A Note in Spring's Leich

A Note in Spring's Leich is an Artifact in the set A Day Carved From Rising Winds.

Description

"Iron blades fail to slash it, nor can imprisonment of stones confine it."
"The wind has no fear of the future, but constantly flows in its direction."
"O sorrowful tyrant, no matter how much blood stains your hands,"
"As long as the wind still blows, you shall not claim the freedom of song."

As the tempest raged before the crumbling divine throne, the frail youth strummed the strings of his lyre for the final time.
The melody, once only played in the shadows of dark alleys, whispering courage to the downtrodden,
Was now tempered by weary years of strife. It was forged into a roaring defiance of the many, a tempest that no storm could rend asunder.

If mortal flesh could not transcend the seat of gods, if the song of "this moment" could not stay the hand of calamity,
Then let the desires of countless such "moments" merge with the yearning for liberty that echoes through unnumbered ages.
Let the bone-chilling hatred of a single instant be diffused into the long span of Time, as petals adrift upon the breeze.

In a single, extraordinary moment, the youth, whose very body became the instrument, strummed strings that once belonged solely to the Master of Time.
Even the Mother of the Thousand Winds was stunned, her eyes falling briefly upon the desolate northern lands.
That violent, fleeting storm transformed into a thousand-year-long poem of wind and hue,
Into breezes caressing clear springs and fragrant fruit wines, into the distant songs of pines and pastoral melodies across viridescent fields.
It became the sword that pierced both royal blood and the venomous dragon, it became the solemn vows of old, and the sighs of lovers.
At the break of dawn, the symphony of a thousand years began its first note.
Its name is Mondstadt, and all who hold freedom in their hearts are its musicians.

But the flesh and blood of the first to strike the strings could not carry the weight of a nation's song.
The great symphony, summoning the usurped power of time, poured a moment's burning fury into a thousand-year instant.
The bard's body fell with the collapsing tower, and the name that ought to have endured was swept away by the winds of time.
Like frail snows melting upon the breath of spring, it was lost beyond recall of both memory and voice.
Only that tiny wind spirit, on the day when the Mother of Time and Wind bestowed her authority,
Claimed silently a strand of time from bygone days, along with the name that even the reversal of years could not save.

"My dear friend, take now this breeze of a thousand years, and with it, a yearning for joy, and dreams of liberty."
"Do not grieve for me. While the winds still blow, folk shall sing as I once did, of their hope for tomorrow."

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A Day Carved From Rising Winds Artifacts Flower of Life Windborne Flower's Spruchdichtung Plume of Death Dawn's Brilliant Oath Sands of Eon A Note in Spring's Leich Goblet of Eonothem Heldenepos's Unspoken Tale Circlet of Logos Minnesang of Love and Lament