Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“When did you first start attempting to get my attention?”

His hands came to rest on your legs from where you had them draped over his lap. You both sat on your couch, in your apartment, the sunset just starting to paint colors over Piltover. The soft light came in the window and somehow made him look even more handsome.

You hesitated, sheepish smile on your face, “a little before Progress Day?”

“Ah!” he let his head fall back on the couch, “that was five weeks ago! I am a fool.”

“Well, I was subtle, at first. As I said, I value our friendship and I didn’t want to push past what you were comfortable with. I mean,” a larger smile crept onto your face, “I could have climbed onto your lap in the lab, but I thought that a breach of the trust you’ve put in me by inviting me there.”

His head came back up, a delightful chuckled rumbling in his chest. His gaze slid over to you. “That,” a consideration, “would have worked. But yes, my lab is not the place for such. I appreciate your restraint. However, I feel obligated to point out," he trailed his fingers down your legs, over the soft fabric covering them, "we're not in the lab now."

Your eyebrow ticked up in interest. "No, we certainly are not."

His fingers reached your ankles and then began to slide back up, past your calves, your knees, up your thighs. He let them come to rest just before reaching where they came together. Those eyes stared at you. His hand flexed on your inner thigh and that was it.

Hurried movement. You slid your legs off, stood up, and settled back down, a knee on either side of him. Your weight lowered onto his thighs and you kept an eye on him to see if you needed to adjust.

"Good?"

He nodded. "Perfect," and pulled you the rest of the way to him. Your lips met again and the kiss quickly deepened. Your tongue did the exploring first this time, dipping in, tasting, eliciting a delightful moan from him. His arms tightened around you, one hand at your back, the other in your hair.

Desire. You wanted him. You wanted this. You shifted and could feel a particular part of him hardening beneath you. It caused you to pause, to pull back from the kiss.

"What is it?" he asked, a hand going to your cheek.

"This is, fast, are you sure?"

"Fast? By my estimation this is four weeks and six days overdue. If you calculated the mean, our pace would still be glacial. But if you want to slow-"

"No." You kissed him, "no, this is exactly where I want to be."

"Me too," then he demurred, "I may have, wanted this as well," he chuckled, "as I guess is apparent."

"For how long?"

His gaze dropped away, "I first had the thought when your piece made it into the gallery last year. The party, you wore that dress-"

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Half the people in there noticed you that night. Who was I-"

Your hand grabbed his chin and turned him back to look at you. "Viktor."

"That is my name, yes?"

Sterner words died on your tongue as you stared at those honeyed eyes. You sighed. "I don't know if I would have been ready that night. But the fact that you came made me want to get to know you better."

"And you did, to my delight. But it was never," he paused to try to put the thought into words, "I have had interest in many. It is exceptionally rare that anything progresses. I enjoyed your company for exactly what it was, what it is, what you are, a good friend. I am happy you are in my life." His eyebrow ticked up, "I'm even happier you're sitting on my lap." That evil grin returned, "and as soon as I get these clothes off you, I will be very pleased with you sitting on my cock."

Your jaw dropped open and you just stared at him.

"What? I have upmost faith in my prediction." He pulled you close, his lips to your ear. "Am I wrong?" His hips flexed up, making a point of it. "Please do not think that I am anything other than enthusiastically willing. I want you."

Heat flooded your body, especially lower in your core. His lips found your earlobe, the sensation giving you shivers, then your neck where he offered the softest of bites, followed by a harder one. Your arms flexed around him and he chuckled and did it again.

Two could play at this game. Your lips kissed his pulse point just below his ear, then you, too, pressed teeth to skin until you heard him gasp. You placed a softer kiss on the same spot and then sucked on the skin.

He hummed. "That will leave a mark."

"Yes, it will."

"Above my collar."

"That's the idea."

As you shifted back his lips found your neck again and while you braced for it, he merely kissed the skin lightly. You pulled back to look at him and he smiled. "Well, now you're expecting it. But do not worry, I'll make sure others know where my marks came from."

He pulled you to him, lips once again meeting, warm and needy with the softest "mmh," from him as it deepened. His grip tightened and you suddenly knew, far too much clothing stood between the two of you. Your fingers came up to work at his vest, carefully undoing the clasps, then pushing the vest back to undo the tie and pull it free. The softer fabric drifted past you as you let it go. Then you started on his shirt. Why were there so many buttons!

For his part, he too had begun to work at your vest, a simpler design as you had a little more freedom with your uniform. Though he seemed to run into the same frustration as he worked at your well tailored shirt.

"Damn all of the button makers," he muttered.

You chuckled, but in a moment you both succeeded. Immediately you pushed his shirt open and slipped your arms in and around him. Warm skin on a lithe frame greeted your hands. You pulled him close, feeling the line of your torsos press together and just held there. A satisfied sigh escaped your lips.

"This is nice."

"Mmm, it is. Though, if I may," his hands worked deftly at your bra, unlatching it at the back. You leaned back enough to shrug off your shirt and drag the bra away. As you started to lean back in, his hand on your shoulder stopped you. His eyes began to drift over your form, taking a moment to study you.

You sat a little higher, squared your shoulders and looked down at him with a sense of surety to your gaze. Let him look. His hand rested on your sides, not moving, just observing you as you breathed.

His hand found your cheek, his eyes finally rising back up to meet yours. "There lies at the edge of the unexplainable, an endless sea of wonder."

The smile that hit your face was one you could not contain. "And on that stormy shore, may you find music in the thunder," you finished the verse. "I didn't think you cared for Calera's poetry."

"Ehh, I honestly took her postulation that art answered the questions science could not as a personal challenge, but-"

"Hextech."

He nodded. "I'm beginning to see that magic is more than just power. It raises certain questions."

A thought came, but you violently shoved it aside in your head, knowing where that path would lead. You could show him any other time but right now.

"What is it?"

You pulled a smile on and leaned back in, seeking to make contact, to continue. "Nothing important."

You were almost there when his hand stalled you again. He sighed. "I know that look because I have seen it in the mirror many times. You had a thought."

"It can wait."

"You had a thought about magic and," he eyed you, "art. And if I had to guess, based off the expression you made when it occurred to you, it was a good one."

A grumble that ended up almost a growl came from you. "Viktor."

"Again, that is my name."

"I want to fuck you."

His face lit up. "As I do you, but, ideas can lose their way so easily. If you truly don't want to talk about it, at least go write it down somewhere. Please?"

Another grumble and you got up and stomped out of the room. His voice followed you. "Good scientific practices are equally as beneficial outside of the lab. I promise."

"I promise you're going to pay for this."

"Oh, well, I sincerely hope so."

You pulled out the sketchbook, made the note, fighting hard to not look at the rest of it and shoved it back into the pile of them beside your bed. Then you sat there a moment and another idea came. Quick fingers worked at your pants and socks.

A moment later.

"Viktor?"

"You do enjoy using my name, perhaps I should start charging per-" he stepped into the bedroom and paused, eyes going to your naked form laying as seductively as you possibly could on the bed. "Upon further assessment, I shall wave the charges at this time," he mumbled.

For your sake, seeing him standing there, hand lightly on his cane, vest and shirt open, long line of his torso delightfully exposed, you summoned all of your attention so that you could cement it into your memory. At the same time, something in your core tightened, breath shortened, and your heart beat hard in your chest.

With precise movements he set his cane against the bed and removed his vest first. Then his shirt, setting it neatly aside. He had to sit to remove his socks, but he stood again, fingers working at his pants. You found yourself holding your breath as he let them fall and stepped out of them, his underwear too, your curiosity peaked at his meticulous pace.

He paused there, giving you time to look over his lean body. Long lines, muscle stretched over ligament and bone, sharper angles. His cock stood at attention, a good length, wrapped in soft foreskin. He was pale and warm and beautiful.

He kneeled on the bed and more heat pooled at the meeting of your thighs. He studied you, taking in every detail, then lowered to kiss your ankles, your shins, your knees, the insides of your thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

He came to a stop just above the part of you that reverberated with your heartbeat. He glanced up, waiting, checking in. You gave a small nod and that smile returned.

He brought a hand up, played through your curls then found the line of you and parted them, exploring. A soft sigh escaped you at his gentle touch. It wasn't nearly enough, but you had patience and trust.

A chuckle came from him as his finger went deeper, finding the heat and moisture eagerly building in you. You heard his voice, barely above a whisper, "this is because of me."

"Damn straight it is, Ah-" your head fell back as he sunk a finger into you. When he pulled it out he added a second, pushing his fingers in again, drawing a moan from you. For a few moments he set a slow pace. For your part you just laid there and enjoyed the feel of him as he explored, adjusting the positioning and angle of those fingers. He crooked them just right, sending your hands out to grip the sheets.

"Ah, there it is."

You chuckled. "Having fun?"

"Immensely." And that's when his mouth found your clit, licking softly, then sucking, causing your hips to jerk and your hands to grab the sheets even tighter.

"Viktor."

"That's four," his warm breath fanned against your most sensitive part. "Let's see what number we reach today."

He added a third finger and returned his attention to your clit. Pleasure began to build in earnest, drawing your open mouthed breaths shorter, faster. And damn was he observant, noticing where you reacted more strongly and following your gasps, moans, and twitches down the path of your growing pleasure.

You released the sheet with one hand to reach down, wrap your fingers in his hair. In one particularly good moment you tensed, squeezing, gripping his hair tight and his whole body shuddered, temporarily stalling his movements. It gave you a moment to breathe and he chuckled.

"Apologies."

"See that it doesn't," a gasp for breath, "happen again."

You couldn't see his reaction to your words, but you felt them. The hand gripping you, holding him steady, tightened. His focus returned, his movements sped, and 30 seconds later a wave of pleasure washed up over your body. Your legs shook, your hands tightened, your head dropped further back as his name fell from your lips again, with an added "oh gods" thrown in.

Once your body stilled and you could breathe and sort of think again, you managed to look down at his smug face and those golden eyes.

"That's five." He began to kiss his way up your body- abdomen, bellybutton, stomach, sternum. He stalled at your breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, bringing them to even stiffer peaks, giving small nips that made you tense and your core clench, heat eagerly returning.

Next your collarbone and your neck. He reached briefly to feel his own, studied yours, and descended, lips wrapping wide, sucking hard, adding teeth to the mix.

You chuckled.

"Now we will match," he said.

You reached up to cup his face. "Good, I like that."

For the briefest of moments you saw uncertainty cross his features.

"I'm not just enjoying this because it feels good. I'm enjoying this because it's you."

A blush crept up his cheeks, his eyes drifting away. His hand found yours and he brought it up to his lips to kiss each finger.

A new warmth flooded your chest, squeezed your heart, softened your eyes, emotion gathering behind them. "Viktor," his name came so gently.

"Six," he whispered.

His lips met yours in a kiss you felt through your whole body. It deepend because it could do no other thing and he took the moment to settle in above you, arms on either side, knees and thighs nestled in between yours. He lowered, rubbing his cock along the line of you.

You both moaned in unison, then chuckled and then he did it again and your hands gripped his arms, wanting something of him to hold onto. You pushed your hips up, almost catching him in the right place on his next pass.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Yes! Gods yes! You wanted to yell to the room. Instead, you simply nodded.

He balanced, reached down, pulled back a little on his foreskin and lined himself up. Then those eyes came back up, settled on your own, and he began to push in.

Slow, steady, occasionally pulling out a little to push back in, he gave you time to adjust to his size, which was delightful - the drag along your walls, the slight stretch, the warmth, the solid surety of 'him.'

He let out a groan as his hips met yours and let his head drop down, his cheek pressed close. You could feel him working to control his breathing. "You feel," a breath, "amazing."

"So do you."

He hummed, a happiness to his tone, and began to pull back out. But not all the way, enough to just catch at your entrance. A smoother, more steady, more sure push back in, followed, accompanied by a moan from both of you.

He chuckled. "Four weeks, six days, I will have to make up for it."

You caught his cheek, stalling him a moment. "It really is alright. Those were preliminary calculations. Right now is the perfect time."

The deep pinks and purples of the sunset streamed in the bedroom window, shading everything in the vivid colors. He looked down at you, while fully buried in you, and nodded. "Yes. It is."

You brought him down to kiss you. The desire, the need in that kiss made you wonder how such a small action could feel like it spanned the continent. How could holding this man tight to you feel like the construction of Piltover all over again. If you were honest, it scared you a little bit, the intensity in those eyes, almost as much as knowing you held the same in yours.

You gripped tighter, if it was possible. “Viktor.”

This time, instead of giving the count, which was seven, you remembered, he whispered your name, the lilt of it in his accent buried it deep inside of you, down into your core, as deep as Zaun, or possibly more.

His pace picked up, his own pleasure beginning to drive his actions. It certainly worked to bring yours back to the forefront. With each rock back in he hit a part of you that sent flashes of pleasure up and through you. It, he, became the only thing to exist. The hurried taste of his lips, his breath against your neck as he pulled you close, the heat and sweat of his skin, his little moans and attempts to hold on.

You reached up along his neck, into his hair, and gripped tight. He gasped, his head going back. His pace stuttered a moment, and he sped even more. Hard fought for strength and focused determination held him right where he wanted to be, centered in a want made real, forced to bend to his will in the moment. His breaths began to shorten and you reached down, between your bodies, trying to time your own pleasure to his.

“Yes,” he panted, his eyes hazy and dilated and yet somehow bright and filled with joy, “yes, please, I want to feel you.”

Your finger found your clit and began to circle. You knew your body. And with the overwhelming feeling of him moving quick, hitting deep, drawing your own breath down to gasps, your orgasm rose up and crashed over you. “Viktor!” you yelled his name to the room. You weren't’ sure if it was that, or the pulses of your orgasm, but his rhythm stuttered and he buried himself deep, stalling, pressing as close as was physically possible to you, a yell of his own echoing in the room.

You both lay there a moment, desperately trying to regain your breath, no other thought but the ocean of satisfaction washing around and through you in soft waves. You actually weren’t sure how long it lasted, that forever moment where you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

The first thing you heard that began to bring you back down to reality, was a soft, “eight.”

You chuckled, but he groaned. A worried hand came to his cheek, as he pushed himself up enough to look down at you. He huffed, that slight pained look coming to his face again as he tried to stretch. “I will pay for that.” He offered a weak smile. “Next time, you are on top.”

“Next time?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He brought his hand to your cheek, traced his thumb along it. “I certainly hope so.”

You purposefully pondered it. Then nodded. “I believe there is a high probability.”

“High proba- you yelled my name to the room.”

You shrugged, “not the first time, just the first time you were here to hear it.”

His brows furrowed and then lifted as high as they could go. That evil smile returned, he traced your cheek again, “talk like that and I will be ready to go again in,” he stretched slightly and his breath hitched, “30 minutes, give me 30 minutes.” He pushed up enough to fully break the line of skin. Sweat gave way and a cool rush of air washed over you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He rolled over onto his back and lay there another moment. Your hand found his at his side and he happily interlaced his fingers with yours.

“That was wonderful. Thank you,” he said, his voice still breathy.

“It was. Thank you for coming back to my apartment.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

You glanced over at him, the smile on your face matching his. “Come on,” you nudged his shoulder, “let’s shower.”

“I think that’s the second best idea you’ve had all day.”

You eyed him, and then added, “after the sex-”

“Yes, of course, after the sex. And,” he sat up and had to retrieve his cane from where it had fallen to the floor, “after the shower, you are going to show me that idea of yours.”

You offered him your arm in an overly formal gesture seeing as you both were still naked. “I think that can be arranged.”

He smiled, and happily slid his arm into yours. He leaned in to kiss your cheek and whispered, “eight, not bad.”

“Does that reset now or at the end of the night? And if so, is it when we go to sleep or at midnight?”

“You know, I haven’t decided yet.”

Chapter Text

"Ah, too hot!” Viktor maneuvered himself around you while you fiddled with the shower controls.

“Shit, sorry,” finally you just cut the heat back to almost nothing, the water turning lukewarm at best. “That better?”

He reached his hand back out and nodded, “better, thank you.”

“Sorry again, it didn’t seem-”

“No need to apologize, you are from the south, I hear the sun is so intense you could bake bread on the sidewalk.”

You just covered your face and shook your head. “That’s not, I don’t even have the time to-”

As you tried to form the sentence to make clear to him just how wrong he was, you failed to notice his own hand reach back to the controls.

“Personally,” he said, making the adjustment, “I like the cold.”

A half a second later all heat dropped out of the spray causing your own startled cry, this time with you twisting around him. The look you gave him could best be described as abject horror.

He chuckled.

"You do understand the concept of conflict escalation, right?" you said from the far side of the shower.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, innocence painting his face, poorly, as he reached for the soap.

It pleased you to see him playful, to see a smile sitting so easily on his face. However, if he wished to declare war this early on, so be it. You dropped your head slightly and let your gaze come from between your eyebrows. A smile slowly spread across your face. Step by step, though it didn't take many, you approached, stalking him.

His movements slowed, his confidence faltering. You watched him swallow. You also saw his cock jump slightly. "Perhaps," he swallowed, "I have erred."

Your hand came up, traced down his chest, fingers lining the muscles on his thinner frame. They traveled down his stomach and his cock jumped again, this time starting to fill.

You took the soap from his hand, that had, at this point, stalled at his side. Getting your hand in the spray, still cold, but at least his body stood between you and the water, you lathered the bar until suds covered your hands. Then you handed back the soap, which he barely managed the coordination to grab, and reached for him.

"Mind if I help?"

All he could do was nod.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock and his whole body shuddered. You used both hands to make long, slow strokes, taking your time to clean him thoroughly. He watched you, intently, and you just stared back, watching his breathing shorten, his eyes dilate, his attempt to stifle a moan.

"Forgive me, but I am uncertain how this applies to the situation," a breath, "directly before this. It is," another breath, "not an escalation."

"It isn't?" you asked as you turned him into the cold spray to wash him off. His body tensed at the temperature and you pulled your hands away, rinsing them.

The look on his face as he realized you were done touching him broadened the smile on your lips.

He placed a hand over his chest, "please accept my immediate surrender, I agree to whatever terms you desire.”

“A wise decision.” You drifted back his way, reaching past, letting the line of your body press to his while you adjusted the temperature. You only warmed it a little, enough to take the edge off, you had no desire to make him uncomfortable. In fact, once you’d begun, you’d very much wanted to finish what you’d started. While still close, you kissed his cheek, an action he leaned into, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

Whatever posturing remained, you let it fall, offering a soft smile. “Mind if I continue?”

The warmth in his face at that just about melted your heart. “Please,” he kissed you, “please do.”

Your hand trailed down again, found him still at attention and resumed where you'd left off. Slow, sure, you pulled and pushed, taking time to run your palm over the head every few passes. His hand clutched tighter to you, the other holding onto the wall for balance. You watched, for each catch of his breath, or moan, or any sign that whatever you just did was a good thing. Like he learned from you, you learned from him, noting what he liked, finding something that made him gasp and then doing it again and again.

It wasn’t long before he had his face pressed to the side of yours, arm holding on for dear life, breaths coming in short pants. "Please don't stop," he whispered. You had no intention to.

His body tensed, more of his weight rested against you, as he let out a louder moan, his hips stuttering against your movements. You could feel his cock stiffen in your hand as he came.

For a few moments he just leaned on you, panting, arm holding you tight. "This might be the best shower I've ever taken."

You smiled against him. "Good." When he could stand again you pivoted, bringing yourself under the spray of water and taking the time to wash yourself. Viktor just leaned there, watching you, eyes still a little hazy.

Once you were done, you turned back to him and stalled, the soft look on his face bringing heat to your cheeks. "What is it?"

"You are beautiful."

You huffed, seeking to demure even though you knew you should accept the compliment.

"No, look at me," he reached for your cheek. "I have always thought so."

You just stood there, naked, wet, less than a foot away from Viktor, who was also naked and wet and seemingly completely comfortable standing there with you. Even with your best estimates, this was not how you thought the day would end. Warmth again in your cheeks pushed a smile to your face. "Thank you."

"I am most happy to provide you with that information. And, as a scientist, I can attest to it being an objective observation."

"Of course it is."

"What, you do not believe me? Don't force me to get proof, because I will."

"Oh?"

"Yes, let's see," he began to count off on his fingers. "A letter from Jayce, of House Talis, will be easy. And Councilor Medarda should be easy as well, she has noticed you. Hmm, Professor Heimerdinger will be more difficult, but, ehh, not impossible."

"Oh my god, stop." You grabbed his hand. "You would not ask Heimerdinger about me."

"If I could convince him it was for science-"

You stopped his words with a kiss. He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you.

"You do know, you only succeeded in gaining my temporary surrender," he spoke against your cheek.

"It is war, then?"

His only answer came in a kiss, one that left you breathless.

10 minutes later, warm and dry and fully clothed, though more comfortably, Viktor sat at your small kitchen table and you shifted nervously as you set your notebooks, portfolio, and other reference materials to the side.

"This is more than just one idea, I think." He watched you organize and prep.

"A little bit, yeah."

"And it is about magic?"

You took another moment to straighten the books, aligning them when it was clearly not necessary.

He eyed you, "why are you nervous to show me?"

A breath, "ok, here's where it began." You took the top notebook, set it in front of him, and opened it.

His eyes went wide, "These are runes," he quickly scanned over what you'd drawn out in a neat line, they were indeed a set of runes. His gaze shifted back to you, a reserve settling in, a stiffness coming to his posture. "You memorized the runes from my Hextech research? This is private-"

"I know, please, I haven't shown this to anyone."

"You can't just use this for your art-"

"I'm not, look-"

Anger began to thread his next words, "is this why you come to the lab-"

"Viktor." You held up a finger, "not another word until I explain. You will give me that."

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing, and simply said, "nine."

Another beat. The barest smile ticked at the corner of your lips. Thinking back, this would be the moment that you knew, if you didn't love him yet, you would soon.

You took a breath, straightened, and opened your portfolio. You pulled out one of your sketches and laid it next to your notebook.

"This is-"

"-the riverlands of Freljord painting that hangs in the library, you've replicated it prefect-"

He stalled as you gave a pointed look.

"I am not speaking."

"But yes, you are correct. I've stared at it hundreds of times, and always found it beautiful. Then, one day, not long after you let me come into your lab, I noticed something. If you adjust the perspective-" you pulled out another drawing, this one a more directly overhead view, more like a map. Then you pulled a slip of thinner tracing paper. "-and you focus solely on the central tributaries-" you traced over them. "What do you see?"

He took in a breath. "No, that is coincidence," he said as he traced over it with his finger and then looked at the rune you'd copied from his lab.

"Which is why I didn't say anything at the time. But, it got me thinking.” You pulled another drawing from your portfolio.

"Noxus Prime, their main city," he said.

You nodded, "and this is a topological map of the land beneath it." You pulled a second. "If you were standing at the headland, and I've confirmed this view is correct, here's what it would look like." You pulled another sheet of tracing paper and outlined the central features.

Viktor's eyes went wide. "I," he swallowed, "still, I'm sure there are other places to match this."

"You mean like this," you opened one of the books to point at a Noxian outpost in Shurima. "Or this," you did the same with one on the edge of Freljord. "Whatever this rune does, it's echoed in Noxian ethos."

"Or it is just where they like to build, where that land formation works best with their architecture."

"Okay." You pulled a different book over. “This is a Targonian sheep hook, and this” you turned the page, “is a Shuriman one used for goats. And this,” another page, “is one used for sows in Freljord.”

“That explains why you have an animal handling book in your pile.” He huffed, “but just because it is similar doesn’t mean-”

“What does that rune do?”

He eyed you.

“Go on, tell me, what does the rune that is shaped like a shepherd's hook do with your Hextech?”

“It would seem you have been paying attention.”

You relaxed a little, leaning more towards him. “It’s something you’re passionate about, of course I was. I love when you take the time to explain something to me, I might not always fully follow along, but-”

His face softened for a moment. “How did I not see?”

You reached for his face, your thumb tracing along his cheek. Then you said, “you haven’t answered my question. How does a rune shaped like a tool used to manage unruly animals work for your magic technology?”

His next words came grudgingly, “it helps control errant energy surges.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps there is some merit to your idea.”

"Here, look," and you showed him three more examples you were pretty sure you had correct, then three more that might be right and then a few more that were pure conjecture.

"So, at first I thought maybe they were a lost language, but I've checked it against all the ones Piltover has on record-"

"Jayce did the same thing."

"And it still could be, some languages are drawn with characters that visually echo a concept or idea. But, what if they are actually pictograms-”

“That’s still, arguably, a form of language.”

“I know, but I think it’s the better descriptor. Instead of putting them together like a sentence, it’s like building a formula. Or like in children's books about witches and their spells. Hell, even baking."

"Baking?"

"Ingredients, conditions, timing, chemistry…"

When he didn't comment further you continued. "From what I've observed, you kind of throw runes 'at the wall' as it were and see what sticks. Watching how the crystals respond seems to be your only means of learning about them. But, what if our world has already supplied the context, we just have to find it, to see it? What if people didn't 'create' the runes, but just wrote down what they saw all around them. What if we can find more runes by studying the land and the people who've been here this whole time? Some ideas and concepts are universal, that’s why we see them repeated, like fractals in nature."

He'd gone unusually quiet and just stared at you, his face unreadable.

"Say something, Viktor, please."

"Four weeks, six days. Pack this up, we're going to the lab."

"But I haven't shown you everything."

"Good, then you don't have to repeat all of it to Jayce."

You stalled, "Jayce? Woah, wait, I'm not ready-"

But he was already standing and starting to organize your books. "'Ready' is for cooking and," he paused to kiss you, "sex." The light in his eyes drew you in, "science must be seized, there is no other time but now."

Then he paused, his hand taking yours. "However, the work is yours. I believe it is at least worth getting his opinion, that's all I'm saying."

You knew that to be a partial truth. If he thought it would lead to something, they'd begin experimenting about three seconds after you finished presenting it. Which meant, you sighed, "I'm bringing a change of clothes and am staying at your place if this runs late. I have class in the morning."

"I might also suggest a scarf, if you do not want your students to see, umm, my enthusiasm."

You eyed him as you paused in your doorway. "Or, I get the fun of watching them try to figure out who has done such a thing to their favorite art professor."

He smiled. "I don't think I've ever been a source of such intrigue before."

You offered a wink. "An important part of military strategy is picking your battlefield."

"Why do I have a feeling it will prove perilous to underestimate you."

Chapter Text

Jayce's face popped into view from where you were sitting with your head resting on your arms on one of the tables at the far side of the lab. They'd been going at it for three hours, and that was after what turned into an hour-long presentation at the start. Somehow he seemed as chipper as the moment you'd showed him the Freljord rune, despite the late hour of the night.

"Hey, you said you thought you could find more?"

His smile dragged one onto your face and you sat up. You had to stifle a yawn before speaking again. "That was the plan." His smile got brighter and you held up a hand. "Not tonight, though, it appears I am the only mortal of the group and being such, I need sleep."

