Venti sat on a window seat. The cushion's fabric was tearing around the edges, puffs of fuzzy white stuffing falling to the stone floor covered in mismatched blankets and pillows. The seat was pressed against a broken window, some pieces of glass missing and most of it webbed with thin lines. He held a makeshift guitar in his hands formed from wooden pieces and metal strings cobbled together. It didn't sound right, but it was the best that Venti was going to get. The whirring of the Anemo dome pounded the interior of the crumbling tower, but Venti's view showed him the almost magical city of Mondstadt. This far away at a high vantage point, Venti could almost believe that Mondstadt truly was the Moon City of Dreams, a name derived from the Lord of the Tower's propaganda. He could almost believe that the people of his homeland were happy.

Venti didn't know what the tower used to be. He assumed that it was a home considering how many blankets and pillows were scattered around. He also entertained the idea that it might have been a clinic or orphanage considering the size of the tower. No matter what it used to be, it was now Venti's workshop. He snuck away to the corner of the lord's domain every chance he got. He kept all his instruments and writings stashed away in various hiding places concealed around the tower. Anything he considered valuable was taken to his true home, this forgotten three-story tower with crumbling walls, broken windows, and moth-eaten fabrics so close to the Anemo wall that Venti could barely think straight.

Elf made this place his home. He fluttered throughout the air as if he owned the place. His mere presence invited cooling breezes and fresh smells. No matter how loud the Anemo element was, Venti could always hear the twinkling of Elf's movements without being burdened by the noise. Elf cleared out splotches of dust and mothballs, cleaning the tower far more efficiently than Venti could ever hope to. Although Venti always considered this tower his home, it never felt more lively than it did with Elf right by his side.

Venti strummed his guitar, hoping that he could produce the sound that had been buzzing in his imagination for the past few days. Fate decided to mock him. One of the makeshift cords broke. Part of the wire snapped back to hit him in the hand. He was lucky that it didn't draw blood, but there was an angry red line wrapped around his back hand next to his thumb. Venti hissed in pain, letting the guitar slip from his grasp as he brought his hand to his chest. He sorrowfully rubbed the mark with his other hand's thumb. He sighed as the pain seemed to settle into a delicate throb.

Venti tilted his head when he didn't hear the guitar clatter to the floor. The guitar had been suspended in midair by pale green winds conjured by the elemental spirit. Elf's wings beat furiously as he gently lowered the guitar onto the ground. When the guitar was safely deposited, Elf nearly fell out of the air in relief. Elf caught himself before he crashed, gliding swiftly to the ground by spreading out his tired wings without flapping them. Elf landed on the guitar, looking down at the cords, including the broken one. Elf flapped his wings a few times, and the broken cord seemed to float back together. Elf spun around in the air, a vortex of dark green Anemo energy spiraling away from him. The guitar absorbed most of the energy, and Venti watched as his guitar transformed in front of his very eyes. The chords began to steadily glow green, the same shade as raw Anemo energy, something no normal person ever got to see. The wood it was made from took on a pale white shine, and it looked a lot more stable than it did before. Elf landed on the ground with a merry expression on his face.

Venti forgot all about the pain in his hand as he hesitantly reached for his guitar. He picked it up by the neck, careful to avoid touching the cords. He could feel the wind fluttering past his fingertips, and he felt like he was holding his hands out as a breeze went past him while he walked in the fields. He carefully raised the guitar up, pressing the back of it against his stomach. His fingers nimbly plucked one of the strings, and his eyes lit up when he heard a noise that sounded... right, somehow. He plucked more of the strings, and he felt like a blind man seeing for the first time. He had never heard correct notes. Now that he has, he didn't want to go back.

"Elf!" Venti cheered, placing the guitar on the window seat. He picked Elf up, holding the elemental spirit in the cusp of both of his hands. He twirled them both around with the brightest smile adorning his face. Elf seemed just as excited. He was producing a noise like a whole carillon of bells. When Venti was finished spinning around, he lowered his forehead to Elf.

He felt something wrap around his hand. Venti's eyes shot open as he watched the Anemo energy fold over his hand like a bandage. When the Anemo dissipated, Venti found that his hand was healed. The red line formed by the guitar cord snapping was gone, replaced with fair skin that felt smoother than it was before Venti got hurt. He smiled gratefully as his companion. "What did I do to deserve you, Elf? My dearest friend, I shall endeavor to compensate you for your kindness. I shall start by serenading you with a personally written ballad."

Venti reached for his notebook. It used to be owned by the youngest daughter of the Deichert family. When she threw it away during one of her tantrums, Venti was able to scoop it up without anyone noticing. It was, by far, one of his less horrible crimes. He could probably be forgiven for taking the notebook, especially since the daughter made it abundantly clear she didn't want it. The things he wrote in the notebook, however, were going to sever his head from his body should anyone find it. His poetry and lyrics were as illegal as killing someone in Mondstadt. Both were severe enough that execution was the only form of justice the Lord of the Tower approved of.

