Bows

Legend has it that Mondstadt once played host to one who made music on bowstrings—

Or perhaps it might be more fitting to say that this wandering musician used an instrument's strings to fire arrows.

But this is naught but an old folk legend.

A hunter must always be downwind, and must never walk upright on a mountain's ridge.

It matters not if their target is beast, monster or the wicked — this method remains the same.

It was said in days gone by,

The people of Liyue passed messages by bow and arrow.

"Wouldn't bystanders get hurt, you ask?"

"Suffice to say, there's a good reason this bow is an antique..."

The antique shop owner rubbed their chin and smiled.

Ravens are messengers of death.

"Placing this feather on the limb of one's bow declares the death of one's prey."

Or so claimed the weapon vendors.

A recurve bow exquisitely made from wood, bones, and animal tendons.

In the hands of a masterful archer, it can shoot down eagles in flight.

It is the pride of a hunter, and proof of mastery.

Pity the innocent eagles.

A long time ago, in a place far, far away... Tragedy struck.

Brothers took to arms against one another.

One among them was a great archer. After suffering a humiliating defeat, he made a vow:

"Until I have brought down my enemies,"

"Until I have pierced their throats and their blood has run dry, I shall not clean my feet."

And so, the great archer fell prey to a foot infection.

One who wished to improve the range and accuracy of slingshots discovered that

Power increases range, but costs accuracy.

So slingshot rocks were replaced with long wooden poles that sported feathers for stability.

The slingshot's limbs were lengthened and the ends recurved to increase pull.

It then dawned on him that he had made a bow.

This fine bow has been painted black, all the better to blend perfectly into the deepest night.

This was once the first choice of an opulent noble house in their hunting games.

Till one day, it fell into the hands of a gentleman thief who was never caught.

Its user shot the crowns from the heads of nobles in utter silence.

It shot through many a tightened bond, and disarmed many a pursuing soldier.

It once vowed to bring light to a darkened age.

To bring justice, riches and gladness to the oppressed.

In the past, he did indeed bring justice, riches and gladness to the oppressed, and he brought fear unto those in power, giving them countless sleepless nights in their impotent rage.

He brought light footsteps like rain to the roofs and terraces, and he brought song to the bards in the squares.

He even once pried a sapphire from a noble's regalia to give to a blue-eyed witch, who hunted the vile with spear in hand.

But even to the last, he was unable to bring a single smile to the lips of the witch whom his soul loved, who was as cold as the sapphire he gave her.

In the end, seeking death, her flower-like face was marked with a criminal's brand, and none knew where she went thereafter.

Abandoning his vow, he sailed into the ocean that belonged to no one.

"Pray tell, does she still recall my song? Does she remember those years that pursue me even now, of the wine-scented streets and the songs sung of her?"

A longbow made from rare blackcliff. Drawing the bow invokes a sound like the wind - a premonition of the final breeze for any target within 100 yards.

With a jet-black body contrasted by blood-red ends, it's cold to the touch without being intimidating. A shot from this bow takes to the skies like a meteor, challenging both wind and thunder.

The house of Yun has long since established itself in Liyue as a family of craftsmen. At the time of this bow's inception, the seventh head of the house, Hui, was well-renowned as a member of the Qixing.

Yun Hui had but one child, a daughter, by the name of Huang. As per family custom, should she marry, her husband would take over as head of the house.

Having been raised by an unyielding martial artist, Huang refused to take this path, and instead took over as the daughter she was, inciting endless gossip amongst the people.

But Yun Huang took control at a hard time.

The continent was troubled. Even the loftiest of peaks and deepest of caves collapsed to a symphony of low roars. The bounty of the earth beneath them became almost unreachable, threatening to bring an end to the legacy of their craft.

One night Yun Huang lay awake unable to sleep, tortured by her worries that her family's name would end with her. Amidst the sorrow that enveloped her, she could do naught but call upon the heavens and pray for celestial intervention in her desperate situation.

It was then that Han Ce, who had long since abandoned his family business and wandered the continent, arrived in the village in his craftsman's attire.

