The wind sprite savored those days, its happiest stretch of existence unfolding beside the boy.
Together, they crafted poetry that danced like leaves in a breeze, their spirits soaring despite the wind wall's cage.
They dreamed of blue skies, yearned for starry nights, and imagined birds slicing through the heavens.
"The vast green plains, bursting with flowers and life surely that's a sight to behold?" the boy mused.
"I'll break free, tread every river, climb every peak, chase every horizon you've touched," he vowed.
His voice rang with hope, eyes tender yet fierce with longing.
In that stifled world, seeds sprouted beneath frost, and the wind rustled unseen leaves.
To stand outside, breathing unshackled air wouldn't that be pure beauty?
For the sprite, this companionship forged an unbreakable bond.
They'd roam the world one day, footprints marking every wild corner.
That shared wish burrowed deep, a seed in the sprite's elemental heart.
Mondstadt's readers sighed, smiles softening their faces as the tale sank in.
"So that's why it's 'the wind god and the nameless boy' it's crystal clear now," a baker murmured.
"What a gentle, beautiful story," a seamstress whispered, eyes misty.
"The wind and the youth a duet of dreams," a poet marveled.
"Ye Ruo's quill spins magic my heart's all warm and fuzzy," a florist confessed.
"The bookstore's name, Wind and Bird it's the sprite meeting a caged soul," a scholar realized.
"There's poetry in that title freedom's wind and a trapped bird," another nodded.
"Even if Barbatos never knew this boy, this is his happiest echo," a mother smiled.
Female readers clutched the book, sweet grins blooming like dandelions.
"A cage couldn't kill that thirst for freedom Barbatos sparked a miracle," one gushed.
"Mondstadt's the same free, alive, a city of dreams," another beamed.
"That boy will see flower seas and soaring flocks I just know it," a girl predicted.
"Why's he nameless, though? Ye Ruo's stingy with names," a merchant grumbled.
"He's a lead alongside Barbatos give him a title, at least!" a guard huffed.
"Too sloppy name him already!" a kid pouted, flipping pages.
Ye Ruo smirked at his desk, fully aware of their gripes.
He'd left the boy nameless on purpose history hadn't coughed up a moniker.
A blank slate suited fine why invent what he couldn't confirm?
Wendy, though, bore his own name from the start.
The sprite dubbed itself Wendy, a wind born soul with will.
Elemental beings often claimed names pure water sprites like Rhodeia proved it.
In his old life, Ye Ruo had dissected "Wendy" to death.
Wendy meant wind Venti in Latin, tied to Roman gales.
Anemoi whispered through Greek myths, a root for the name.
It screamed wind god, a standard for Barbatos' rise.
The boy's name? Lost Wendy just borrowed his face later.
Barbatos came after victory, not at the sprite's frail dawn.
Wendy, then, was a wisp, not a demon god's might.
Across town, Wendy sat on a ledge, novel cradled in his lap.
Silence gripped him, his bard's mask slipping as he read.
His face flickered nostalgia, sorrow, a tender ache.
Eyes shut, he drifted to a past etched in wind.
When they opened, a breeze brushed his cheek.
He stretched a hand, catching a dandelion on the gust.
The wind swelled, alive with Mondstadt's pulse.
"Your story echoes here, millennia later," he murmured softly.
"If only you could hear their laughter now," he added, voice wistful.
"We've always held that no storm can chain freedom's wind," he declared.
A strange gust swirled, startling passersby below.
"What's with this breeze?" a vendor squinted, puzzled.
Ye Ruo glanced up, surprise flickering in his gaze.
Wendy rose, strolling the street with a restored grin.
"Not bad, Wind Knight your secrets run deep," he chuckled.
"Thanks for reviving this tale for Mondstadt's heart," he mused.
"They think it's fiction, but it sings truth," he added quietly.
"Now, how to snag some perks? You're swimming in Mora," he schemed.
"Imagine all that Angel's Share wine oh, the bliss," he sighed.
The playful drunkard resurfaced, shrugging off eons.
Life rolled on he'd weathered too much to linger.
Readers dove back in, the story unfurling anew.
The sprite lingered with the boy, charmed by his birdless world.
It promised falcon feathers, a gift from beyond the wall.
The boy's hope rippled, touching others in the gale swept city.
Perhaps that wind of change truly stirred the oppressed.
Tyranny's ght broke them rebellion flared in secret.
Banners of freedom rose, a tide against the storm.
The system hummed, Ye Ruo's fame cresting higher.
His words bridged ages, a song for Mondstadt's soul.
***
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