Venti was about to start composing yet another guillotine for himself when he noticed the water clock sitting on the windowsill. It was another thing he had stolen, only because he needed some way to inform him when he arrived and left his tower home. It told him when he should start heading back to the manor where he worked. Right now, it was telling him that if he didn't leave now, he would be late. Venti didn't want to find out what would befall him if he were late. Too many questions and not enough answers, he figured, among other unsavory consequences.

"I will have to write it overmorrow, my dear friend. I have business that I must attend to today and tomorrow. However, when the morning bell tolls in two days' time, you shall find that I have composed a ballad expressing your magnificent greatness," Venti explained as he started stashing things in different places. The notebook was placed underneath a pile of blankets, and the guitar was shoved in a secret compartment beneath the window seat. Venti doubted they were good hiding places, but he was working with what he had. He couldn't do any more than this, so he would have to be satisfied with it.

Venti shoved his lyre, his primary instrument and the only that worked (other than his new guitar), in the back of his shirt. He made sure it was secure before he grabbed his shawl. He wrapped his shoulders with it. He tied the string as Elf floated up underneath his shawl. Venti made sure everything was situated on his person and the room around him before he started walking down the stairs, taking two at a time.

The air outside was growing colder by the second. The main city was held by lukewarm temperatures in a vice grip, but the outskirts were usually neglected by the meticulous weather control of the Lord of the Tower. Venti grabbed the edges of his shawl, pulling them tighter around him. The only bright side was that if his powers didn't stretch this far, his vision probably didn't, either. The Lord of the Tower wasn't as omniscient, and this simple fact was probably the only reason Venti continued to live.

Venti jumped down the rocky landscape. The ground was uneven and populated by a few withering plants clinging to their green color. The hill finally evened out to solid ground where a few rocks tried to trip people up. Venti easily avoided these spots, and he came to the dirt path that snaked through the countryside outside of Mondstadt's stone city. The landscape around him shifted into the agricultural fields filled with crops and potential exports. Venti would have worked out here if he hadn't been sold to the Deichert family. Venti stared out at the swaying plants. They looked beautiful like this, but Venti knew that it was hell to work among them. He had seen the tired expressions on aging faces of the patrons in Hannah's pub. He had heard them whispering about their hardships, and sometimes, he would catch wind of someone going to dangerous lengths to avoid the fieldwork. Venti shuddered as he thought about it.

The fields eventually shifted into buildings; though, the dilapidated places could accurately be called hell, too. The lower district of Mondstadt was filled with people without money or status. They were usually inflicted with physical or mental problems that made it extremely hard for them to do any sort of work. They were given the most horrible jobs in all of Mondstadt, and their low survival rate showed this fact. Venti pitied them. The sympathy would build him in chest like vomit sliding up his throat. The worst part is that Venti couldn't do anything for them. He had no money to give. He had no way of promoting them to nobility or middle-district families. He couldn't heal any of them. All he could do was occasionally sneak out to play music for them. It was the only thing he could do. The people appreciated him and the music he gave them, but Venti was always struck by how weak he was.

As Venti crossed into the middle district, he wondered if Elf could heal them like he healed Venti. He didn't know the limitations of Elf's abilities or if Elf would even want to do that, but it was an idea he was willing to entertain considering how plausible it was. Healing the people wouldn't be much, but it was a step in the right direction. They could get better jobs if all their limbs worked. Again, Venti wasn't sure what Elf could do or what he was willing to do. Venti sighed. He needed to talk with Elf about this.

Venti slammed right into someone. He fumbled back, the heel of his foot catching on one of the stones jutting out of the street. His back crashed into the ground. He winced as pain blossomed across his back. He knew that it was going to hurt in the morning.

Venti looked up at the person he had crashed into. It was a man that he had never seen before. No one in Mondstadt had fiery scarlet hair like this man, curling and twisting in his ponytail like a flickering flame struggling to bypass the bounds of its pit. His eyes, too, were shimmering like the elusive Pyro element. He wore a long sleeve off-white shirt tucked into black pants with silver design trimming the ankle area. Even though his outfit didn't look that intricate, his gloves and boots proved that he was a man with money to spend.

Venti was going to apologize to the man before he realized that in his tumble, Elf had floated out of his shawl. The man was staring intently at the elemental spirit with an intense but emotionless expression. Venti quickly pulled himself to his knees, trying to grab Elf before the man could do anything. His movements were followed by a thumping noise as his lyre slipped out of his clothes and onto the street. The man's attention snapped to it at the same time Venti's did. His stomach and heart dropped at the same time, competing to see who could reach the ground first. He felt his thoughts stutter, and he wasn't sure if he was breathing.

