’d be bored talking to anyone else.”

“ Well then, we can’t have the prince of Haravatat being bored now, can we? I expect Sumeru roses next time, they’re my favorite.” 

The third showed them, even older, with Hedaya having a round stomach and Zakar holding his arm protectively around her waist as they spoke to someone. Nahida felt cold as she realized it was Azar, the very man who had tried to overthrow her completely. 

“Congratulations on becoming Grand Sage, Azar. You deserve it, you worked hard,” Zakar smiled at the man, warm and friendly. “Now it clears up the Rtawahist Sage spot. I’d recommend Hedaya, but I don’t think the Sage of Vahumana is going to retire anytime soon.”

“Haha, very funny, Zakar. I’m going to step back from the Akademiya for some time, at least until after our baby is born. Your mother said stress is bad for mother and baby.”

Azar gave the two a tight smile, eyes sharp. “Yes, I believe Zakar’s mother is correct. How is your research going, you’re currently translating the history of Eleazar, correct?”

“I’m making a lot of headway, but it is slow going,” Hedaya sighed, “It says that Eleazar only showed up right before the Cataclysm. Zakar is working on translating the rune-script used to write the history of the Cataclysm. We’re theorizing that the two are connected.” 

“ Please, don’t sell yourself short. It’s you who made the connection that it only happens in Sumeru due to the branches of Irminsul.” 

“ I-I beg your pardon?” 

“ Hedaya read an ancient poem about the world tree, Irminsul. How ancient priests would cleanse the tree of impurity and then the sickness would be healed from the land. We think that Irminsul was harmed, somehow, during the Cataclysm. We need more time to refine our research, but if we are able to give enough reason, Lesser Lord Kusanali might be able to do something about it!” Zakar’s eyes shone with pride for his wife, an earnest gleam that spoke of wanting to better his world. 

“ You need to cease such blasphemy at once,” Azar’s eyes were cold, “if the Matra were to find out- not even I could save you.”

Nahida closed her eyes, unable to bear the thought of hearing the man’s voice any longer. They had known , they had theorized that Eleazar was caused by the corruption of Irminsul, and they had been right . If-if Zakar and Hedaya had lived, they might have been able to save so many people. People would have been made better with their work. 

“ Oh, Azar, what are you doing here? Did you read the paper we put on your desk?” Zakar wiped his hand of the silvery powder, and Nahida realized it was crystalized leyline branches. Somehow, a mortal man with no vision had gotten ahold of the roots of Irminsul. It looked as if they were in an out-building beside the main house, bright and airy and filled with scientific equipment. 

“ I did, ” Azar muttered as Hedaya came up beside her husband, tilting her head. Groceries were in her hands, obviously having just returned home from the market. Zakar turned to his wife, eyes wandering.

“Dearest, where’s Haitham? Did he wander off again?”

“No, Zakar. I met Alma at the market; she is currently taking your son on an adventure to feed the ducks by the water. They’ll be back for supper.” 

“ Ahh, I see. Have you seen our Haitham, Azar? You sent that blanket for his birthday, you know! He loves it, sleeps with it every night!” Zakar laughed, the corner of his eyes crinkling. His laughter faded as an Eremite soldier ducked his head through the door, knife in hand. Another followed, boxing the two scholars in their laboratory. 

“I told you two to stop,” Azar sighed, “yet you did not listen . And now you’re requesting to have council with the Dendro Archon ? Why can you not leave well enough alone?!” 

“ Azar, when you became Grand Sage, you promised to better Sumeru ,” Hedaya whispered, “all we want to do is ask Lesser Lord Kusanali what she thinks. We might be wrong, but it doesn’t hurt to check! No one has thought of this before, Eleazar could be cured , Azar! Don’t you want the suffering people to have a better chance?! I don’t want my son to grow up in a world where Eleazar exists! ” 

“You are meddling in matters that do not concern you! I didn’t want to have to do this, but you and your blasphemous research leaves me no choice!” Azar turned to the two Eremites, eyes cold. “Dispose of them. Make it look like an accident. Destroy all findings related to Irminsul.” 

“ Azar ! What -” Zakar’s yell was cut off with a sickening stab of the knife, Hedaya crying out as she too was stabbed. She fell beside Zakar, eyes wide.

“ Azar-you- you would doom our boy. My boy-” Zakar’s eyes glossed over as death claimed him, Hedaya already cold. Her last thoughts echoed through the small leaf. I am glad my baby is safe. 