"Oh, I guess it is pretty late. If you have class early and need a place to crash, mine is closer."

You huffed. It was, at least, offered completely innocently.

"That's alright, I was," you glanced at Viktor and he nodded, "planning on staying at Viktor's."

"I guess that works, he's closer too."

You eyed him.

"What is it?"

You stood and walked over to Viktor, who wrapped an arm around your waist as if you'd choreographed it. With a quick peck to his cheek you could see a bit of red creep across those lovely cheekbones despite his invitation of the action.

Jayce stared a moment. "Ah, I see, you're staying at Viktor's. That makes sense now."

"But yes," you returned to the question at hand. "I definitely plan on continuing," then you paused, "as long as that's OK. I don't mean to step on your work at all and I definitely don't understand half of what you are doing. If you want me to stop-"

"No." Jayce's voice came quick, followed almost immediately by Viktor at your side.

"Please don't stop." Then you watched the life pass before his eyes as he realized that was the second time he'd said that exact phrase to you that evening, or was it into the next morning by now?

You offered both a happy smile, through the one to Viktor promised more and caused him to lick his lips. He had to clear his throat before speaking again. "How do we handle your notes? I'm sure you need them, but I would also like to keep them present here for reference."

"How about this? I don't need them tonight, so they can stay here. Tomorrow, after my classes, I'll swing by and start a notebook that lives at the lab. I can copy over the pertinent stuff and can keep the speculation and nature or culture based observational ones with me. I can still bring those by whenever you want, but I really don't want to have to copy all of it."

Jayce thought it over, his eyes losing focus. His lips pinched tighter. "Do you think-"

"I could leave most of them here and only take what is vital for me to have, so that notes about your Hextech aren't randomly moving around Piltover?"

He sagged in relief. "Yes, please?"

You gave Jayce one thing, that face was damn hard to say 'no' to. You nodded. "I'll do the reverse of what I said then. I'll just keep one with me that only talks about the runes in an art history focus. It's what started it anyway."

"Thank you, so much."

"Yeah, yeah."

Viktor pulled you a little closer. "Thank you."

"It's a fair request. And I promise, I'm not trying to-"

"I know." He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "You are amazing."

Your smile softened. "So are you."

Jayce dutifully pretended not to notice your affection, instead tinkering with some of the half cut rune plates.

A yawn hit you again and you stepped back. "Oh, there is one thing," you turned towards Jayce.

"Yes?"

"Do you think you could ask Councilor Medarda if I could see her private gallery? I've heard there's an original piece from Icathia in there. That's been one of the hardest to find. And I was hoping, since she supports-"

"Her family has a private gallery?"

"She's the richest person in Piltover, she has a private everything."

"Oh."

You paused, this man had been working with her backing and support for over a year and he didn't know?

He flashed a smile. "Yeah, I can ask."

"Thank you. And with that, I bid you both goodbye." You returned to give Viktor a big hug and spoke quietly to him. "I'll be waiting, in your bed, all alone."

His hands tightened around you. You felt him take a breath, preparing some retort, but he let it go and simply said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I know."

As you left you heard Jayce say, "I'm so glad you finally noticed! She was getting pretty obvious."

"You knew she was flirting with me and didn't tell me?"

"Oh yeah, it was adorable."

"For how long!"

"A solid two weeks."

Warm hands and a warm body slipped in next to you. Viktor's bed wasn't as large as yours so once he settled in beside you, you asked, "comfortable? Will this work for you?"

He squeezed tighter, the full line of him pressing against your back and legs. His voice came at your ear, "mmm, yes, this is quite nice."

"Good." A breath, "how did it go?"

"Three more of your ideas seem to be correct. We've begun to sort the runes differently, seeing if ones based off land formations are different from ones based on tools or implements. Ehh, we'll see. But it is something. Thank you."

"I'm glad I could help."

He kissed your neck and let his head come to rest with a sigh.

“What was the final count?”

“Ten. And we are already two into today.”

“Ah, I shall do my best not to knowingly throw off the numbers.”

“Your dedication to scientific practices is commendable.”

“Oh you know me, I graduate the cylinders and pro the tractors and, um, thermo the mometers?”

He hugged you tighter. “You are certainly good at vibrating the isolators,” and he pressed his hips into you, which caused you to give a full belly laugh.

You shifted in his arms so you could look at him, your hip and side pressing along his front. Your hand came up, thumb tracing his cheek. “This is nice.”

“Yes it is.”

“I could get used to this.”

“I certainly hope that you do.”

You let out a happy hum and just stared at him a moment. He did the same, watching you in the dim light.

“What time is your class in the morning?”

“Eight bells.”

“Akk, that is inhumane.”

“I’ll do my best not to wake you.”

“It is okay if you do, since I will be able to go back to sleep and you will have to leave this warm bed and put on pants and teach a room full of Academy students.”

“I actually like the morning.”

He pushed at you, “get out then, this will never work.”

You chuckled, “and, my students are delightful. They’re future scientists like you, learning to draw for their field studies. I get to show them that art can be fun and useful.”

“I can be fun and useful,” he nipped at your ear.

“If only you were awake in the mornings,” you took his chin and guided his lips to yours. “I could show you how pleasant they can be.”

“You are quite skilled at demonstrations.” He leaned in further, his hand going to your hip, tugging you closer.

The kiss started to deepen when a yawn caught you off guard.

You both chuckled.

“Sorry.”

He gave one more peck on the lips and then made room for you to roll back on your side, so he could snuggle close.

A welcome contentedness settled into you, one you hadn’t felt in a long time, and you let sleep take you once again.

Chapter Text

"Are we allowed to breathe in here, do I need to ask for permission?" Viktor asked quietly at your side as you stood in the middle of a room full of priceless works of art. Paintings hung on strikingly black marble walls. Busts stood on pedestals and sculptures posed alluringly in every corner.

"Don't touch anything," you whispered back.

It had only taken five days after talking with Jayce for the invitation to arrive and then you were there, in the home of someone who continued to be one of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen.

"Hmm, finally." The immaculately dressed Councilor Medarda approached the both of you. Her dress was, as usual, stunning, which just matched the rest of her.

Before you could ask her what she meant, she waved a finger between you and Viktor, to whom you hadn't yet shown any open signs of affection, that you were aware of.

You both shifted slightly apart and she spoke again. "Don't you dare. You are the cutest couple in Piltover and you deserve to flaunt it."

Grudgingly, but with no real animosity, you stepped back and looped an arm around Viktor's free one. The slightest blush hit his cheeks and you leaned in to ask "is this okay?"

"Yes," he tugged you closer, "yes, just something I will have to get used to. That I want to get used to," he added.

You met his eyes and what you saw there brought a little heat to your own cheeks.

"There, just so," the Councilor continued, "now, was there something specific, or did you just want to peruse?" She gestured at the room.

"Do you have anything from or about Icathia?"

"Ah, my rarest piece." She walked at a leisurely pace to the far side of the room. The large painting hung in an alcove all by itself and spanned a good portion of the wall. The lavishly painted piece showed a striking and beautiful countryside, with a large city off-center to the right. Imposing, stone ziggurats seemingly hung in the air, suspended by an unknown force, with their shadows lurking beneath them. Somehow the colors seemed both vivid and muted, like you were waiting for the sun to come out and truly see the city. The detail and work that had to have gone into it made you take a step closer, trying to study all of it at once.

"It's beautiful. Who painted it?"

"That," she offered a conspiratorial smile, "is one of the many mysteries that goes along with this piece. I don't know, nobody does. It was found in an underground warehouse deep within the Immortal Bastion over 200 years ago. There is no signature or mark anywhere on the front or the back, or even on the frame."

Your eyes turned towards what you had thought to be painted wood, but on closer inspection it almost looked like a dull indigo or purple colored metal.

"What is the frame made out of?"

"That's the second mystery. It's some kind of metal, but it's very light and it can't be melted."

"Is it conductive?" Viktor asked.

"I'm not certain. Whatever testing has been done was before it came here."

"May I?" he asked, stepping closer, away from you, and reached a hand out.

"Just don't touch the painting itself."

He nodded and let a single finger trace along it. "Hmm, not as smooth as it looks."

"No metalworker has been able to figure out how it was constructed."

"It almost looks organic, like woven branches or sinew, like it grew around the painting."

"Huh," you took a step back to try and take in the painting as a whole, letting your eyes lose focus so you could see the broader composition and design. "The frame doesn't match the tone or color scheme."

The Councilor came to stand beside you. She gave you a nod in appreciation. "Not everyone notices. It is another oddity. I would not have chosen this frame, either style or color."

As you stared at it, without directly staring at any one thing, the light dimmed around you, the painting seemed to darken and you stilled as you thought you saw movement. Goosebumps raced over your skin as a cold brushed against you. The frame caught your attention again, a purple glow sliding in and out of the metal, faintly, and only in your peripheral vision, wherever you weren't looking. For a brief moment the composition of the painting made sense, the city sat to one side and to the other side, a dark maw of black, violet, and fuchsia opened in the ground, a jarring, hungry, needy presence beside a city of arcane wonders. A voice barely above a whisper echoed in your ear as you stared at that consumptive presence. "Reach out, touch, come to me.”

You felt your hand begin to move-

“Are you alright?” Viktor’s hand came to your side. A sharper breath filled your lungs and you shook your head, shifting your hand to instead take his. You glanced at the painting, but it had returned to normal, a city and an open countryside.

You addressed the Councilor, noticing that her hand had come to your other arm. “What do you see when you look at it?”

She quieted, her eyes studying it, and a small shiver ran through her. “I look at this painting and I see,” she hesitated, as if it disturbed her to even speak it aloud “death.”

You continued to stare, but couldn’t get whatever it was to happen again. “I see," you took a breath, “hunger.”

Viktor looked it over. “Hmm. I am uncertain we are looking at the same painting. To me the city is beautiful. Can you imagine what wonders lie inside? Would it not be worth exploring?”

You met Councilor Medarda’s gaze and some understanding passed between you.

“Do you see anything else?” Viktor asked, his tone bringing you back to the reason you were there. And in that moment you knew, you had no desire to learn from this painting and certainly no inclination to use a rune you might get from here.

“Not immediately, no.” You pulled your notebook from your bag, “Do you mind if I do a quick compositional sketch, just the base outlines and structures? I’m seeking similarities or patterns in art styles and anything from Icathia is just so rare.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve heard you are exceptional at referential replication.”

You offered a smile, “I can certainly draw what I see. Makes me useful on expeditions.”

“You went on that one to Targon and Shurima four years ago, and to Freljord, a few years before that. In fact, I heard you were invited to Bilgewater in your senior year at the Academy, broke a few hearts on that one." She looked at Viktor, "even one who called herself a Pirate Queen."

You huffed, delighted in how the story had changed over time. "I based my post graduate work on that."

"On a pirate queen?"

This time you did laugh, as you clearly had both of their focused attention. "Oh yes," you continued to sketch, "sailing the vast oceans, battling kraken and storms alike, riding the winds and hunting lesser ships for treasure." You let the quiet sit for another moment before adding, "I worked alongside a biologist traveling with a fishing fleet. She studied new species identification and population densities. It was six months, we were attacked by pirates, twice, and the name of the lead vessel was 'the Pirate Queen.'"

They both went "ohh," in understanding at the same time.

"But, you can give Professor Aristella my regards, she is a master at spinning tales. She wrote a three book set of romance novels about it."

"Are you in it?"

You nodded, "oh yes," a heavy amount of satisfaction filled your voice, "as the villain. I steal her heart and refuse to return it. She has to scour the seas for a magical flower buried deep beneath the waves in order to gain the strength to-" you smiled, "well, you'll have to read the books to find out."

You glanced at them and were very pleased at the look of delight on their faces. Councilor Medarda kept her hand on your arm and you weren't quite sure how to take that. Viktor's hand lingered at the small of your back, a soft comfort. The moment became oddly pleasant.

"Have you been to Noxus?” she asked.

You shook your head, “not yet.”

She watched you continue to sketch for a moment before continuing, “I hear numerous of your illustrations have made it into the textbooks here at the Academy as well as other Academic encyclopedias.” She glanced at Viktor, then back to you, “you seem adept at branching the divide between art and science.”

“It is a skill I have worked exceptionally hard at mastering. Though I imagine you are quite skilled at crossing divides of other sorts.”

She gave a small chuckle. “Some would say so.” A beat. “And now you’re helping with Hextech?”

You and Viktor stilled, your hand pausing mid-stroke on the page. “Well, not in any official capacity. I just had an idea, that,” you eyed her, “I have a feeling a certain someone who’s good with a hammer must have told you about.”

“His work,” she nodded at Viktor, “your work, does have my support.” She held a steady gaze for a moment longer before softening. “But yes, the work is still proprietary, your secret is safe with me. Though, you both may want to, um,” and she motioned to your necks, where you had yet again left marks on each other, “make it a little less obvious, if you don’t want people to know you are closely connected."

You both glanced at each other. His hand pressed a little more firmly into your back.

The Councilor continued, "though it may be important to consider, when something does get announced, people may see you as a way to gain access to him or a source of information. Take it from someone who's used to spotlights, they can be blinding if you are not careful. I, of course," she stepped in front and touched both your and Viktor’s shoulders, "will help in anyway that I can."

Viktor nodded "that is very generous, thank you." He took a breath as if reminded of something. "Speaking of which, I do need to get to the lab. Are you finished," he looked to you, "or do you need more time?"

You glanced at your drawing. It was close to done, but, "I'd like to work on it a little more, if that is alright?" You turned to the Councilor.

"Yes, of course, stay as long as you need."

You glanced at Viktor, “I’ll come by when I'm done.”

He nodded, started to step away, and then stepped back to give you a brief kiss, the action bringing a blush to his cheeks. “I’ll see you then.” And then he was off, headed towards the lab.

Councilor Medarda watched in silence as you finished up what you needed. It was a good enough copy, rough and in black and white, but your mind already wanted to look for patterns. However, you, in no way, wanted to be near the painting any longer.

"Councilor, might we-"

"Call me Mel, please."

“Are you sure?”

She smiled, a genuine smile, “I insist.”

You eyed her, “I was going to ask if we could go somewhere else, I don't want to be near this, thing.”

She grew more serious, nodded, and turned, leading you higher into her spacious building. After walking for a time you came out to a large terrace with an open air patio overlooking the city. The stunning architecture of Piltover rose and flowed all around you as you looked at the myriad of buildings.

“You saw it too, didn’t you?” She finally spoke, her gaze on the horizon.

You nodded. “Yes, there is something malignant about it.”

“I would describe it the same way. It is in a separate corner of the gallery for a reason.”

“Why not destroy it?”

She laughed, but it held no mirth. “It’s priceless, a relic. A hundred historians and collectors would have my head if I did that.”

“Maybe send it overseas and accidentally drop it overboard?”

That brought a genuine laugh to her. “That’s closer to plausible. You know," she turned to you, “come up with a good enough idea and you might have yourself an accomplice.”

Talking about it brought back the full memory of it. “What did happen to Icathia?”

“There’s not a lot of reliable information. Expeditions that go there, tend not to return. And the source of the painting is truly a mystery. Though, a part of me wonders if it wanted to be found.”

“Who else has had the same,” you shivered, “experience?”

“Few do. Most have the reaction that Viktor did, they see it for the city.”

“-and not the hunger beneath.”

“Yes.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Something very bad happened there, might still be happening there. I’ve seen the,” she took a calming breath, “horrors of war. This somehow feels worse?”

You nodded, “I grew up in the desert. Before coming to Piltover, well first to Zaun, I lived in a village on the edge of a desolate expanse of just endless sand. One night this storm came out of nowhere, there were no precursors. It tore down buildings, buried our well, drove off our livestock. It left many dead, my parents among them. As I sat there, in my taita’s, my grandmother’s, arms, waiting for the endless howling of the wind to end, I felt a hopelessness at the heart of that storm. That painting gave me the same feeling,” you put a hand to your chest, “here.”

“I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on your arm.

You took her hand briefly and squeezed it. “It is alright. I was a child. The pain is distant.”

“What did you do?”

You took a breath. “What was left of the village scattered. My taita fell in with a caravan. It brought us to Zaun. I was almost of an age to go to the Academy, so she took what money she had and paid for a tutor. I was eager to learn and took to art immediately. I got in and the rest is,” you gestured to yourself, in the motion releasing her hand, “what led me to here.”

“Did your grandmother move to Piltover too?”

“Oh no, she’s lower level Entresol, has a little shop with another Shuriman taita. They sell lotions, oils, and hair care they make themselves. You better come ready to haggle, though.”

Mel chuckled. “You visit her often?”

“I work in the shop once a week, so at least that often. Have you been to Zaun?”

She hesitated briefly, then shook her head.

“It’s an experience. There’s good people, and some rougher ones.” You shrugged, “My taita loves it.”

A larger smile spread across her face, “and Viktor?”

“Oh, she likes him well enough, we’ll see what she has to say now, with us-” you stopped at seeing Mel’s amused expression. “That wasn’t what you were asking.”

“He finally noticed your flirting. You started what, around Progress Day?”

“Yes, that’s when I decided to make a go of it. But, try as I might, he did not notice, at all. I finally made it as obvious as possible a few days ago. Once he knew, well, he's been very enthusiastic."

She glanced at your neck, "I can see that."

You turned to look out at the city again. "I haven't felt this way in, a while. It is nice. It feels like hope."

"You're older than him."

You nodded, "I started a full degree ahead at the Academy, though I'm not anymore, but you know what I mean."

"And you're serious about this?"

The tone of the question made you pause, a realization coming to you. "And here I was thinking you might be flirting with me. You're worried about your investment, that if things go sour it'll affect his work negatively or if it goes well, that I'll be a distraction."

"Their work isn't just important, it will be revolutionary."

"On that we agree. And," you held your hands out, "it's the start of a relationship. I don't know what the future will hold. What I do know is, I care for him. He makes me smile. And I respect his work and his passion for it deeply."

"You're helping them find runes?"

"I am. Had the idea that they mirror the land or concepts. Their shapes aren't random, but reflections of our world. Now, I've been honest with both of them about my limitations and expectations. I have my own life and my own career. I just, like you said, am helping, because I can and I want to."

Her gaze lingered on you another moment. "Good. That makes you a part of my investment, then. Within reason, I am at your disposal."

You nodded, though a tad bit of melancholy crept into your chest. You'd thought she had been reaching out in a friendly manner, instead it had just been business.

She sighed. "But also, one artist to another, if you ever just wish to have tea or talk, I would not be opposed. I don't have many around me who appreciate art for its beauty, for what it can show us about ourselves, rather than simply its worth. And my offer stands. Find a way to get rid of that painting and I will help."

A genuine smile tugged at your lips, "thank you."

"One more thing." She stepped closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially, "what was the name of that book series again?"

The playful, almost mischievous look on her face suited her so well.

"The Pirate Queen's Revenge."

Chapter Text

"Ah, finally! You two have been moon-moths dancing around each other for far too long!" Qadira, your grandmother, said when she opened the door to the two of you.

The moment both you and Viktor stepped into her apartment she pulled you into a strong hug. Viktor grunted a little and you pushed back at her. "Taita, not so hard, we are not conut trees for you to shake."

She laughed, "I could always get the nuts to fall." She winked and you just shook your head.

"Come, the tea is almost ready," she led you into the kitchen and insisted you sit while she worked around you, her movement still smooth and sure for someone her age, and for breathing the Zaun air for decades now. She still dressed as a Shuriman, her robe belted at the waist and often used tools for herbs and oils hung on a silver chain off her belt. They jingled ever so slightly as she moved. A simple braid held her long hair back. She must not be expecting the Noxian gentlemen to visit her shop today. She always did it up in a delicate "weave of interest" whenever she expected to see him. This delighted Fara, her shop partner and flatmate, who had no interest herself in, well, anyone, but loved to set others up. She was the best hair weaver in the city. You'd already agreed to let her do your hair for your wedding, whenever and with whomever that might be.

Qadira poured three cups of a strongly spicy scented tea and put them before you, while taking her own seat at the table. "So, tell me, how obvious did my desert beetle have to be to get your attention?"

"Taita!" you took offense at her nickname for you, which only spurred her to use it more.

She set her focused gaze on Viktor, who cleared his throat.

"It, um, very, but," he held up a finger in defense, "I beat her to the kiss."

She continued to regard him critically.

You just shook your head. "Does he pass, my beloved taita, judge of the winds and holder of fates?"

She finally relaxed and smiled, settling back in her chair. "He does." Her fingers wrapped around her warm mug, "but I knew he would. Handsome, smart, driven, a good match."

Viktor looked between the two of you. "Why do I feel like I am a subject under a microscope right now?"

"Because taita is evil."

She threw a hand over her face, "my dearest desert beetle has been alone for so long. I was worried I was going to have to hand you over to Fara, let her find your match."

An extended sigh left your lips. You loved your grandmother, you really did.

She chuckled. "So," her tone returned to normal. You breathed a small sigh of relief that the theatrics were over.

"How have you both been? How were your classes this week? And your inventions, more progress?"

Viktor also relaxed and the conversation slipped into easy, friendly tones. While he didn't speak directly of Hextech, he could talk around it enough to keep her attention. Your updates were shorter as you saw her more often. Getting to see the Medarda gallery became the high point of the conversation.

Halfway through she plied you both with food, insisting that Viktor eat, "you are skin and bones, this will make you strong."

You ended the visit well fed, in good spirits, and with extra food and tea to take with you.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and Viktor hooked an arm in yours as you walked to the Rising Howl.

"She is delightful," he said.

"She's something alright."

"She loves you very much."

"She's the only family I have left."

You both walked on in silence after that. Your eyes drifted around the ironwork, at the canyon of pipes and ancient buildings the rose all around.

"It's beautiful here."

"Hmm?" Viktor replied, having been lost in thought.

"There, see the railing, there's a wispy design along it. It isn't necessary for the structure, but someone did that anyway. And there, that door, I bet it's half covered by the Grey sometimes, and yet someone made it look like flowers in a field."

You paused, going still.

Viktor studied you, a smile creeping onto his face. "You have an idea."

You nodded, "the start of one at least."

"What do you need?"

You squeezed his arm, "we can keep going, it's gonna take a bit to work through."

"Your notebook?"

"Not yet."

You continued on.

"Oh, did you find anything in the Icathia painting?"

"No, not yet," you answered automatically, though it wasn't exactly the truth. You might have. "With only one source of reference, finding any pattern will be difficult." That was closer to the truth, and it's what you told yourself. But, within the city itself, and in relation to the placements of the ziggurats, maybe. It was probably too simple to be right, but again, maybe. In your drawing you had not included the "maw" as you were calling it, but you remembered it. The shape didn't seem connected, its flow at a stark contrast to the lines of the city and yet it had still worked within the broader canvas. Had something doomed the city, but they didn't see it until it was too late? Was there something somehow dangerous within the painting itself, or was it some kind of lingering after effect? Who were the people who lived in that city and, if you found something, was it related to who they were before the darkness arrived? What made you more worried was that you thought you saw that shape used in Piltover. To which, your thoughts circled around again, basic geometry will of course have repeating patterns, it could be coincidence.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

You sighed and leaned into him. He paused in his walk to put an arm around you.

"Something about that painting didn't sit right with me, okay?"

"Yes, of course, not everything will yield results. I am more than familiar with that concept."

"Let's get back home."

He nuzzled your cheek. "And is that your place or mine?"

"My bed is bigger."

"That it is. I concur with the parameters for your decision making."

"But of course, monsieur scientifique."

"Ah, we are doing accents now? Ahem," he cleared his throat, "ma belle artist, professeur extraordinaire!"

His attempt at the high brow Demacian mixed with his own accent left you wheezing from laughing so hard.

"What? You think you all don't sound funny to me all of the time? I think that was a good impression," he said as he rested his cane on his elbow and crossed his arms.

You leaned in to kiss his cheek and the words slipped out. "I love you."

He stilled, his eyes turning to you, his hand taking the cane once more to steady himself. A warm breeze slipped past, the air a little cleaner than usual.

You bit your lip and fought not to turn away, though a fear gripped your chest. More words slipped out. "I'm sorry, it’s too soo-"

"I love you too." His hand came to rest along your cheek. "I have for a while. I'm sorry I did not have the fortitude to reach out to you, like you did me, on the bridge."

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. He happily reciprocated.

"Really," you said, "it was a team effort."

"Hmm, yes, like sports."

"Or pulling a carriage."

"Or meeting quarterly sales goals."

"Yes," you chuckled, "definitely that last one. Come on," You glanced past him, to see the lift approaching. The glasswork glittered and you broke the hug to tug him towards it.

Once onboard you settled in against the iron and glass, a smile on your face you couldn't seem to shake. Zaun shifted past as you both rose higher. The glow of the lights, the bustle of the people, Viktor at your side. This was good. This was right. The thought of the painting faded as you embraced the vibrant world around you.

"Does he make you happy?" Qadira asked in Shuriman, the language you always lapsed into when alone together.

You focused on the shape of the flower as you drew it, the dark ink standing out against the soft cream paper. "It's been a week, taita." You glanced at her, pausing your work, "but yes, he does."

"Good, I mean, you've been friends for a couple of years now?"

You nodded, returning to your work drawing the illustrations for her shop labels. It was simple work that you relished, honing your skill at replicating the herb or flower or root perfectly.

The bell to the shop chimed as someone entered.

"'Vika!" Qadira rushed over to give her a hug, an action the taller woman seemed to only allow from one person.

"Grandma, I need more of that tension oil."

Your taita wasn't her grandmother, of course, but you'd never tell by the way they acted. She doted on the imposing, muscular woman. And it had only gotten worse once she'd lost her arm. She'd become your grandmother's favorite and she knew it.

"Yes of course," and she trotted into the back to retrieve it

While she waited, Sevika walked over and gave you a nudge, almost throwing off your drawing. Your look in return was less than friendly.

"Sumprat," you called her.

"Piltie," she replied.

Then you both chuckled, neither of those being quite true.

Your grandmother returned. "Shawl off," she said, pointing at the red fabric draped over Sevika's left side.

She glanced around making sure the shop was empty, before reaching up to do so. She pulled it off to reveal what little was left of her arm and the base of what seemed to be some kind of prosthetic. It fitted into her at the shoulder, the metal embedded into the skin. Cracks of blue radiated up along her neck and into her cheek. You weren't sure if it was scarring from whatever took her arm or was an effect of the prosthetic, but it was striking.

She met your stare with a raised eyebrow and you quickly went back to creating labels.

"Ah, I see. You are feeling pain here?" Your grandmother spoke as she inspected her shoulder.

"Yeah. The next phase starts soon. I want to make sure I'm ready."

"This will help. Massage in a washer's worth twice a day. It will keep the skin and muscles pliant and relaxed. Will make movement and connection easier."

