Durin

After one particular Windblume Festival, a new face appeared in Mondstadt — a young boy with horns upon his head and wings growing from his back. Master Jean told the people that this boy had once been a dragon. Through wondrous alchemy, he had gained a human form and now sought to learn how to live among them.

A dragon turning into a human wasn't exactly shocking news. After all, countless fairy tales had sprouted from Mondstadt’s soil. What truly stirred the people's curiosity was the boy's name: Durin.

Whenever that name was spoken aloud, people would instinctively look toward Dragonspine. Beneath its blinding snows lay the colossal bones of a creature long gone, and with them, memories of a calamity best left buried. For most citizens of Mondstadt, that name carried not wonder, but unease.

Still, with Jean and the Knights of Favonius vouching for him, Durin was welcomed into the city all the same.

People began to see him everywhere in the city, and they soon discovered that in truth, Durin was the more timid one in every encounter. He was curious about everyone, yet preferred to watch from afar, uncertain and hesitant to draw near. Whatever dread his name once evoked, the boy before them had no share in it.

Little by little, the people of Mondstadt grew used to Durin's presence. Their wary glances softened, and daily life returned to its peaceful rhythm. In time, when they spoke his name again, many no longer looked toward the white peaks. Instead, they thought of a gentle boy — one who blushed as he asked Flora in front of Floral Whisper which flowers might best suit a friend, or who stood outside Good Hunter, embarrassed yet earnest as he asked how not to burn the meat. Bit by bit, those gentle scenes washed away the memory of that old disaster. The name "Durin," once spoken of in fear, no longer made anyone flinch.

It felt, in a way, like rewriting the ending of a sorrowful tale, right from its very beginning.

Have you ever heard the story of Durin?

Through on-site investigations and the study of ancient records passed down among Mondstadt's people, the Adventurers' Guild has pieced together a fairly detailed account. Hundreds of years ago, when the catastrophe from Khaenri'ah spread across the land, an evil dragon named Durin descended upon Mondstadt, leading a horde of Abyssal creatures in its wake. Its very existence was a disaster — with a single breath, it could turn fertile plains into barren wastelands. Guided by Barbatos, the Anemo Archon, his familiar Dvalin took to the skies above the snowy mountains to face Durin in a fierce battle. In the end, Dvalin tore open Durin's throat and brought the dragon down. Yet Dvalin, too, was tainted by the venomous blood, and remained so until recently...

All in all, it is a rather tragic tale.

In the days following that great calamity, a certain poem quietly circulated among the bards of Mondstadt:

"Mother, as you bade me, I have come to this land to show everyone my beauty."

"The flowers here are fragrant, and the wind is gentle. I run with the breeze, and the blossoms bloom brighter in my wake."

"Butterflies flutter around me, as if in awe of my beauty. Yet when I reach out to them, they always shy away."

"But then, a lovely one approached me of his own accord, as though inviting me to dance."

"I accepted his invitation, and together we spun and twirled. The wind lifted the petals, adorning our dance with their colors."

"Mother, I think... I've made a new friend."

Strangely, soon after its appearance, the Knights of Favonius traced the poem back to its source after being tipped off by some unknown party. They erased its title and sealed away the collection it appeared in, marking it as a forbidden text.

At the time, people had no idea why the Knights of Favonius acted as they did. But if you take a keen interest in Durin's story and dig a little deeper, you might find an alchemist's experimental notes revealing that Durin's consciousness came from beyond the heavens and was fused with the body of the wicked dragon through alchemy. Corrupted by Abyssal power, his senses and experiences were far removed from those of ordinary beings. Until his fall, he never had any choice but to become the embodiment of disaster, and he likely could not make sense of the cruel world around him.

Seen this way, the poem might actually be telling Durin's story from his own perspective.

A certain mage chanced upon this tale and could not help but feel a pang of regret. If the soul known as Durin could have freed itself from the Abyss's curse and ultimately forged a friendship with Dvalin, how different might the ending have been?

Perhaps to reconcile this lingering sorrow, the mage set pen to paper and wove a new story into being, one in which the protagonist bore the name Durin.

