The song was a song calling for freedom. The music was the sound of a harp.
Durin did not know what freedom meant, nor did it know that an instrument called a harp existed in this world.
It only felt that the song was beautiful—hearing it made its heart light.
The music, too, was wonderfully pleasant—hearing it made its body relax.
And when it heard that song and that music, Durin always felt something special.
As if, long, long ago, it had heard such a song somewhere, heard such music somewhere.
How strange.
The first time it flew into the sky and heard that song and music, Durin fell in love with them.
It even wanted to learn the song and sing it with its own voice.
But the song and music had come on the wind.
When the wind changed direction, they vanished.
Durin was crestfallen.
It longed to hear that beautiful song and music again.
Lost in the music, Durin lost control of its massive body. It tilted to one side and plummeted from the sky, nearly crashing into the ground.
Only by flapping its great wings frantically did it manage to right itself and avoid disaster.
Just then, Rhinedottir's voice rose from below.
"My child, I have seen your power. Come down."
Seeing Durin nearly fall, Rhinedottir beckoned.
Having created such a powerful weapon, she needed to train it properly.
Hearing its "mother's" voice, Durin beat its wings and slowly descended, landing before Rhinedottir.
Beside her small human form, Durin's body loomed like a terrifying mountain.
It was fearsome.
Durin said excitedly, "Mother, I heard a beautiful song and wonderful music carried on the wind."
"I want to learn them and sing them for you."
"But then the song disappeared. Mother, do you know where it went?"
Durin asked eagerly.
It had fallen in love with that song and music the first time it heard them.
Rhinedottir looked puzzled.
A beautiful song? Wonderful music?
She had never heard any song or music on this snowy mountain.
And a newly born black dragon, fused with a weapon of war—what could it know of songs? What could it know of music?
She confidently assumed Durin had mistaken the sound of the wind for a song.
She smiled gently. "My child, this is not the time to learn songs."
"Mother wants you to learn to fly freely and strengthen your blessing. When you become strong, you can share your blessing with others."
Only when Durin could fly skillfully and control its power would Rhinedottir feel confident sending it to invade Mondstadt, to spread its cursed poisonous blood across that land.
Durin's heart sank, but it obeyed its mother.
"Very well, Mother."
"I will practice flying."
With that, under Rhinedottir's guidance, Durin beat its wings again and lifted its heavy body into the sky.
It flew.
Newly hatched, Durin did not yet know how to steer. It wanted to ask Rhinedottir, but she was human—how could she teach a dragon to fly?
Durin had to learn on its own.
So it tried and failed, tried again and again, struggling to control its massive body, crashing into trees and rocks, even leaving craters in the earth.
After dozens, hundreds of attempts, it finally mastered the art of flight, learning to control its weapon body, to turn in the air without falling.
Durin could not wait to tell Rhinedottir.
"Mother, Mother, I've learned to fly! I won't fall anymore!"
"Can I learn to sing now?"
Its massive, fearsome body stood before Rhinedottir.
Even she, its "mother," marveled at the power within it.
Truly, a weapon of war from ancient times. Unimaginably strong.
Rhinedottir said slowly, "Sing if you wish. But do not forget to practice flying."
Durin said happily, "Yes, thank you, Mother."
With her permission, Durin beat its wings again and slowly rose into the sky.
As before, it flew higher and higher, until it could touch the clouds. Then it stopped and pricked up its black ears to listen.
Sure enough, carried on the wind, it heard the beautiful song and the wonderful music again.
And this time, the song was clearer than before.
Every word, every note, was clear in its mind.
Overjoyed, Durin began to sing along.
"Great god of wind—"
"With a wave of your hand, drive away these raging storms—"
"Leave this tower—"
"Let me see the blue sky, let me see the green earth, let me see the birds flying free—"
"Free god of wind—"
...
As a dragon, Durin could not understand the meaning of the words.
What was the god of wind? What was the tower?
Though it did not understand these strange words, singing them filled Durin with a strange familiarity.
As if, in some distant time, it had truly sung this song before.
It longed to meet the singer.
But it put the thought aside.
Since it loved this song, it would spread it to every corner of the snowy mountain.
So Durin flew, singing its song of freedom.
...
Now, at Wangshu Inn, Li Mo had been speaking for a long time. His throat was dry. He had to stop for a drink.
Below, the audience watched Durin fly into the sky, hear the song on the wind, fall in love with it, learn to sing it.
They could not hold back.
"This is bad—the storyteller is reaching for the knife again! Run!"
"Storyteller, I have a question. That beautiful song and wonderful music Durin heard—was it Barbatos playing?"
"The thread from the last life was never broken—now it will be continued in this one."
"But how can a black dragon, poisoned and cursed, continue that thread with the free Anemo Archon?"