"Thanks grandma."

She quirked up an eyebrow. "Do you have someone to help with applying it?"

You just shook your head at your grandmother's prying.

"Maybe she could help," Sevika said, staring in your direction, an overly friendly smile on her face.

Your grandmother slapped her on her good arm, eliciting an "ow" from Sevika even though it was clearly lighter than any blow she normally received. "No flirting, she's with someone now."

"Oh?" Curiosity dripped from her voice.

You dropped your head. This was all you needed.

"A scientist."

"Fancy folk? Aww. A shame."

You finally spoke up. "He's brilliant, kind, and," you made eye contact with her, "handsome as fuck."

That drew a full belly laugh from her. "I guess that's fair. Congrats."

You nodded in thanks, about to return to your work when an idea hit you.

"Hey," you called out as she got her shawl back in place.

"Yeah?"

"You ever see any art," you tilted your head at the door, "out there?"

"Art? In the lanes?" She looked truly perplexed.

"Yeah." You stood and opened the door, pointing out the panel work in the walkway above. She stepped up beside you.

"Like that. Iron work, or fancy glass?"

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Look at it."

"Look at it?"

"I study art and, you know, it's nice to look at pretty things."

She glanced down at you, smirk on her face, and you braced for what you'd just walked into.

She pushed a bit of your hair behind your ear, "that it is."

A heavy sigh moved through you. Your grandmother shouted from further in, her voice firm. "Sevika."

"Uh oh, she used my full name. That's my cue. But sure," she gave your shoulder a nudge, "I'll keep an eye out for art."

And then she was gone.

You sighed and stepped back inside. She was an interesting person, but deep down you liked her. She was honest and had always done right by your grandmother. And as you thought it you saw the pile of cogs left on the counter, more than was necessary by far for the oil.

Fara came in from the back, working to restock the shelves. Business was going well today. After a moment she approached where you had returned to making labels.

"Hey, taita." You called them both that and they seemed to like it, "you need a new label?"

She hesitated another moment, and that got your attention. "What is it?" You noticed she'd picked a time when you were alone in the shop.

"That woman, be careful with her."

"Why? I mean, she's a little rough around the edges but-"

"I know, in here she's fine, but out there, the people she runs with," she considered her words. "She works for a man they're starting to call the Eye of Zaun."

"That's a tad dramatic."

She frowned and you quieted, giving her room to continue. "He's an industrialist, but really he's just a chem-baron, might be worse. Bad things happened at the docks a year ago. A good man died and now this Silco," she said his name with venom, "has taken over a bar in the heart of Zaun, setting himself up to cause more trouble. He’s a viper, be careful." She placed a hand on your shoulder and you put your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

"Thank you." And you meant it. "I'll be careful, I promise."

She kissed your forehead and returned to her work. "Your labels are as beautiful as ever!"

"Thank you, taita."

"Of course, binti."

Her affectionate name for you made you smile, maybe you had more family than you thought.

Chapter Text

Viktor paused to run his finger down your spine as he passed, his touch light, through growing firmer as he rounded your hip. Then he was off, continuing to his station at the lab. You fought off the grumble and planned your next move.

Your skirt swished as you walked. You rarely wore them, especially in the lab, but you'd been to one of the other galleries in the city earlier with Mel and you'd wanted to dress fancier. Once you were done, and bolstered by the looks you got from her, you knew you had to visit Viktor.

You'd actually managed to get him speechless for a good ten seconds before he stepped aside to let you in. The kiss he gave you lingered longer than the ones in the lab usually went. Jayce was out for the afternoon, but it was still the lab and you did not expect any truly playful behavior there. Oh no. This was a battle about how long before he or you dragged the other back to his room.

You came to a stop not far from him, your attention on your notebook, but you propped a leg up on the rung of a stool, making sure your skirt rode up and he could see a good portion of your leg. You just stood there, playing with the hem absentmindedly, but when you glanced his way you caught him quickly looking back down, his progress having stopped while he stared at you.

After another moment he set down his pen and stepped away, into the room adjacent. You just sagged down onto the stool. It had been a good day, but a long one. Hunger and fatigue gnawed at you. To which, you were more than capable of finding food and rest. You also would never rush him, at least not in the lab or with his work.

You paged through your notes, looking through the progress of the last few days. Another rune sat on the board, with labels for its attributes. It felt good to be even a small part of it. Again you let out a long breath. Not that much had really changed and yet, you smiled, it had.

The calendar of the next day's events began to run through your mind when an arm wrapped around your waist and a warm mouth came to your neck, kissing and then biting. The unexpected action brought a gasp to you as you leaned back into him.

"There is a price for not paying attention." He hugged you tighter, pressing his cheek to yours.

"I'll have to let it wander more often, then."

"How are you doing?"

"Hungry, tired, I might head home unless you want me to get you anything?" You turned to face him.

"Finally tired of teasing me?"

"Never. But it's a long campaign, so I've got to pace myself."

"If I may cede a little ground, and you have the energy," he leaned in, mouth at your ear, "you look far too good in that skirt for me to pass up an opportunity to utilize it's advantages." He nipped at your ear while his hand tightened on your waist.

"Here?" you asked, a little surprised.

"Not quite, follow me."

He stepped away, and offered his hand. You let him lead you into the adjoining room, which was more of an office. A smile grew on your face as you eyed the desk, the chair, the sofa along the wall.

He locked the door behind you and then leaned in to whisper, "you pick."

The possibilities! What did you want? All of them, but that wasn't helpful. What didn't you have at home?

"The desk."

"Sitting on, or," he shifted to pull your back against him, "shall I bend you over it?"

Your breath caught at his boldness and he chuckled. "The second one, I think."

Your heart began to pound as he slowly, deliberately walked you closer. You knew the door was locked. You knew Jayce would be out for the rest of the afternoon. And still, the fear of getting caught lingered on the periphery, a tension that made time seem more of the essence.

Heat began to pool low in your core before you even reached the desk. But then you got there and his weight pressed into you, his cock hardening against your ass and you moaned.

"Hmm, good. I wasn't sure you would be interested in this. I shall make a note for future endeavors."

"Are you sure, though? The lab is-"

"A safe distance. There is nothing that will be disturbed by us in here."

"I truly wasn't trying to disturb your work, and if this will be distracting later-"

"I have wondered what it would be like, intimacy in the place where my mind is often far from it. I have thought about sex in the lab,” he kissed your neck, “but there is too much that might get damaged in recklessness.” His next words came softer, at your ear “though sometimes, if it gets too late, I have slept on that couch. And, if I needed a little bit of help getting to sleep,” he pressed himself against you again, sending a wave of anticipation through you, “I have attended to my needs in here. You, this,” his arm wrapped tighter, “is no more a distraction than you have been to me in the past. I appreciate your concern and,” he took a larger breath, pulling back a little, “if this is too much, we don't have to-"

You grabbed the hand not helping hold his weight up, tugged up your skirt, and guided him along your inner thigh. He chuckled and finished the distance, his fingers finding your underwear and pulling them aside to slip a finger into you.

His head fell to your shoulder. "You are so wet, already."

Knowing he’d had such thoughts in the room eased your worries. And the press of him at your back fed your desire, stoked it higher. "I want you."

"As I you." He added a second finger and you moaned again, leaning your weight on your arms and bracing against the solid wooden surface. No papers or pens or anything sat on the desk and you wondered if he'd cleared it earlier or if it wasn't often used.

The question left your mind when he pulled his fingers away, hooked them in your underwear and pulled them down. You could hear fabric rustling and then his fingers pulling up the rest of your skirt. Cooler air washed in, but the sensation was momentary as the heat of his body pressed to yours. Still using the desk for leverage, he guided himself in. You shifted your feet a little wider and hummed happily as his cock pushed against your folds.

He lingered there a moment, his movements slow, working to gather your moisture and just enjoy the feel of you.

"Ready?" His voice came breathy.

"Yes."

He pressed forward, adjusted his angle slightly, caught, and began to push in. You both groaned and your head fell forward on the desk. His hips finally met your skin and you breathed around the feel of him. So good. So him.

You braced on the desk as he pulled out, and then moaned when he pushed back in. A different angle from before, putting pressure in different places, but still filling you wonderfully.

“You feel amazing,” he huffed out with his slow movements, one hand on the desk for balance, the other at your hip, holding him to you. Fully clothed, bent over the desk, a hundred fantasies built up over years of teaching and meetings in rooms like this one brought a chuckle to your lips.

“Is something amusing?”

You laughed again, though it ended in a gasp as he thrusted a little harder. “I’ve had thoughts about,” a breath, “something like this too. Ooh,” you let your head come to rest on the desk again.

“A private meeting with another professor? Or a disciplinary hearing, perhaps?” His speed picked up, “A visiting scholar or a Councilor? I hope a scientist will do.”

“Viktor,” you moaned as he sped even more, pleasure pulsing through you.

“Four,” he said, smile apparent in his voice.

He leaned closer, his weight and presence both a comfort and a drive for your desire. His pace pushed you to breathlessness and seemed to do the same to him, based on the pants behind you.

Finally, you reached a hand down, trying to find a way to touch yourself. You knew he needed his hands, so you were more than happy to bring yourself along with him. But you had a lot of skirt and he had you pinned against the desk, which was the opposite of a bad thing, it just blocked anyway to get where you needed to go.

He noticed your movement. “Is something wrong?”

“I can't quite reach.”

He slowed slightly as he assessed the situation. “I’m sorry, but neither can I. Do you want to move-"

"No, you feel wonderful. Keep going."

"But you won't-"

"That's alright."

"Are you," a breath, "sure?"

"Yes, Viktor, please keep going."

After another moment, and a quiet “five,” he happily obliged, his pace picking up again. And he did feel amazing, the angle over the desk hit a spot that sent jolts of pleasure through you. They just weren't quite the right ones you needed, but that didn't take away from your enjoyment or the moment.

Hurried pants increased from him, as did his pace until he lost rhythm and buried himself as deep as he could go. He held there for a long moment before letting more of his weight rest on you.

"Did you?" he asked, hope in his voice.

"No, but that's okay, really."

He fought to stand and slowly pull out from you. Then he sat back in the chair and reached down for, something. You just rested on the desk another moment before a warm washcloth dragged up your inner thigh and worked to clean you.

You hummed. "You are always prepared."

"Well, as much as I can be. I worried the water would get cold, but it has not."

"It feels good."

"Good. Here," he withdrew his hand and pulled you back to sit on him, taking a moment to comfortably balance you on his now fully-clothed lap. His arms wrapped around your waist and you happily leaned back into him.

"That was good?" he asked.

"It was."

"But?"

You shook your head, "no buts."

"Still," his hand reached for your skirt and began to pull it up. When it was high enough he reached a hand under and rubbed along that line of you, causing you to moan, your head falling back on his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to yours and the arm around your waist gripped tighter.

The hand still below began to circle your clit. You were still wet and your pulse eagerly returned to that bundle of nerves.

"I've got you," he whispered, "your pleasure is just as important as mine. Which, as I hope was apparent, was extraordinary." He increased his pressure, at times dipping two fingers in to curl and then come back to your clit. "You feel so good."

Your breath began to shorten, your body tensing and jerking as he hit the right spots.

"I'm sorry I am not filling you as I do this. I love the feeling when you tighten around me. I love knowing you are taking joy because of me." His speed increased and your arms tightened on his. "You deserve the world and one day-"

You were close, "Viktor, don't stop."

"Six." He pressed his face against the side of yours, "- I will give it to you."

Between one held breath to the next your orgasm overtook you, washing pleasure up and through your body leaving your head light and fingers full of tingles.

He continued until you stopped him. And then you just breathed, heavy breaths that shifted your whole body. That warm washcloth found you again and you giggled, almost pulling away.

"Sorry, still sensitive."

He slowed his movements, "better?"

"Yes."

"What shall we do next?"

"I need food. But," you finally stirred enough to glance at him, "aren't you still working in the lab?"

He chuckled, "I appreciate your faith in my focus, but no. I reached a good stopping point as you were teasing me with your leg. So we can go."

Twenty minutes later you both sat at a small table outside of one of your favorite cafés. The sun angled lower towards sunset, oranges and golds just starting to paint the few clouds in the sky.

"How was the gallery?"

"Oh, so beautiful! The focus was installation art from Progress Day. We have some wonderful artists, especially when it comes to the exploration of geometric design in metalwork. It, here," you pulled out a notebook and made a quick sketch of one. "Like this, sort of."

He watched you draw, a slight smile on his face.

“There.”

“Ah, I remember that. Do you think it has any potential for-"

"I'm not sure. I made a few notes, but artists can get a little defensive about others possibly copying their work, even though it's a different media."

"You could say you were drawing it for the paper?"

That brought a chuckle. "Ah yes, my new career. Artist by day, secretly helping solve crimes by night."

"I think that would be a detective."

"See, I was thinking more investigative reporter. Tracking down leads and questioning witnesses."

"I still think you mean detective."

"Either way, they have 'cameras' now and can 'take pictures.' Sounds like cheating to me, but it’s fine, I definitely don’t care."

Viktor reached to take your hand and you eagerly met him.

"Anyway, I'm not sure. Piltover is the city of progress, my search for runes is about origins and looking back. I'm not sure if it has one yet."

"You think new runes could be created?"

"I don't see why not. Though I have no idea how. Between the two cities, I think it's more likely Zaun would have one. It is an old port city, after all. There's a better chance at least. I’m hoping to get back down there soon.”

He grew a little more serious. “You will be careful, if you go exploring?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t do it alone.”

“I guess, since you’ve actually been on expeditions, a trip to Zaun is far closer to home,” he squeezed your hand, “so you can’t get into too much trouble.”

Chapter Text

On an unfamiliar street a little past sunset you glanced around in the chemlights of the Promenade. The hustle and bustle of the people around you brought a slight pang of anxiety to your chest, so you slipped into a smaller alcove to get out of the flow of bodies. You pulled the note out and checked it again, all it had was a time, a place, and a single line of writing “don’t dress like a Piltie.” She hadn’t even signed it, but your grandmother let you know Sevika had dropped it off for you.

“What’re you hiding in here for?” her gruff voice sounded as if on cue.

“There’s a lot of people.”

“Yeah, well, it’ll thin out as we get lower.” She eyed you, “you not like crowds?”

You shrugged, “most of the time they’re fine, but today was shitty and I’m kind of done with people.”

She considered it a moment. “We can do this another time if you-”

“No, you set this time aside and I appreciate that, I really do. I’ll be fine in a little bit.”

Then she eyed you more critically. “Ok, but you speak up if you want to stop. And,” she looked you over and sighed.

“What? These are not my stuffy Academy clothes.”

“No, no, you’re just clearly going on an adventure in a jungle somewhere, is that a flashlight?” She shook her head and picked over your clothes, “here.” She pulled off your coat and set it aside. Then she undid the clasps of your vest and worked it off you.

“Hey!”

“How many layers do you have?”

“Temps can change down here.”

She just shook her head, again. “Overshirt off, that’s way too fancy.”

You undid the buttons and slipped it off, leaving a soft, pale tank top on underneath. She paused for a moment, “your arms aren’t half bad.” A quick smile and her hands reached back in, tugging the tanktop free of your pants. “Alright, that’s a start. Now put this back on,” she handed you your vest, and you did. "Here, turn," her fingers worked at the straps along the sides, pulling it tighter around you. "That'll help with the crowds."

You glanced down and realized tightening made the line of your cleavage a little more noticeable. Based on the smirk on her face, she clearly approved of the change.

Your jacket came next, she rolled up the sleeves a bit, what the fabric would allow, and then stepped back to look you over.

“That’s better. At least the pants and boots are good, I think we’re ready to go.”

Even with the overshirt off, your clothes felt tighter, more snug and form fitting. And she was right, it did make you feel better. You caught your reflection in a window. Huh, the curves and lines of your body were pretty nice. You'd have to remember this outfit for the future.

After carefully folding your shirt and putting it in the bag slung over your shoulder, which also held your notebook and drawing tools, you nodded.

"Alright, come on." She motioned for you to follow. "I'm sure you've seen the stuff up here, so let's go lower." She angled off to the right towards the stairs.

"No Howl?"

"You already seen the Howl?"

"Yes."

"Then we go somewhere new, hope you don't mind climbing."

You weren't sure what she meant until, twenty minutes later, you found yourself balancing along a cross beam going between two buildings.

"Steady, there's some ironwork up here I think qualifies as art."

It wasn't the most precarious spot you'd ever been, but it was close. A few more steps and your boots hit proper decking and you chuckled, more out of nervousness.

"Oh, you thought that was fun?" She tapped your shoulder, "then you'll really enjoy the next spot. But first," you walked a little further and she pointed to the railing that ran along the walkway.

"Oh." Most of the ironwork you saw in Zaun was either basic structural support or a more vine-like flow worked into it. This railing, however, had three times the detail of anything you'd seen before. Even more, it seemed to show a story as you walked along it. Mountains. A seed landed in the ground and grew into a tree. The tree filled with leaves, then blossomed, until a storm came along. The tree fell, but a flower blew free. The petals broke apart and danced along in the wind. They floated and dipped, with dragonflies and birds soaring around them, until they finally settled in a river. That river took the delicate petals through meadows and cropland. As they passed the different scenery one petal would break off and land along the bank. The rest traveled on through rapids and valleys, again, occasionally leaving a petal along the way, until the last two came to a lake. There they drifted to the center and then sunk beneath the surface. Fish swam around them, eating one of the petals and leaving the other to settle along the bottom. Then, from below, a hand rose from the mud, wrapped around the petal and pulled it under.

Damage in the ironwork made the next few panels hard to discern, but the last one seemed to show a vast starry sky, with someone, a celestial being or a goddess of some sort seated on a throne and holding the whole flower in her hand.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"Me neither. I like the part where the hand comes out of the bottom to grab the petal." Sevika mimicked it.

You offered a smile and sat, pulling out your pad.

"Oh, you're gonna draw it?"

You nodded, "parts of it anyway. I'm looking for broader patterns, so this is a little specific of a design, but," you put a hand on her arm when she started to seem disappointed she hadn't found what you were looking for, "it's absolutely beautiful and I'm very glad to have seen it. I think it's worth remembering. Thank you for this."

Your words seemed to mollify her. She sat and watched you sketch.

"You're really good at that."

"Thank you. It's almost like it's my life's passion and what I'm known for."

"You're known for something other than causing your dear taita trouble?"

"Hey!"

"You're just angry, I'm the favorite."

You mimicked her in your snottiest voice, "You're just angry I'm the favorite."

That got Sevika to chuckle. "But really, what else do you draw?"

You hummed. "Anything. I draw what I see. I teach students at the Academy to draw what they see so they can do their own illustrations and diagrams and such. I've drawn trees and mountains and flowers and fish and whales and tiny insects I needed a magnifying glass to see. I’ve drawn kids and Councilors and fisherfolk."

"Fissurefolk? Would you draw me?"

You paused and glanced at her. She wore a face of rough surety, offering you a macho smile with an upward head tilt. But, underneath it, you could see something else, just barely peeking out in her eyes. Uncertainty, curiosity, and maybe hope. Was she reaching out or teasing you? You offered a small smile.

"I can." And you twisted to look at her, pulling out a loose piece of paper. Quick, light movements got down her general shape, and the shapes that made up those shapes. Then linework, again soft strokes noting the features that made her, her, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her nose, fuller lips, shorter hair, cheekbones and, of course, her musculature.

You gave it maybe fifteen minutes, her pose softening under your concentrated stare. You'd done your best, over time, to reduce the intensity of your focus. It tended to put people off, or make them think you were flirting with them. Those who thought the latter were usually the last people you'd be interested in.

Finally, satisfied with the rather rushed drawing, you handed the paper to her.

She stared at it for several seconds.

"Fuck. This is good." She huffed. "Fuck."

You smiled. "You can have it."

"Really? No one's ever drawn me before." She quirked up an eyebrow. "I look good. But," she looked around trying to figure out where to put it.

"I can hold onto it until we're done for the night. And I'm happy to give it to you, but if it sits better, we can consider it a payment for an evening of your time."

Her eyes flicked to you and you sighed, waiting for it.

"An evening of my time, huh? You think this would be enough?" Finally she cracked, snorting out a laugh. "You know, if you didn't react, it wouldn't be as much fun."

You huffed. "It's certainly not the worst teasing I've received. But I am with someone."

She took one last look at your drawing and handed it back. While you slipped it in-between pages in your notebook she got to standing and then offered you a hand up. You rose to your feet with ease, her strength more than enough.

"Yeah, I was meaning to ask you about them. A scientist, huh?"

"Yeah, he works at the Academy."

Sevika began walking, presumably to your next location. "And he's sweet on you?"

"Yeah."

"Well, handsome is good, but does he," and she emphasized the word "fuck?"

You laughed at her boldness, but nodded. "Fuck yes he does."

She laughed too, then sighed, "it's a shame he's from over there."

You paused, "he's from Zaun."

That earned you a friendly shove. "That's my girl. See, I knew I liked you for a reason. Come on. Next one is just up the way."

You stopped at two more doorways, a window of stained glass, and another railing, though not as detailed as the first. Once you were done sketching those she made sure your bag was secure on you, "this next one's a little harder to get to. To see it all anyway. The first jump’s the worst, so watch me and then I’ll be there to steady you. But keep up your speed, you'll need momentum, so don't hesitate."

You nodded and followed, going up a set of stairs and across on a pipe. Then Sevika slid down an angled I-beam and jumped to an adjacent rooftop. Fear trickled into your stomach but you simply let it and stepped onto the I-beam anyway. Your boots held steady as you slid and, having watched where she jumped, you did also. For a breathless second open expanse passed beneath, and then you landed on the rooftop. Your momentum kept you going, though, and you would have skidded into a wall if Sevika hadn’t been there to slow you.

Once you steadied, she gave you a pat on the back. “Nicely done. Next one isn’t so bad, we can jump together and there’s pipes to grab if you lose your balance."

She pointed out where to step off and where, a few feet angled down, you were to land. With room enough for both of you, you backed up, took three quick steps and leapt. You were sure it felt far longer and higher than it was, but you landed with your heart pounding and practically in your throat. The first jump was the worst?

A startled cry grabbed your attention and you reached back on instinct, catching Sevika's hand as her body slipped back. Belatedly you registered that she'd placed you on her right, with a hand hold to grab there, which had put her catch beam on her left. The side without an arm. You spun you both slightly with the momentum as you pulled her to you, but managed to keep you both upright.

Quick breaths moved through her, her eyes wide.

"Thank you," she finally stuttered out, then with more anger, but not focused at you. "Every time I think I've accounted for," she gestured at her left side, "I fuck up." Another few breaths. "Fuck!"

You gave her time.

"Sorry. I'm," she rubbed the back of her neck, goosebumps visible on her arm, "I'm better than that."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. We're both fine. And you're amazing, you know that right? So fucking capable." You shrugged, "everyone slips up sometimes. That's when friends come in handy."

"We're friends?"

"I'd like to think so. It would also make taita happy."

"And really, that's what matters."

You nodded solemnly, "it is."

You both chuckled.

Finally she shook herself and stood straighter. "Come on, this is the best one."

You wove between two buildings and turned right, walking along a ledge. Sevika came to a stop and pointed. You'd been so focused on your footing you hadn't looked up until then. What you saw brought you to a complete stop.

"Oh my god, it's beautiful."

"I knew you'd like this one."

There, laid out before you, a massive mural covered an entire wall in the opening between buildings. Teal chemlights highlighted a woman, almost profile view, her brown hair flowing and styled with a flower at her ear. She looked alluringly at you, with soft pink lips, a long neck, and a gown of mint and lavender swirls. Doves, or some kind of white birds, flew before her up towards- you took in a larger breath- a gorgeous green, glass window, the central image a flower or a sunrise or an eye. Other glass panels wrapped around it. You pulled out your notebook, sat down on the ledge, your legs dangling, and began to sketch. You used two pages, one for the overall mural and the other for details, your mind searching through the lines and curves for, something. But you could feel it, a clue sat hidden within.

“I knew you’d like this one.”

“Any idea who painted it?”

“No idea. I was working a job around the corner. Took this path to get back quicker and found it.”

“Well, thank you. This,” you nodded, “this is good. This is what I’m looking for.”

She pointed at the woman, “that? Nah, she’s too much of a pillow princess for me.”

“Why do you enjoy relating everything back to sex so much?”

She shrugged, “sex is fun. It tends to make people either blush, which is also fun, or horny, which is even better. And the best part, it usually makes a Piltie uncomfortable.”

You chuckled, “that it does.”

“I bet it doesn’t bother that scientist boyfriend of yours.”

“No, no it does not. He enjoys teasing about it.”

“And your Taita! The words I have heard come out of her mouth after that Noxian fellow has been around. I can only hope to still have what she does at her age.”

You let your head fall into your hands, “don’t remind me.”

Sevika took a larger breath and stared at the mural. “Zaun really can be beautiful.”

You paused, picking your head up in realization. Your moment had come. You looked at her slowly, batting your eyelashes as you smiled and said directly to her, “it sure can.”

You held it for a beat before you both busted out laughing, your cackling echoing in the space before you. It settled into a very comfortable silence.

A few minutes later the chime of the bells echoed from higher up. Ten bells, it was getting late.

Your eyes fell on that glass window and you returned to your notebook to add a little more detail.

“You like that window?”

“Yes, that’s the closest I’ve found to what I’m looking for so far.”

She thought for a moment. “You know, this was going to be it, but I do have one more place we could go. Make it our last stop? The Last Drop.”

You eyed her. “A bar?”

She huffed, “it’s not like that, but if you want to drink, I’m game, I’m off tonight, and it is owned by the man I work for. But, the reason I mention it is,” she pointed at the glass window, “the building’s got a window like that, and we’ll be adding a few more in the next year or so.”

A smile crept onto your face. A bar, at night, in the Lanes? Why that sounded like a proper adventure!

“That,” she eyed you, “is precisely the smile needed to get past the bouncers, let’s go.”

You didn’t often travel these particular streets in Zaun. Your grandmother’s store and apartment were only a few levels up, but tucked further into the walls, good enough placement for business, but not so close to the parts that could get rougher. And this, you glanced around, were the parts that got rougher. Even Sevika’s body posture changed, her head a little higher, her chest out more, not to emphasize cleavage, but to show strength. She also kept you a little closer to her side.

You turned the corner and there it was, a good sized building at a juncture between streets. Scaffolding clung to the upper portions where a second and possibly even third story began to take shape. You didn’t see the window at first glance, but you couldn’t see the other sides of the building anyway. A line waited out front but Sevika just headed straight to the door, that, as you approached made you pause, it’s design catching your eye.

You reached for your bag and she just pushed it right back down, not even breaking stride, “nope, not here. Just keep walking and follow me.” The slight tension in her voice led to your quick acquiescence, settling the bag across your shoulder and chest and trying to match her attitude. You knew you mostly failed, but the two very large bouncers just gave her a nod and let you both in.