When Durin first arrived in Mondstadt, he always preferred to avoid crowded places. He was like a lone splash of color at the edge of a painting — striking, yet unable to form any meaningful scene. Trapped in this static blot, he struggled to make new friends and begin the story that was truly his own.

At that time, Lisa had just accepted Jean's request to become Durin's tutor. She observed all this and quickly realized that Durin was not naturally solitary. His yearning to make friends was evident, yet he hesitated at every turn. When Lisa asked him about it, he finally confessed his worries.

"I... I don't know how to get along with other humans..."

"Well, learning how to interact with people is indeed a prerequisite for friendship," Lisa replied, "but that is not something that can be taught in a classroom."

So Lisa assigned Durin an extracurricular task — to step out of his room and observe how the people of Mondstadt interacted with one another. The request from his mentor dissolved most of his hesitation, and he finally left his room, just as he had once climbed out of his hiding place in the mine.

Durin's first choice for guidance was Albedo, whom he regarded as a genius who seemed to know everything. But when it came to learning "human social skills"... Albedo glanced around his alchemy workshop, secluded amidst the surrounding snowfields, and after a moment's thought suggested that Durin find a more suitable teacher.

Next, Durin thought of Klee. She seemed capable of befriending anyone. Surely she knew of an effective method for connecting with others. Klee's advice, however, was simply to "go fish blasting with them." In her view, two people who had blasted fish side by side could certainly count as comrades-in-arms. Durin only began to understand what she meant after being locked in the confinement room with her by Jean.

Durin also considered seeking help from Dahlia and Kaeya. After all, one was a deacon with an adept listening ear, and the other the Cavalry Captain eager to help others. Once Durin explained his situation, the two immediately agreed and took him to the Angel's Share. There, the reticent Durin watched as the tavern's patrons raised their glasses, singing and laughing together. In Mondstadt, this was clearly "human social interaction." However, after just a single sniff of the bar's beverages, Durin nearly toppled over. Luckily, the composed bartender quickly swapped his drink for juice. This method of socializing, he realized, was beyond him... at least for the moment.

Still, the experience sparked an idea. He ventured to another tavern, quieter and free from the dizzying fumes of alcohol. There, people socialized through a card game called "Genius Invokation TCG." But before Durin could even find an opponent, he was swarmed by a group of cats, only escaping thanks to Diona's intervention...

A few days passed in the blink of an eye. Durin tried again and again but never quite learned a practical way to interact with others, and in the end, he hadn't completed the extracurricular assignment Lisa had set for him.

However, when he went back to report, Lisa did not blame him.

"Then let's treat this as a long-term assignment. When you feel ready, come find me and I'll check your results."

"Really? Thank you, ma'am!"

Lisa hadn't eased her requirements carelessly. She could see that Durin was no longer the isolated, colorless block he had been before. He had begun to find his place in the world. Albedo had set up extra heating in his mountain workshop, the knights sometimes left an extra chair in the confinement room, the Angel's Share had a bar seat reserved just for juice, and a special table occasionally appeared outside The Cat's Tail. In truth, human interaction had no fixed form. Everyone brought their own edges, rough or otherwise, collided with one another, and eventually found the places where they fit. Unbeknownst to him, Durin had already become part of this picture. His colors were still a little unusual, but he now added to the many interesting scenes unfolding around him. The people appearing in these scenes were his friends, present and future. The events taking place within them were his story.

And once he came to realize this, his assignment would be complete.

When Durin first arrived in Teyvat, Sumeru was his first stop. At that time, he had not yet gained a human body and was known to everyone as "Mini Durin." His very existence was extraordinary, which naturally drew the attention of the curious and the unscrupulous alike. Fortunately, Hat Guy served not only as his guide but also as his bodyguard. With nothing more than his perpetually gloomy expression, he could scare off most nosy bystanders, while the mercenaries hired by merchants trafficking exotic beasts rarely lasted a single encounter in his presence.

Those days were light and happy ones for Durin. By strict comparison, Teyvat could not match the peace and comfort of Simulanka, yet he found himself enchanted by this new world.