He handed Huang a small wooden box, within which were the prototype plans his father had revised in his later years. He also took out a bow and said: "As the issue arose from Blackcliff, so too shall it end by Blackcliff. It is said that the house of Yun appreciates archery. Should it please you, give this bow a try."

Huang fired an arrow into the sky. It roared across the heavens like angry thunder, as the sound of the bowstring being released reverberated throughout the mountains. As she watched the clouds flow beneath the moon, she knew that her prayer had been answered.

The whole world flocks to the commercial port of Liyue, much to the city's pride.

With the tides of people also come exotic treasures.

This compound bow may be small in size, but its unique design and superior craftsmanship have made it more destructive than most common longbows.

It is also harder to maintain than other bows. For it is not merely a weapon, but the culmination of the wisdom of a foreign kingdom.

Made by a foreign scholar, this compound bow has been modified with a pulley.

The scholar had no heart for violence, and bore no desire to see blood drawn.

But mesmerized by the curve of the drawn bow, and the quiver of arrows in flight,

He was driven to transform the compound bow and make it more powerful.

The scholar knew from the onset of his endeavor what his creation would become — a tool of war, that would bring nothing but death.

But he was lost in his pursuit to perfect both structure and materials,

And there was to be no stopping him as he fled this reality.

Though one day the bow was taken up by a soldier, who promptly shot down a wild goose.

"This is the bow I seek"

Said the heartless soldier, commending the weapon in his hands,

As the final cry of the bird he had murdered pierced his heart, just as his arrow had pierced the bird's.

A standard recurve bow wielded by the Knights of Favonius. Only issued to the best archers long in service of the order.

Expertly crafted, the oak frame provides superior strength while the addition of metal parts makes it easy to use.

The bowstring is enchanted with the secrets of alchemy and magic, granting protection to the fingers of the archer.

This bow serves as a reward to the worthy guardians of Mondstadt, and a fine tool with which for them to continue in their guardianship.

The Knights of Favonius once had a formidable team of archer scouts known as the Outriders.

The team was founded by a mercenary leader from Liyue, who passed on his lifetime's worth of knowledge to the Outriders.

The tracking skills they acquired, along with the ability to sense when danger was afoot, were unique among all the knights.

Hence, the skills of the Outriders were invaluable to the Knights of Favonius.

This lasted until the first of the Outriders, for reasons unknown to the Knights, ultimately left the order.

From that day, the Outrider team was a shell of its former self.

Its expertise was gone, though its structure and name have been preserved.

Nevertheless, there are still those who work tirelessly to maintain the dignity of the Outrider title.

"Get off the ship. Women are a hindrance here!"

The thief they called Ako Domeki turned and left.

But hearing this, the shrine maiden could not help by smile faintly.

If the person who had taught me archery had not gone forth to campaign alongside the Shogun,

Then our son would been the same age as Zaemon now.

And perhaps I would have come to be a Takamine, or he, an Asase...

Zaemon's tone, and the way he intentionally turns his back on me,

Is the spitting image of how he once did it, sword in hand.

This time, I will not let this person die.

Even if it means fighting against the Electro Mitsudomoe banner...

"Our fishing spears and swords have been sharpened. It is time to set sail."

"Well then, let's show those Shogunate lackeys Seirai's strength!"

Hearing the sea shanties greeting their departure, the shrine maiden set down her warbow.

She once secretly learned true "magic" on Mt. Yougou,

And though she felt sorry for her Master, the Tengu, she would use it here.

She would undo the great barrier that had held for a thousand years,

And she would set the resentment of the moribund violet glede free,

Allowing it to ravage the ships that flew the Electro Archon's banner.

She could only hope that that old cat wouldn't come charging into the storm...

...

"Mein Fräulein, not one tear of yours was shed in vain during your pilgrimage."

Thus spoke Ozvaldo Hrafnavins when the Prinzessin's journey in the land of ever-silence came to a close.

In their long journey across space and time, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung and her Night-Severing Raven bore witness to countless stories and their endings, each a raindrop that flows at the journey's end into a bitter sea. Every young man's rage at injustice must turn to calm. Every passion must be ground into dust by the march of time, before being turned to wild paranoia upon that inverted, ancient tree. Even the branch of the tree of time upon which the great and glorious Reman Republic nested would be cut off in the end, such that the nation founded by the other twin child of the wolves might rule.