You weren’t sure what hit you first, the music, the smoke, or the lights. First, the music pounded in your ears and your chest, a fast, heavy beat. Second, a subtle haze of smoke drifted in the room. It tasted of a chemical or maybe botanical source that you’d never smelled before. And third, sharp lights cut across the tables, lit up the bar harshly, and managed to flicker through the room, lighting it and leaving many parts of it in shadow at the same time.

Sevika gave a nod to the bartender and then headed directly towards a set of stairs leading up the side of the bar. You continued to do your best to hold a tough attitude, but you knew it was slipping. This was not a situation you often found yourself in and you were very grateful to have Sevika with you, though the fact that she led you away from the populated area, up into the construction, both relieved and introduced a new worry to you. She’d said this place was owned by her boss.

You came to a stop, realizing who that was, Fara’s warning coming to you much too late.

“It’s not in the bar?” you asked, glancing back at the stairs once you’d made it to a corridor that ended in a solid wooden door.

“What? Oh, no, it’s in his office.”

“Wait, I don’t want to disturb-”

“You won’t, he’s out, will be for hours, past 12 Bells at least. I’ll get you in, you can look at the window, sketch it, and then we can go. It’ll be no trouble, I promise. And you are going to want to see this window.”

It took two steadying breaths and accepting the fear that trickled into your gut, but you finally got one foot in front of the other and followed her.

She used a key to open it and let you in. You weren’t sure what you expected based on Fara’s warning, but you stepped into a fairly simple office. A couch, a desk, a chair and, “oh, wow,” the window. It was beautiful. Your feet took you closer while your hand swung the bag around and pulled out your notebook. You stepped up to the desk to look at it. Sevika kept pace with you.

“Did I do good?” she asked.

“Yes,” your voice came breathy as you began to sketch. But, as you started going over the primary shapes you frowned. The high backed chair blocked some of it. “Is it ok if I step closer?”

“Just don’t mess with anything on the desk.”

You nodded and stepped around it, pushing the chair slightly out of the way. Then you could lean on the desk and resume your sketch.

A louder noise accompanied by angry shouting came from below and Sevika sighed. “Look, I’ve got to check on that. Again, don’t touch anything in here and I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, absentmindedly, not taking your eyes off the window. The rough swirl of it, the purposeful over welding and the angles and lines within captured your attention and you sunk further into ‘artists mode’, your eyes at times relaxing to take in broader shapes, and then sharpening to add more detail. Even the thickness and curvature of the glass and the way it warped the chemlights from outside seemed to add to the design. Time passed. Your bag grew cumbersome, so you set it on the couch, along with your jacket, which gave you freer movement to draw.

When you stepped back up to the desk, your finger traced along its edge. A smile twitched onto your lips at your most recent memory of another desk in another office. You shook your head and returned your attention to the window, your weight leaning back against the desk. The design drew you back in. Your sketch grew in detail and you even added a little color to it, embracing the green light it cast on everything in the room.

You were so focused you didn’t hear the door open and close behind you. The pleasant moment of sketching shattered when a male voice, low, cultured, spoke from behind you.

“Who are you and why are you in my office?”

Your hands gripped your notebook and you spun, turning to meet- the air died in your lungs. The Eye of Zaun, it couldn't be anyone else. Leaner frame, well dressed, eyes narrowed, well one of them, the other- you tore your gaze back to the blue one.

“I,” your breath stalled again. His name came to you. “Silco,” you whispered.

His head tilted slightly to the side. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. That is something I do not appreciate.”

So you said it, quickly, then repeated it a little louder.

“Why are you in my office?”

You glanced back at the window. How the hell were you going to explain it? “I study art,” you began, your voice steadier than you expected. “I’ve been looking at art in architecture all over Zaun. Your window is stunning.”

You desperately hoped he would take the redirection to talking about the window, but his lips just formed a thinner line. “You study art,” he repeated and you nodded.

“With what organization?”

You froze, shit, the Academy in Piltover was not going to earn you any points down here. But you’d backed yourself into that one and you had to answer. Something told you lying was the worst possible choice. “I’m a professor, at the Academy, topside.” Maybe if you didn’t actually say the city’s name-

Disgust. “You’re from Piltover.”

“No.” You lifted your chin, summoning all of the bravado you had in you. “I’m a desert rat, born in Shurima.” Your words came more heated than you intended and it drew his eyebrow up in surprise. So you pushed on, “my grandmother-”

Solid steps approached the door and Sevika rushed in. “She’s not a Piltie.” Her hurried words came a little out of breath from sprinting up the stairs. “Her grandmother lives lower Entresol, has a shop. Good people, been here for decades.”

He eyed you and you realized you’d taken off your jacket. With your arms and a bit more of you than usual bared, you felt far more exposed than you were used to. His gaze lingered over your frame for a moment before looking back up.

“I’ve been showing her Zaun tonight, finding art in the Lanes,” Sevika added, her posture having gone very still, waiting to see his reaction.

Movement, he closed the distance between you and reached a hand out towards your notebook. It was not a request.

With a steadying breath, you handed it over.

He took his time, flipping through every page. After a decent number of pages he finally spoke. “You are an artist.” He turned the page. “These are good,” another one, “very good. I know many of these.” He paused on one to glance at Sevika and a small bit of heat crept up into your cheeks. “I see you do more than architecture.”

Slowly, deliberately, taking all the time he wanted, he continued to flip through it. “Hmm, that mural has been there for decades. You captured it perfectly, well, for a simple pencil sketch." You hadn’t filled the notebook yet and it became apparent when he reached the end of your sketches for the night. Casually he flipped through the rest, coming to a stop at one of the back pages.

“Who is this?” he asked, holding up a loose sketch that burned heat into your cheeks. Viktor sat at his lab station, light streamed in from the window. You’d been off to the side, enjoying the way early morning light cast beautiful and stark shadows across his face and body. At one point he’d looked up at you and smiled and that was the face you’d chosen to draw. It had been the day before Progress Day, the day you decided to truly pursue him. You’d since given the drawing a name, “4 Weeks 6 Days” sat written along the bottom. Love went into that drawing. It warmed your chest and helped you get through tougher days. Your own smile worked its way onto your face despite your nervousness.

“Someone special?” he added after seeing your reaction.

You blinked, focusing back in on him. “Yes sir.”

“Hmm,” he said and closed the book with a snap. “I have work to do. But, if you wanted more time to look at this or the other windows when they’re built, get with Sevika, I'll let her know when it is an appropriate time."

"That is generous, thank you."

Long fingers offered the notebook back to you. "I expect to see a copy of your insights once you are done, understood?"

"Yes sir." Your fingers once again wrapped around the book.

He gave you a nod, then walked past you, pushing into your personal space as he did so, though with the desk beside you, you had no place to go. The blue eye followed you, his lips in a thin line, almost a smile?

He finally sat and turned his attention to his desk and papers there.

You knew a dismissal when you saw one. You grabbed your bag and jacket and left the room, Sevika right behind you. Quick steps led you back down the stairs and immediately out the door. You couldn't breathe again until the door to the Last Drop closed behind you.

Legs weak, you sagged against the side of the building. You knew Sevika was still with you because of the laughing.

"You should see your face." A hand fell on your shoulder. "You did good in there."

"How could you tell?" Good? That was good? Your knees felt like jelly and your stomach just finished up its floor routine.

"He didn't stab you, or order me to."

That got you to laugh. "That happen often?"

She shrugged, "it's how we express our feelings, come on, let's get you topside."

20 minutes later you approached the edge of the bridge to Piltover.

"So," she said, hand on her hip, "better end to a shitty day?"

You nodded, "yeah, that was fun."

"It was and I'm real glad I didn't have to stab you."

You shook your head. "Would you have?"

"Not anywhere vital." She laughed and gave your arm a tap, "scars are good for ya, makes a lesson harder to forget."

"Oh," you reached for your bag and pulled out the sketch of her. "For you."

She glanced over it again. "Damn. Thank you."

Then she did the unexpected and pulled you into a hug. Her arm wrapped tight, gave you one pat on the back and let go. "If you want to hang out again, just let me know. I'd love to get you drunk and ask you more about your scientist."

You smiled. "Maybe."

She nodded, "I can work with 'maybe.' But if you want to see the window again, I'll let you know when."

"Think he'll actually let me come back?"

"I think he will."

"Oh, hey, maybe we don't mention it to taita or Fara?"

She huffed. “You know, if you’re gonna hang with the cool kids, you should flaunt it.”

“Do you tell them about me?”

She smiled, “do you want me to?”

That caused you to pause, and her to chuckle.

“You gonna tell your scientist about today?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” It seemed an odd question.

“Ok, just checking."

"He's from Zaun. And he supports me. And hey," you nudged her with your shoulder, "we've got each other's backs, right?"

She eyed you, a smile growing on her face. "Yeah, I think we do."

“Besides, if anyone else has a problem with it, I know exactly what to do.”

“And that is?”

“Stab them!”

Chapter Text

“Look at this!” You opened your notebook on your bed and Viktor shifted to make space for you.

“I almost beat you to bed tonight,” he said, pulling you into a quick kiss.

“You know me, the party doesn’t start until 12 Bells in the Lanes.”

The humor faded a little, “you were in the Lanes?”

His tone caused you to pause, to meet his slightly worried eyes.

“I was with a friend and she knows what she’s doing. It was fine.” You offered a reassuring smile.

“I just,” his hand came to your cheek, “I don’t want you to risk yourself, not for this, not for me, okay?”

“I wasn’t, I promise. And here, look.”

You opened to the page with the mural.

Finally his eyes turned towards your notebook. He studied it a moment. “This is in Zaun?”

“Yes, and more, here,” you showed him the railings, “more vines and floral designs. Oh, and we found this amazing railing. Think of the work that went into this!” You walked him through the one with the narrative. “There is so much art hidden there.”

Finally Viktor seemed to soften, taking more time to study your sketches. “There is a definite flow to it.”

“Something is inspiring people down there.”

You turned the page to the glass window in the Last Drop.

His fingers ghosted over the curves and lines. “This one is amazing.”

“Isn’t it! That was our last one of the night, a window at The Last Drop.”

His eyes flicked to you, that reserve returning. “That is a bar, isn’t it?”

You nodded, “It’s owned by Sevika’s boss, the window is in his office. They’re adding more windows soon.”

“And you plan to go see those?”

“I had hoped to, if he let’s me.”

He paused further, and finally spoke. “And this is safe? You trust this Sevika?”

“I’ve known her for years. She comes into the shop and taita loves her.”

His eyes drifted back to the sketch. You were learning to better read him and the stillness of his movements gave away his attempt to hide his concern.

You took his hand and kissed it. “If you don’t want me to go back, I won’t. I got a good enough sketch and there’s more places I can explore, ones higher up. I won’t go as deep.”

“No, I-” he thought for a moment, “I am still getting used to accounting for you, making space for you, if that makes sense. I am not used to,” he pulled you to him, “worrying. But,” he took a larger breath, “I trust you and your judgment. You seduced a pirate queen, you are clearly more than capable.”

That got you to chuckle.

“But, if you ever want to stop, looking for runes or helping in the lab, you are still more than welcome to just be a part of my life.”

Your smile spread wider and you leaned in to steal a kiss.

“Though,” and that slightly devious look came to him, “if you want me to come teach your students art, I will happily explain the angle your knees make when you wrap your legs around me.” His lips met your cheek, “or the arc of your back when you’re bent over a desk,” then your neck, “or, the curved line of your lips when you smile.” The kiss turned into a quick bite that drew a small moan from you. “Or maybe a perspective drawing, what I see when I look up at you as I suck on your clit.”

That got a laugh from you, while at the same time starting to gather moisture in the region he just referenced. “Well you’re more than welcome to get up at six Bells with me and come to class.”

“I am tempted just to see the look on your face.”

“That certainly would finally confirm their suspicions.”

“They haven’t figured it out yet?”

“They’re close, they’ve narrowed it down to you and Jayce, but I refuse to confirm or deny.”

“That is why two of them were lingering in the hallway yesterday.”

“They are scientists.”

“It’s a good thing they are not investigative reporters.”

You just shook your head. You weren’t going to live that down for a while. “Should we sway them towards Jayce? It would be humorous.”

“Ah, so I see where Lady Sahira comes from.”

You stilled. “You found a copy?”

A sweet smile spread across his lips, “Councilor Medarda gave it to me. She’s already onto the second book. I thought it pertinent research so I knew what I was in for.”

“Oh?” You shifted, pushing your notebook aside and swinging your legs over to straddle him on the bed. Balancing your weight on one hand, you looked down at him and ran a hand along his cheek. “Lady Sahira is more than she appears.”

The look of delight on his face as you loomed above him almost broke your attempt to be ridiculously dramatic.

His voice, when he spoke, came out a little huskier, your presence above clearly starting to affect him. “Spoilers, my love.” He pulled your hand closer to kiss it. “I want to go on the journey.”

“But then you will learn my secrets. I am uncertain I can permit such a thing.” And you dragged your hips along his, pressing down, earning a soft groan from him.

“Allow me to offer supplication, oh great Lady of the Stars.” A strong hand gripped your hip and he pushed up against you, his cock starting to harden.

His descriptor made you pause, your seductive gaze turning genuine. “Why ‘of the Stars’? Lady Sahira is based on the sea.”

A hand came up to cup your jaw and trace his thumb along your cheek. “Your name, it is from a constellation, is it not?”

“I didn’t know you knew that.”

“Celestial bodies are not my strong suit, but I am certainly aware of them. Understanding the physics of their movements has helped us figure out a few things with Hextech. And before that, it was one of the ways you initially caught my attention, seeing your name listed among the roster of professors. You were a delightful curiosity.”

“Is that why you audited one of my classes?”

“It is. Professor Heimerdinger wanted me to get more acquainted with the other professors when he brought me on as his assistant. Your name was the first on my list.”

“You weren’t bad.”

“Ehh, that is debatable, but I am very good with straight lines and a ruler.”

“What was that about a ruler?” and you pressed down on him again, making him chuckle.

“See, I always thought villains in stories were more fun.”

You dropped lower, bringing your lips to hover just over his. “Oh we definitely are,” and you finished the distance, quickly deepening the kiss, pressing your tongue against his lips until he opened, letting you explore, his hands coming up to grip you tightly. Finally, a little breathless, you broke the kiss. “But who are you to be in this tale?” You kissed his cheek, “loyal servant?” You kissed his jaw. “Hero come to defeat me?” You moved to kiss his neck, but his hand came up, gripped your hair and instead, with an unexpected strength, bared your neck to his mouth and teeth. He bit and sucked and drew a moan from you.

“How about a partner?” He bit again, “a lover.” He kissed the spot that would surely bruise tomorrow and brought your lips back to meet his. “Shall we take the world and make it ours?”

You nuzzled against him, practically purring. “I shall have the stars pour down their light.”

“And…" he thought, "I’ll have the land’s magic join the fight.”

“Oh, good rhyming,” you added as an aside.

“Why thank you,” he happily replied.

“Together we can make a life.”

“Yes, we can-” he paused, “wait, do you mean we could build a life together or do you mean actually ‘make’ a-”

“Oh, no, I was not implying that, no-” You sat up a little higher.

“Right, because a child would be an entirely different conversation, and I’m not-”

“Oh absolutely, and me to, I’m not, I mean, maybe, or at least could consider adoption, but again that's-”

“Right, no, we don’t have to talk about that now.”

‘No, definitely not now-” you looked down at him and you both began to laugh.

Warm arms reached up and pulled you down to rest fully on him. His voice reverberated through you as he spoke. “We would make terrible villains.”

“The worst.”

“I’d just want to help everyone.”

“And I'd be much too polite.”

“And kind.”

“And sweet. Ugg, does that make us heroes?”

“How about,” and he kissed your forehead, “we just be people?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

He pressed his hips up into yours, “sexy people.”

You returned the gesture, “well, obviously.”

After another beat he chuckled.

“You’re still in the mood aren’t you?” you asked.

“Yes, very much so.”

You sighed, “alright,” and made a show of climbing off of him and, with great annoyance, removing your clothes. Then you reached for his sleep shorts, “come on,” you grumbled and pulled them off of him while he worked off his shirt.

You were about to kneel back onto the bed, but paused, the sight of him laying there naked, waiting for you, catching your eye.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“But you want to.”

“You’re beautiful.”

He leaned up on his elbows, staring at you.

You finally held up your hands in a placating gesture. “I promise I won’t draw you naked unless you ask me to.”

“Thank you. Now,” he held a hand out to you, “come back to bed and ride my cock.”

That brought laughter, quick and sharp, along with a smile. You happily obliged, climbing back onto the bed. As you passed over him, you dipped lower and dragged your tongue along the aforementioned cock, causing his head to fall back on the bed and his hands to reach for you. You considered staying there, taking him in your mouth and seeing just how talkative he could get. But you wanted him too, to feel him press deep inside, so you let him pull you up until you could rest your body on his, your knees settling outside of his hips, your arms bracing above him.

Gods he was beautiful, pale skin, beauty marks, soft brown hair fanned out around him, and his eyes, golden, soft, loving. You dropped down to kiss him and at the same time drag yourself along his now fully erect cock. His hands reached, tightening their grip, and his hips pressed up.

Your arm reached back, your hand wrapping around him, and lining him up. After a few more swipes to gather your moisture on him, you looked down and lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Yes, please.”

Slowly you began to sit back, angling your body to start pushing him inside. You made sure the foreskin was pulled back enough and once part of the way in, you could readjust your balance on both hands and begin to sink down onto him in earnest. The first push in was one of your favorite moments, the little catches and adjustments to his size and the thrill of pleasure as he hit the right places again, reminding you of the beginnings of the times before.

A deep moan moved through you as you settled down fully onto him.

“Gods, you feel good.”

“So do you,” he replied.

The slow drag inside of you as you lifted and then pushed back down pulled moans from both of you. You kept the pace slow for a little bit, just enjoying the feel of him. Looking down, you watched his face, eyes closed, small line of concentration between his eyebrows, mouth slightly open as he breathed. As if sensing your focus, those golden eyes opened to stare up at you.

The world fell away. Only he and you existed, wrapped in pleasure and touch and breath. A smile teased at the corner of your lips and he responded with the same. You brought a hand to his cheek and again he mirrored with the same. Connection, true and real and lighting a spark in your soul. You thought the words and he said them.

"I love you."

You could take no other action but to kiss him, lips hungry, wanting, flushed with desire and a celebration of that love with him.

Needy moans came from him as you picked up pace. Pleasure pulsing brighter within you. His hand reached down between your bodies and you nodded.

"Yes, please."

Deft fingers found your clit and began to circle, giving flames to the spark inside you.

You picked up pace even more, your thighs working, pinging back reminders of your active time in Zaun, warning you of soreness to come, but you didn't care. Let the world see the hitch in your step, for art and Zaun and for the man beneath you.

As his fingers drew you closer, your own rhythm began to falter. Viktor chuckled and began to use more of his hips, thrusting up into you while his fingers worked harder, faster.

"Viktor!" His name rang out as your orgasm hit you, drawing your head down, burying your face against his neck.

When your movement finally paused, he withdrew his hand and wrapped his arms around you.

It took another beat for you to regain the strength and focus to push yourself back up and slowly drag yourself up and then back down on his still hard cock.

Your breath caught at the over stimulation, but you just breathed and did it again, and again. The tightening of his grip and open mouthed moans let you know when you'd reached a good pace. His hips also flexed up, adding delightful pulses of joy through you.

It didn't take long to see he was close, eyes closed, mouth pulling in air, your name on his lips with encouragement to keep going. It was enough that you didn't notice his hand slip down again.

Just as you expected to see his own pleasure crest, his fingers found your clit and he dragged you over the cliff with him.

It left you panting and dazed and lying on top of him, your muscles turned to jelly.

"That was-" you managed.

"Yes," he replied, voice breathy.

You knew you should get to the bathroom, that it would be messy and uncomfortable if you remained there and just went to sleep. It still took you a good ten minutes to move, groaning as sore muscles, and the man beneath you, protested.

Finally you made it back, wiped him clean with a warm washcloth, tossed that to the side, and curled up in his arms. He held you tightly, body pressed along the full line of you, content. His nose and lips nuzzled into your neck and he whispered, "three, goodnight, my Lady of the Stars."

His words followed you into sleep.

You floated in perfect darkness. Neither cold nor heat seemed to touch you. Slowly, green lights appeared, little pinpricks in the veil. They began to move, to drift in lazy patterns. The firelights blinked in and out of existence until they each settled into place, their intermittent lights turning steady, golden, becoming stars that felt like eyes watching you.

And there you remained, barely aware in a space that didn’t feel like it existed, and yet. What you did feel, felt like waiting, like patience. Time passed. Minutes? Days? Months? Years? The stars never moved, the small world behind you instead rotating in its daily cycle. But you were up here, floating.

"Hello?" you called out.

Silence remained. So, you just floated there, looking over the stars, mapping the constellations in your mind, naming them. It was peaceful, reminding you of nights with your grandmother in the caravan, before coming to Zaun and Piltover. You weren’t sure if it was the memory or your feeling about it, but the stars pulsed brighter.

Movement, slowly you descended, down into air, through clouds and breeze until your feet settled onto sand. The vast night sky, ablaze with stars, spread out above you and if you closed your eyes you could still remember what it felt like to be up there among them.

A rumbling beneath you brought your attention back to the moment. A full moon and the shine of the stars provided enough light to see the endless dunes that stretched out in every direction. A cool wind blew, causing you to tug your robes tighter. The sand shifted beneath your feet in its familiar pattern as you began to walk, your steps remembering the rhythm and movement necessary to tread without tiring as easily and without drawing the attention of things best left to their slumber.

Time still felt as if it had no meaning. It passed, because you walked, but the stars remained fixed in the sky. No dawn ever came.

Finally you crested a particularly high dune and paused, on the other side a much more lush countryside spread out before you and in the distance a familiar city stood out against the horizon. Light finally began to fill the sky, dawn coming from behind the city.

Your feet started to take you there, but you paused, remembering the painting. The countryside sloped easily, as if inviting you to cross it, to get to the city. It looked idyllic, beautiful, and like a trap.

A sense of waiting permeated the space. While it appeared you could turn back around, or go in any other direction, you knew, you could feel it, your only true path was forward. Danger could not be avoided, only faced. Or maybe that was the only choice you allowed yourself. You didn't want to turn and run. If you walked forward, would you see it? Would you learn what terrible fate befell the city? Would it be able to take you too?

You took a step forward, then another, then another. Sand turned to grass as the gentle slope guided you down.

More time, the slope turning flat, and still you quietly walked. Your breaths came shorter as you approached where the maw had erupted from the ground, darkening the world around it, and yet, your feet continued on. The sun crested the city, throwing golden light all around you, illuminating your path as it continued to rise.

Finally you began to walk up to the city itself. Banners flapped in the wind, windows and gates stood open, inviting. The ziggurats hung suspended in the air, the sun throwing long shadows behind them. A crackling along your skin, like static electricity, sent goosebumps up your arm, along your shoulders, and down your spine. It seemed to vibrate through you, quickening your heart and tuning your senses up beyond what you’d ever experienced. The sounds of birds came clearer, the smells of freshly baking flatbread filled your nostrils, lighting upon your taste buds as if you’d taken a bite and it sat warm on your tongue. The cool morning breeze raced along your skin, dancing through your hair, and inviting you to follow it. And finally, eyes turned towards the city, you could see it, moving through the air, lining the ziggurats, pulsing through the stones of the gate and street before you, a deep blue glow.

“Magic,” you breathed, the realization coming to you. It was magic. The whole city radiated it, that blue glow wove itself through everything. It pulled your gaze up, to see the spires of the gates, the angle of the ziggurats, the sun having risen to stand just between all of them, hovering at the center. Its yellow turned a vibrant blue, darkening the sky, though no stars came out in the shadows. Time stood still and the shape became clear, both what you were seeking and what you had no desire to know. And as you became aware of the symbol, some tearing shook the ground beneath your feet. The blue of the sun deepened, sent shivers through the stones and began to reach for you, wisps of energy solidifying as they extended. In their slithering towards you, the tendrils of almost molten energy turned indigo, and then violet. They stretched and wove like sinew, almost alive, wanting, needing.

You took a step back, then another, as the tendrils wove through the city. Cold flooded in from behind you and you turned, dread in your gut.

But you had nowhere to go. Filling the space outside the city the maw opened, rending the earth, tearing up stone and twisting the very air, filling it with a purple almost magenta glow.

And then it saw you. The purple sinew, now shining like metal ripped through the ground, coming for you. It felt as if the whole world reached, with this insatiable hunger, this need to tear it all down, to drown it all in darkness, no in something infinitely cold and lifeless, meaningless, nothingness.

You glanced up, pleading for help, for the stars to shine once again. All you got in response was silence, that sense of waiting ground against the sense of urgency lighting your nerves on fire. Something, a tendril, almost large enough to be an arm wrapped around your waist, another around your neck. “You will come to me, in the end.”

You startled awake, your breaths coming quick and shallow, heart pounding in your chest.

“Is everything alright?” came mumbled words from beside you.

All you could do was breathe, and make sure it wasn’t real, feeling over yourself and looking around the room. Everything remained as it was when you’d gone to sleep. The soft evening lights of Piltover drifted in from the window. Viktor began to stir, to come more awake and you put a hand on his arm, stalling his movement.

“Everything’s fine, it was just a bad dream.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Ok,” he shifted, reaching for you, and you let him pull you into his warm embrace, his body tucking into the curves of your own. “Tell me about it in the morning?”

“I will.” Though you hoped he would forget. And maybe you would too. Dreams often faded with time.

You shifted a little closer to him and he reflexively held you tighter. Warm, solid, real, you grounded yourself in the feeling of him, pushing back at the cold that wanted to linger. As you drifted back towards sleep, the memory of the dream began to fade, all of it dulling, blurring, except for the image of the city walls and the sun. The design they made- A rune, it couldn’t be anything else, it followed you into sleep and was waiting for you, vivid in detail, upon waking.

Chapter Text

The Rising Howl shifted and shuddered slightly as it descended. You didn’t have far to go, only three stops down from your grandmother's shop to the level for The Last Drop. Careful fingers opened the note to read it again. When a none-to-happy Fara had handed you the folded slip of paper you’d expected Sevika's handwriting, but a far more elegant script greeted you. "You may come by this evening or the next. I expect it to be uneventful, so you may have more time to look at the window, if you wish. I will be in, but as long as you are quiet and polite, you may take what time you need. -Silco."

A nervousness jittered through your hands so you tucked the note in your notebook. The invitation had come in less than a week, sooner than you’d anticipated. So, with an hour still to go for the shop to close, you finished your labels, grabbed your bag, gave your taita a kiss on the cheek, and stepped out into Zaun.

