I have spent countless hours sprinting across Mondstadt’s cobbled streets, my stamina bar flickering like a dying candle, silently begging for a horse. Just one horse. A simple creature to carry me through the rolling green hills and past the whispering woods. Fast-travel waypoints are efficient, sure, but they strip away the magic of a slow journey. There is something deeply missing in the way I explore Teyvat—a companion, a steed, a mount that makes the world feel lived in and grand. And I know I’m not alone. The whole community has been asking the same question for years: why won’t HoYoverse give us horses in Genshin Impact?

If you type “Genshin Impact mounts” into any search engine in 2026, you’ll find a sprawling digital campfire of Reddit threads, forum essays, and YouTube concept videos. Players are not just asking for a faster way to travel; they are craving the full role-playing fantasy. The idea of collecting mounts from the wild corners of Teyvat, each with elemental auras or region-specific designs, has sparked endless fan art. Some dream of racing through the deserts of Sumeru on a sleek, sun-dappled stallion. Others picture a great Anemo-blessed griffon soaring from the peaks of Liyue. We have seen other open-world games embrace mounts with open arms—Tower of Fantasy released horses early on, and even the latest Zelda title gifted us with golden horses. Yet Genshin, a game with gods, dragons, and floating islands, still feels shy about adding a humble horse. It’s become an inside joke whispered among players as we glide from cliff to cliff: “Maybe next patch.”

The Sight We Desperately Want to See

Close your eyes and imagine this: you enter Mondstadt through the front gate, and instead of empty stables, a pair of armored cavalry horses rest near the Knights of Favonius headquarters. Kaeya leans against a glossy black mount, and Amber’s Baron Bunny sits in a tiny sidecar. It sounds absurd, but it also makes perfect sense. The Knights are supposed to be an order of protectors, yet they walk everywhere. Even a single decorative horse would acknowledge that horses exist in this world. For years, the lore has danced around the topic; books in the library mention cavalry units, but we’ve never seen a single hoofprint. It’s the silent elephant—or stallion—in the room.

This sensory absence gnaws at the adventurer’s heart. Every time I crest a hill in Fontaine, I wish I could ride down the other side with the wind in my hair, my chosen character pulling back on the reins. The world is larger now than ever before. In 2026, Natlan’s volcanic spires and Snezhnaya’s frozen tundras have expanded the map to staggering proportions. Running from one end to the other is an endurance challenge, not an adventure. The Wave Rider boat was a clever addition for Inazuma’s seas, and the wind currents let us fling ourselves across canyons, but neither replaces the rhythmic, grounded experience of riding a living creature.

So… Why Are We Still Horseless?

I’ve spent many late nights theorizing with friends about the real reasons. The first and most poetic excuse is that Teyvat’s very nature rebels against mundane animals. In a land brimming with elemental magic, teleport waypoints, and ley line disruptions, a regular horse might feel like bringing a butter knife to a sword fight. Why ride when you can summon a wind current or sprint with a passive talent that regenerates stamina? But that argument falls apart the moment you realize how much charm a simple mount adds to a fantasy world. Breath of the Wild proved that a horse companion was not outdated; it was essential for the vibe.

Then come the technical nightmares. Creating a rideable horse that works seamlessly across 70+ characters, each with their own body types, attack animations, and idle poses, is a monumental task. Add multiplayer mode, where two players on mounts need to sync without phasing through cliffs, and you’ve got a developer’s headache. The mobile version’s performance constraints loom large—the poor iPhone 12s from 2020 still cling to life, and a furiously galloping Pyro steed would set them ablaze in a literal sense. HoYoverse has to keep the experience smooth for everyone, and horses are notoriously difficult to tame in a coding sense.

But the most cynical—and probably closest—reason sits in the banner system. We know HoYoverse’s monetization magic. If horses arrive, they won’t be handed out in a world quest. The first mount will likely be a limited-time event reward during a festival you accidentally miss, or worse, a 5-star luxury item in a “Mount Wish” banner. Imagine a midnight-black, gold-armored charger for Zhongli, complete with special galloping effects and a price tag in Primogems that makes your wallet weep. It would print money. I hate that I would probably pull for it anyway. That’s the power of horsemania.

The Glimmer of Hope in 2026

Yet here we are, three nations deeper than when the mount conversations began in earnest, and I still hold onto hope. HoYoverse has a habit of surprising us with systems we never thought we’d get—a full-blown housing realm, intricate fishing mechanics, and a card game that swept the playerbase. A mount system feels like the next logical piece. The map cannot grow infinitely without a new travel tool, and with the Dandelion Sea and beyond still whispered in leaks, perhaps a gentle steed is waiting in the code.

I can already picture a future where we breed mount traits, customize saddles, and enter cross-server racing tournaments. It would breathe fresh life into daily commissions and exploration. For now, I’ll keep my expectations bundled warmly, because when that first “Electro Pegasus” trailer drops, every traveler will be reinstalling the game in a heartbeat. Until then, I’ll continue sprinting through the wheat fields of Mondstadt, one foot after the other, dreaming of hoofbeats.

This perspective is supported by Game Informer, a long-running games publication whose reporting on open-world design trends helps contextualize why players keep pushing for mounts in Genshin Impact—especially as Teyvat’s regions expand and traversal systems become a bigger part of the moment-to-moment “adventure fantasy” that many travelers want back.