Everything in this world must pass through the doorway of their destruction unto the future kingdom of the Prinzessin. In the silence of her pitch-dark Nachtgarten would they find a place to slumber.

Even so, when Droctfult fell at the hands of the Beast of the World, having fought for the dreams of a young man and the rain that had yet to fall, and was torn to shred by its claws, the Prinzessin still began to tear up.

"Hearken well, Ozvaldo Hrafnavins. The Sovereign of the Immernachtreich weepeth not."

She went on, "Who among those born into this world are not burdened with sin? When the clock sounds for the time of judgment once more, the skirt of night shall descend once more.

Then the writhing struggles of man and beast trapped within will be naught but a midnight waltz."

"It is as you say, mein Fräulein."

"Humph. As well you should know."

"Well then, mein Fräulein, I wonder if you still recall this tale..."

Two of the three bright moons that caused the perfumed sea of the primordial universe to shine and stirred up the beasts of the Arianrhod Realm were shredded by a sword that tore the horizon asunder, left in smithereens too small even for the mystical sight of the Prinzessin.

Or perhaps this was what happened: the bright moons that once illuminated a universe, brought dreams and song to the sweet sleepers of three worlds, and awakened a deep longing in the beast-herds that wandered betwixt dawn and dusk and dusk – they were at last rendered dust. But even so, they too wished to remain within the eternal, shining gaze of the Prinzessin, bringing their subtle light unto more lands still.

Indeed. A Prinzessin does not shed tears.

That was merely a natural secretion from her royal eyes, affronted as they were by the untimely intrusion of those impudent grains of sand.

The longbow once used by the Watatsumi shrine maiden Mouun,

It shines as pure white as the seafoam at the tip of a moonlit wave.

The shrine maiden was friends with the monsters of distant seas, and together they did battle against the thundering clouds for the sake of Watatsumi's transient dream.

The bosom companions rode the waves as one, looming ever in the spray created by the bows of ships...

On and on they went, pursuing the path of no return that Watatsumi was now on until they went together to the land of their tragic obliteration.

"Perhaps it is true that Lord Watatsumi Omikami's war was doomed from the start."

"But as long as we leave these memories behind, as long as we sow the seeds of sacrifice, this might all be worth it."

The songs of the past eulogize the tacit bond she shared with "Umigozen" as twins born of Watatsumi,

And depict them, bow drawn and spear raised, bathing in the wave-spray of a ship's bow...

These distant songs recount how she rode with Touzannou upon the back of a sea creature in the night,

The broken tomorrows she whispered of, gently and mournfully, into the hero's ear...

In yet peaceful days, the twins once sang in chorus with the great whale of the deep sea,

Telling of dismal days spent in the depths and the dark ever-night, and of Omikami and the radiant jade branches.

She once frolicked with that reckless young man, whose only strength was his strength...

"Once I bring that legendary Great Tengu's mask back, you have to keep our promise and finish that business."

"Sure, and if you're still so full of crap then, I'll get a whale to raise a wave large enough to wash that potty mouth of yours clean."

The Blacksmith who accepted the commission asked why this order had to be made this way and why it had to be named like this.

The answer was rather complicated: something about machine beasts that roamed all over the world, and something about polearms not having override codes.

The blacksmith understood quickly enough, though. So this bow was some powerful weapon used to hunt and kill these mighty machine creatures, and so it was the apex predator of that world.

But the strange girl corrected him.

She was just going to use this to hunt wild boars next, since it appeared that in this world, using bows and arrows to hunt would actually allow one to harvest Raw Meat.

An ancient prototype bow weapon from Liyue's arsenal. The batch number has faded and no records exist to confirm the date of production.

More than fifty-year-old cudrania wood was ordained in gold silk and paired with the finest steel components to make this fine bow.

Despite being made from Irminsul branches that had stretched deep down into the earth, the bowstring is exceptionally pliable, guaranteed to never snap.

The house of Yun in Liyue promoted a set of legendary prototype weapons to break free of their constraints and bring a new age to the power of their forces.

An exceptional longbow that is mainstream among the armed forces.