Seven Bells rang out as you’d boarded the Howl, still early enough to move around in relative safety. It came to your stop and you walked the path that would take you to the bar. You’d walked this way when you left last time, so backtracking it came relatively easily. You were good with directions, a skill that had helped on numerous occasions, especially on your expeditions.

Within a few minutes you saw the building loom ahead. You glanced down, checking your clothes, which you hoped would be acceptable. No vest, just pants, boots, a long tunic and a beaded belt from your grandmother. The real test came when you approached the door, the two large bouncers looking you over. One put out a hand to stop you, but the other opened the door.

“That’s the artist,” he said to his counterpart, then to you, “good evening, miss.”

“Good evening,” you said, offering a nod of thanks and slipping inside. All of the things that hit your senses last time came more muted now, the early evening showing a calmer crowd. Curious eyes drifted over you and you headed straight for the stairs. Then, that hallway, this time you were alone and somehow it seemed more imposing. You reached the door, hesitated, and then knocked.

“Come in.” It was definitely him.

A breath, you stood straighter, and opened the door. His eyes, those eyes, looked up and paused slightly, his face remaining neutral. “You came back. I wasn’t sure you would.”

"I meant what I said. I am studying the art people are putting into Zaun. And," something rose up in you under the gaze of those eyes and your next words came out before you could stop them, "I wasn't able to finish my sketch last time seeing as I was so rudely interrupted." In the span of a second you questioned all of your life's choices. In that life you never thought Viktor’s playfulness rubbing off on you might get you stabbed, and yet there you were.

Silco sat there a moment, eyebrow as high as it could go, lips tense, though for some reason you thought it possible he was fighting to keep a smile off his face.

"I'm so sorry." You gripped your bag tighter. "That is-"

"-going to cost you." He stood and you took a step back. A huff of amusement came with his next words, "I am not going to hurt you. I was going to commission a drawing, but, in recompense for that remark, you will do it for free."

"Yes sir, I will."

He eyed you, making you wait in silence, before sitting back down and returning to his work.

You stood there another moment, very unsure of what to do. "Did you want-"

"I'll tell you when and what at my leisure. For now, have a seat," he gestured to the couch, "and draw as you like."

Whatever bravado that tossed those daring words out earlier utterly left you. With your head tucked, you did as instructed, taking a seat, pulling out your notebook.

Looking at the window brought a sigh of relief. Its design- the swirl, the colors, the feel of it - tugged a smile to your lips and you eagerly returned to the page you'd started on it.

In truth, you were almost done, but, the light that came in the window, the comfort of the couch, the slight music from the bar below, you decided to take your time. After the preliminary sketch you turned a new page and started fresh, giving more effort to shadow and detail, creating a full color image. And from the angle of where you sat in the room, you began to flesh it out more, the chair and the desk joining the window. You were halfway into drawing the man also sitting there when you stopped yourself. What were you doing? You didn't have a reason to add all of that. Except, the light coming in from the window presented a striking scene. This was a part of Zaun too, you argued, and it was a beautiful scene to draw, another part of you added. Yet, something within you pinged the slightest sense of danger. This was not a place to get comfortable. You should go.

But, only a few more minutes and you'd have it on the page. The pen hovered in your hand a moment before coming back down to complete the lines.

A knock at the door, light, caught your and his attention. In the corner of your eye you saw him stiffen.

"Come in, Jinx."

A curious name.

The door handle turned and a person you least expected walked in. A girl, maybe 10 or 11, shorter, blue hair, clothes a little dirty from play, eyes bright but cautious. Those eyes flicked to you and she hesitated.

"I can come back."

Silco stood, his voice softer, unexpectedly so, "no, Jinx, it is alright, you can come in."

You offered her a smile, which she seemed unsure of how to respond, but she did step inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

She approached the desk and you studiously returned your attention to your notebook. Not that you had much to do, but you pointedly did not look up, letting them have their moment of hushed conversation. The gentleness of his tones continued to surprise you until you heard her intake of breath and the words "an artist!"

You heard your name given to her and took that moment to glance back up. She looked at you, smile on her face. "Do you draw? Or paint? Do you do murals or graffiti?" She still lingered close to the desk, but began to drift in your direction.

You nodded, "I can draw and paint. I haven't done any murals or graffiti, but I've had books use my drawings and have had my work hung in art galleries."

"Wow, can I see any?"

You shot a glance at Silco and he gave a slight nod.

"Of course," and you held the notebook out to her.

Shyness forgotten, she finished the distance and sat next to you on the couch, her fingers taking the notebook carefully. She began to flip through the pages. "I know where this is! And this, I've seen this. It looks just like that! You're drawing Zaun?"

"Yes, it's a beautiful city."

A smile tugged at her lips as she flipped more pages. "Yeah, I guess it is." Eyes now filled with wonder looked up at you. "You're really good."

Then she got to the last drawing and you froze.

"Oh wow! How did you do that? Look," she stood and trotted the few steps back to Silco, setting the notebook down on top of his papers. "That's you! Doesn't it look real?"

Heat burned into your cheeks as you built up the courage to meet his eyes.

"Indeed it does."

"She got your eye right and everything!"

"Indeed, she did."

You were fucked. If you had your notebook in hand you could at least compose your will, but you didn't even have that.

"I was unaware I counted as art."

A retort came but you finally, blessedly, kept your damn mouth shut.

"Oh, but dad you do! You look," she searched for the word, "distinguished."

You weren't sure which words did it, but something she said pulled his attention back to her, a softness coming ever so slightly to the corner of his eye.

She gasped, "could you draw me?"

Her excitement loosened the tension in your chest, brought a smile to you, a genuine one. "Of course I can!" This you knew. "I can do black and white or color, but your hair is so pretty I would insist to at least match the blue."

She beamed. "Oh in color, as bright as you can."

You reached into your bag and brought out the leather roll that held your tools. With a flourished flick you unrolled it along the low coffee table in front of the couch. Each set sat in their own separate pouches as you smoothed it out to reveal your wax pencils, the oil ones, your chalks, charcoal, pastels, inkwell pens, and a small watercolor set. As you laid them out, you found her suddenly at your side, eyes going over the assortment.

"You can use all of these?"

"Yup, it's a part of my job. I draw things for people and I teach others to draw."

Again, those big eyes turned to you, “could you teach me to draw?”

You eyed her critically, “maybe, do you like to draw?”

“Yes! But I’m not very good.”

You huffed, “first lesson, beauty is what you,” you pointed at her, “say it is. And second lesson, if you’re not sure about your art, find someone who makes art you like, and study what they do. A good artist shares what they know and helps others. That way, we get more art in the world! And that is always a good thing." You purposefully thought for a moment. "How about this? Why don’t you let me take a look at your art? I’d love to see it.”

“Really?” the hesitation in her voice just about broke your heart.

You nodded, “absolutely.”

“Ok,” and she was up and out the door.

A quick look to Silco and he answered your question before you even asked, “it is alright. You may continue.”

“I,” heat touched your cheeks again, “I really enjoy teaching.”

“That is apparent.”

He studied you, openly, and for a moment, you returned the favor. The mask he wore remained impeccable, but you knew, could tell, his mind worked quickly underneath. Again a sense of warning came to you. That girl was his daughter, you should tread lightly.

Activity, both of your attentions turned towards the girl and her return to the room. A reserve settled back in once she shut the door. She held a few scraps of paper behind her as she approached. You offered patience and calm, giving her time to decide when to offer them to you.

You watched her build up the courage and then hand them over, not really meeting your eye. “I like these the most.”

You took them gently, showing that you would treat them with care. Your eyes drifted down and a smile spread across your lips. Vibrant colors, bold, sure lines with delightfully rough edges, most of the shapes seemed to be animals.

You glanced back to see she’d been watching you, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

“Ah, crayon, always an expressive medium, works well for your art. And you draw from your elbow and shoulder, that's good. Color choice is also good, complementary and tonally consistent." You gave a nod and her shoulders relaxed a little. "I like these. They are very expressive. It’s hard for me to get colors this bright. You know, most people your age do not have this distinct of a style yet.”

She skewed up her face. “I have a style? What’s a style?”

“Your style is the way that you approach your art, the personality within what you draw. I have a feeling that this, is very you, and that is a good thing. I can’t draw like this.”

“What? But you’re so good,” she pointed at your notebook, “there’s no way I could do that.”

“Do you want to do that?”

The simple question seemed to stump her. “I, I think-”

“Art isn’t about what you think you should draw, it’s about what you can’t help but draw, about what calls from inside,” you tapped your chest, “demanding to be made. What makes you smile? What makes you laugh? What brings you joy when you make it?”

You held up her art and watched as a small smile spread across her face. Then you grabbed your notebook. “When I draw, I try to get out of the way and capture what I see on the page. This is so that people can remember things as they are, or as they were. This kind of art,” you set her drawing down next to yours, “is about what could be and what might be. There is so much more to us and to the world than simply what is. The whole world can see my art, but only you can see yours, before you make it. I’ve spent 20 years learning to copy something perfectly. You,” you spread her art out, took time to look over them again, “you create. That is very special.”

“You really see all that?”

“I can promise you this. I have seen a lot of art.” You leaned closer, exaggerating your movements, “a lot,” which caused her to giggle, “and I like your art more than a decent amount put out by people who think way too much of themselves.”

“Like a Piltie?”

You laughed, your eyes flicking to Silco briefly. You’d meant it to be a quick glance, but he clearly had not expected you to look up at that moment as the unguarded smile on his face hit you like an electric shock. With extreme effort you forced your gaze back to her and nodded, “yup, just like a Piltie.”

“Eww, gross.”

“They certainly can be.”

“But you really like it?”

“I do. Maybe you could show me how you do it sometime?”

“And you’ll teach me to use some of these?” She pointed down at your roll of pencils and brushes.

“I think that would be a fair trade, one artist to another.”

She nodded formally. “It’s a deal then, shake on it?”

You offered your hand, “it’s a deal.”

Her smaller hand met yours, gave you a good shake.

“If your business is concluded,” Silco spoke to the girl, who seemed to enjoy his phrasing, “it is about time for dinner. Go wash up and we can go anywhere you like.”

“Anywhere? Yes!” She started to dash off, but paused, reaching for her drawings. But in that too she stopped herself. “You can have one, if you like.”

“Are you sure?”

She studied them one more moment, “yes, whichever one you like.”

You went over them and picked the one that looked like a large bird drawn in fuchsia, orange, and navy blue. “Thank you very much for sharing your art with me.”

“Can you come back tomorrow?”

“No, I have to teach a class. But I can come back next week?”

“You promise?"

You nodded. "We shook on it. A deal is a deal. Will you be there?"

She offered as serious a nod as she could. "It was nice to meet you.” And then she was out the door.

You turned to Silco and again he met your question before it was asked. “It is very generous of you.” His reserve returned in full force, his face once again unreadable. "I have no issue with you giving her lessons. Though I will remind you that you volunteered."

"I believe you mean we have a mutually agreed verbal contract of which you were a witness."

This earned you a huff of amusement. "You still owe me a drawing."

"I had not presumed otherwise." Apparently your sass was back. It really was time to leave.

"Seeing as you have a meeting with my daughter next week, I assume I'll be seeing you again?"

"It would appear so." You took a moment to confirm a date and time that would work for him.

"Oh, one more thing." His tone made you pause in the middle of rolling up your tool kit. "Why did you draw me? Did something 'call from inside, demanding it be drawn?'"

You stilled as he turned your words back on you. Your mind offered a response and, at this point, you just got out of the way. "Actually yes. I hadn't even realized I'd done it until halfway through. Looked like art to me. You are a part of Zaun, are you not?"

He seemed genuinely uncertain how to respond to that.

"Come here," you waved him over, indicating he sit where you had been.

Hesitantly, he rose and took a seat on the couch.

You, then, walked to his desk, carefully sat down, took up the posture he had been, making sure not to disturb any of the papers, and lastly pivoted in the chair just so, letting the shadow of the high back come across half of you, while the window lit the other half. A flick of the eyes back to him, while keeping your head focused down, finished the pose and seemingly caught him off guard. He stared, openly, taking in what he saw.

He swallowed before he spoke. "I see what you mean."

You relaxed, letting a small smile return, and carefully removed yourself from his seat of power.

His fingers ghosted over your drawing. "You do not give yourself enough credit."

"Oh?" You came to a stop on the other side of the table.

He looked up and any advantage you thought you had by standing over him evaporated. "You presume people see what you do. That you draw what is there. But, perhaps, you have the ability to reveal what people might miss or overlook. Maybe," he stood, the motion solidifying his surety and power, "you also have a unique perspective. Such could be a useful thing."

You found you had to swallow before speaking. "If you would like the drawing, so that there isn't a picture of you in my notebook, you are welcome to take it. And please accept my apology for not asking your permission to draw you, I should have."

A small nod, "it is accepted. And who else might see it?"

"These are my private notes, but possibly one other."

"The man at the table, the one smiling at you?"

Again you couldn't fight the smile when thinking of Viktor. You nodded. Then, your brain, a-fucking-gain "And, of course, any random children passersby who might want to learn to draw."

"Naturally. I am starting to expect nothing less." His own response came quickly, as if he were ready for it this time.

You huffed. "Thank you, for your time and your," you shook your head, "patience."

He waved a hand. "Compared to those I usually have to deal with, it is nothing at all. Sevika is out, but I can have another escort you topside, if you would like."

"No, but thank you. I don't have too far to go. I'm in Zaun tonight, helping with the new shipment of herbs and oils at my taita's shop. I'm the muscle," you chuckled. "It'll be late when we're done so I'll just stay with her in the apartment above. Which," you finally looked back at him, "you don't need any of that information. Have a good evening." And you turned and headed down the stairs, faintly registering a "and you as well," following you out.

The music, smells, and lights hit stronger than before. Outside wasn't much better as you could tell the Grey was going to be thick tonight. Your chest eased and breaths finally came easier when the doors to the Howl shut and it began its slow climb. You thought back over the evening. What had gotten into you?

But you liked the girl, Jinx. And as you began to mentally put together a small lesson plan and list items to bring for next time, you found yourself excited to return.

Chapter Text

"You ready?"

"Yes, rune plate is secure."

"Alright, dropping in hex crystal."

"Gently."

"I know."

"Here we go."

You sat at the far side of the lab, watching from what was deemed a safe distance. Midday light filled the room harshly, and still the glow from the activation mechanism threw shadows away from the two men.

Your notebook lay open and ready. Since you were there, they thought it might be good to record the light patterns and magical reactions as they tested a new rune. One of "yours", of which they were ridiculously polite to say. They did all the work, you merely looked at things and drew. You huffed, glancing at your current situation. It seemed to be your lot in life. And considering that also consisted of watching a certain scientist's backside, you didn't mind too much. Jayce's was nice too, you could certainly appreciate it, but you knew which one was coming home with you that night.

"Ahh!" Viktor's voice came sharply, "adjust it higher."

The general glow solidified into waves of light washing away from them in an almost corona effect.

"Ok, now, begin rotation."

The light waves increased in speed and brightness.

"Aligning rune plate."

The light flashed twice and then sputtered out, the room returning to its normal light and both men sagged.

"Damn."

They tried again three more times, each having the same result.

Viktor offered a heavy sigh. "It would seem that is not a rune."

Both pulled off their goggles. Jayce reached to begin resetting the device, and, with light clicks of his cane, Viktor walked over to you.

"I'm sorry," he said, his hand touching your arm. "That one doesn't work."

You offered a small smile. "I know they're not all going to. But that still counts as data, right?"

That earned you a brief kiss.

"Yes, it certainly does."

"Do you have more to try?"

"Not right now. We're going to circle back to the last one and see if we can get it to work with some of the others."

"I can tell them to play nice, if that will help."

His hand came to your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. "Oh yes, it is important to be stern with them."

You leaned into that hand and his smile widened.

"You are going back to Zaun tonight, correct?" he asked.

"Yeah. I get to do my first art lesson today, well, lesson exchange."

His eyes narrowed a little, "this Silco, it is safe to be there?"

"He hasn't stabbed me yet."

"That isn't the comfort you think it is."

"I'll be fine. And I'll get there by seven Bells, while the Lanes are still calm-ish. Sevika will be there and can walk me home if it gets late.”

“Do you expect it to?”

You shook your head. “Jinx is young, her attention span will only last so long, so I don’t think so.”

“You’ll probably beat me home.”

“That just gives me the chance to warm the bed for you.”

“Ah yes, one of your many talents. I look forward to it.” Then he leaned in, his voice dropping lower, “too bad Jayce is here. I’d love to further our discussion in the office. I guess it will just have to wait until later.”

Your body warmed at his words, though your eyes narrowed and your hand traced down the front of his vest. “A pity. The chair does have such good potential.” With a tug you pulled him closer. “But, as you said, you’ll just have to wait to feel my mouth wrapped around you.”

You knew the look that would fill his eyes, but you stood and began to pack up your things. His hand came to your waist, just above your hip, his grip strong. Warm breath fanned along your neck. “Don’t be too long in Zaun.”

Seven Bells chimed just as you approached the doors to The Last Drop. Both bouncers offered a smile, while the one who stopped you last time opened the door for you.

Now that you knew what to expect, entering the bar was less jarring. You walked with more confidence to the stairs and up them. A light knock on the door, quick footsteps from the other side, and the door opened to a grinning 10-yr old.

“You’re here!” she said, grabbing your hand and dragging you in.

You offered a wave and a smile to Silco, who was seated at his desk. A nod of the head came as his only reply, the paperwork before him quickly reclaiming his attention.

“I have my stuff ready!” She pulled you over to the coffee table where an assortment of paper and a pile of her crayons sat on top. “Oh,” she pushed them to one side, realizing you would need to put your stuff down.

Again with a flourish, you unrolled your tool set and pulled out several pads of paper, each a different thickness.

“I was thinking we could start with the dry mediums and move towards the wet, which means we’ll start with the crayons, chalk, and pencils and go to pens and finish with watercolor. How does that sound?”

“Wow.”

“I’ll take that as a good thing.”

You set a few of her drawings at the edge and brought out a few crayon drawings of your own.

"Those are amazing."

"It's just a different technique. So much changes based on how you hold it, how much pressure you use and how much you blend and shade. I have to admit, I envy your bold strokes. I tend to be pretty hesitant when I draw."

"Why?"

"I always find the start of a project daunting, or scary in a broad way. I want to get it 'right' and have to remind myself that it's my art, so anything I do is as right as I say it is."

You gave her a moment to think about it, to let your words sink in.

"But, you can still get better at it, right?"

"Well, what part do you think is getting better?"

"What I'm drawing?"

"OK, but better to who?"

Her lips pushed together and her eyes looked down for several seconds.

When the delay lingered you added, "what did I say last time about why and what we draw, do you remember?"

"That I don't have to draw what I think I'm supposed to, but what I feel I want to, what makes me happy to?"

A large smile spread on your face. "Exactly! So, if you want to get better, who is that for?"

"Me!"

"Yup. And what is getting better?"

"How I feel?"

You gave her another moment to think it over. Honestly, it wasn't the easiest of concepts and you'd seen far older students struggle with it. But you wanted to give her the chance to figure it out.

"How I can make what I draw…" she paused and you held your breath, she was close, so close, "match what I want it to look like, what I see in here?" And she tapped her forehead.

"Yes! That's it!"

The smile that beamed on her face warmed your heart.

"We get better so we can better express what we want to say, on the page or canvas or wall or glass or even with the written word. The hardest thing to learn is to clearly speak your own 'art' language. Learning to draw or paint better is about learning more about yourself! It can be fun and it can be scary. We are complex and beautiful and wonderful. And each person gets excited about different things and that is a place where we can draw strength."

The light dimmed in her eyes a moment as something clouded past in her mind. You weren't sure what you'd said, so you tried to move on.

"Anyway, that is very 'highfalutin', let's draw some. Will you show me how you do it, and then I'll draw for you?"

A warmth returned to her eyes, though she watched you a little more warily.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence. You could hear her lines with the crayon, Silco's scratches with his pen, and the slight musical beat from the bar below.

"OK, here." She slid the paper over. It was clearly a monkey face, but something about it seemed angry, unsettling.

"I really like your use of color. And that's a very intense monkey. Why did you draw this?"

She shrugged.

"OK, well. You want me to go next? I could try to draw like you?"

She nodded.

You were losing her. For some reason she seemed to be choosing to disengage. You took a breath, grabbed the brightest color crayon there and picked an animal as far removed from a monkey as you could think of. Closing your eyes, you tried to recall it from memory. Then you let your hand go, soft strokes to start that quickly became bolder. You changed out colors and kept going. After another few minutes you let the crayon fall and looked at the drawing, blurring your eyes first for general composition and then sharpening your focus to see if you needed to add anything more. You decided on some seaweed, and finally pulled back from it.

"OK, what do you think?"

She eyed it critically. "It's a fish?"

"Yeah, it's supposed to be. I saw this big one in an aquarium once, but it's harder for me to draw from memory."

"The colors are pretty," she offered, attempting to be nice.

"But it doesn't feel quite, right, does it?"

"No, I mean, it's okay."

"See, I was trying to draw like you, but that's not what my mind wants to draw."

"What do you want to draw?"

A smile crept on your face and you reached for the crayons again, starting with blue. This time you kept the paper facing you and held higher so she couldn't see. It took a little longer than your fish, but since she couldn't see it, she kept trying to figure out what you were drawing by looking around the room.

"Is it the globe?"

"Nope."

"Are you drawing the window?"

"Nope." You changed out colors and kept going.

"Is it the desk?"

"Nope."

"Is it dad?"

Your eyes flicked over, met his and held his gaze. That earned you an eyebrow lift up in curiosity, but you just winked and returned to working on the drawing.

"Nope."

She fell back against the couch cushions in exasperation. "Then what are you drawing?"

Quick fingers finished up, dropped the crayon back down, and spun the pad.

She gasped. "That's me!" Her hands shot out to take it from you. "I look so cool."

"You can keep it, if you like?" You reached to tear the paper from the pad and hand it to her.

The second it hit her hand she raced over to the desk. "Dad, look at this!"

Without hesitation or any sign of annoyance she'd interrupted him, he pivoted to look. "That is lovely."

"Isn't she amazing!"

"It would seem that she is."

A small bit of heat crept up you neck at the look he gave you with that response. You found it a little hard to meet his eyes.

Then she was back at your side, ready, eager to learn more. Good, whatever had bothered her seemed to have passed.

Next you moved onto the oil crayons, showing her the difference between the two types. After that you moved onto the more precise colored pencils. She didn’t seem too interested in them. The chalk she enjoyed, especially how messy it could be, as well as the charcoal. Her drawing of a crow brought smiles all around when she showed it off.

Next, the ink pens. Fairly normal, but you showed her how differently it moved and acted on the paper. She seemed to enjoy the smooth lines and loops she could make. You tried different nibs, showing how they had different ink flow speeds and widths.

“If you turn it and keep it at an angle, you can change the shape of letters as you write them. Here,” and you showed her a few calligraphy techniques.

“You can make handwriting into art?!”

“You certainly can, here, I’ll let-” but as you went to hand it over she reached a little too eagerly and knocked over the inkwell on the coffee table. Black ink flowed over your papers and onto your notebook you’d had open for reference.

“Oh no!” she pulled back, her eyes going wide to the dark stains washing over the work you’d done for the day. “I ruined it. I’m so sorry.”

You reacted quickly, pulling your notebook out of the way, starting to get your tool kit clear when you’d noticed she’d withdrawn further on the couch, her hands going to her head, her eyes screwing shut. “I ruined it. I always ruin it.”

“Jinx, it’s alri-” but you watched her spiral, her repeated ‘I’m sorry,’ growing higher in pitch. You dropped your tool kit and scanned the room. In three quick steps you reached his desk, grabbed the ice cubes out of the drink sitting there, shook off what smelled like bourbon, and went back to her.

She’d pulled even further into herself, but you still had room. With an ice cube in each hand, you snuck them in and pressed them on either side of her neck, just below her jaw.

Just as you hoped, she gasped at the unexpected cold, her eyes shooting open and focusing on you.

“Jinx,” you said firmly, “you are safe. You are okay. No one is angry.”

Her eyes wanted to look at the table, but you gently kept her head up.

“Just look at me, ok? We are fine. Everything is fine. We’ll clean it up in a minute.”

“But-”

“No buts. We’re just going to breathe a moment, ok? Here, can you hold these?” you held out the ice cubes, now smaller, and she took them.

“If you ever feel bad like that, you can hold ice and it will make you feel better. Sometimes our minds can be mean, but our bodies can help, even when we’re not sure what to ask for." You spoke more to keep her attention, knowing she probably wasn't going to take in much of what you said. But even if a little bit of it stuck, that would help. You kept going, "you know, I don’t like crowds. And when it gets too much, and my mind gets too loud, I close my eyes and count my breaths. I know it sounds a little silly, but we always have our breath. It's always there. Here, want to see me do it?"

She nodded slightly.

You sat up straighter, closed your eyes and relaxed, dropping your shoulders. You breathed in through your nose and then out your mouth, "one."

And again, "two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

"Seven."

"Hey, you forgot six!"

You peeked one eye open, and then the other, a smile coming to your face. You waited, hoping, and there, the smallest one tinged the corners of her lips.

"Sometimes I forget. I'm not as good with numbers."

"I'm great with numbers. Oh, um," she held up her hands, now with water dripping down her arms. "What do I do-"

"Here," a towel passed into view and you remembered you weren't alone with her. Watching Silco withdraw his hand and then sit close behind her, pulled you firmly back into yourself and the situation. Had you overstepped? Would he be angry she'd gotten upset?

"There you go," he said softly. When she was done he took the towel back and opened an arm so she could lean close. It seemed to calm her further, good.

"I'm sorry I spilled the ink," she whispered.

"I'm sure it’s alright," and he eyed you, with what you assumed was supposed to be an intensity to get you to comply. You fought your first reaction to him, which would be to push back, and instead focused on her.

"It is. Mistakes happen. It's a part of life. And, well," you looked back to the table and started to assess the situation. "It's not so bad, here," you pulled her charcoal crow free and held it up, "I think the ink actually added to the piece. That will look neat when it dries."

“But, my monkey and your fish,” sadness tried to creep into her voice.

“Well,” you looked at the ink pooling on the surface, uncertain what to do.

“Here,” Silco offered you the towel.

“Are you sure?” The ink would most certainly permanently stain it.

He nodded, “it can become your art towel, when you visit for the next lesson.”

His hand held onto the towel for the briefest of seconds before letting you take it.

“Thank you.”

You focused on blotting to get the largest pools of it, and then worked to extricate your tools and what art could be salvaged.

“Did you know," you glanced back at her, "that in some places, this type of ink is made from burning dried bones?”

Jinx sat forward a little. “It is?”