Nahida let go of the leaves of Irminsul, heart racing as she tried to stop the well of tears that threatened to consume her eyes. Another sin of Azar , she thought. He had stopped at nothing, and even an innocent child had paid the price. 

“They were disposed of,” Nahida whispered, “ he killed them because they threatened his plan to build a false god. They died trying to solve a problem he had let run rampant.”

Two more of her people had been killed while she was unaware, and one of her dearest friends had grown up without his parents because of her failings. 

If I had been a better goddess, they would be here. If I had been a stronger god for my people, Hedaya and Zakar would have grown to see their son’s graduation, his wedding- they would have been there. 

Realistically, she knew it was no fault of her own. Al Haitham would not blame her, how could he, when her hand had not guided the knife? From their entries in Irminsul, she knew the kind hearts of Hedaya and Zakar would not blame her either. They had too much love and kindness in them, to hold even an ounce of hatred. They had even wanted to meet her and  share their knowledge with her. 

Yet she could not help but feel as if she had failed them all, somehow. Hedaya and Zakar, for not ever meeting them and being unable to give them her blessings. Al Haitham, for indirectly causing Azar to feel the need to hurt his family- and even herself, for being unable to save two of her devoted people. 

They believed in me , Nahida thought, wiping her eyes, even when I did not believe in myself. 

Chapter Text

Tighnari grumbled, low in his throat, as Azar sat at his dining table, across from Cyno and giving them both a much too haughty glare for his current predicament. Cyno had decided late in the night to question the Grand Sage during the death of Hedaya and Zakar, and thus Tighnari had been forced to bring the viper into his home.

“Hello, Forest Ranger,” Azar’s tone was crisp and polite, as if Tighnari had not seen him seething and yelling his rage at having to clear underbrush from the foot paths. “Good day to you, General.”

“Cut the formality, shithead,” Tighnari spat, causing Cyno to glare at him. “We’re not here for pleasantries.”

“ Tighnari ,” Cyno hissed, “ keep it quiet. ”

“I would do as your General says, Forest Ranger. Be as it may, I am still your ward, and we would not want a mistreatment of wards case to fall upon you, would we?” Azar tilted his head, eyes sparking with some of his old ego. 

“You aren’t speaking to him, Azar,” Cyno said sternly, tapping his pen upon the table, “it’s I who called you here. You knew most of the scholars who studied with you, correct? Did you know of a Haravatat scholar, Zakar? He and his wife, Hedaya of Vahumana, were supposedly killed in a lab fire when their son was three.”

“And what if I did?” Azar asked, “their deaths were ruled as an accident. They were meddling with subjects that ought not to be meddled with, and unfortunately, they paid the price.”

“See, that’s what the official report that you signed says, but common logic dictates something else. They performed autopsies, Azar, and discovered no smoke inhalation in either subject’s lungs, which meant that they had already been dead by the time the fire began. Zakar’s last work was translating the history of Eleazar from the time of the Scarlet King, which his wife Hedaya was then comparing to the history of Irminsul . Did you approve of their research, or did they do this without your knowledge?” Cyno asked, leaning closer. Tighnari smirked from around his cup at the gleam in his husband’s eyes, pinpointed upon the kill. 

Such a magnificent hunter , Tighnari mused, I have picked a fine husband indeed . What prey Cyno set his sights upon, he succeeded in capturing, and right now Azar was his rather unfortunate victim. Tighnari would get a splendid amount of satisfaction from watching the former sage squirm beneath his husband’s claws, however symbolic they happened to be. 

“I refused to approve such blatant disrespecting of our ideals,” Azar spat, “whatever those two traitors did, they funded themselves! I even went to their home to convince them to stop, but they were insistent! They refused to accept that she was an incompetent god, who could do nothing to better Sumeru! They refused to accept my words as law!”

“So, they believed that Lord Kusanali would help, if shown their research?” Cyno asked calmly, ignoring the way the table begun to shake from Azar’s increasingly obvious foot tapping. “And you went to their home? When was this? It’s not in the official reports.”

“Of course not! I couldn’t associate with them! Why would I detriment my own reputation by visiting them in any official capacity?! They had discovered too much, if the others had known-” Azar stopped himself, “- then there would have been no telling what my plans would suffer.”

Tighnari watched as Azar looked at him, gray eyes clear and steadfast, despite the hostile scene he found himself in. The former sage tilted his head, giving him a smirk as if to challenge him. 