But the one doubt that lingered in Durin's mind after arriving in this world came from Hat Guy himself.

As a dragon born of fairy tales, Durin viewed everyone as a unique story. Living in Sumeru with Hat Guy, he was fortunate enough to witness countless tales, such as "Rainforest, Mushrooms, Tail Care, and Big Ears," or "The Akademiya, Jokes Dragons Don't Understand, Genius Invokation TCG, and Big Ears on a Hat." Occasionally, trips into the desert offered opportunities to read "Desert, Games of Catch, and the Little Wolfhound"...

Yet whenever Durin looked at Hat Guy, the one who had spent the most time by his side, he could see no story at all.

In the end, Durin didn't voice his doubts to Hat Guy. He felt it was simply too soon, so he stayed close, hoping to uncover Hat Guy's story. Not long after, however, the latter suggested ending their journey.

"I've had enough of our little trip for now. You should go bother someone else, or return to that fairy tale world of yours."

"No, I still don't know your story!"

Durin stood firm in his refusal. Though Hat Guy's tone was, as always, sharp enough to make anyone frown, Durin could tell he wasn't just trying to send him away out of impatience. The real reason Hat Guy wanted him to leave seemed to lie hidden somewhere within his own story — one Durin had yet to uncover.

Had it been anyone else, Hat Guy would probably have just turned and walked away. But he saw the determination in Durin's eyes. Ever since the day Durin decided to follow him on his journey across Teyvat, Hat Guy had never once managed to turn him down for good. This time, he relented as well.

"Do you wish for your story to take root in this world, Durin?"

"My story... in this world?"

"This will almost certainly be an important choice for you. But if you stay by my side forever, how much of the world will you really come to know? I want you to go farther — to see its beauty, and its ugliness too. Then, once you've seen enough, make your choice."

"Mmm... but what about your story, Hat Guy?"

"If you decide to plant your story here in this world, I suppose I'll have a small part in it. Just remember that part I played, and that'll be enough. That's my story, as far as you're concerned."

Hearing this, Durin fell silent for a long while. It was the first time he'd ever heard Hat Guy speak to anyone like that — in an encouraging tone, yet tinged with a faint trace of something that almost sounded like a plea.

In the end, Durin accepted his advice.

Before Durin was rescued from the curse via the blessings everyone bestowed upon him, most of his days in Simulanka were spent in the mines, tormented by solitude and despair. Yet when he had first arrived, there had been a brief stretch of happiness. In those days, his mother, Anya "Marie" Andersdotter, had still been amongst the living.

At that time, Simulanka was still under construction. Durin often accompanied his mother whenever she could take a break from her work, exploring the four corners of Simulanka with her.

Along the way, he watched as she and his two aunts debated how to shape the world around them. Their discussions always started with the same question: What would a world with dragons look like? From that spark came grand designs — valleys carved, tracks laid, castles rising — all brought to life in the midst of their lively debates.

Sometimes, though, those debates turned into arguments. His fiery-red aunt loved adding thrilling elements — bombs, or anything that would make the world more exciting — while his mother always expressed her worries. She cherished the people of Simulanka as if they were her own children and couldn't stand the thought of their home being reduced to ruins by some reckless artifice. Still, the arguments never lasted long. Soon enough, the fiery-red aunt would find clever ways to adjust her ideas — not only putting his mother's worries to rest, but making their world all the more vibrant and fascinating.

Back then, the story of Simulanka had yet to be completed, and his mother often paused her writing to think.

Whenever she did, his pale-blue aunt would come to visit, bringing delicate teacups and plates of delicious sweets. Their conversations were deep and far-reaching, stretching from pleasant afternoons into quiet nights, from the stars above to the future of Simulanka itself.

During these talks, this pale-blue aunt would often glance at the new scales growing on Durin with a complicated look in her eyes — one that made him uneasy. Still, she always brought wonderful treats, so he didn't mind her visits too much.