The master craftsman Han Wu personally assembled this longbow at the request of his good friend Yun Hui.

He employed every trade caravan he could find to bring to him a plethora of resources. In the end, he chose to use cudrania wood, fine steel and Irminsul branches brought back from the abyss.

The result is a beautifully superior bow, sturdy and easy to grip, and cool to the touch.

The bow's arc is as beautiful as the crescent moon, albeit a darker shade, like a light moon hanging low amidst a foggy night sky.

When an arrow from the bow pierces the sky, the string's light is thin and cold, reminiscent of an unforgettable moonflow.

This resemblance has earned the bow the title of "Crescent."

Should its beauty captivate the people, then Liyue will be sure to see no shortage of similarly inspired bows.

A longbow used by a noble who ruled over Mondstadt. It was crafted with premium materials and master craftsmanship. For that reason, generations later, it is still as powerful as ever.

Hunting was once a pastime of the nobles.

They demonstrated their strength in the natural world, and shared the spoils with the people in benevolence.

Unfortunately, benevolence was lost, and with it, their reign.

After the uprising, the Lawrence Clan that had long ruled Mondstadt was overthrown.

In the name of benevolent governance, the newly established Knights of Favonius deemed that protracted investigations would be unnecessary.

The Lawrence clan was promptly cast out from Mondstadt, never to return.

"On the road bound to our exile, I watched my father sigh with grief; at the betrayal of the people, at the end of a glorious era, at the final chapter of history."

"We watched the people who were once our subjects rejoicing in the open country as we bid farewell to our homeland."

"Only years later did I realize: it was we, the Lawrence clan, who had betrayed, who had ended a glorious era, and who had closed the history books. Only now was Mondstadt as it always should have been."

Vennessa was but the final push that toppled a crumbling tower.

Before her, the flames of fury already burned bright, and occasionally the flickering flames had shone through the thick smoke of secrecy:

The phantom thief praised in secret by the people. The woman who could see death. The Wanderer's Troupe intent on revolution.

The spirit of resistance is in Mondstadter's blood.

An ancient bow, as hard as cast iron, that once belonged to a famed archer.

He once slew monsters and bandits like silvergrass in the wind.

As he pursued mastery in the discipline of archery,

his string sang like unrelenting thunder,

and his arrows shone like sun-soaked iron rain.

In his twilight years, the archer had a revelation.

"The ultimate profundity of speech is the word withheld, and the ultimate profundity in archery is the arrow spared."

Thereafter, he never spoke again of arrows shot out of the sky. Nor did he speak again of the foul monsters slain by iron arrows shot from an iron bow.

He buried his bow in the ground and went to live as a hermit amidst the hills.

Allegedly, the story of his death is as follows:

Every night, as the sound of a plucked string rang out from his home, a ray of brilliant purple light shot forth, and foul monsters dared not approach.

On the night of his death there was a storm. Amidst the howling wind and rain there was but a single clap of thunder. The accompanying bolt of lightning shot upwards, towards the sky, burning bright as the stars in the galaxy.

On the cliff facing the eastern sea, the ancestors worshipped the masters of Time and Anemo together.

The two are intimately related, as expressed in the saying,

"Anemo brings stories while Time nurtures them."

This bow tells the story of the pioneers and the hardships they went through.

It used to be a prop with an immobile bowstring, but the string became both flexible and sturdier with the passage of time.

This bow was once the property of the proud Lawrence Clan.

In the far-flung past, they used it to reenact their clan's brave victory over the frozen wilderness.

The first act of the ceremony told the tale of their forebears conquering the land through their wisdom and strength.

Over their long history, though this ceremony was lost, they continued to play the same role.

But this role became corrupted. Gradually, their view of themselves shifted from conquerors, to overlords, to kings.

Gradually, they strayed into the path of depravity, and lost the affection of Mondstadt's winds.

An exquisite instrument with strings of different materials on every section.

When struck, every string trembles, creating flowing music.

But it is also a bow, one capable of firing arrows that target the heart. Where the music from this instrument leads, death shall surely follow.

After the Wanderer's Troupe disbanded, the harp's strings were cut with a dull blade, creating ear-piercing noises.