“You know how it is, Forest Ranger,” Azar said cooly, “a researcher as dedicated as yourself should understand the importance of protecting your work. A few mothballs do wonders in protecting parchment from moths, even if they unfortunately kill the moths in the process. However, I believe that you understand that a few dead moths are worth the endless years of bettering your nation.” 

Tighnari dropped his cup as he realized what Azar was taunting him with. Motive, method, opportunity- 

“The vertebrae had fractures,” Tighnari whispered, studying the notes from the autopsy of Hedaya and Zakar, “originally they were thought to be heat fractures from the fire, but the damage to the outer layers of the body prove those to be false- they would have to have been directly on top of the fire to cause fractures of this kind… these were caused by something else. A significant force from a sharp object, plunging into the body here -” Tighnari got up, motioning to the space between Cyno’s vertebrae in his back, right at the bottom of his ribcage. 

“That means-” Cyno’s eyes widened as he realized what Tighnari was trying to tell him, “They were stabbed.”

“Yes,” Tighnari sat back down, taking a sip of his drink. “The fire was simply to make it look accidental. The embalmer would not question any cracks in the bones, and the doctor performing the autopsy was too inexperienced to take it as anything but face value. Since they were Akedemiya scholars, they all go to the same embalmer, same mortician- people that others in authority could easily sway.”

“Please, Kaveh, I need to see Al Haitham right away, it’s about his parents!” Nahida stood on the front step of the couple’s home, the blond unwavering in his stance that his husband was exhausted and should not be disturbed from his napping spot on the couch. 

“That’s all his life has been about for two weeks now, and now I finally get him to lay down and rest , not being stressed about work or what he’s going to find out?! No way, Lord Kusanali. I respect you, but I have to think about Haitham’s health here!” Kaveh told her. “I know you’re trying to help, and Haitham appreciates it more than he has words for, but I-I can’t stand him being so upset and unsure. This… anxious person isn’t who Haitham is, and I want to protect him from life, at least for another hour.”

“We were right ,” Nahida told him, “His parents were murdered. I-I seen it all. Irminsul told me everything. It-they died thinking of him . They were murdered in cold blood, Kaveh. He deserves to know that Azar ordered his family’s death. I received word from Cyno that he’s questioning Azar now.”

The rustle of fabric made both her and Kaveh look up, Al Haitham standing behind Kaveh with his eyes wide. He had put on his cloak, stepping out into the sunlight. 

“ Azar killed my parents? They’re dead because of him?” Al Haitham asked her, expression unreadable. Maybe he was angry, or perhaps disappointed. She couldn’t truly tell, never with Al Haitham. His emotions were like the river. Calm to the naked eye, but a swirling current laid below.

“Yes,” Nahida sighed, “Your parents knew that Irminsul was damaged, they wanted to use my energy to mend it and hopefully cure Eleazar. Azar killed them because it interfered with his plan to make a new god.”

“I planned to kill him, that day in his office,” Al Haitham seethed, pushing past her, “now I have a reason to. I’m going to murder him, as he did my parents. Put his wickedness to rest for good!”

“Haitham wait!” Kaveh tried to reach out to his husband, eyes wide as he too grabbed his shawl, “you can’t just kill him-”

“I can and I will!” Al Haitham called back, eyes blazing as they had the day that he discovered Azar’s true purpose, “I was an orphan because of him! He deserves to die as they did!”

“Kaveh, stop him,” Nahida urged the blond, “please don’t let him do something he’ll later regret!”

“I’ll try,” Kaveh puffed out as he ran after his husband, who was obviously using his mirrors to teleport himself short distances, closing the gap between him and the man he was set on murdering. “No promises!”

Please, Al Haitham, do not stain your hands with his blood. He’s not worth such a sacrifice. Nahida sent her thought through the vines, hoping that maybe Al Haitham would hear them in the forest. She sat on the step of their house, flickering through the records of Irminsul, eyes closing as the gentle voice of people long dead guided her towards a certain memory, sweet to the taste.

“You had them murdered,” Tighnari said, matter of factly as Azar glared at him, “because they were in the way. Two pesky moths who threatened your greatest work. I hope you realize that we won’t allow you to get away with this. It was by Nahida’s mercy you lived after the false god stunt you pulled; it’ll be very easy for her to revoke such privileges now that we add murder   to your long list of charges as well.”