At all other times, his mother could usually be found bent over her desk, writing. Durin would sit quietly by her side, listening to the sound of her pen as he drifted to sleep. He thought those days would go on forever, until one day, his mother suddenly set down her pen, as though she had finally finished her work.

"Come, my child," she said, rising from her chair. "Take a walk with me."

She led Durin to a courtyard high up in the sky. Gazing out toward the horizon, she reached out her hand, as if tracing the edge of a page.

"My dear, if you ever had the chance... would you want to leave this world and see what lies beyond?"

"Could I really... leave this world?"

"You could," she replied with a gentle smile. "Your aunt Alice is quite remarkable — she's already proven to me that her magic can make it possible."

"Then... what would happen to me after I leave?"

"That, I can't say," she said softly. "Those are things that shall happen after 'my ending.' But you know, 'going to a faraway land' is a curious phrase — some stories use it as their ending, while others take it as the beginning. Durin, I want you to do something for me. When you have the chance, try leaving Simulanka. Go see what lies out there."

"There will be many, many hardships waiting for you, but don't be afraid. Alice's magic will guide you... and my blessing will go with you."

Realizing how important her words were, Durin nodded solemnly, accepting the task she had entrusted to him.

"In that case," she murmured, "I suppose I've now finished writing the most important passage of all..."

Then Durin watched as his mother turned her gaze toward the distant sunset. The emotions that flickered in her eyes were like the light reflected there — burning first with warmth and reluctant farewell, then softening into quiet tenderness, until at last they faded gently into the approaching night.

Not long after, the gears of Simulanka's destiny began to turn. The origami animals of the Forest of Blessings and the toy figures of Constellation Metropole each set out on the stories woven for them by the three goddesses.

Yet Durin's mother was gone. His days of happiness had come to an end for now.

Carried by the wind that Venti had gifted him, Durin caught up with Dvalin, soaring together into the skies above Windrise. And finally, the story the mage had been writing arrived at the chapter she had been waiting for.

Standing by the long table where mages gathered for meetings, Alice watched Durin's figure recede into the distance. Her thoughts drifted back through the years to a tea party where all seven of them had been present. Delighted by the occasion, she had been struck by a whim to start a story-telling game, only to stumble when choosing a theme. She turned to Anya, the writer among them, who offered a simple, potent answer: "The Undying Fire."

"If I ever get the chance, I want to leave behind an 'Undying Fire' through my stories. As an author, that is the greatest pursuit I can imagine."

"An 'Undying Fire'? What exactly does that mean?"

"I suspect each of us has our own answer to that question. Isn't that what makes it perfect for a storytelling relay? I am still searching for my own answer, in any case."

Anya didn't answer directly. As she often did in her own works, she left a hint of suspense, sparking Alice's curiosity.

"All right, then, let's go with this theme! Each time we meet, the next person will take their turn and write their chapter. Hmm... Anya, you take the final chapter. By the time the story reaches its conclusion, I expect you'll have your answer ready for me."

And so began the relay. Alice volunteered to write the opening — the little witch set off on a journey to find the "Undying Fire" in order to complete the trials set by the old witch.

What Alice didn't anticipate was that by the time the witches gathered again, Anya had passed away, lying in her coffin, asleep forever. She had misjudged how differently witches and humans experienced the passage of time, and how profoundly that would affect Anya. She had been expecting to wait for the next chapter, but Anya had already grown old. By the time the story reached the fifth volume, Anya was gone.

The tale Alice had begun started veering wildly in the second and third volumes, handled as they were by Barbeloth and Rhinedottir respectively, but it was partially rescued in the fourth volume under Ivanovna. Yet in the fifth volume, penned by Nicole, it was hastily concluded in a single line. Alice felt frustrated, convinced she would never learn the answer Anya had intended.

The story took a turn with Octavia. The Hexenzirkel had never been marred by a loss since its founding until Anya's passing, a loss that now brought the frequently-absent Octavia to the gathering. She brought with her the already written sixth volume, in which the little witch was given a second chance, reuniting with the old witch.

"The Undying Fire might exist after all," she said.