"Please, please, don't say anything. The elemental spirit came to me. I was only trying to help him. I haven't played anything bad. I swear to you that none of my songs have spoken ill of the Lord of the Tower," Venti begged, pressing both of his hands together. He was already on his knees, so he just pressed his forehead against the stone ground. He felt Elf flutter nervously around him, unsure what was going on. Venti prayed that at least Elf could be spared. The elemental spirit didn't do anything wrong. He was a mere wisp of wind; Venti was the one that played music and harbored the spirit illegally.

Venti heard movement around him, and he dared to look up. The man was leaned down onto one of his knees, the other knee propping up his arm. He was holding Venti's lyre with intrigue in his ember eyes. The man turned his attention back to Venti. "I am not a native of Mondstadt. I am aware of the law, but I do not care for it. If you wish to play music, I am in no position to stop you. I have no responsibility over you. Make your choices and pay the consequences, whatever they may be. Just be careful to store contraband in a more secure position."

"Thank you, sir..." Venti trailed off. He was mostly happy because he wasn't going to be turned in; his and Elf's life would continue if just for another day. A smaller part of him was happy that this man was new in town, and therefore Venti didn't have any obligation to know his name. The nobles would have given Venti a harsh lecture (or beating, depending on who it was) for now knowing which family they belonged to. Venti had spent nights trying to study the political landscape of his homeland with Aart's help.

"Ragnvindr. I hail from a nation west of here. The gods of war are fighting each other over this so-called Archon War, so I decided to become a wanderer. I am currently stuck here because of the nasty weather outside the Anemo dome. My mother spoke fondly of Mondstadt, but I have yet to see what she meant," The red-haired man said with a dark look crossing over his face. Venti noticed that the man's eyes weren't just the color of sparks, they also glowed like the fluttering flares of a fire. Venti wondered if they would glow brighter if the man experienced strong emotions.

"My name is Venti. I was born and raised in Mondstadt. There is limited beauty that can be found here, but the people here do what we can to maintain the fleeting happiness we are allowed. I am one of the few to cling onto hope that we may one day find something greater than what we were given at birth. If our conversation may continue on a day when I do not have to return to my masters, please tell me about the glorious sky, among other commodities the other nations possess that our city does not," The bard said, allowing a smile to fill his face. Elf merrily jingled beside the bard and Ragnvindr.

"Perhaps you could play me a song on that day. I have spent too long aimlessly wandering in the silence of this city," Ragnvindr said, looking around as he stood up on his feet. He reached one of his hands toward Venti, and the bard graciously took his hand. Ragnvindr rather effortlessly pulled Venti to his feet. Venti marveled at the strength of the man, his mind turning around rhymes that would go into a song about the fiery-haired warrior. Venti wanted to remember this moment, this small act of kindness from an interesting looking stranger, forever. He needed to freeze this moment in verse. He would write this song after he wrote a song about Elf's actions.

"Oh, the silence is horrendous. It is in the silence that the fading hopes of the people and the relentlessly buzzing of the Anemo cage is the loudest. I do hope that one day I will be accompanied by true silence with only a soothing breeze to sing to my ears. That day shall arrive soon, I dare say," Venti mentioned. He looked up with wistful direction, feeling like he could see past the Anemo dome if he tried hard enough. All he managed to do was pick out a singular thread of wind that made up the cage. He sighed, looking around. There in the ground, growing through the bumpy, misplaced stones, was a flower struggling to remain upright. Venti walked over to it, plucking it out of the ground. He turned to Ragnvindr with his smile growing brighter. He pressed the flower into Ragnvindr's hand. "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."

Ragnvindr's fingers closed around the stem of the brilliantly white flower with edges dipped in sunny gold. It was a flower affectionately called windblume by the people of Mondstadt. It was the only flower that was able to withstand the intense weather conditions of the city swathed in elemental energy. It was a symbol of hope and prosperity, reminding the people that if a delicate flower could survive, they could, too. Ragnvindr, as a wanderer, probably didn't know the significance of the flower, but he held it so carefully that Venti suspected he had an inkling.

Ragnvindr opened his mouth to respond when the street exploded with Tempestas guards and screams. Ragnvindr's arms circled around Venti to pull him and Elf out of the way. Venti worried that the Tempestas were after him, but they passed by him without paying any attention to him. Ragnvindr held him firmly as he searched the twisting crowds of elemental familiars. Venti wondered what the progression was about until he heard someone call out, though he didn't know who did or why.

"The Gunnhildr clan has escaped the Anemo barrier!"