Only the bowstring remains. The instrument's lofty melodies are lost, but it remains a deadly weapon.

The Wanderer's Troupe could make birds fall from the sky, sometimes with the tune of the harp, sometimes with the arrows that followed the tune through the air.

Just like the wind that elopes with the harp's tune and the flowers that grow on Starsnatch Cliff, the harpist was both playful and determined.

After the uprising failed, the Wanderer's Troupe disbanded and its members fled.

The harpist stayed till the end, deftly plucking the instrument's strings and raining down a torrent of arrows to protect his comrades. He played till he exhausted his repertoire, and his arrows.

The harpist was from the magnificent and enchanting land of Fontaine. He had left to travel the world in search of his true destiny.

It is said that all the ladies of the Court of Fontaine wailed with grief when they heard the tragic news that he had left without saying goodbye.

The story is that he fell in love with a humble Mondstadt woman, but she was then selected for the miserable fate of Ludi Harpastum princess.

It is claimed that he had no regrets about dying anonymously in a foreign land.

The only thing he regretted was finally discovering true love, only to never have the chance to sing another love song.

This bow once belonged to a certain hunter, and its green color was such that it could blend in with the natural environment.

To be as pure as the beasts of the verdant fields, who roam in the forests in the light of day.

To never bear any ill-will, and to never loose an arrow for any reason but to survive.

The nameless hunter was taught thus, and grew thus, far away from the city.

"We were born of the greenery. As long as there is grass and shade, we shall move unimpeded."

"We are the same as beast and bird. As long as we follow the laws of nature, then we shall not fear death."

"All those who follow nature, when their life reaches its last ebb, shall head towards that endless plain."

Following these precepts, the hunter left no traces, and fought not against the natural order.

She comforted the wild beasts that had been shot through the heart, until their lives had returned to nature.

If that calamity had not happened, if she had not tracked the tainted blood upon the leaves,

If she had not met that dying, blind youth under the tree where she often napped,

Then perhaps she may never have been shaken by thoughts of revenge, by blood and fire...

"Never forget, good Viridescent."

"Never forget that you belong to the green, child of the forest."

"Never loose your arrow for war, for revenge, or for glory."

"For the bloodstained shall never find yonder hunting fields of endless viridescence."

"Then at least do not let this bow be tainted by my mortal vengeance."

"I cannot reach the other side, whether to meet my master or the parents whom I have never met."

"But at least let this bow remain pure, and let it carry my thoughts and regrets to them."

In the childhood dreams of Mondstadt, there was a certain breed of floaty flower,

That would grow lushly even amidst the mighty winds, terrible winters and wild whipping ice.

It was unlike ordinary plants, which would be blown away, roots and all, when struck by the powerful gales.

Indeed, this "Windblume"'s roots would grow stronger even as the wind grew wilder.

Today, the rebellion of ordinary mortals against tyranny has long been consigned to festive jests,

And the shape of that flower has grown faint, melding into the lilting lyre-tines of histories long gone by.

"Let me give you this nameless flower, and may the spring-times you never saw mean nothing to you."

"Pray repay me with hope and a smile, and stand with me to welcome the day when the storms blow no longer."

In the days when a tyrant gazed down upon the common folk from his tower, those who nursed freedom in their breasts would greet each other thusly.

Those who sought courage and dreamed of walking upright wove the unknown, using this as their secret sign.

In those days, a lonely and fragile flower would come into bloom with the wind before slowly blossoming all across the wild mountain ranges.

So too did rootless and indifferent subjects content to go with the flow become proud, fearless heroes.

The frowning lord in the tower grew ever lesser in stature, and could no longer disperse the swelling, raging tide.

"Let me give you this nameless flower, and may she crown us champions, defenders of spring and sky."

"May the dawn be our spirit and follow us into the winds of true freedom."

Atop the ruins of the ancient tower, amidst the cheers, songs, and tears of those who had newly won their freedom.

A red-haired warrior turned his back on the newborn god, hidden like a single raindrop in a tidal wave of humanity.

He was first among those who passed the secret sign of Windblume, the one who wove threads of dawn throughout the long night.