“Oh yes, some say, witches can use it to cast spells as they write them. You can also burn wood or even tree sap to make it. Now, I made this myself with wood I found on the shore by the docks. I cleaned it, dried it, burned it and then ground the charred wood up with a mortar and pestle. This was a new batch.”

“Oh no-”

You held a hand out. “It’s alright, maybe that piece of driftwood was cursed, maybe it had an ill intentioned spirit still inside and you just saved me from having it haunt our art. If you want, next time I can bring the ingredients and we can make our own? I’ll even let you pick which oil we put in it, to make it smell nice.”

“We could do that?”

“We certainly can. See, if it hadn’t been spilt, I wouldn’t have thought to show you how to make more.”

“Could we burn bones? Could we write curses into letters?”

“Well, I’m not actually a witch.”

She sat back a little crestfallen.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t try.”

“Oh, your notebook!”

You were just getting to wiping the ink away from the corner when you paused, grabbed one of your brushes and began to pull the ink further onto the page. In the center stood a lovely door you’d drawn and even added a little watercolor, so you drew the ink up and began to embellish around it, creating a skyline and setting up a night sky above it. The black came as a sharp contrast to the lighter tones of the original drawing.

Both of them watched you work. The ink flowed faster than the paint you were used to using with the brushes, but you adapted. You appreciated it taking your focus and giving you a moment away from the situation to just create art.

“That is really neat,” Jinx sat forward, out of Silco’s arms to look at your drawing. “You made it look like light is coming through the door.”

“That’s the door to my grandmother’s shop. The tops of the buildings are actually much higher, but I liked the idea.”

“Does she live in Zaun?”

You nodded. “She does.”

“Do you?”

That caused you to pause. “No, but I visit her often, and I stay with her sometimes.”

“Do you live topside?”

Again, there truly was no other option than the truth. “I do. My job is there.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a professor at the Academy.”

“Oh.” The word didn’t come with as much derision as you expected.

“So you teach grown ups.”

“I do, but I’ve also gone to schools and taught workshops and camps.”

“Do you ever teach them in Zaun?”

“Sometimes.” You failed to mention that they had not gone well. You weren’t sure if you just couldn’t reach the kids who really wanted to draw, and not just learn how to best deface property, or if too many saw it as superfluous. You weren’t blind, you knew life was hard, but some could still find joy in art, so you kept trying. Unfortunately, getting funding for those camps got harder every year.

“Well, I think you fit in here,” she declared.

You offered her a warm smile. “Thank you. I very much appreciate that. Do you want me to come back, do more art?”

She nodded, “I,” a yawn interrupted her, “do.”

“It is getting late, why don’t you start getting ready for bed?” Silco's softer tone seemed so counter to the way he carried himself, even now.

“But I’m not,” another yawn, that dragged one into you, “tired.”

“Well, I am, and I still have to head home. But I will see you next time. Today was fun, thank you for creating art with me.”

She nodded, “it was fun.”

“Oh here, see, this one is fine,” you handed her the crayon drawing you did of her.

She took it, and held it close as she hopped off the couch and trotted out of the room, offering a final wave before leaving.

That left you and Silco both sitting on the couch.

“I’m sorry-”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his smooth voice filled the room, sounding louder than you expected. He seemed to notice and cleared his throat, his voice coming softer with his next words. “You handled that very well. I must admit, I am uncertain how to calm her sometimes.”

“Cold works well,” you offered. “The body tends to have a hard time processing thoughts and strong physical sensations at the same time. If you can break the cycle or pause the spiral in the mind, that can give you time to distract and re-center.”

“You have experience with this?”

Your eyes drifted down, away, your mind turning to your expedition to Targon. “Yes.”

It took effort to shake off the memory and look back up. “Is she alright?”

“Hers has not been an easy life. There are few in Zaun who are afforded such, but she is strong, she will be fine.”

You nodded, then turned your attention back to the coffee table, working to wipe more at the spilled ink.

"You do not need to clean it. I'll take care of it."

"I don't mind, I brought it-"

"Leave it." His tone caught your attention, stilling your hands. "You are right, it is getting late, well past nine Bells. Sevika should be below, she'll walk you back."

"Yes, sir." You weren't sure what had changed, but you packed up your things, being mindful of what still had wet ink on it, and stood. For some reason he just remained there, sitting so casually on the couch that it took you a moment to realize just how composed it was. Legs crossed, arms outstretched, head just a little higher. Why did he feel the need to reestablish himself there? It was already his domain. Or, was there something he didn’t want you to see? Was he hiding anger or frustration?

That unreadable face watched you.

"Have a good evening, Silco."

He nodded in return, "and you as well." He did not say your name.

Your hand tightened around your bag a moment and you left.

It wasn't until you were back in your apartment, your hand reaching into your bag that your heart stopped in your chest. Your notebook. You’d set it aside when you’d started to clean again and hadn’t picked it back up. Your mind raced through what might be in there. Drawings of Zaun, drawings from an art exhibit, sketches- your breath caught, “no.” You had your sketches of the lab, of the rune reactions. The last one had failed, but the one before had not. If Silco looked through it, would he know what he was looking at? You had sketches of Jayce and Viktor in there too. You’d just been keeping your hands and mind busy while they worked. But could he figure out who they were?

Another thought- who actually knew about Hextech? The council, some others in the Academy, some of the enforcers probably on the night they first figured it out. They had been floating, for Janna's sake. You began to breathe a little easier. That wasn’t too many.

You sat and went through the rest of your bag. The pen and the ink well had stayed behind too. Those were less important. You could go back tonight, but if you did, he’d know the value placed on it. No, you’d wait a few days and then go back, keep it casual.

You were just starting to plan what you were going to say when a knock at your door startled you. The beat of your heart became a dominant sound in your ear as you approached the door. You took a breath and opened it.

“Sevika?”

She stood before you looking less than amused. “One, I’m not a delivery person,” and she brought her arm up to hand you your notebook. “And two, let me in, I gotta take a piss.”

“Oh.” you stepped aside, still trying to wipe the shock from your face. “Yes, of course. Did you go all the way back for-”

“No, Ran met me halfway with it, Boss said you left it.”

“Oh, I did, by accident. I really appreciate, wait, you know where I live?”

She huffed, then stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

You were waiting for her when she emerged. Again she smirked and held stoic under your attempted intense gaze. Finally she broke.

“Yeah, once you met the kid, boss wanted to know a little more about you. Can’t say I blame him, he’s real protective.”

“She’s sweet, and bright, and quick. I like her.”

“She can be a handful.”

"All kids can be a handful. What were you like when you were her age?”

“The absolute worst. You?"

"I was an angel."

She nudged you. "Come on."

You let out a sigh. "I'd just lost my parents. I was quiet and scared."

"Shit."

"Yeah." You shrugged. "I ain't the only one who's lost people. I was fortunate, I had my taita."

"I had an older brother."

"Had?"

"He died on the bridge."

The room fell into silence. You hadn't been there that day, you hadn't been in Piltover either. No, you were traipsing through snow in Freljord when the two cities almost came apart. Your grandmother told you about the unrest in the Lanes, in the push to take the fight topside. It ended in bloodshed and death. She wasn't a doctor or nurse, but she helped anyone who came in her door. That day it had been-

"Your grandmother patched me up, gave me a place to stay when it wasn't safe for me to go home. You were away, so I think she missed you, and helping me-"

"Yeah, she doesn't like when I go on expeditions. I'm sorry I wasn't there."

Sevika waved her hand. "No offense, but you're not a fighter, that bridge was the last place you should have been." She huffed, though it held little humor, "was probably true for the lot of us. We weren't ready."

"But someday you might be?"

"Some," her tone turned carefully neutral, "do still want to get back at those who have profited off of and poisoned us, want Zaun to be able to stand on its own."

"Do you think it can?"

"We're fucking tough enough."

"But?"

She just shook her head. "In time, we'll be strong enough."

You offered a soft smile. "Well, before then, would 'the toughness' like some tea?"

"You got the good stuff?"

"Taita's secret mix? Of course I do."

"Shit yeah, I'll take some."

You shifted to the small kitchen and set the notebook down so you could fill the kettle.

"I do appreciate you bringing it to me. It was foolish of me to forget it."

"How did you?"

"Well, Jinx and I were going over a writing technique and she knocked over the ink well. It seemed to send her into some kind of panic attack. I was able to calm her, but she needed to rest after. That kind of thing does a number on the body that you don't always notice right away. You think it's just a mental thing, but" you gestured at yourself, "it's all tied together."

"That sounds like you're speaking from experience."

You nodded.

"I started to clean up but he stopped me and, basically, told me to leave, albeit politely. It was rushed and I just missed it. I'm not sure if I angered him."

"If you'd really angered him, you'd know. He's a hard one to crack, keeps everything close to the vest." She eyed you, "do you have an invitation to return?"

"I do."

She leaned back in her chair, "then you're fine. If he was angry, you wouldn't see him again. If he's really angry, no one would see you again." Her tone came light, but you paused, staring at her.

"You mean that, don't you?"

She nodded. "Yes, but it takes a lot. I, in no way, see you crossing that line. And I'll warn you way ahead of time if you ever start to get close."

The kettle began to whistle and you turned to it. The sound covered the opening of your apartment door and the light clicks of a cane.

"Hello, my love, I am home." Viktor paused in the doorway, "oh, we have company."

You froze, "oh, yes, um." You set the kettle aside and stepped over to him. "Viktor, this is Sevika. Sevika," you motioned between them, "this is Viktor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, offering a nod. Tension showed clear in his body posture.

"Likewise," she said, standing, easily meeting his height and maybe being a little broader. Her shawl draped fully over her left side.

"She's been showing me some of Zaun."

"Ah, yes, I've seen the drawings." He looked to you. "Are you going back out tonight or-"

"No, I'm done, we were just having some tea. Would you like some?"

"I," he glanced at her, then to you, his eyes softening, "yes, I'd love some."

You chanced a kiss to his cheek and returned to the kettle, grabbing a third mug.

Viktor set his bag down on the couch and took a seat at your small kitchen table.

Sevika also retook her seat. "So, you're fissurefolk too?"

He nodded, "I am."

"And you're a scientist?"

He smiled, "yes, and an engineer. You?"

"I do lots of things. I'm good with my hands-" she paused, but did not correct herself. "I'm good at doing what needs done."

"Ah."

A silence settled in as you set the mugs down, steepers in each. The strong scent of the tea began to fill the room.

Viktor ventured a question of his own. "How long have you known each other?"

"Oh, what," Sevika looked at you, "six, seven years now? I met her grandmother first-"

"She is quite the woman."

"Isn't she!" She sat forward, smile growing on her face. "You do not want to make her angry."

"Oh, definitely not. When you see the vein here," he pointed at his temple.

"Right! Bad news. She," she nodded at you, "gets the same vein."

"Why yes, she does. And they both have that stance, you know," he shifted, hands going to his hips, "and that means-"

"You are in trouble!"

He nodded. "And the only way to save yourself is to-"

"Offer them food."

"Just so."

You just stood there, not having taken your seat, hands on your hips, staring at them.

"Uh oh," Sevika whispered. "That's the look."

"And I don't have any snacks. We're doomed."

"Fucked even."

"Well," you finally spoke, all of your attention going to keeping the smile off your face, "one of you will be. But I've yet to decide who."

They both froze, clearly not ready for your innuendo.

Viktor recovered faster. Sevika was already leaning back in her chair. It took little further movement to tug the back of it the needed distance and hook his cane onto one of the legs. The next moment she tumbled to the floor, the chair dumping her.

She looked up at him in shock. "How the fuck did you do that?" Her voice held appreciation.

"As I said. I am an engineer. I understand angles, pivot points, and applied pressures quite well." The smile on his face warmed your heart. Then he turned that smile to you.

"What do you say, my love?"

"I'm uncertain I should reinforce such behavior." You walked over and offered Sevika a hand up. "But he has a point."

"Oh," Sevika tucked a bit of hair behind your ear in an overly friendly gesture, "if he didn't make you smile like you do, I'd have already dumped his body in the river. But I think that's my cue to leave. You two have fun." And she started for the door.

"Here, take it with you." You pulled the steeper and dropped in a small spoonful of sugar and a mint leaf in her tea.

Eager hands took it. "You're the best. Oh, and don't let this soft Piltie life seep too much into you, either of you. You both belong in Zaun."

"Good night, Sevika, and thank you."

"G'night."

You shut the door behind her.

"What was that?" you asked him.

"What? I had to show I was from the undercity."

"Ah, right, physical violence."

He shrugged. "It'll keep her from underestimating me. Though, that can be an advantage."

You took the seat next to him and prepared your tea. He did the same.

"How did the rest of the day go?" you asked.

He nodded. "Decent. The runes were in a good mood. And you?"

"Good. Here," you pulled over your notebook.

"Oh, what happened?" Viktor inspected the dark ink stains.

"Jinx spilled some ink. It really upset her, but it didn't damage much. Nothing I can't easily redraw.” You glanced up at him. “She's sensitive."

He looked at you and after a moment he nodded.

"I calmed her. It was fine."

"You are going back?"

"She wants to work on her art more and I have the time. I figure I can go after I work in the shop, since I'm already down there, if that's alright?"

He reached to take your hand, warm fingers interlacing with yours.

"I usually spend the night at taita's, anyways."

He nodded. "Of course. Though I'm not sure if Sevika will keep you out of trouble or encourage you into it."

You thought about it. "I'm not sure either."

"But you'll be safe?"

A sigh moved through you. "As I can be. Nothing is sure. But-"

"You want to help her."

"Yeah, she's been through, something. Art can be a good way to process things and maybe gain confidence. If I can help her, maybe I'll have a better idea for a workshop or camp that will actually," you gestured, "work for other kids like her." You shook your head, "I'm not an inventor. I won't be able to make anything that can help anybody. So, I've got to figure out how to help in my own way. I love your passion and only hope-"

He pulled you to him, his lips claiming yours. It deepened, sending tingles to your fingers and toes. When he finally broke the kiss he kept you close. "I love you."

"I love you too."

A quiet settled in. You had the feeling he wanted to say something more, but the words never came. After another moment he stood, grabbed his cane, and took your hand, leading you towards the bedroom.

"Come, the count today is only at four, I would like to double it. And I want the neighbors to hear the last one."

Chapter Text

In the next several months you settled into a comfortable rhythm. Viktor worked at the lab, and you joined him there for three afternoons a week, sketching rune reactions and the light displays from their experiments. (You were only allowed in once they were done moving any hex crystals to be used that day, lab safety after all.) Their work was slow going as they had to actually figure out, build, and test the basic tools that would then work with Hextech. The runes and the magic proved finicky and reactive. But you marveled at their patience. It almost felt like parents with a child or a skittish wild animal.

You also noticed a small column of numbers running down the far side of one of the chalkboards. It wasn’t until you were in the lab late one night, just after midnight, and called out to Viktor that he gave you a smile, walked over to the board and added a “1” below the last number, that you realized what that was for. From then on that line of numbers always made you smile. Once it got to the bottom, your heart stopped to see it erased. “Do not worry, my love,” he’d whispered in your ear, “I have the data properly recorded. That” he nodded at the chalkboard, “is just for the recent count.” Try as you might, you’d yet to find where he was writing them down.

Jinx continued to improve and try out different art styles. Some she'd work on for a month and then abandon, others didn't even last an entire evening. Always she returned to the bold lines and animal profiles that just seemed to pop off the page. You showed her how some could look different on black paper and even glow under certain lights. She really liked that.

Occasionally you'd hit some roadblock or trigger a reaction that would send her into herself. You continued to learn how to better calm and refocus her and when to let her be and just breathe through it. She never talked about her past except in very minute details and you never pressed. Silco rarely engaged in conversation, except when it was in relation to her. Again, you never pressed. His life and his business was his own. And he seemed pleased with your interactions with his daughter. Only once had Sevika come in a little rushed and you'd been asked to leave. Which was fine. You weren't so foolish as to not heed Fara's words. Silco may be genteel with you, but you had some idea of Sevika's potential. That she worked for him said something. Again, not your business.

You searched Zaun for more art, sometimes with Sevika and sometimes not, testing your boldness and following curiosities. She got more comfortable, more relaxed when you were around the bar and began introducing you to the others there. It was certainly a colorful crowd, and imposing to meet. But she vouched for you and you seemed to make the kid happy, that made the boss happy, so you were good in their book.

Sevika's arm progressed, adding on a new attachment able to do limited movements. That required getting it synched to nerve signals as she got used to controlling it. It had the right joints and size, but resembled an arm in only the most rudimentary sense. Still, you watched her work at it day after day, going until sweat lined her brow and breaths came short. Occasionally you’d pass by and put a hand on her right arm and she’d finally relax, taking your silent admonishment to rest. You weren’t sure why she listened to you, when she’d tell others to fuck off, but you only stopped her when she seemed to be pushing herself into anger and frustration.

The seasons moved on. Classes started and ended. The next Progress Day was not too far around the corner. You and Viktor grew closer. His warm presence beside you at night became a constant in your life. Sure, sometimes he crawled into bed later than others, but you had your own life too. And you always set aside an afternoon and evening each week just for yourselves. You went to galleries and exhibitions and parks and shows, or you stayed in and read, both on the couch, or when that got too uncomfortable, you both sat on the floor.

He finished the three Pirate Queen novels and became insufferable for almost a month. Then Jayce got a hold of them and the process repeated itself. They both called you Lady Sahira on occasion now, when they wanted to tease. You'd be frustrated if it wasn't so charming.

As for your and Viktor's libidos, it was a damn good match. You finally got to test out the chair in the office, him seated, hand in your hair, you with your lips wrapped around his cock, pulling such wonderful sounds from him while he fought to sit still.

Your grandmother kept you supplied with the tincture that made sure you wouldn't get pregnant. That was a conversation still to be had, outside of a general "not yet" agreement. There'd be other discussions before then anyway.

No more dreams of Icathia intruded on your sleep. The image of that damned rune remained, but you chose to not tell Viktor about it, not until you knew more. It was the only thing you kept from him. And you refused to write it down, refused to bring it any further than sitting at the forefront of your mind. You also failed to come up with a way to deal with the painting. Mel made a few, exceptionally casual inquiries and it almost seemed as though that thing was protected.

You tried to find a rune for Zaun, working through combinations from railings and that damned window at The Drop. You knew you were close, you could feel it. And so you found yourself staring at the window again, leaning back on the desk. Silco would be back soon, but you took what time you had to look at it more from what felt like the right angle. Tirelessly you drew it and redrew it, highlighting portions with a darker ink, searching. When you'd found the other runes, you swear you'd felt, something, in your gut, some connection snapping into place, a lifetime of art working through your subconscious to allow you to "see." So why wasn't this one coalescing? What were you missing?

The door opened and you took one more moment to stare before preparing to step away and give Silco his place at his desk. But he moved faster than you expected, rounding the desk and crowding you against it.

"You lied to me."

Your eyes snapped to his, his tone catching your breath in your throat. "What?"

"You're not just studying art." He pressed into your space, not quite touching you, but forcing you back against the desk. He practically loomed over you, his anger palpable, daring you to lie to him.

Control, you forced your breaths to move through you at your pace. This had been a possibility, but you needed to know just how much he knew. So you met his accusation with silence, and you waited, calm, staring into those mismatched eyes.

"You're working with scientists. With a man who, in a council hearing claimed he could create magic. Who, the following night, was found floating near the ceiling in one of the labs after an unusual 'incident.' And would you care to tell me who was with him, who his partner is? What is the name of the man who is in that picture you so lovingly drew?"

Your own stubbornness rose in you. Standing a little straighter, forcing him to have to press physically against you if he got any closer, you lifted your chin.

"Everything I've said about art and Zaun is true."

"Say his name." The words came clipped, he almost shifted forward.

A breath. "Viktor."

Silco hadn't asked you about him. Had never broached the subject and you hadn't offered. You'd assumed you'd both drawn lines. Your respective private lives were just that, private. You weren't sure what Sevika might have said, but you didn't think much unless pressed. Had Silco asked her about him?

He huffed. "Yes and Jayce Talis of House Talis. What are you working on with them? What are they building or creating?"

Honestly, not that much yet, but you knew they would in time. "That's proprietary."

"And for your sake, I am now 'need to know.'" His arms went to either side of the desk, fully caging you in. You could smell his cologne and the lingering hint of cigar.

You felt your jaw set into place, "I will not betray the man I love."

"How noble," he sneered. "You took a risk coming here, in continuing to come here, week after week. This is merely a consequence."

You stilled, a deeper calm settling into your core. With the full weight of your defiance, you met his eyes, "so be it."

For a moment he just breathed, so close, his chest rising and falling. He tilted his head to the side. "I am threatening to-"

"I know." Anger, real anger rose in you, preparing to do- you didn't even know what. He could do his worst and "-would you like me to list my other friends? Ones who know where I am, who would know where to look should I go missing?"

The silence that lasted after your words faded was one of the longest you'd ever experienced, or at least it felt that way. How did he keep his face so unreadable?

Finally, with your heart pounding in your ears, he huffed and shifted back slightly. "True conviction is rare. And you understand your place better than I thought." He looked down his long nose at you, "would you protect my secrets the same way?"

Your answer came immediately and truthfully. "Yes, I would." You tried not to think too hard about the implication of that comparison.

"Hmm."

A larger breath moved through you, tried to let some of the tension coursing through you, go. "But, I promise to tell you once they decide to announce something. I'll explain it, give you context. That is more than most will have."

He'd only moved off enough to give you space to breathe, but he still had you trapped behind the desk. And there he kept you as he seemed to consider your words, his eyes looking you over, critically, appraising, judging.

That was it, you were done being toyed with. "That is the only offer you will get from me. So either do what you're going to do, and deal with those consequences, or step the fuck back."

That earned you an eyebrow raise and after the briefest of pauses, he stepped away from you.

With space to move you brushed past him, grabbed your bag and left, practically slamming the door behind you.

Sevika tried to catch you on the way out, but you jerked your arm from her grasp. That only caused her to follow you outside.

Once you were a little ways away, you turned on her.

"What the fuck did you tell him about Viktor?"

She came to an abrupt halt, her hands going up in defense. "Whoa, nothing beyond that he's a scientist and that you two are fucking and partnered. What happened? Are you okay?" Her eyes shifted to look you over, worry tingeing her expression.

"I'm fine."

"Did he threaten you?"

"What do kn-" You managed to cut off the words as you realized she did not deserve your anger, as much as you wanted to unleash it on, someone. "Yes, he did."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

That anger so eager to lash out in you suddenly choked on the reality of the situation. You hadn't been honest. You had withheld information. True, it wasn't your secret to share and everything else you'd ever done or said had been in good faith, but if you figured out something from that window and from the time he permitted you to study it, did that give him some right to an understanding? Fuck.

"Hey," Sevika stepped closer, putting her hand on your shoulder. "Look, it's not my business unless he makes it so. Do you think that's going to happen?"

You shook your head. The adrenaline from before, that you'd barely realized had spiked, began to fade. The world shifted and Sevika stepped closer, helping to steady you.

"Alright, ok, I've got you. Come on, let's get you to the shop. We'll tell grandma that you were foolish and haven't eaten enough today. It'll be good to get food in your system anyway."

You finally found your voice again. "Who the fuck is he, Sevika?"

"Believe me, not someone you want to fuck with. If you're this rattled, then it was something serious, or at least important to him. Maybe take a little break from coming around?"

"Oh, I'd already planned on that."

"Good, I mean, I'll at least be able to find you at the shop. So I can still pester you."

Your feet grew steadier as you walked. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't mean to cause trouble."

She chuckled. "The best troublemakers never do."

You walked on in silence for a bit.

"I'm helping Viktor with a project. It's his work, and not mine to talk about. But it does involve the art I've been studying. Somehow Silco got an insight into it I hadn't expected him to and he asked questions about something that isn't mine to talk about."

"So you didn't talk about it."

"Yeah." You came to a stop and she paused with you, giving you her full attention. "I won't betray him. I love Viktor with all that I am. He is a part of me, a part of my future."

"And Silco let you go."

"Yeah."

"Hmm. He must respect you."

"You think so?"

"If you were as defiant with him as you were with me a few minutes ago, I'd normally be cleaning blood off his floor and then taking your body to the sump."

Her words hit you. You'd known he was capable of something like that, but to hear it talked about so plainly. What the fuck were you doing down here?

"Come on." She got you walking again.

Maybe you were too focused on that window. Maybe it was best if you took a break. Something you didn't want to name stirred but didn't wake. It was time to tread the sands lightly, and let it sleep.

You made love to Viktor that night. Not just sex or fucking, but something sweet and filled with longing. You buried your head in his neck as you sat on top, trying to drown out your mind with the overwhelming feel of him. You'd prayed he wouldn't notice, but a ways in his hands came to your hips, stopping you.

"What is wrong?"

You refused to leave the comfort of his skin and smell, so you spoke against his neck. "I almost fucked up, bad."

"But you are alright?"

You nodded. It took a few more breaths for you to speak again. "Silco knows you and Jayce are doing something with magic. He knows what Jayce said in his trial before the Council and the result of your first breakthrough with Hextech, though he doesn't have the name."

Viktor reached, taking your face gently and pulling you up so he could look at you. "He asked you about me, about my work."

You nodded. "I didn't tell him anything."

"And that made him angry."

You nodded again, fighting back tears.

"Did he do anything to-"

"No, he threatened to, but he didn't. I said he could do what he wanted, but I wasn't going to tell him."

Viktor huffed and pulled you back down against him. "If something like that happens again, you tell them anything they want to know. I will not risk you-"

"But your work is too important."

"Firstly, I'm the one who gets to say that-" then he waited and you huffed softly.

"And secondly?"

"I get to determine what I will sacrifice for it. And that does not include you. Do you understand?" A beat, "do you want to talk with Enforcers?"

"No, it's alright, really. If he was going to do something, he would have. I won't be going back."

"OK, that is completely fine."

"I don't know if I can figure out a rune for Zaun." Tears threatened again.

Viktor rubbed his hands along your back.

"No one expects you to. Like I said, you don't have to do anything with my work. There is no obligation, do you hear me?"

When you didn't respond he said your name softly.

Finally you nodded.

"How about you set it aside for a while? Go out and draw whatever you want to."

A smile crept onto your face, "anything?"

He huffed a laugh. "You want to draw me, don't you?"

A small bit of warmth pooled in your chest and you sat up.

He stared at you another moment, those golden eyes seeming to reach your soul. "Alright, but only if I get to draw you in return."

"You want to draw me?"

"Well, I'm decent at schematics. I'll just pretend you're a robot."

That got you to laugh.

His reaction to that sound and the sight of you above him stirred that part of him that had slipped out of you during your conversation. His hands settled onto your hips again. "If you would like to keep going, can I be on top?"

Gods, you loved this man.

