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30 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
30 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
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Scriptures of the ancient winds, passed from generation to generation among the observers of ritual in service of the Anemo Archon.
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Countless hands have touched the now-yellowing pages of this book, though any prints they left have since been carried away by the wind.
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In the era when the Storm Lord reigned from his tower up high, desperate appeals filled the scriptures.
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Then, in the era when the sands of snow thawed, the joy of the sprouting greenery flooded the pages.
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In the days of yore, when the ruling aristocracy pulled at puppet strings to control the masses,
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The scriptures in the hands of slaves told of their envy and their desire for the thousand winds.
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The people of Mondstadt lived, endured, fought, rejoiced, and enjoyed freedom.
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As the precious years passed, the scriptures grew thicker and heavier.
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When Mondstadt was born anew, and the Church finally unshackled,
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The scriptures of the winds could bear no longer being confined to a shelf,
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And so the book took flight, left the Church's treasury, and was gone.
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Like the winds of Mondstadt, and like the people of Mondstadt,
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It belonged to freedom and the winds.
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The elegant handwriting on the title page reads:
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Children of the Anemo Archon, heed these words:
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From the winds we have come, and with the winds we shall go.
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Never, ever grieve for me.
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'Tis but my flesh and bones which rest in the soil:
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My soul has become one with the thousand winds.
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When flowers bloom, when leaves sway,
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That is me who sings the songs of freedom, of the winds.
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