In response to Octavia's reminder, Alice turned her attention to the final work Anya had left behind — the world they had created together, Simulanka. In this world, a dragon named Durin waited, restless and uncertain, for miracles that might come in the future. The possibilities Anya had woven into him, much like the unresolved threads she left in her other works, glowed like a softly burning flame, illuminating the world of the story and tugging at Alice's curiosity. Gazing at this flame, Alice recalled the promise she had once made to Anya.

"It seems the ending she was meant to write falls to my pen instead."

And so the years passed, with Alice often turning her gaze to the dragon. She watched the child, once burdened with the name of a drake most fell, receive blessings from others, step out of the world of the story, make friends, forge connections with the world beyond the tale, and together with his companions face and overcome fate. In the end, she saw him completely rewrite the story of Durin the wicked dragon and take flight alongside Dvalin...

Drawing her thoughts back, Alice realized she had finally received Anya's answer.

"Anya, just as I wrote at the end of the storytelling relay, I've always thought you were the most capable among us."

"You always say you would leave little behind, but I see it now — the undying fire you left for us."

Durin's everyday outfit came from a most extraordinary experience. Though there was no direct proof, he had always believed it was a gift from his mother, Anya, bestowed with some kind of magical charm. After all, every element of the outfit was familiar to him, each one tracing its origin to her works. Clearly, his mother had cherished him deeply, dressing him as though he were a prince from a fairy tale.

Still, there was one detail Durin didn't recognize: the heart-shaped gem at the collar. Considering how he had been reborn and the gem's locked design, he gradually realized its meaning. The gem held the heart of the evil dragon fused with him, and his body now served as the cage keeping it sealed.

But when Durin took up his mother's pen and began writing his own story, the lock on the heart vanished. Placing his hand over the gem, he felt not the pulse of some malevolent being, but his own heartbeat.

In that moment, Durin finally understood the gem's true meaning — it was not the dragon's heart. It was his own.

And now, that heart was free.

When Durin traveled to Mondstadt to visit Albedo, he saw for the first time the massive dragon skeleton slumbering amidst the snowy mountains. The owner of these bones shared his name.

Through Albedo's words, Durin learned the devastation his name had once brought to this land, and that history was on the verge of repeating itself.

"Isn't there any way to save the people here?"

"There is, but..."

Albedo explained a possibility. By using alchemy to fuse Durin with the heart of the evil dragon, he could seal its Abyssal power completely.

However, the plan was far from perfect. As an essential part of it, Durin would have to bear certain costs. Albedo explained that once the alchemical process was complete, Durin would take the place of the evil dragon and remain in this world. Yet this world was far from the peaceful beauty of Simulanka, and the power he would have to seal was far more terrifying than the curse that had once turned everything into building blocks.

Albedo knew this could not be a demand made unilaterally — he respected Durin's choice.

Durin looked toward the distant dragon bones, sensing the guiding force that had led him here. Yet now, with this decision laid before him, that force fell silent. Even the goddesses who wrote fate seemed to have set down their pens. This choice was his alone.

"What if... I want to stay?"

In that moment, memories of his past flooded back. His mother had told him to journey far away, leading him to Teyvat. Hat Guy had urged him to go farther still, and through that, he had seen the world in all its beauty and cruelty. Along the way, he had faced countless unexpected events, some joyous, some disappointing, none neatly arranged as in a story. Surprises came unbidden, and expectations sometimes fell short.

Yet it was precisely this uncertainty that captivated Durin, the one who had stepped out from the pages of a tale. It drove him to keep exploring this world. And it was this very uncertainty that granted him something no character bound by a story could possess, something born only when facing the unknown:

A "wish."

"I want to stay. I love this world. I want to fulfill my mother's request, to leave my story as Hat Guy said, and to help you save everyone... to suppress the evil dragon and become... a true human."

In the end, it was Durin who solemnly entrusted his desire to Albedo.

"Please... help me make this wish come true."

And so, a great trial began. The light of the alchemical array blazed across Mondstadt's sky.

When the dust settled, Durin found a shining Vision at the center of his side of the array.

His wish had been granted.