Chapter Text

Your hand tightened in Viktor's as another twist of anxiety curled behind your sternum. Earlier, you’d at least been seated, everyone spaced properly apart while Heimerdinger went on about Piltover and the innovations of the previous year. Everyone clapped, fireworks went off outside of the great hall, and then Viktor had ushered you, along with seemingly most of the Progress Day speech crowd, to the gala party afterward.

Professors, heads of Houses, Council members, Clan leaders, entrepreneurs, tonight was supposed to be a grand celebration of Piltover for its 195th Progress Day. You just wanted it to be over. People pressed in all around, though you had managed to find a small space along the wall. The room buzzed with chatter and activity and all of it set your nerves on edge.

“We can go, if you want,” Viktor leaned in to say.

“No, I’m fine.”

“That is a terrible lie. Come on.” He tugged at your hand, but you pulled back against him.

“I have to be here a bit longer, it’s expected.”

“Well, I don’t care.”

You looked up into his warm eyes. He reached a hand to your cheek, thumb brushing along it. “It is OK for this to be too much. You have nothing to prove to me, or,” his grip tightened, “to anyone.”

“I know.”

He looked at you another moment and sighed. “You aren’t going to budge are you?”

“I at least have to talk to Heimerdinger. I can make it.” You closed your eyes, took a deep breath in through your nose and let it out, a little shakily, through your lips. “One.” Then you did it again. “Two.” And again, “Three.” Someone popped a bottle of champagne and you felt your anxiety spike again.

“What number is she at?” A woman’s voice came from a few feet away.

“Excuse me?” Viktor turned to her, but you just huffed and looked up.

“The numbers aren’t working are they?”

You gave a small shake of your head.

“Here,” she stepped up on your other side, arm reaching behind you. “Do this,” she spoke across you to Viktor and began to rub her hand along your shoulders, then across your mid back, pressing fingers along your shoulder blades. Tension eased down your spine and your head dropped, the motion helping you take fuller breaths.

“Who are-”

“Perah Aristella, this is Viktor; Viktor,” you motioned to the jaunty woman, dark hair a mass of tumbled curls down her shoulders, rich brown skin, eyes the color of terra-clay, and every bit the last words of your introduction, “my Pirate Queen.”

“Ah,” his hand tightened in yours, then tightened again, “oh, OH.”

She chuckled, still such a good sound. “I see you’ve read my novels. Did you like them?”

“They were,” he cleared his throat, “descriptive. And held certain implications," he leaned closer to you, "did you say my pirate queen?"

You chuckled. "Let's just say there's more truth to that story than most people know."

"Oh."

You squeezed his hand, stood straighter, took a deeper breath and caught her wrist, guiding her hand away from you.

"Thank you, Perah, but ask next time."

"You were in need."

"I was fine."

Both of the people beside you huffed in the exact same way, which brought their attention to the other, some further understanding passing between them. You expected Viktor to bristle at what she had been to you, but his hand left yours and began to rub along your back attempting to mimic her movements.

"This is what you were doing?" he asked.

"Yes, but a little more over the shoulder blades."

He adjusted and your head dropped again, the flow of his hand over your back easing tension immediately.

"That works quickly."

"It's a release point."

"Alright, alright." You brought your attention back up and leaned more into him. "Perah, how are you doing?"

She crossed her arms, an eyebrow quirking up, "devastated you love another, but other than that exceptionally well. You?"

You glanced at Viktor. "The same, or close enough."

"Good." She looked around, let out a small sigh, "another Progress Day in the shining city."

"That it is. What-"

"Ah, some of Piltover's finest."

You all looked over and then down, giving the yordle walking up to you a nod in deference.

"Professor Heimerdinger, delightful speech as always," Perah said. "There is much to look forward to."

"That there is. Another semester of minds to inspire and," he glanced at Viktor and seemed to cool slightly, "wonders to create."

Viktor's hand found yours and squeezed. That's right, Heimerdinger opposed Hextech, opposed magic. Well, maybe the two men could change his mind. In fact, you were sure they could, in time.

The yordle's eyes followed the motion of Viktor's hand, his attention then turning to you. He offered a soft smile under his extensive mustache. You weren't sure, but maybe he glanced back at Viktor with a little less discontent.

He spoke to you. "The science wing is happy to have you, Professor. Perhaps you will succeed in bringing those who are far afield back to where they belong."

Or maybe you'd been wrong. You stood a little straighter, "I'm not a shepherd, Professor, my talent lies in seeing things as they are, even if some would wish that to be different. We must accept the world as it is, if we are to learn more about it. Isn't that a basic scientific principle? Objective observation, rather than subjective opinion, should guide our endeavors?"

You'd always had a decent relationship with the Dean of the Academy. That might be about to change. You lifted your chin a little higher. So be it.

His smile faded into careful neutrality as he regarded the two of you. He took a breath to speak again when Perah stepped forward a little. "Professor Heimerdinger, I had a new module idea I was hoping to run by you," she gestured away, "could I bend your ear for a moment or two."

He smiled at her, seemingly relieved, "yes, of course Professor Aristella, lead on."

She turned, guiding him away, and glanced back to give you a wink.

Once they were gone, you both sighed and leaned against each other.

"I guess he's still angry."

Viktor pressed his face into the side of your head, nose buried in your hair, taking solace in the closeness. "So it would seem."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I am no longer his assistant. And that," he kissed your cheek, "is a good thing. We will show him. Hextech will help people. Magic can be a force for good."

You turned to meet his lips in a soft kiss. "Yes, it will. I believe in you."

"And that, is one of the many," a kiss, "numerous," another kiss, "infinite," another kiss, "reasons that I love you."

"Come on, I'm ready to leave."

“Oh, now you’re ready?”

You walked hand in hand with Viktor along the streets of the city of progress, the night festival celebrating the glory of Piltover all around you. Children laughed and played, some with sparklers, allowed to stay up later on this one night of the year. Music blared out of pubs and numerous bands were set up along the town squares. Banners fluttered in the breeze. And beneath it all the soft click of Viktor's cane set the heartbeat of your stroll.

You glanced up and had to pause. The bridge to Zaun extended out only a few blocks away. The lights glittered green beyond that expanse, darker than the lamps in Piltover. Wisps of the Grey seemed to curl up out of the gloom like some beast reaching above a murky surface. It must be thick tonight. How far down did the lights of the fireworks reach? Was your taita watching? You’d invited her to come up with you, but she rarely came to Piltover.

A hesitance gripped you. A fear, if you were honest with yourself. Of what lay across that bridge, of Zaun. Your hand tightened in Viktor's.

“It’s alright,” he nuzzled your cheek, “you are safe.”

“I shouldn’t have said that to Heimerdinger.”

“Do you truly regret it?”

You looked over into his eyes, and they searched yours.

After a moment you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. “No, I meant what I said. And I was half prepared to give him more of my mind. But,” you sighed, your gaze falling away. “I should be more careful.”

Viktor shrugged. “We make the choices that we make, and we cannot undo them. But we can move forward.” He shifted so you both stood facing the bridge. “Zaun is a part of both our lives. Don’t let one person take that joy from you. Now, do I have a problem with you being careful? Ehh, certainly not. But we are here, I must remind you," he turned again to face you, stepping between you and the bridge, the bridge where you made your feelings clear, “because of your boldness. One year ago,” he squeezed your hand, “minus four weeks and six days.” He shifted closer, “and it has been exceptional.”

Finally a small smile touched your lips. “That it has.”

“Come,” he turned and began to lead you away from the bridge, “you need not use that boldness tonight. Just never doubt that it is there and that it serves you well.”

“Ugg,” you leaned into Viktor, “but did I tell the head of Piltover's Council that he could basically go fuck himself?”

“The use of science against him was a bit biting, so, perhaps, a little bit, but he started it.”

"Ah yes, the irrefutable logic, 'he started it.'"

Viktor chuckled. "Well, he did."

A quiet month, and a simpler one, settled around you. You took time to explore Piltover, just to explore, no notebook, no pens, just you and the City of Progress. The lingering Progress day decorations slowly came down and the weather teetered on that edge between spring and summer. Cooler mornings gave way to warm afternoons and thunderstorms became more prevalent. You tried your hand at different mediums, quickly discarding oils as you tossed away a messy canvas and cursed them back to hell.

Your fingers embraced the pens again and you filled a notebook of just clouds and the look of the inlets at different times of day. You drew lazily and blurred your precise strokes with chalks and pencils. You let watercolor flow and oversaturate the page and let the drops of concentrated color flare out like little explosions of fireworks.

You drew Viktor, him turning a particular shade of red as he sat where you'd posed him on the bed, naked. That drawing was not allowed to leave the apartment, which was a fair agreement. And he drew you, his lines precise and more angular than your style. You did indeed come out a little more robotic, but he seemed to like it and you let him decide what he wanted to do with the drawing of your naked form.

You did force yourself to go back to Zaun, but it was straight to your grandmother's shop and back when you were done. You were sure Sevika would understand. You'd get more comfortable with time, you were sure. But you stayed far away from the Lanes.

If your grandmother noticed anything different about you, she didn't say it. She just doted on you as she always did, inquiring about Viktor and your students. But she didn’t ask about Silco once, so she must have suspected something. By the turn into the next month, with no incidents, you found you could finally relax while in the shop, hands busy painting and drawing labels. You'd expanded to using a little watercolor for embellishments and both Shuriman women noted how good they looked.

You were working on one for lavender, adding little dashes of purple when the door chimed and you felt the entire tone of the room cool. The few customers in the shop set things down and left, but you took a few more seconds to finish the label before looking up. The air stalled in your lungs and your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Silco. Standing in your grandmother's shop.

Both older women stood at the back, completely still, eyes boring into him. Shock turned to anger faster than you could control it. How dare he come here. You stood, preparing to speak when movement behind him stalled your words. A hesitant face framed by blue hair peeked around his side. Jinx looked over the shop, her eyes taking in everything with wonder.

You glanced back at Fara and your grandmother and witnessed the fastest attitude shift you'd ever seen, from heavy suspicion to smiles of delight as both women's faces lit up and moved forward. One grabbed a tray of sweets and the other knelt to invite her closer, their tones soft and encouraging. "Look at you!" "What beautiful hair!" "We have just the thing to make it soft and shine like the moon, would you like that?" "I can braid it anyway you like, I am the best!"

Their excitement proved contagious and she eagerly stepped forward bringing with her a million questions about what all the bottles were and what was in them. The women answered every one, giving her a guided tour of the shop.

Once she was out of the way, you made your move, cornering him at the front. Anger sharpened your tone, while you kept your voice low so only he could hear you. “Did you come here to intimidate me? Because I want to make it clear," you stepped closer, "the ingredients in these bottle are not the only ones my taita has access to-”

“Are you threatening me?”

You met his eyes without hesitation. “Yes.”

He studied you and you didn't give a fuck what he thought.

“Good.” The word surprised you. The softening of his eye surprised you further, his expression one of almost conciliation. “This is,” he gestured at Jinx, who had the biggest smile you’d ever seen as the two older Shuriman women doted on her as if she were their own grandchild, his words stalled as a smile touched his own lips. Finally he returned his attention to you, that unusual softness lingering, “a peace offering and an,” he took a breath, his eyes drifting to not truly study the bottles on the shelves to his left, “apology.”

You didn't know what to say. Your anger ebbed into a neutral uncertainty.

He seemed unsure of what to do next as well, so he used words to fill the space between you. "You have been nothing but kind and supportive of her and respectful to me. I am," he looked back at Jinx, watching her giggle while they brushed out her hair, "unused to such things being offered without ulterior motives. It appears I made an assumption that may have been in error."

"Maybe not completely." Why were you speaking, why were you saying this to him? Just accept the apology and move on, but, once again your brain had other plans, "they," you paused, trying to figure out wording, "I want Zaun to have some representation in their work. I want to be able to show, to the world, that it wasn't a couple of boys from Piltover that did what they are going to do. What they're working on doesn't just belong to, nor was inspired by, just Piltover."

You had his full attention now, those eyes holding an intensity you couldn't quite name.

"I know the narrative they'll try to spin, but Viktor is from Zaun. And he wants to help people, he understands. I just, I guess I wanted to be a small part of that. And something about your window speaks to me."

He took the most tentative of steps forward, his hand starting to move, but stalling just as quickly at his side. "She misses you," he said, not looking at Jinx. "You brightened her day when you came."

It was your turn to study him. You felt your heart beat pick up again, but you weren't sure why. "Well, I miss her. Visiting The Drop was always one of the better parts of my week."

A smile, a real one, genuine, pulled wrinkles to the corner of his lovely blue eye. It only lasted a moment, but it was there, and it was for you. Then he stood straighter, ran a hand over his hair. The haughtiness returned that you were starting to suspect was more a performance or a protective barrier than a true representation of him. "It's settled then. You'll resume your visits. I shall remind you that you do still owe me a drawing, which we will discuss the next time you come by." Then he waited, watching you.

Your eyebrow lifted, amusement slipping into your voice, "I find that to be acceptable."

That smile peeked through again, "good."

You nodded. "Good." A weight lifted from your chest, one you hadn't realized you’d been carrying.

"Now, let us see what they are doing to my daughter."

You followed him over towards the back of the shop, where Fara had the girl’s head leaned back in a sink and was working what seemed an excessive amount of suds into her hair.

"You," Fara pointed a bubble covered finger at him.

He paused, unsure.

"Tell me what you have done with this poor girl's hair. No, I will tell you what you've done, nothing. You've let it wallow. Come here." She pointed at the space beside her and he reacted quickly to comply. "Her hair is gorgeous and you will learn how to properly take care of it." She glanced down at the girl who seemed to have a permanent smile on her face, "oh, you like it when I order him around?"

The girl nodded.

"Good, then I'll do more of it. Now," she eyed the slightly taller man, claiming control of the situation in a way that remained playful at its heart, in a way that had both father and daughter smiling and conversing over what the girl wanted and what would be best for her hair. You backed off, returning to your labels, occasionally listening in. Both women had lived full lives and they proceeded to dump that knowledge on him in regards to daughters.

Finally, with Jinx's hair washed, dried, and braided in a simple yet elegant style that kept it out of the way, Silco placed a large bag of coins on the counter. Your grandmother just pushed them back at him.

"No, your money is no good here. The only payment we'll accept is for you to bring her by on occasion so that we can see she is happy and that her hair is healthy."

He pulled Jinx a little closer to him. "Zaun is better with you in it. If anyone ever gives you trouble. You will let me know."

As he passed by you his hand touched your shoulder, immediately grabbing your attention. "Thank you."

Jinx stepped up and wrapped her arms around you in a hug, which you happily reciprocated. "Will you come back?"

"Yes." You pulled back from the hug to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry to have been away. Sometimes life can do that, but I've got what I needed to, figured out. And I'll be back on my usual day."

"Yes!" she cheered.

"I'll see you then."

"Bye! And," she turned to the two taitas, "thank you!"

They both offered a small bow and father and daughter left the shop, each with a small bundle of supplies. Once outside two larger shadows flanked them, the bouncers from the club, you hadn't even realized they were there.

"Hmmph." Fara began to clean up. "I don't hate him."

You huffed. No, you didn't either.

Chapter Text

"He apologized?"

You and Viktor sat on your small balcony, looking up at the stars.

"Yeah, he did."

"And he brought his daughter to the shop?"

"I couldn't believe it. But taita and Fara melted into butter and danced around the girl like spun sugar. We don't get a lot of kids in the shop."

He looked at you. "You're going to go back?"

You snuggled closer, "I'd like to. Sevika has a point and it didn't really solidify until I was trying to explain it to Silco."

And still it took you another moment. "Look," you sat up, turning to face him, "when you build something with Hextech, people are going to see two men from the Piltover Academy, working in an Academy lab, as the creators and the City of Progress will be eager to take the credit. But, I want to find a rune in Zaun so it can be a part of it too. I want the people of Zaun to know that when the world looks at your work, they see a piece of themselves there too. I," your voice strengthened, "would like to help you design the final appearance of what you and Jayce make, the aesthetic. I don't care about credit, but it needs to reflect the creators," you cupped his cheek, "both of them."

A small reserve settled into him. "You feel this strongly about Zaun?"

"It's the city that took me and my taita in."

"And these are your words and your thoughts?"

"Yes, of course, who else's would they be? I'll write up a formal proposal, something I can present to you both, and Mel. I'm not making any assumptions. I’ll earn it."

Finally he reached a hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You continue to surprise me."

"In a good way?"

He hummed, pulling you closer. "In a very good way."

Your name, softly, on Silco's lips wasn't something you realized you'd wanted to hear again. It caused you to grip your bag a little tighter.

You offered a nod as you entered his office. "Silco."

"She'll be glad you're back. But, before she joins us, I wanted to discuss an art piece from you."

"Yes, of course," you stepped up to the desk.

"Do you do portraits?"

"I do."

"Then I would like one of myself and Jinx."

"What size and medium?"

"Something that would fit in a folio, and whatever you are most comfortable with."

"Pose and location?"

"You may choose."

A smile crossed your lips. "I can do that. Perhaps plan it after your next trip to the shop? Fara can do her hair?"

He nodded.

"I'll make sure that evening is free."

And with that the door opened, an excited Jinx on the other side. "I want to try watercolors today," she declared.

You gave her a serious nod. "Let's get to it, then."

"Where do you think you're going?" Sevika hooked your arm with hers stalling your movement. You'd just come down the stairs on the way out of The Drop.

"Home, to help taita with the monthly shipment."

"No need. It's been taken care of."

You raised your eyebrows.

She chuckled. "By me, and Ran."

"What, not gonna send Lock?"

That got a full laugh from her. "Not a chance, those two would charm him and he'd never come back. But, seeing as now there's no rush. You are going to stay," she handed your bag to the bartender, who set it safely under the bar, "and you're going to drink."

"Oh, I am, am I?"

She knew she had you when the smile crept across your face.

"Come on, it'll be fun. You'll start with this." And she took the pair of shots the bartender prepared, as if he knew what she wanted.

“The bottom floor or top?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Bottom is for getting to know someone better," she raised her eyebrows suggestively, "and top is for people watching.”

You smiled, “choices."

"Which one are you more comfortable with?"

"Top."

"Good," she led you towards a booth tucked into the side, "then we do bottom."

You shook your head. "What, no sex joke?"

"Nah, I don't quite have that figured out about you yet. Here," she motioned and you slipped into the booth first. Her solid form slid in next to you, putting you on her left side.

"Now drink, all in one go."

"I know how to do a shot." And you did, and whatever hit your mouth and throat slammed into you and burned all the way down. The look Sevika gave you clearly showed her skepticism at your personal evaluation.

"Look," you rasped, your throat now on fire, "I said I knew how, not that I did often." A cough worked its way through you.

"Good, then we'll get to the fun part faster."

"The fun part?"

"Lets just say, the crew has some curiosities."

"And you expect me to be more talkative with alcohol?"
The burn mellowed into a very pleasurable heat in your stomach.

"Look, there's a couple of ways to get in with this crew, and trust me, this is the best option for you. Unless you want to stumble home with at minimum a black eye and a bruised rib."

"What, no stab wound?"

"No, we stab the people we don't like, keep up."

"Wait, is this going to be flirting or an interrogation?"

"It can't be both?"

You looked up and two more shots had appeared on the table. Sevika took one and you took the other. The same burn, but you were more ready for it this time. That pleasant warmth in your stomach grew, starting to soothe out your breathing.

"How much do you drink?" Sevika asked.

"Starting with the interrogation already?"

She shook her head and nudged you. "No, I want to make sure I don't drop an unconscious granddaughter on your taita's doorstep."

"Aww, your place isn't closer?" And then you paused, uncertain where that playfulness came from.

Sevika's grin grew into a full smile. "Oh, tonight is going to be fun."

"To be clear, I am happily dating a handsome and brilliant scientist and will not be going home with anyone tonight. And I mean that, Sevika." You made eye contact. "I trust you, I enjoy your company, I don't mind teasing, but I want to make sure you understand me."

She held that eye contact. "Yeah, um, yes," she corrected, making sure she offered a more sober response. "I got you. I invited you here so it's on me to make sure you make it home safe, and I will."

"OK, thank you." Your hand reached for the next shot that appeared on the table. "Then let's have some fun."

Five more shots and you leaned happily into Sevika's side. A pleasant warmth sat in your chest, with tingles dancing in your fingers and toes. The world seemed just a tad hazy and you nestled closer to her side, much to her delight. At some point she'd switched sides, so her right arm could drape over you, and now pull you closer. She sat with a leg up, mechanical arm on her knee like a queen with you as her consort and you happily played along. This was so different from anything you normally experienced, but damn if it wasn't delightful.

You were far enough from the jukebox that you could still converse with relative ease. Others from Silco's crew would drift over, sliding into the booth, but at a respectful distance. Your ease with Sevika seemed to put them at ease and the questions picked up pace as you all drank. The questions ranged from the expected- where you were from, what that was like, what it's like at the fancy Academy, what your boyfriend was like, had you ever been in a fight; to the more obscure- listing all of the places you traveled (this one garnered the attention of several of them. As you told those tales, your speech started to slur, the world getting hazier.)

One of them asked you a math problem that you mentally worked on for several minutes before finally just telling them to “get fucked,” which apparently was the correct answer. One of them asked when you were the most afraid - the answer- getting caught in a nasty storm on the Pirate Queen and being fairly sure you wouldn’t make it till morning. “It’s the sound of the wind in the rigging that gets to ya, when the wind picks up to a gale, it goes from an eerie moan to almost a scream that just doesn’t stop. Yeah, that night was bad.”

“What do you regret the most in life?” Lock stared at you, with the others also crowded into the booth.

“Godsdamn Lock,” you shook your head, the world taking a moment to keep up. “I, um-” Thinking was getting pretty difficult. But, in one blink to the next, you knew the answer. You started to talk, but the words died in your throat. Instead you nestled more into Sevika, who eyed you.

Everyone continued to stare at you expectantly.

Finally, you took a deeper breath and leaned forward, your eyes on the table. “In Targon, there’s this mountain. It’s the tallest one in the world. They say the gods live at the top. I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know, or I-” anger, frustration, emotions hit you harder in your inebriated state. “I had the chance to, or I was, um,” why were you even telling them this? The memory started to come back clearer and you pushed away from Sevika. The others made room for you to get up. “I gotta pee.”

You managed to get to the bathroom, and you did have to pee, but when you returned to the main room, to see them all chatting at the table, you just weren’t in the mood anymore. Your feet took you right, up the stairs and to one of the empty tables along the top balcony area. It was quieter and darker and you just sat there, trying to push that memory away, the cold crisp air and the voices that came on the wind. The stars above, clearer than you’d ever seen them, and closer, somehow. The light- you shut your eyes and let out a growl, why hadn’t you-

“Is this seat taken?” the low, smooth voice, snapped you back to the moment as Silco took the seat on the other side of the table. He set his drink and an ashtray down on the table surface. Long fingers brought out a cigar, already trimmed, and lit it. The snap of the lighter, the glow of the cigar, and then the way the smoke puffed out his lips held your attention in a vice grip. After a moment you realized you’d been staring perhaps a bit too long.

“Shit, sorry,” you shook your head and looked back at the space below.

“Enjoying your evening?”

“Yes, your people are, friendly.”

“Only to those worthy of such, I assure you.”

You felt a bit of heat reach your cheeks.

“Well, I, uh,” you sighed your brain utterly failing you, “I don't know what to say to that.”

You watched Sevika look around on her way back to the bar and finally see you. Her eyebrows went up, she gave you a small salute, and returned to her table. She spoke to the others there, a few of which also looked your way. You wondered briefly if you’d just fucked up something socially, but again, your brain wasn’t moving the fastest at the moment. You gave them a little wave that earned you a few smiles and a nod, which eased your worries.

“Why did you come up here?”

“Oh, um, I, uh,” get it the fuck together, “I just wanted a break, from, people.” While it was kind of the truth, even you could hear how hollow it sounded.

Still, he accepted your words. “The upper level is calmer, it’s where I prefer to sit.” You knew he glanced at you, but did your damnest to act casual. “Would you like another drink?”

“I’m feelin’ pretty good at the moment, so I probably shouldn’t.”

“What were you drinking?”

“Whatever Sevika had brought to the table.”

He tsked, and slid his drink over to you. “Try this. It will be better than anything they gave you down there.”

With a soft smile and a lot of concentration you managed to bring the glass to you with relative ease. The hint of cigar lingered around him and your eyes focused for a moment on his lip print on the edge of the glass. The amber liquid smelled sweeter than you expected and hit your tongue smooth and warm. It traveled down your chest and settled very pleasantly in your core.

You slid it back, “that is very good, smooth, thank you.”

“Mhmm.” He peered over the side, raised a finger and a moment later the bartender trotted up the stairs, glass in hand.

“Anything else I can do, boss?” He set the glass of the same colored liquid down.

“I am good for now, thank you.”

The man nodded and then returned quickly down the stairs.

Silco slid the drink over to you.

You were a good ways into your cups, as it were, and the decision on whether or not to continue drinking weighed back and forth in your mind. You weren’t fully drunk, but you weren’t walking straight and you'd left tipsy behind a while ago. And Sevika had been right, you were way more inclined to talk now than normal. Was it a good idea to remain at this table with a man your brain seemed inclined to sass? One, with whom, it might not be the best idea to speak so freely?

You glanced at him only to see him looking at you, soft smile on his lips.

“Do you not wish to further your inebriation in general, or with me here?”

“I, um,” you sighed, reached for the glass and took a sip. It felt so good going down. And as the trend went, honesty still seemed the best approach. “Both.”

He waited for you to say more, but that bit of defiance rose in you and you too remained quiet, holding the glass and pointedly looking out at the room instead of him.

He huffed. After another moment, “do you like it?” he gestured to the bar.

“Yes.”

“But?”

Ok, apparently you weren’t as good at hiding inner thoughts at the moment. “It’s too drab for you.”

His eyebrow lifted.

“People are calling you the Eye of Zaun, well, eyes can’t see in the dark. Make it brighter, make it stand out. Did you know,” you leaned towards him, “that Zaun is an old Shuriman port city? Was here long before Piltover. And in Shurima-”

“Where you’re from-”

“Yes, where I’m from," you exaggerated it a bit, "in the old tales the sky god’s eyes represented the sun. But he was betrayed by one of the other gods who tried to blind him. In anger at the loss of her lover's eye, the Goddess of the moon sought vengeance on the betrayer God and succeeded in, um, taking his manhood. She then, with blood soaked hands, healed her lover's eye, though it would always be mismatched, one gold for the sun, the other silver for the moon. Eyes are symbols for both healing, protection, and divine rage, a curious mix. So, um," your brain began to stall as you tried to remember the point you were making. "That's also where we get blood moons from, as a remembrance of the goddess' rage. It-" you looked back at him, noticing how he sat back almost into the shadows, and that eye, so captivating, standing out in the darkness. As the observation hit you couldn't stop from saying it out loud, "your eye fucking glows? Wow." You froze and sat up, "fuck, I'm sorry, that is probably very personal and I just talked about eyes for, fuck. Yeah." You set the glass down and let your head rest back against the wall. "Please accept my apology. Fuck. I might be drunker than I think I am."