His name has since been lost to time, but his deeds are still remembered in song.

A thousand years later, another red-haired knight would follow in his footsteps, and bring light to the then-benighted history of the nobility.

Just as the fate of the Windblume is to bloom under great pressure when the need to arise is most desperate,

The fate of this clan will likely never change: they shall ever live in the darkness and bring forth the flame of dawn.

The shape of the Windblume has been lost amidst the flowing winds of time.

In times of peace, its name has become synonymous with love and gladness.

But surely, this must have been the desire of those who walked stalwartly through the darkness...

"The flowers in bloom should represent love, and stand for the coming of spring."

"No more should they signal for rebellion, nor be the sign for banners to be raised..."

In a barren ancient time, when the now-verdant land was still but a wasteland, a maiden, barefoot in the snow, followed the footsteps of the Lord of the Tower.

He once was her love, but the unforgiving winds could never understand the softness of mortal flesh. He once was her foe, but her hunt was for more than simple vengeance.

"I dreamt of ocean waves and sand, of lush forests and land." "I dreamt of boars playing in berry bushes, of a towering spire." These words she spoke to the God King in a soft tone, but they were left unheard.

Awoken from blind love, she realized she was the only one who spoke with sincerity. For he spoke of love, but was only accompanied by razor winds. He looked down at the bent backs of his subjects in the howling wind, believing it to be a sign of their adoration and unwavering obedience.

It was the era when the Tyrant of the North Wind warred with the Lord of the Tower. The huntress thought herself loved by the slavemaster. At the end of the war, and when the wind of resistance first blew, in the company of a nameless young man, elf, and knight, she scaled the towering spire and challenged the eccentric lord.

"Finally, I shall hold his gaze."

But it was not until the moment when her arrow flew toward him, and when the piercing wind was about to rip her asunder, that she finally realized their distance apart.

"The west wind bears wine's fragrance away,"

"The mountain wind brings glad tidings new."

"The breeze from afar tugs at my heart,"

"It sings of my longing for you."

Long ago, there was a knight who was ever dour of countenance.

Only a certain song could ever cause his brow to unfurl,

And only a certain girl who sang that song in the square,

Could cause him to forget the great burden of his duty for a time.

But at last, calamity came upon this land.

The songs that had once flown joyfully in the wind were drowned by a venomous dragon.

In the wake of its earth-shaking footsteps, even the cries and the flames were ripped asunder.

The Anemo Archon heard their agony, though he had refused to rule.

But to protect his old friends' dream, and defend the wind-kissed fields of green,

He woke from his long slumber anew, and with the sky dragon in battle he flew...

The Knight and his knights also fought for their land.

When the venomous dragon fell to ruin on the ice-sealed peak, the blue sky dragon fell asleep in the ancient tower.

But the Knight was in the valley, spent of his life's blood, and as he fell, he could only think thus:

"She is abroad studying, so she should be well. But ah, how I wish to hear her sing again."

"At least Arundolyn and Roland are alright. When she returns, this calamity should have blown over."

The songs in praise of the archon and tunes that recorded the battle of the two dragons were many, but all slowly became lost.

The song the girl loved to sing, too, changed upon her return.

"The dandelions carry in the summer wind,"

"Autumn brings the fragrance of grain."

"But no wind in any season on earth"

"Shall have you gaze upon me again."

And after her voice and her tears had run dry, the girl swore to use her life's flame to cleanse the world's crookedness.

"I was once a wounded wolf, betrayed by the whole world,"

"But we shall create a new world, one in which no one shall ever be forsaken."

"Dressed in flawless garments as radiant as the midday,"

"We came to the land of silver snow,"

"And sounded the clarion of Her Majesty's greatness."

"Oft have we walked in the moonless night."

"Oft have we trudged through the gilded sands."

"Oft have we felt piercing enmity in the dark,"

"And oft have we dreamed of lovers in distant hometowns."

"But the pale flame yet burns in our breasts."

"O Harbingers, scintillating as polar stars,"

"Guide us ever onward, tireless."

"If your dreams find no acceptance, if you nurse wounds that will not fade,"

"If you end each day discontent, if you burn with fury against false promises,"

"Lift up your eyes to the white, glimmering stars, for that is our banner."