“ AZAR!” a screaming yell echoed through the peaceful village, causing Tighnari’s ear to flick, “ COME OUT AND DIE, COWARD!”

“Oh, it seems that we already have an executioner on stand-by,” Tighnari commented dryly, not flinching even when Cyno kicked him in the ankle for his dark humor. “Al Haitham appears very eager to wet his blade with your blood.”

Chapter Text

“That boy is soft ,” Azar spat, “he won’t kill me. I made him who he is, not those false scholars! He will hesitate as he always has, that’s why he was never a sage, he can’t make tough decisions when it really counts!”

“Do you really want to bet on that?” Tighnari asked as he heard Al Haitham’s footsteps drawing closer, the sharp twinge of a blade scrapping the inside of the sheath. Al Haitham wasn’t even going to use his vision; he wouldn’t give Azar the satisfaction of exerting energy to kill him. Perhaps it is poetic , Tighnari smirked as he fiddled with the vial of poison on his counter , a simple metal blade is what murdered his parents, and a simple metal blade is what Azar will meet his end with . Tighnari wouldn’t mind seeing the nuisance go, it would simply be getting rid of the rotten apple before it made the rest of them even more so. 

“Neither of you frighten me,” Azar crowed as Al Haitham stood in the doorway, his sheer bulk darkening any light, “Blade or poison, I don’t think you have the guts to go through.”

“They should,” Cyno told the man, “Tighnari’s poisoned me for fun before.”

“It was a diuretic,” Tighnari sighed, “and I hardly think I’m the most dangerous person in the room right now. How are you, Al Haitham?”

The man certainly looked worse for wear, the kohl that was smudged around his eye, obviously the product of Kaveh testing products on him during a nap, was trailing down his face in a ghastly imitation of mascara-weeping girls, and he tightened his trembling grip on his sword as he pointed it at Azar’s chest.

“Lord Kusanali told me you murdered my parents in cold blood,” he said coldly, much too calm for a man who looked as if he had walked through hell, “but I want to hear it from your mouth, Azar. Tell me, now . Did you murder my parents, framing it an accident, and then had the audacity to paint yourself as my mentor ?” 

“So what if I did?” Azar scoffed, “They were insignificant scholars anyways. Their works did nothing to help me, and so I simply ordered the removal of inefficient dead weight .” 

“Haitham!” Kaveh wheezed from the doorway, “please! Think this through, you-your parents wouldn’t want you to be a killer!”

“My parents would want to be alive !” Al Haitham yelled at his husband, “ I want them to be alive! If I kill him, then they’re avenged !”

“But it doesn’t bring them back !” Kaveh yelled back, voice rising to match the urgency in Al Haitham’s. “ Nothing you do to him will bring them back! If you kill him, you have to kill the Eremites who did the stabbing, you have to kill the mortician who covered it up- when does your vengeance end?! You would lose yourself to your rage, Hatham, and it would never stop hurting .” 

Azar had begun chuckling as Cyno dragged him out, obviously taking him to Sumeru City and the court of Lord Kusanali. Tighnari sighed, putting away the poison he had been thinking of placing in Azar’s tea. It would have been funny, to watch him foam at the mouth and twitch his way across the floor. Perhaps another time. 

As if he was a doll whose strings had been cut, Al Haitham’s sword clattered to the floor as he brought his fists to his hair, falling beside his sword as a wail of grief echoed through the small hut. 

“Killing Azar wouldn’t make it hurt any less,” Kaveh whispered, kneeling in front of Al Haitham, “Nahida knows how much I hated the desert after my father died. Hating the thing that killed them doesn’t bring them back. It just makes the wound hurt more.”

Haitham said nothing as Kaveh continued to offer reassurances, pressing his head to the floor as if in prayer, lurching sobs and choking breaths coming from him as he cried out his twenty-odd years of pent-up grief. 

“Let him cry, Kaveh, your words don’t matter right now,” Tighnari sighed, beginning to clear the bed for when inevitably, Al Haitham cried himself to exhaustion. “He hasn’t mourned his parents properly until today. Just sit with him while he works it out for himself.”

Al Haitham hadn’t wept for his parents since he was a child, having been told to just accept their death as it had been told to him. Probably, in his mentally divergent mind, accepting it had been the equal to grieving for them. Al Haitham held onto things for a long time, it had taken him months to process his and Kaveh’s initial falling out, and close to five years to accept it. It was just the way his brain worked, holding onto things until he understood it. 

