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In Old Mondstadt transpired the story to be told

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Where a tyrant ruled, I met a boy, not that old

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The lyre he played, and for a song he sought

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But storm-walls blocked blue sky — he was sincerely distraught

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"I do so wish to see the birds in flight"

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Said he, his strong eyes filling with light

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But his voice was lost in the howling wind's churn

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For the whirlwind takes, and gives naught in return

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The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...

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Were they not wishes worth fighting for?

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So the boy turned, extending his hand:

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"Let us cast down the tyrant and his walls from this land"

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The young boy raised then the flag of revolt

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And I threw myself into freedom's tumult

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Victorious were we who fought to be free

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Gods fell, winds whipped, nations shook violently

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In the smoke, a despot met his doom

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And we watched as his great tower fell none too soon

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Mondstadt began anew, the story passed down

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And since then never has another worn its crown