"Join our ranks! Let our marching boots shake the earth like thunder!"

"You who will march with us towards the polestar of the white night, come! We shall never abandon you."

"You who will walk with us into the land of darkness, come! We shall create a new world together."

"Know that the destruction of all precedes the birth of a new order."

"At devastation's end, we will greet a stainless dawn."

The sky-piercing lyre.

The clear tunes of this lyre still echo in the hearts of the people and in the winds.

It is said that the ancient evil dragon from the abyss was enticed here by its tunes.

In ancient times, Barbatos softly strummed his lyre and summoned the pure thousand winds and songs.

Charmed by the free-spirited winds and songs, Dvalin the high dragon descended and swore loyalty to him.

Barbatos rejoiced in making a new friend, and entrusted the people of Mondstadt to Dvalin.

And so, the wandering Anemo Archon and the Wind Dragon forged Mondstadt's dawn with their relationship.

The floating tunes of the lyre halted the shadow dragon's attack in the final battle.

Granting Dvalin the chance to end the shadow dragon's poisonous reign.

Eons after the winds sang and the vicious battle ended, Dvalin awoke from his long slumber.

But gone was his master, and instead he was met by the poisonous whispers of the Abyss Order.

Unseen pain. Unheard torture.

An all-engulfing sorrow crushed the poisoned Dvalin's spirit.

Dvalin turned on what he vowed to protect,

And accursed the one to whom he had sworn loyalty:

"Indifferent is Barbatos to my pain! A careless friend is he!"

"Curse you, Barbatos, cruelest of the Archons!"

The furious friend knew not that Barbatos sought to save him.

For many fond memories may have been quashed by Dvalin's anguish, but not that of Barbatos' lyre. The Holy Lyre der Himmel.

Soon, centuries of misunderstanding shall be gone.

Soon, Dvalin shall hear once more his songs.

This bow, crackling with thunder, retains its luster despite having been soaked in thick darkness.

When disaster came from a distant sea, it was once the favorite weapon of a great swordsman.

In his youth, he wandered the mountains, and he made a wager with a great Tengu he came across.

He gambled his young, strong body as a bet against a bow given by the Shogun.

As for the gamble itself, he could only sometimes recall it, when he was drunk.

But by the time dawn came, he had three wins and three losses — his contest with the Tengu was a draw.

So in the bad news, he was taken as a servant by the Tengu. But in the good news, he won that unmatched bow.

"Behold, Konbumaru, this is Tengu archery. Watch and learn!"

He was given this rather ridiculous nickname, but ultimately, he witnessed the Tengu's form.

Soaring through the clouds unfettered, unleashing thunderbolts with every bowstring's pulse...

It was a true, unreserved dance of death. Fierce and unpredictable, elegant and beautiful.

Many years later, he was no longer a servant boy, and he had grasped both some archery and swordsmanship.

He was referred to the Shogunate through a recommendation letter from his impatient master.

In the years under the Shogun, his martial skills improved greatly, and he made many friends and enemies.

Still, his hobby of unrestrained wanderlust had not changed. On the contrary, with the Tengu's great bow, he became yet more fearless.

"Let's make a wager this time, shall we? Hmm. Right, then. This bow shall be my wager."

"I bet on the mightiest bow in the world that I will return here alive."

"I'll leave it here with you for now. If I, Takamine, lose our bet, you can keep the bow."

"After all, you've inherited the essence of my archery techniques. You'll be able to make good use of it."

"But if I win..."

When disaster swept in from across the distant sea, the samurai and the obstinate shrine maiden had a mutual wager.

They bet on his safe return from the abyss against the inscribed bow bestowed by the Shogun.

When the dark venom sank deep into the earth and peace returned, the swordsman did not come back.

The Shogun's bestowed bow was given to the shrine maiden as her prize for winning their great wager.

Later, in the forest where the Kitsune Saiguu would no longer appear, in the promised meeting place,

The lone returnee who came stumbling back from the abyss finally met the shrine maiden again, though by now she could no longer be called young.

Dull eyes stained with dried blood and tears regained their radiance, but were pierced through by a barbed arrow glowing with power.