“Azar’s on his way to Sumeru City,” Cyno appeared beside him as Tighnari stepped outside, to give the two others a hint of privacy, “I think Nahida might actually put him to death now. It’s personal.”

“She’s too kind-hearted for her own good,” Tighnari sniffed, “she’ll simply put him in solitary confinement until I get fed up and slip him a death pill.”

“ Nari ~ don’t do something I’d have to arrest you for,” Cyno scolded, chuckling as he pulled Tighnari to his body and rested his head on his shoulder. 

“There would be nothing you could prove, dear,” Tighnari quipped, “I’m insulted you think of me as that sloppy.” 

“Is that right… well, I guess I’ll have to forget to check his tea for a few days.”

“A man after my own heart…” 

It took Haitham a while to quell his cries from heaving to pitiful sounding hiccups, but eventually it ended with Kaveh sitting on the floor, Haitham curled into the space between his lap and chest. 

“You feeling better, love?” Kaveh asked, petting gray waves as Haitham sighed through his nose. 

“A bit,” Haitham mumbled, “my face feels puffy.” 

“You just cried more than you have in ten odd years, Haitham, you’re gonna be puffy,” Kaveh chuckled, using his hand to wipe at the tears that stubbornly clung to Haitham’s cheeks. His husband looked lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his body. 

“I should’ve known,” Haitham whispered, “I should’ve suspected something.”

“You were three, Haitham. No one expected his evil to run this deep,” Kaveh said firmly, “I-I’m glad you didn’t kill him. That kind of brutality, it’s not you . You’re better than he is. You don’t get rid of your problems, you solve them.”

“It doesn’t hurt as much, when I think about them,” Haitham smiled at him, the goofy grin that wrinkled his nose and caused the corners of his eyes to squint. “I think they’d be proud of me.”

“I think so too,” Kaveh hummed, pressing adoring kisses to the corners of Haitham’s eyes and lips. “They loved you a lot, Haitham, you already knew that, but I think you need to hear it a lot more.”

Haitham nodded, rising to his feet. “Let’s go visit my parents,” he told his husband, extending his hand for him to grasp. “I have to tell them that I know the truth now.” 

Chapter Text

“It’s a beautiful day,” Kaveh muttered as Haitham and himself ascended the hill of the cemetery, a bouquet of Sumeru Roses and mourning flowers in Haitham’s hand. 

“Yes, it is,” Haitham sighed, looking up at the cloudless sky as his feet stopped in front of two graves. “It’s a shame such a day had to be marked with so much death.” 

Azar had been found dead early that morning, face and mouth bloodied as he was stiff as a board. Tighnari had been questioned extensively, to the point where he had pointedly asked his husband if he was making an arrest at that moment, yet ultimately his house and person had been cleared of any wrongdoing. Cyno was currently exiled to Collei’s home for even suspecting his husband had been idiotic enough to get caught. Not the crime, Tighnari had admitted he wished he had gotten to it first, but the mere idea that he would be caught was enough to insult him. 

“Hello, mother,” Haitham’s eyes took on a softer gleam, the eyes of a son who was seeing his mother after a period away. Kaveh could see it, if he pictured it hard enough. A woman of tall, slender stature with graying brown hair, eyes still sharp despite the lines that gave away her age when she smiled. Haitham holding his arm out for her, insisting that she rest. Her shooing him away with a dignified sniff, Haitham running away with his tail tucked as a man who was a more wrinkled, dignified version of himself laughed at the scene. 

Haitham would have doted upon his parents, done everything for them that they allowed him. A diligent son, who Hedaya could brag about to the women who had to fight their son to even darken their doors.

“We discovered the truth surrounding your deaths,” Haitham addressed both headstones, “I’ve started translating your works into Common, and soon the entirety of Teyvat will know the work you did. I-Kaveh’s here too, you do remember him, yes? He’s your son-in-law. I wish you two were here, so I could see your faces. I’ve started to forget, you know. The way you looked, the way your hands held me. I never heard your voices, but-”

“Haitham-” Kaveh went up beside his husband as Haitham choked, him waving him off as he bit his lip. 

“I used to imagine them, what you would say to me if you saw me now. Grandmother used to say how proud you would have been of me. Are you? Are you proud to call me your son, Mother? Father?”

“Your parents would be very proud,” A soft, sweet voice made the two men look up, Lord Kusanali resting in the branches of the tree, small feet swinging as she peered down at them with green eyes. In her hand laid a small silvery orb, flickering as if it were a candle. 

