High in the sky, Durin had left the snowy mountain for the first time. It breathed the warm air and beheld this green land.
Following its "mother" Rhinedottir's instructions, it spread its great wings and flew from the east of Mondstadt to the west, from the south to the north.
As it soared, it scattered its mother's "blessing" across Mondstadt.
It was so happy.
Durin had fulfilled its mother's wish, bringing her blessing to the people here.
Look—the little beasts running about were celebrating Durin's arrival. The hilichurls were cheering for it.
They must be enjoying the blessing.
Durin was overjoyed.
For the first time, it felt the admiration of others.
It flew in all kinds of postures, sometimes descending to chase the humans who welcomed it, sometimes playing with the little beasts in the forest.
But Durin was puzzled.
Every time it drew near, whether humans or beasts, why did they all run away?
Was it because its body was too large?
It couldn't be helped.
There was nothing Durin could do about its size.
Just then, from high above, a bard's song and the sound of a harp drifted down.
Durin was captivated.
How beautiful.
It was the bard it had been searching for.
Durin looked up excitedly.
Across the sky, it saw a small bard cradling a small harp, playing softly, sending beautiful music into the distance.
And beneath the bard's feet was a great green dragon.
So beautiful.
Durin had seen it once before.
The green dragon was beautiful, its body like a gem polished for a thousand years, its form as elegant as if sculpted by a master's hand, radiating holy light.
Not only that, six great green wings adorned its body, beating constantly in the air, a mark of its nobility.
Durin swore that since its birth on the snowy mountain, it had never seen such a beautiful dragon.
The moment it saw the green dragon, Durin wanted to fly to it, to embrace it, to learn to dance from it.
But then Durin looked down at its own black body, its ragged wings, its foul stench, and its body oozing black poison.
Its heart was filled with a jumble of emotions.
Beside the elegant green dragon, Durin felt ashamed.
Though it bore Rhinedottir's blessing, in grace and beauty, it could not compare to the green dragon.
Since its birth, for the first time, Durin felt shy.
If it flew to the green dragon so recklessly, would it be laughed at?
Would the green bard laugh at it?
Durin hesitated.
Then, before it could act, the green dragon spread its wings and flew toward Durin.
Durin's heart leaped with joy.
It seemed the green dragon did not hate it after all.
Thinking this, Durin beat its black wings and flew toward the green dragon.
As it flew, it cheered and celebrated, singing its own joyful songs in its rough voice, opening its arms wide to embrace the green dragon, to be friends, to learn its name, to dance together in the sky.
But Durin's appearance was too fearsome, too terrifying.
Everything it did, in the eyes of Barbatos and Dvalin, seemed like destruction.
Barbatos saw the black dragon baring its claws and fangs at Dvalin, saw it attacking them with a powerful sonic wave.
He saw the black dragon roaring at them, making the very air tremble, spreading poison across Mondstadt, bringing death to all living things.
In that moment, Barbatos did not hesitate. He gave the order to Dvalin.
"Dvalin—"
"Destroy it."
As he spoke, Barbatos played his harp with all his might, making its voice ring out across the land, fighting to defend Mondstadt.
Dvalin, emboldened by the music, answered, "Leave it to me."
"I will bite through its neck. Let's see if its poison is stronger than my fangs."
"I will tear open its chest and show it the price of invading Mondstadt."
As Barbatos's companion, Dvalin was revered by all, a guardian of Mondstadt, one of the Four Winds.
It was powerful.
Though this black dragon was larger, with sharper fangs, a fearsome body, and poisonous blood, Dvalin was confident.
It would bite through its neck, tear open its chest, and show the strength of Mondstadt.
The next moment, Dvalin flew to meet Durin.
Face to face, it saw Durin's fearsome features and smelled the stench of its poisonous blood.
And Dvalin felt something else from this great black dragon.
Something like a bond of blood.
A strange familiarity.
But Dvalin had no time for such thoughts.
It could not let this black dragon continue to destroy Mondstadt.
So without hesitation, Dvalin struck Durin with its claws, seized its body, opened its great maw, and bared its fangs.
Now, seeing the green dragon fly toward it, Durin opened its arms without hesitation, wanting to embrace Dvalin tightly.
In Dvalin, Durin felt something special.
Like a brother lost for years, found again.
Though they did not know each other, the elemental power within them came from the same source, born from the same spirit.
Bonded by blood. Familiar.
Durin did not understand why, but this feeling of kinship was like a lost child finding home.
It was comforting.
Durin savored it.
But then, as Durin opened its arms and "embraced" Dvalin, it felt Dvalin's claws dig into its flesh.
It hurt.
A piercing pain.
But after years of drinking Rhinedottir's alchemical potions, Durin was used to such pain.
It could bear it.
And Durin truly believed that this beautiful green dragon had not meant to hurt it.
It had simply forgotten to sheathe its claws, accidentally scratching Durin's skin.
After all, Durin knew a dragon's claws were sharper than anyone could imagine.