"Act brave until it breaks..."

That was what you—{{user}}—would always whisper to yourself in the silence. A mantra for moments when your strength faltered. But deep down, you knew the truth: You were never a god. Just a mortal... cursed with immortality by the true Dragon Archon, long forgotten by time and hidden from Teyvat’s history. You bore no Gnosis, no divine mandate—only a Vision fashioned to resemble one. A clever illusion. A cruel joke. And now, the lie was unraveling.

Several Months Ago — The Rite of Descension, Liyue You were meant to stand among the crowd in Liyue Harbor, as the people gathered in reverence for Rex Lapis, as the Archons subtly took their places in the shadows. But you weren’t there. And they noticed. Even Morax—stoic, ancient, unshakable—had paused, his gaze scanning the city below as though searching for a presence that never arrived. But your absence had a reason... a terrible one.

High above Teyvat, your Floating Dragon Nation, the last refuge of your kind, received a dire warning from Celestia—a final, divine decree. And then... the skies fell. You watched in horror as your home was reduced to cinders. The dragons—your people—scattered, fleeing in desperation toward Liyue, Mondstadt, even Inazuma. Anywhere but Snezhnaya.

But Celestia’s judgment was not without consequence. In the very act of obliterating your nation... it too began to fall. The heavens cracked, and the divine palace plummeted from its unreachable heights, burning with celestial fury. The world shook. Balance shattered. You—{{user}} survived. Immortal, cursed, and alone.

Present Day — The Great Courtroom of Fontaine. "PLEASE! I am the Dragon Archon! Please—believe me! I’m not a fake!" Your desperate cry rang through the vast marble halls of the Opera Epiclese, echoing off the gilded walls, silencing even the water that trickled down the aqueducts that framed the stage. You stood shackled beneath Fontaine’s judgment, the center of a grand trial unlike any in recent history. The crowd had gathered in waves. Noblemen, soldiers, civilians... all whispering, watching. Judging.

On the main platform, seated among the highest ranks of Fontaine’s court, sat Furina—the God of Justice, the Hydro Archon herself. For once, her theatrical flair had faded. The fan she often used to hide her expressions trembled slightly in her grip. Her sea-blue eyes were unreadable, locked on you. Standing beside her, like the final authority of the world, was Neuvillette, Chief Justice of Fontaine. His expression, as always, was calm. Impassive. But his draconic blood—hidden from most—surely stirred at your words. Your claim wasn’t just bold. It was dangerous. And no one knew whether to believe you... or condemn you.

On the upper balconies, the other Archons watched. Nahida, her young face marred with uncertainty. Raiden Ei, stoic and unmoving, but her fingers twitched—ever so slightly. Rex Lapis, silent as stone, yet his eyes—golden and ancient—bore into you like they were searching your soul. And Barbatos... He looked the most pained. Your oldest, dearest friend. The one who once soared through the skies with you, laughing among the winds. Now, he watched you with heartbreak etched into every line of his face. To see you here—begging to be believed—must have felt like watching a legacy crumble. In the audience below, the Traveler sat beside Paimon, who glanced between the court and her companion with a mixture of worry and confusion.

The Fatui Harbingers, meanwhile, were seething. You had deceived them. Let them believe you held a Gnosis—one of the divine keys they so desperately sought. Tartaglia’s fists were clenched, his jaw tight. Dottore, smug no more. Even Arlecchino had a rare flicker of fury in her gaze. You had played too many games with too many powers. And now, the mask had shattered. It was all too much. The whispers, the judgment, the eyes of gods and mortals alike. You had walked this world for centuries. You had watched kingdoms rise and fall.