“I have a gift from your parents, Al Haitham,” she whispered, floating down to them. “You said you never heard their voices, yes? This orb holds a memory from the tree of Irminsul. I recorded it for you, so you may play it as many times as you wish. It is a lullaby, sung to you as a baby.”

Nahida held the orb out to him, Al Haitham holding it in his hands as if it were a wounded bird. “Your parents have many wonderful memories, it is a true shame that their lives were cut so short. If you wish, I will gladly play some from Irminsul’s records, it is not against the rules for me to do so.”

“Thank you,” Al Haitham gave the small goddess a genuine smile, the small and reserved one he dedicated for things he found cute- rabbits, kittens, small children, and it seemed now to extend to his god. “I will treasure this. How does it work?”

“Simply tap it,” Nahida explained, “and it will play. You can tap it again to pause it.”

Al Haitham nodded, sitting on the ground and tapping the small orb in his hand. Two voices soon filled the air of the cemetery, clear and sharp in the stillness of the mid-afternoon air. A higher, reedier voice melded perfectly with the smooth, soft timbre of the man’s voice, the woman’s smile plain to hear in her voice.

Go to sleep, our darling boy. 

Rest now in the palms.

Across the river to dreamland,

Where there are no qualms… 

“Good night, Haitham,” the man’s voice cooed, full of adoration at the small squeak of a baby’s yawn. “ Rest well.”

“Good night, my darling,” the woman whispered sweetly, the light noise a kiss sounding as she said it, “ may you have pleasant dreams, my sweet one.” 

“They- they sang that to me every night,” Al Haitham whispered, “I recognize the vibrations. I- they’re here , I see them. How? If this is their memory, I shouldn’t be able to see them looking at me.”

“It is yours,” Nahida told him, “just because your mind has forgotten it, does not mean Irminsul did.”

Kaveh looked into the clear orb to see two smiling faces, glowing in the moonlight. Dark eyes and gray hair, messy with exhaustion but the adoration in those dark eyes was unmistakable. His mother beside him, her gemstone eyes tired but shining, a soft smile on her face as her brown hair cascaded down her back. Young, and beautiful. They both were. Zakar does mean handsome, Kaveh thought with a small snort of amusement. No wonder Haitham has such a pretty face, if these were his parents. 

“Thank you, Lord Kusanali,” Kaveh told the goddess, “we cannot thank you enough, for the gift you have given my husband.”

“You’re welcome, Kaveh,” Nahida gave him a smile as she turned, lifting one dainty hand up in a wave of farewell. “There is also a book, propped up against the headstone, is it yours?”

“No-” Al Haitham grabbed the book and turned back, but Nahida was already gone. He sat down fully, Kaveh leaning against him for support. He was weaving together blades of grass, fashioning a small house of leaves and twigs. 

“What book is it?” Kaveh asked. Al Haitham shrugged, opening the cover. It was an unassuming book, simply a red leather cover with a stamp of a crown.

“ Collection of Fairy Tales from the Time of the Scarlet King ,” Al Haitham read, “so a children’s book. I wonder who left this here? Wait… my mother translated this book, and someone wrote in the first page.”

“Who did? Was it that Calliope woman Cyno told us about? She was your father’s friend, it makes sense,” Kaveh said, placing a rock path leading to his new house.

“ To Al Haitham,

I am of little importance in the grand scheme of things, so I will keep this brief. This is the only surviving copy of the one published work your mother did, her own personal copy that she lent to me to read before I was deemed a mad scholar and her subsequent end. Inside you will find her translation notes, personal annotations, sketches she had done of you, and even a photo of herself when pregnant with you. I placed any memory I had of your parents in here, in hopes you would someday see it. Good luck, son of my only friends. I wish you nothing but happiness. Perhaps in another world, I would have been called Auntie by you, and myself and my friends would have grown old together. Goodbye, Al Haitham, son of Zakar and Hedaya. You will never see me again.

Calliope, Your Loving Aunt.

PS- Nightshade does wonders in getting rid of pests, doesn’t it?”

“She left this for me to find, I’m amazed it didn’t get damaged by rain,” Al Haitham whispered, tucking the book into his pocket. He leaned back, looking at the sky.

“I wonder what she is doing now, she’s no longer a fugitive, so she can go anywhere she wishes…”

“Yeah,” Kaveh muttered, grumbling as his house fell down, “I wonder…”