Genshin Impact:-What if the Sovereigns Started a War

In the Womb of Arian…

A place untouched by war or time.

At its heart rested a lake—clear, calm, and filled with a strange sense of relief, as though every ripple whispered, "you are safe now." The garden that cradled it was alive with soft colors and vibrant greens. Trees leaned together like old friends. Grass swayed gently beneath invisible winds. Flowers bloomed in slow, serene pulses—some releasing a delicate fragrance that settled into the soul like a lullaby.

By the lake's edge, Seraphyx knelt—his breath heavy, chest rising and falling with quiet strain.

In his hands, a small silver lamp glowed faintly. He lifted it to his lips and drank from it—a thick, white, fuzzy liquid, more essence than substance. As it slid down his throat, it shimmered faintly, like it resisted being swallowed.

"Another one died?" Kaelya's voice floated softly behind him.

She stepped closer, her form draped in the warm glow of life, her presence gentle but rooted like ancient bark.

Seraphyx nodded.

"Yes," he murmured. "Absorbing their souls into my vessel… it's the only way I can let them rest. The leylines won't take them. The world won't remember them unless I do."

He sighed and continued drinking, the lamp growing dimmer with each sip.

Kaelya frowned, her expression clouded with worry.

"It's not your duty to carry them all inside you," she said quietly. "But I won't stop you. I know your heart is strong—for now. But if the weight ever becomes too much… you must confide in us. In Mother Rosen."

Seraphyx gave a small nod.

He didn't speak.

He just drank again—each sip cradling another forgotten soul. And inside him, in the sacred hollow he had offered to VlastMoroz long ago, they found a place to rest.

At the outskirts of Arian Core…

The carriage rolled steadily along the cobbled path, creaking softly under its weight. As it passed through the floating outer rings of the capital, the vast city of Arian Core came into view—rising like a dream from mist and marble.

Elynas, Tera, and Merry leaned toward the windows, wide-eyed.

Below them, the city pulsed with life. Markets bustled with laughter and voices—bright stalls overflowing with fabrics, glowing trinkets, and curious fruit from distant provinces. Royal Knights patrolled the edges in polished armor, their presence both commanding and calm. Students in uniform darted between shops, arms full of scrolls and sweets. Families strolled beneath flowering trees, children chasing bubbles and pigeons alike.

"We're here," the driver announced with a sigh, gently pulling the reins.

He was a large, broad-shouldered man, middle-aged, with a face weathered by sun and kindness. A gentle giant, if ever there was one.

But as he looked back at the trio, he hesitated.

"…Actually, I think I should take you straight to the Academy. This city's big. Bigger than most folk expect." His brow furrowed slightly. "I'd rather not have my village's kids getting lost—or worse, swindled by those shiny-toothed charmers near the plaza."

Elynas beamed. "Thanks, Uncle! You're the best."

The driver sighed again, clicking the reins to guide the horses onward.

As they neared the towering gates of the Knight's Academy, he muttered under his breath, "Would appreciate it if you stopped calling me Uncle…"

Outside the Knight's Academy gates…

The carriage rolled to a stop, its wheels crunching against the polished stone path. Elynas, Merry, and Tera stepped down one by one, blinking in awe at the towering spires and crystalline windows of the Academy.

Merry gasped.

"Oh my god. This place is so beautiful!" she squealed, eyes sparkling like she'd just walked into a painting. Without a second thought, she bolted forward toward the entrance.

"Merry—wait!" Tera shouted. "Your luggage, you maniac!"

She didn't stop. In fact, she started twirling as she ran, completely forgetting her bags like a true academic disaster in the making.

Tera groaned, dragging his own luggage and hers. "What am I supposed to do with her…?"

Elynas giggled, her steps lighter than ever. "Give her a break. She's been dreaming about this place since before she had all her baby teeth."

She picked up her own bags as they followed after Merry, the three of them making their way through the grand archway and into the Academy grounds—hearts full of hope, heads full of dreams, and one of them definitely still missing half her socks.

---

Inside Aethercastle…

Far above the Academy, past towers built into clouds and halls laced with ancient symbols, the ruler of Arian returned to solitude.

Orion stepped into his private chamber and let the door close behind him with a soft click. The room was quiet—quiet in the way only power can be. He sank into the high-backed chair, letting his spine finally relax as he pressed a hand over his face.

"I'm so tired," he whispered to no one in particular.

But no one was never truly alone in Aethercastle.

He straightened up, gathering composure again like a cloak. Then, with a breath, he spoke softly into the still air.

"Mother Rosen… may I speak with you?"

A snowflake shimmered into existence before him, floating gently until it pulsed with crystalline light.

"Yes, my child," came the voice—soft, melodic, impossibly old. "You called on me after so long. I almost thought you'd forgotten me."

Orion smiled faintly, a rare curve of genuine warmth.

"How could I forget," he murmured, "when you're the only thing anyone sees when they look toward the horizon of Arian?"

Mother Rosen's voice shimmered in the air, soft and crystalline.

"The wounds of the last war run deep. Even if it was a facade for the Sovereigns, it was all too real for the ones who followed us. Too real to forget."

Orion nodded slowly, his expression hardening with the effort of holding it all together.

"I know. But if we don't forgive each other—if we let this hatred rot beneath the surface—our nation… and Nyxhara itself… won't survive long enough to challenge Celestia."

The snowflake pulsed, her voice quieter now. "Defeating Celestia isn't your concern. Not yet."

Then came the question—sharp as frostbite.

"Ask yourself: can you forgive Highfall? Zephyr's son. The same Skyborne Revenant who made you kill your love… with your own hands?"

There was a crack in her voice. Just one. But it echoed louder than thunder.

Orion's composure fractured, just for a moment.

His jaw tightened. "What he did wasn't born of hatred," he said bitterly. "It was ego. Twisted. Delusional. Obsessed."

He clenched a fist, voice low and tight. "He loved only the idea of torture of those bear your essencez."

A silence hung in the room like falling snow.

"You still have much to learn, Orion." Her voice was fainter now—distant, as if retreating beyond time. "I hope these events you're planning will help you find clarity."

And with that, the snowflake dissolved in midair, vanishing into the quiet cold.

Orion rang the small silver bell beside his desk.

A moment later, the doors opened with a creak, and an elderly minister hurried in, robes fluttering like startled pigeons.

He bowed low, catching his breath. "How may I be of service, Your Grace?"

"We're sending letters of invitation," Orion said, his expression still carved in stone. "We're hosting an event at the Knight's Academy—to invite representatives from the other Sovereigns and allow the students to learn from them."

The minister blinked, surprised, before smoothing the front of his robe. "May I ask… why the Knight's Academy, my lord?"

Orion looked toward the tall windows, where faint rays of golden light filtered in through frost-etched glass.

"Because students are still young," he said, voice low but steady. "Their minds are flexible. They haven't yet been poisoned by old grudges or choked by rigid beliefs."

He turned back to the minister, eyes sharp.

"They will be the first to accept the subjects of the other Sovereigns."

The minister bowed again, slower this time.

"As you command."