The Cryo Sovereign's Secret

The wind changed.

It swept across the fledgling realm—not as a breeze, but as a summon.

High above, where no land had yet been drawn, the sky peeled open above what once was Mondstadt.

And from it, like a memory rewritten—

Zephyr's castle returned.

It had no walls. No roof. No foundation.

Yet it was.

---

The palace shimmered, constantly shifting—colors sliding between pale sky and deep midnight, each hue dictated by the wind's own mood. Banners unfurled themselves and vanished seconds later. There were no gates, only veils of air that parted for those welcome and rejected all others.

It pulsed gently with impossible elegance.

At its core, sat the throne—or rather, a void in the shape of reverence. Not built, but absent. Surrounded by faceless wind-spirits, robed and silent, caught in a constant current like they were orbiting an idea.

Zephyr stood in the air above it all, watching as his Skyborne Revenants returned.

---

Some still knelt mid-flight, confused. Others hesitated before entering, unsure if they were still at war with the other Sovereigns.

Dolores, one of his Divine Generals, floated beside him.

"Are we… truly united again?"

"Or is this another lie like the last war?"

Zephyr didn't look at her.

"The last lie bought us time."

"This one will buy us truth."

---

Below the castle, the land darkened—for there was still no sun.

Until—

Flames roared across the horizon.

The clouds split with a scream.

And from within that screaming sky, Xiuhcoatl rose.

---

His body spiraled upward—a great serpent of volcanic fire. Wings spread like the arms of a sun itself. From his open jaws, he did not speak—he ignited.

A molten mass emerged from his chest and rose, shedding its heat until it became radiant.

A sun.

Not metaphor. Not symbol.

A real, self-sustaining core of firelight, burning now at the realm's edge. And within its depths, a chamber—forged entirely from living flame.

His voice finally broke through the smoke, guttural and sacred:

"Let my firstborn dwell here."

"If we burn… we burn together."

---

He coiled back into the core, vanishing inside the heart of his own creation.

The sun flared once—then stabilized.

Its light poured across the newborn realm, weaving gold into forest, mist into cloud, and shadow into something softer.

--------------------------------

Across Teyvat, there was no warning.

Just cold.

A pulse—ancient, absolute—echoed through the leylines, through the roots of mountains, through the breath of the wind. Then came the voice. Not spoken aloud, but known.

"Arian is mine. I take back what was born of me."

And then—

Reality cracked.

The highlands split with a soundless scream as an entire kingdom was carved from the continent.

Not by blade.

But by will.

The sky above Arian shattered like glass revealing a second, deeper sky—the sky of the new realm, unseen by gods or men.

And through it, the capital, the mountains, the forests, even the deepest aquifers began to fold inward—dragged not upward, but elsewhere.

Space warped.

Clouds spiraled into oblivion.

And the Kingdom of Arian began to disappear.

---

In the Capital — Aethercastle

The runes along the walls flared violently.

Queen Minerva stumbled, one hand bracing against her throne.

"The castle is being pulled—by something greater than leyline shift—Orion!"

King Orion I stood at the center window, hands clenched behind his back. A ripple of memories struck him.

"She's returning us to her side. The war has begun."

---

On Patrol

Knights fell to one knee as the ground beneath their boots fractured into glowing veins of Cryo energy.

"Sir—the city walls—they're not… they're not leading anywhere anymore!"

One knight threw a scouting anchor past the city edge. It vanished.

---

In the Streets

Children cried as street lanterns flickered, casting impossible shadows.

An old man vendor dropped to his knees, whispering as snow rose in columns.

"By the stars… the sky—it's different. It's not ours anymore."

A food cart lifted from the cobbled stone, hovering in stasis before phasing out completely.

---

And then—

Silence.

For a heartbeat, nothing existed.

And then…

---

In the New Realm

Space cracked.

A chasm of white frost bloomed midair, and the Kingdom of Arian crashed through it, landing on a floating continent within the new realm—encircled by VlastMoroz herself.

She coiled slowly around it—not touching, but enclosing.

A mother guarding her unborn dream.

Snow fell again.

The city shimmered.

And people wept—because somehow, through terror and wonder, they felt it.

"She brought us with her… she didn't leave us behind."

❄️ The Severance of Self

High above the swirling spires of the new realm, VlastMoroz—True Mother of Winter—coiled silently around the Kingdom of Arian. Her breath was slow, her heart loud enough to make the stars flinch.

And then…

She opened her eyes.

Galaxies blinked within them.

> "It is done," she whispered.

But not to herself.

To them.

To the five fragments of her soul that had once returned to her— not as children,

but as promises fulfilled.

"My Emblems," she said softly.

"You are no longer needed as parts of me."

A stillness swept across the sky like snow holding its breath.

And then—

she exhaled.

---

Seraphyx

First came Seraphyx.

Her whiskers shimmered, and from them unraveled a white plume of wind and soul. It drifted downward, swirling and stretching—until he stood again, tall and ageless.

"I kept my vow, Mother," he said.

"But I missed the sky."

---

Kaelya

From the claws of VlastMoroz, petals scattered.

A single bloom of prana spun into shape, forming Kaelya, her soft expression unchanged.

"You froze the world to protect it. Now… let me thaw what I can."

---

Ignarion

Frost fell like iron dust.

The crown upon her horns cracked—then melted into sparks, reassembling into Ignarion, his arms crossed, his grin sharp.

"Being your crown was an honor.

But now, I'd rather be your sword again."

---

Morven

Her left eye flickered.

From within it, a quiet tick echoed—a ripple of time.

Then, Morven stepped out of her gaze, calm as snowfall, eyes tired but clear.

"The clock kept ticking.

I've memorized every second."

---

Yandelf

Her chest gleamed once—golden.

And from it, like starlight pouring from a broken chalice, Yandelf emerged.

He held a new goblet in his hand—whole this time.

"You carried us longer than we deserved.

Now… let us carry you, Mother."

---

VlastMoroz didn't speak.

But tears of snow fell from her cosmic eyes.

She nodded once.

And five Emblems stood again—together.

Alive.

Whole.

The Final Foundation

While the sky bloomed with thunder, frost, fire, and storm,

the earth made no sound.

Until—

It trembled.

Not in fear.

Not in rage.

But in solemn acknowledgment.

From the far edge of the new realm, where no light reached and no wind dared whisper, came the slow grinding of bedrock folding into itself.

And there—rising like a forgotten deity—

Varnak'Thul.

Sovereign of Geo.

His true form had no boundaries. No symmetry.

A colossus of blackstone and memory, veins of golden light threading through his skin like ley lines carved by history itself. Pillars jutted from his back like mountains unfinished. His face was a cliff—no eyes, only pressure.

And his voice—

"I am the weight this world stands upon."

He did not roar.

He declared.

Then slowly, almost respectfully,

he knelt.

Massive hands pressed into the soil of the newborn realm.

His entire form began to sink—inch by inch—into the land itself.

Until all that remained was a jagged silhouette…

…like a monolith…

…like a mountain never named…

…and then that, too, faded into stillness.

But deep beneath it all,

his heart continued to pulse—

keeping rhythm with the world he had sworn to uphold.

"Let them mistake me for stone.

So long as this land endures,

I will never sleep."