Selenophilia: Rebirth (ON HIATUS)

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑤𝑜

Xiao did not always use to be alone. When he was first called upon by the Geo Archon, Morax, to become a Yaksha, there were others of his nature. Four of them, like himself, rose in prominence far above the rest. Together, these five chosen ones became the Yaksha generals, tasked with destroying the remnants of gods to preserve the hard-won peace of Liyue, a mere child of a nation then.
They did so in a way that exalted them to others of their kind, their skill and efficiency beyond anything seen before in warriors of the battlefield. They earned their reputations, their titles, and respect.

You see, gods don't ever really die. Their worldly body may pass away, as these did, buried beneath the earth by Morax himself, but their consciousness lingers. Their poisonous animosity lived on in those splintered fractals of their minds. Their ill-will became personified, intent on stirring up chaos where there was peace. If left long enough, these shards took on the forms of man-eating monsters and soul-consuming demons.

The Yakshas spared no brutality in eradicating these inhuman atrocities. Their strength was the stuff of legends. But perhaps there is truth to the saying that if you repay enough evil with evil it will force you to become evil. The Yakshas repaid death with death, but if you hit a shard of glass, does it not shatter all the more into tinier pieces?

Thus, these manifestations were nigh infinite, and the Yakshas had no choice but to practically absorb the lust for revenge these dead gods contained so that it would spread no more. These impure fractals tainted the souls of the Yaksha, turning into debt--one of karma that the Yakshas had to accept if they were to continue their ways of bestial justice. If you kill, you must pay the price. Many of the Yaksha did.

There is no physical currency that can pay off karmic debt. The only way the Yakshas could even attempt such a task was through more slaughter, more bloodshed. By trying to pay off one part of their debt, they were chained to another. This counterintuitive system is what led to their downfall.

The long-dead gods' desire for destruction ran so deep, carved into the very bedrock of Liyue, that mere mortals could not even begin to fathom it. The Yakshas felt the echoing aftershocks of it so cruelly that after decades of killing, slaying, and eviscerating, many could no longer bear the karmic debt they'd accumulated and failed to repay.

Such venomous loathing and spite consumed them from the inside out, flesh, bone, and tainted soul. Some gave way to madness that led them to their graves. Others turned on each other, no longer recognizing who they were or their purpose. They murdered each other in droves until the ranks of the Yaksha dwindled to but one--

("Xiao," Yue whispered, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of sadness for the Yaksha.

"Yes, you're right, child. It was Xiao," said Granny Ruoxin.

"As if that wasn't obvious," Jiao Long grumbled.)

Only Xiao miraculously bore the karmic debt with nothing short of immovable stoicism. He watched as his comrades in arms destroyed themselves and each other with all the ferocity they'd once utilized as weapons against demons.
The most forlorn moment of Xiao's life was when he was forced to watch his whole world crumble apart in front of him while he could do nothing but stare blankly.

Saving the Yakshas was impossible. Once you were lost to insanity, you were lost forever. There's no cure for a ravaged soul.
The days of the Yaksha faded faster than that of a dying festival lantern until none but Xiao remained to fight the good fight against depravity.

Sometimes when one is alone, it's pleasant. It's a deep breath amidst the hectic pace of life. But for Xiao, being alone was simply lonely. He was his own worst company with nothing but his thoughts to listen to, and that got very tiring when all he could think about was death. He once tried to watch humans to see if they too were lonely and maybe understand the strange creatures he was meant to guard. But their lives were so ugly, rusty, and meaningless that he looked away and pretended not to notice them.