The warmth in your chest turned to uncertainty, was rounding towards frustration when he spoke.

"Why did you really come up here?"

You hazarded a glance over and he hadn't moved, though he didn't seem angry. He puffed at his cigar then tapped off the excess ash.

A long breath tried to move through you, but caught on the memory that had tried to surface before. "They were asking me about my past, and it was fine, I've been on a few expeditions and people tend to get curious. It's both understandable and expected. But Lock asked me about what I regretted the most, and-" you sighed, forcing your eyes to look over the bar, anything so you wouldn't have to so fully see it in your mind, "four years ago I was with a group that went to Shurima and then to Targon. It's the tallest mountain in the world. Many consider it a holy site, that to ascend it is to meet the divine." Your gaze dropped to study your hands. "They say people feel called to make the attempt, that something speaks to them. But that's true for warriors and priestesses, madmen and dreamers, not artists out of their depths."

"But you heard something?"

"More saw, but yes." Finally your eyes drifted closed, and you were back there, at the gateway, staring up at an endless sky. "The sky filled with stars, more than I'd ever seen. Lights, like drifting veils shimmered above in more colors than I could name. It's still so vivid. The air was cold, and thinner, clearer. I was alone, it was late, I was about to go to bed when something in the sky moved, the stars themselves shifting. A great beast swam in the sky, like in the waters off the coast of Bilgewater on new moons and the water glows when you run a hand through it. I saw other things, people, animals, life, but more. And I knew, I knew," emotion built in your chest, your voice felt raw, "if I had walked through that gate, if I had climbed it, I would have reached the top. And what would I have seen, learned? What would I have become?" A tear fell, then another. "But I didn't. I was afraid. I had a life I didn't want to leave. And I know, that chance will never come again."

"How do you know?"

"What?" You looked at him.

"How do you know such an opportunity won't come again?"

"But Targon-"

"-is the only place of such wonders? I've lived here my whole life and even I know that is not true. You have been to all of these places, all over the world, more so than most can ever dream. Are you done traveling? Will you never leave Zaun or Piltover again? If someone living your life has given up on the miraculous, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

You just stared at him another moment, your mind having come to a complete stop.

He leaned closer, his voice lower, with an edge to it. "Have you not found your way into magic, again, right here? Is it not before you, practically on a platter?"

Shit. "Fuck." You stood, wavered on your feet and had to catch yourself on the railing. In the next moment he was there, offering for you to lean on him.

"I'll have Sevika take you home."

"Thank you," and you turned and hugged him, wrapping your arms around tight, your face against his chest. You could feel his lean frame, smell his cologne and cigar.

He froze, breath stalling in his lungs, before he brought one hand around to give your back a little pat. "It's alright."

Belatedly you realized what you were doing and pulled back to a respectable distance. Sevika arrived a moment later, "everything alright, boss?" She looked between the two of you.

"Yes, it is just time for our artist to go home."

You looked at him, something shifting in your gut "our artist"?

He met your eyes as if knowing exactly what he said.

"Sure thing," she reached out to take the place of the one to steady you. "You ready to go home?"

"Yes, but topside, to Viktor, I'll show you where."

"Oh, okay, we can do that." She paused at the top of the stairs. "I might be a little longer," she said to Silco.

He simply nodded.

You spoke as she guided you down the stairs, "I fucking love him so much. You don't even know. He's my fucking future."

"Viktor," she said, confirming.

"Yes, of course Viktor, who the fuck else would I be talking about?" What a silly question.

"You curse a lot when you're drunk."

"Fuck yes I do. It's fun."

"That it is," she took your bag carefully with her left hand, the prosthetic moving as it should to sling the bag over her shoulder. She then handed you a glass of water. "Drink this."

And you did. The liquid flowed down your throat with a delightful coolness. You glanced over and saw the table still had most of the crew at it.

"I'm sorry for leaving the table, I meant to come back down."

"No worries, they can be a lot. You might want to circle back to Lock next time you're here though, just to let him know it wasn't him."

"Shit. Yes, I will. It wasn't him, not really." You saw him there and waved, trying to smile. "I will."

"Alright, let's get you home."

"Home-home," you clarified.

"Yes, topside. I'll even stop by grandma's on the way back and let her know you're staying in Piltover."

"You're the best."

"Yes, I am, and you're gonna owe me."

"What is this?" Viktor's voice roused you from your awkward sprawling slumber on his bed, your drool having formed a small wet spot on the pillow. "I thought you were staying in Zaun tonight."

"I missed you." Your words sounded a little less slurred than earlier, but still weren't the most coherent.

He leaned closer. "Have you been drinking?"

"It's not my fault."

"Sevika, I presume?" His words came more teasing, his delight at seeing you apparently winning out over his worry.

"Yes, but she also got me here, so we are going to call it even."

"Oh we are, are we?"

"Yes, sir."

A smile quirked at the corner of his lips.

"Is this ok?" You began to try to sit up, worry coming to your face, "I'm sorry it's unexpected."

He joined you on the bed, sinking slowly down - he must be sore, too much walking, busy night in the lab - your mind absently noted, and helped steady you. "Of course, I'm happy that you're here. I'm just curious as to why?"

"I love you."

He smiled again, "and I would not doubt that love if you were in Zaun. But I'm sure you know this. So, why have Sevika sneak you into my room like a freshman Academy student?"

“I could have tried to sneak into Heimerdinger’s lab and when a council member inevitably caught me I could have said, ‘wait, this isn’t Viktor’s room.’”

He sighed and hung his head, “Jayce told you about that?”

“Oh yes, I’m just wondering how many handsome Academy students you took back to your room.”

His head shook in amusement before he returned his attention to you, hand reaching to touch your cheek, “a story for another time. But you haven’t answered my question as to why you came here. There is a reason. I think.”

A larger breath moved through you. "When I went to Targon, I had an experience, something I can't quite explain, maybe it was magic, or divine, or celestial, I don't know. I thought that would be the last time I might see something like that and had been carrying around regret, a lot of it, that I didn’t follow my instinct. Maybe some guilt too. But, someone pointed out to me that I had something amazing before me right now and I realized I had been taking a little bit of you for granted."

He began to rub small circles on your back.

"You are amazing," you began, "you are brilliant and are helping bring magic into the world, fucking magic! Do you know how exceptional that is? Fuck."

He chuckled, but you continued.

"I love you and support you and am so glad to have been able to get to know you and to have you in my life. You make my life immeasurably better. Viktor-"

"One," he whispered, emotions building in his eyes.

"I cannot wait to build a future with you."

He pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. "I love you too, so much. You keep me grounded. You give me hope when I get stuck and when my mind wants to be mean. I want that future too, with you at my side."

You held him tight. If you'd gone up that mountain you wouldn't be here, in this moment. The regret that had gnawed at you for years, began to loosen its grip. You found yourself thankful for that mountain, for the cold and the dance of stars, and for the chance to keep on living your life. That choice had led you here, to the arms of the most amazing person in the world and, you further realized, "there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be, than right here, with you."

If you dreamed that night, while in Viktor's arms, you didn't remember it. If your mind returned to the cold of Targon, the lights in the sky, to the fact that you hadn't been alone on that mountain, your mind did not retain it. Perhaps the traveler that had come back through, back down, a glow to their eyes and a smile on their face, did not wish to be remembered. In this ghost of a moment, in the dream where truth slipped through, they put a hand on your shoulder again and spoke those few words. "Wrong mountain, little one, but never doubt that they are listening." And again it was too much, again all it stirred was fear and the traveler touched a finger to your forehead and they were gone, taking the memory with them. You shifted in your sleep and Viktor pulled you closer.

"Don't go," you whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere," he mumbled in reply.

Chapter Text

"Here you go," you handed over the folio holding Silco and Jinx's portrait. They had sat wonderfully for you, while you drew them at his desk, window framing them from behind.

One thing you had sort-of noticed about the lower reaches of Zaun, but didn't really crystallize in realization until you took a chair opposite the desk to draw them, was that the light never really changed. The chemlights overpowered any bit of sunlight that managed to make its way down filtered through the Grey. So the light in Silco's office remained constant, the glow from the window casting everything in soft greens added to by the more honeyed yellow of his desk lamp. So that when he sat back, Jinx in his lap, both watching you intently as you drew, the moment seemed to stretch on. You didn't have to worry about the change in light angle from a moving sun or the increase in warm tones as the sun began to set. Both pairs of eyes, three blue, one red, focused on you.

Jinx eventually got pretty fidgety and you gave her paper and crayons and such to draw, she could move while you drew the world around her, while you drew the desk and chair, and window and…Silco.

It took you a little longer to sink into artist mode and truly start to draw more than the base shapes while under that gaze, a slight bit of heat touching your cheeks. But, you were a professional and eventually you fell into the place where time had little meaning and you took in the world before you just as you saw it. Then you were blinking, looking over the paper in your hands and nodding. The rest you could finish later. Which you did.

Curiosity tugged at your gut as he flipped it open and stilled, eyes going over the ink and watercolor piece. A smile tinged his lips. He stared at it for a full minute, exploring the details and colors. "This is perfect, thank you."

You offered a small bow. "It was my pleasure."

"Was it?"

You huffed, he'd gotten more talkative in the last few months, after your inebriated interaction. Often it came as minute challenges, odd little tests that you always met with honesty, which seemed to be something he enjoyed. Maybe the lesson you should have learned was to be more careful of your words, but you enjoyed the exchanges, and that your honest answers were always accepted without further judgment.

"Yes. I enjoy drawing you, and Jinx. Your face is distinct and expressive. You hold power, well. Jinx is so full of energy she just about glows.” You ticked up an eyebrow, “any other questions?” He rarely opened up, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

He thought for a moment. “I was curious about your thoughts on art in Zaun and Piltover? I would say you’ve had ample time to study both?"

"Ah, yes, certainly," you pulled out your notebook. He made space for you to stand next to him as you set it down on his desk, so you both could see it from the same angle. The motion brought you just barely into his personal space and you took a moment to appreciate how relaxed he had become with you there.

"The two cities' art style and aesthetic are both unique and quite different from each other. Piltover is about straight lines and bold geometric shapes." You showed a few sketches. "It's almost as if the city forces its buildings to accommodate it, dictating facades and structural elements."

You turned a few pages. "Whereas Zaun's art flows with the architecture, as if they grew together, like Zaun welcomed it, invited it in. It is curves and loops and literal plant growth. What happens to Zaun happens to its art, to its," you paused, heat coming to your cheeks at the next word, "soul. I'm sorry," you were quick to add, "that might be a bit dramatic."

You glanced over when no response came. He just sat there studying you, his face unreadable.

"Does that make sense?"

"You prefer Zaun’s to Piltover?”

“I do, but it is a personal preference, not necessarily a larger critique of either style. Each suits the city. And some of Piltover’s works are amazing and grand, but it always feels impersonal, for show but without depth.” You shook your head, “no pun intended.”

Another beat. “Come with me," he said, standing and walking around you, expectant of you to follow. Which you did.

He led you to one of the other rooms, nearly complete at this point, but still had a tarp hung over an open window area. A bed sat along the wall, covered with a drop cloth and several blueprints sat scattered over the top of it. It clearly was meant to be a bedroom, though wasn’t yet one in use.

Silco gestured to the open space in the wall. "We've got everything except the window. I would like you to assist our architect, to come up with the window design for in here."

"What room will this be?"

"I haven't decided yet."

You eyed him, some instinct telling you that wasn't exactly true.

He let out a small huff. "I do not want that information to sway your choices."

"Would it?"

"Perhaps."

"If it is for Jinx, I think she should design-"

"It is not her room."

The silence that lingered after that sat heavy around you. Maybe he was right. It would be better if you didn't know.

“What do you want it to be?” you nodded at the opening.

“You’ve been studying Zaun long enough, I want that, I want something that makes you talk about it the way you talked about Zaun earlier.” He offered a smile, a rarity, still. “It’s soul.”

No pressure. “I-”

“I trust you, with this. I know you can do it.”

It was just a simple window, wasn’t it? You could design something that represented Zaun, as best you saw it. A fair request. You were an artist. By all accounts it made sense, and yet, you knew, something more lingered. This mattered to him, more than he was telling.

You swallowed and nodded. "I can do it. I'd be honored to. Thank you."

“I look forward to it.”

And then, that part of you rose up to add, “and don’t worry, I’ll charge a fair commission rate for an artist of my talent.” But you couldn’t hold a straight face and your smile turned into a chuckle.

His smile deepened for the briefest of seconds before he stilled and the smile faded. He turned abruptly and walked out. It wasn’t anger, that you’d learn to read in him, but you were left wondering what you had said or done.

Later, as you sat in the upstairs seating and watched the bar, glass of amber liquid in your hand, you weren’t sure if Silco was going to join you. It was still early and you were only going to have a glass or two before heading back to your grandmother’s. Sevika was out, as were a few others of his crew, so you’d decided to sit a bit away from the others.

Your notebook lay open on the table. You had a circle drawn but that was as far as you’d gotten into the possible design for the window. A rough sketch of the other one sat in the corner of the page, as well as a few other Zaun motifs. You really wanted to check your other notebooks, the ones at the lab. If you could find a rune for Zaun, would it be appropriate to work it into the design, wouldn’t that be fair compensation for the time spent here? It also just felt like the right thing to do.

Movement caught your eye just as long fingers set an ashtray down on the table.

“Starting already?” he asked, eyes scanning your notebook. The glance he offered you after seemed friendly enough, but a reserve you hadn’t seen in a while was firmly back in place.

“Yes, or, just seeing if anything comes to me.”

He sat back, lit cigar already in hand, and puffed at it. It came to his lips more often than usual, burned down faster. A silence settled in that neither of you seemed inclined to break. His eyes stayed on the bar below and you let your attention return to the notebook. But an odd energy sat in you, not really letting you draw. So instead you set your gaze over the railing, to watch the people below. And there, you couldn’t place what, but-

Silco sat forward, clearly paying more attention to the people in his bar.

“What is it?” you asked, voice a little lower.

“Something is off.”

“Sevika is-”

“On a job.”

“But?” you eyed him.

“She should have been back by-”

The door to the Last Drop pushed open abruptly as Sevika came tumbling through it. The action brought everyone to a stop, everyone except her, who growled, got to her feet, and prepared to go back outside when a slightly taller, and broader, man walked in, flanked by three even larger men. It was then you noticed the blood coming from Sevika's nose and smeared on her arm. One of the men behind the main one seemed to be in a similar state. There were enough that Sevika just stared him down, but did not engage. Her hand flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed, her breathing short, sharp.

The man leading his entourage certainly made a visual statement. Clothes a mix of green, blue, and copper, seeming to match the chem-tubes running along his arms. He held himself with an air of surety not unlike Silco. A chem-baron, maybe? You were about to lean closer to get a better look when Silco’s hand came across your sternum and pushed you back into the shadows along the wall.

“Stay here, be silent, and do not be seen,” he hissed in a low tone.

You simply nodded.

“Silco." The man called out, his voice gravelly, "keep your dogs out of my factory.”

Silco stood, brushed off his vest, and sauntered over to the stairs, seeming at his leisure, as if nothing at all had disturbed his establishment. "Ceimic. Welcome to The Last Drop. I don't think you've stopped by before." He began to step gracefully down the stairs.

"Cut the bullshit. I already had to put one down, it'd be a shame to lose more."

Silco's eyes flicked to Sevika when he reached the bottom. She gave a slight nod. "Duggan."

He turned towards the intruder. "Hmm. It's funny, I don't remember your factory reaching past Amber lane, of which, my people have always respected that boundary. I can assure you, they did not cross it."

As he spoke, others in the room stood and drifted towards the confrontation. You recognized about half, not realizing the others had been Silco's as well. At the movement a few more people entered from the outside, clearly backers of this Ceimic.

You looked over both groups. Silco had the numbers, but barely.

"So why don't you tell me what really brings you here."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Silco spread his hands. "I'm offering the opportunity for honesty. It's a generous offer, the best one you'll get all night."

"What, you take out Vander, move into his bar, and think you own the Lanes?"

"I think," and something about Silco's voice sent a chill up your spine, "you'd better have a good explanation for taking one of mine." His voice had softened, and yet the entire bar heard him clearly.

"I'll take what I-"

Movement, the sequence of events happened almost faster than you could process.

Sevika moved first, but the others immediately reacted, all but the two leaders. A few people sought some kind of safety at the perimeter, but most waded in. Sevika claimed an early advantage and held it. From your vantage point, still well pressed back against the wall, a wave of activity washed around Silco and Ceimic, but no one managed to reach either and neither moved on the other.

And then the fight stuttered to a stop, Sevika standing next to Silco, holding one of Ceimic's barely conscious crew. A few others lay on the floor, breathing, but no longer awake. All of Silco's remained, at least mostly, standing.

The room settled into silence, stillness, and that was when Silco moved, hand reaching behind his back. He stepped to the side making a sharp movement and a line of red splashed away from the throat of the man in Sevika's arms.

Silco stepped back in front of Ceimic, blood now covering the blade in his hand. "Blood for blood, but the rest can leave."

Ceimic growled, but didn't say anything. Even you could tell he didn't have enough left to defend him if Silco wanted to do more. If he called his people to fight again, he would most likely lose.

"However, if you do not wish to take advantage of my generosity," Silco glanced at Sevika and she dropped the quickly dying man and squared her shoulders, "we can resume."

Ceimic's eyes looked over the bar, his gaze washing past you, but didn't seem to pause or focus in. His attention returned to Silco. "Mind your people and their wanderings. Stay out of my business."

"Of course, and I'll merely ask the same."

He nodded, sneer on his lips, and turned. His people moved with him, those able to, carried out the ones who couldn't leave on their own, but they left the dead man.

Everyone held still until the last of them walked out the door. As soon as it swung closed you could see the tension ebb out of those left, including Silco, though it was subtle.

Even before the words "clean this up," left his lips, someone reached to remove the body while others began to work on the blood stains. You expected Silco to close the bar, but he merely shared a look with Sevika and both started up the stairs.

They reached the top, half-heartedly looked your way and both stilled in unison, realizing you had witnessed all of that. For your part you just tried to keep your breathing steady. You had watched Silco kill a man, quickly, cleanly, as if it was nothing, he still held the knife. You had no idea how to feel about that, but you had to do something, so you stood, eyes going between both of them.

"Are you alright?" you asked.

"Come," was all Silco said, so you did, grabbing your notebook and bag.

Silence enveloped you as you followed behind them, into his office, and closed the door. "Sit." He pointed to the couch and you did so.

He walked to his desk, but instead of taking a seat behind it, he just leaned back against it. He grabbed a rag and began to clean his knife. "What happened?"

Sevika growled, "we were at least 200 yards away, and 50 yards up, business rooftop, a legit business, anyone could have been there. He's got more men watching it than we expected. They grabbed us on the way back."

"Duggan?"

"Selfless asshole," her voice cracked, "they were trying for me, but he got in the way. If I hadn't gotten free, Ceimic would probably have made the same statement you did in there." She sighed and rotated her arm, feeling for injuries. "It's a no-go, at least not anytime soon. He's got the numbers. And we saw an expensive looking Piltie leave the factory."

"Think he'll-"

"No, whatever he's got going, it's good enough for him, for now, and he knows no one can take him there. This," she gestured towards the door, "was just a reminder."

A longer sigh left Silco's lips and he set the knife down to reach for a cigar. "Well, at least we know. And he knows it will cost him if he wants to push boundaries. There's other places to focus on, for now."

And then, as if on cue, both turned to you. It caused your heartbeat to pick up noticeably.

"I didn't, um, see anything?"

That, at least, caused a small huff of amusement in Silco. He motioned to Sevika, "go get cleaned up, you did well."

She nodded, glanced at you, and paused. You gave a small nod in return - you were ok - and she left the room.

He remained where he stood, against the desk, and took his time to cut and light the cigar. "I had hoped to keep you from seeing such things."

You still found you had no idea what to say. What could you? You'd watched him kill a man. Smooth. Easy. Graceful. You'd seen death before, but at a distance and certainly hadn't talked with the one holding the blade after. He still had a few spatters of blood on him.

He let the silence linger another moment before walking over to sit on the couch, a respectable distance from you. "Talk to me."

"How many have you killed?" The question came out before you could stop it.

He thought for a moment. "Me personally or those acting on my orders?"

"You."

"I don't keep count."

"Why?"

"It's not personal. That was business, a necessary violence, to slow further bloodshed. Does that make sense?"

He eyed you, his interest in your response possibly keener than he was trying to let on.

"I," you swallowed, "I think so." Another question came. "Why did you let me hear your and Sevika's conversation?"

"Are you going to share that information?"

"Fuck no."

He chuckled. "I didn't want to leave you out there and I wanted to hear her report as soon as possible, so the details remained fresh. A fight can lead to muddled thinking. It was a choice, but not one with any designs on you. May I see your hand?" He held his out and you slowly placed yours in his.

The contact sent a bloom of heat in your chest and up to your cheeks.

He purposefully made eye contact. "You are safe. No harm will come to you here. But to make sure that remains so, I will have to insist that you stay the night here."

"What?" You pulled your hand back. "I have-"

"-an unexpected face, one that will be noticed. He, or his people, will linger, will watch the Drop. I would not have them-" but he cut himself off. "It will be safe for you to leave in the morning. It is not open to discussion."

"Where will-"

"One of the empty rooms, I'll have it prepared."

"Ok."

"Any other questions?"

"Is he a chem-baron?"

Silco nodded, "one of several."

"Are you?"

A small smile touched his lips, "of a sort."

"Does Zaun have a leader?"

"Not at present, and it has no representation on Piltover’s privileged council. We are left to organize as best we can. So we do what Zaun does best."

"You survive," you said, your gaze shifting to the window. Something stirred in you, something jarred loose by the fight below. "You adapt. It's ingenuity born out of necessity…" Your heartbeat picked up as you looked over the design. That was it. That's what you were missing.

"Are you alright?" Silco asked.

"Yes," you swallowed. "That's what Zaun does, like a weed or vine finding the right cracks that lead to the sun, the right roots to reach water, leaves to filter the air." You reached for his hand, turning it over, looking at the lingering red specks. "Zaun bleeds and only grows tougher, more stubborn."

That intensity you'd seen before, reflected in his eyes once again. His voice came soft, "they call me the eye." But you were already turning, setting his hand down, pulling out your notebook, and starting to sketch.

You failed to notice that he could barely breathe. That you'd set his hand down on your thigh. That he watched you with a raw emotion on his face. You didn't know how long he sat there, while you drew and redrew and flipped through pages, pulling from other places in Zaun. At some point his hand moved, he moved, shifting closer, hand rising to your shoulder, tracing along your back in a way that helped you relax, helped you focus. He was close enough to watch you work, to see the way your thoughts flowed through you, from heart to mind to arm to pen.

Your gaze never strayed from your notebook, except one time, when you paused and turned to him, your focus zeroing in, on his eye, the scar, the lines of it on his face. You failed to notice he'd stopped breathing completely, his grip on your shoulder tightening. And then you returned to your notebook.

You drew and redrew and redrew symbols, searching, feeling. You ended up with seven of them on a page, which you slid towards him. "Tell me which one is right."

He glanced down. "I don't-"

"Don't think," your words came sharp, "just tell me which one is correct. Which one is Zaun? Feel it."

He glanced down, his fingers ghosting over the page. After a moment, he pointed at one. "This."

A smile spread across your face and you sat back, the coiled tension that drove you to action finally easing. "Yes, that one." You almost felt giddy with the release of the need to draw.

"What just happened? What is this?"

You glanced at him, soft smile on your face. "It's Zaun, a rune for Zaun. It's magic or," you took in a long breath, "it will be."

"I don't-"

"Hextech, it focuses magic with runes, symbols that represent concepts and ideas. That's what I've been looking for." You glanced back down, then up to his desk and the knife. "I hadn't seen all of what I needed to see. I didn't know all of what it needed to represent."

A quiet reserve settled over Silco as he studied you. "You really have been looking for magic."

"The tools to work with it, yes." You sat straighter and closed your notebook. When you turned to address him, a new sense of power sat in you. "Now we've both seen something we shouldn't. And we will both keep what we've seen and learned secret. Do we have an understanding?"

Maybe it was the residual adrenaline from the earlier fight, maybe it was the lingering traces of emotion from your discussion before that, maybe it was the current closeness, whatever emboldened him, he reached those slender fingers to take your jaw and chin. "Wherever you were born, wherever you go, know with surety that you are a Daughter of Zaun."

For the briefest of moments, you leaned into that touch. Then you set your jaw. "Get me topside, now."

All he could do was nod.

Chapter Text

"I'll be damned." Jayce's voice came with a sense of joy. Viktor stood beside him, hand on the taller man's shoulder, both watching the display of light and power before them.

"It works," Viktor said.

"You think it'll-"

"Yes, I do."

"And the stability of the casting line? How tall?"

"At least 50-60 meters, but maybe more."

"So it could-"

"Yes, it will ground the nodes around the lens," he looked to you, wonder in his eyes, “and will adapt to what we need in the moment. Stress in the system will only bind it stronger.” He echoed your words from before, when you'd described the rune to him.

"A rune from Zaun, who would have thought?" Jayce said, but Viktor kept his eyes on you, he understood, you'd done it. And what you’d given him would do great things.

"Ok," Jayce powered down the device, the blue light faded from the room. "We have work to do."

"Yes, of course," Viktor gave him a nod then walked across the lab to you. He glanced down at your notebook where you'd drawn the two of them and the arcs of blue light that had danced before them.

His hand came to your cheek and you leaned into his touch. Neither of you said anything because neither of you needed to. You knew what he would say and he knew your response. He dipped down to meet your lips with his, a soft, warm kiss that bloomed heat through you.

"Tonight, we celebrate," he said.

"Oh?"

"There's something I've been wanting to show you."

Hours later, almost to sunset, Viktor led you through the machinery of the water treatment plant.

"Is it safe to be here?" you asked, walking the narrow pathway through the large moving parts.

"Of course, I know how it all works, just stay close to me." Which was where you wanted to be anyway.

Finally you saw the golden glow ahead and you both stepped up to the keyhole shaped ventilation opening in the wall.

"Oh wow," you inched forward, keeping a hand on the wall, to peer out at the city now laid out before you. Zaun, the uppermost portion anyway, its spires of iron and glass reaching up into the light of the setting sun, glinted back the gold and crimson from the clouds.

"This is my favorite place." Viktor stepped up beside you. "It's where I go when I need to think or if I just need quiet."

"To get away from Jayce?"

He huffed, "sometimes. He does love to talk." He pointed down at the water below and the small beach not far off.

"I used to play there as a child."

A smile slipped onto your face. "So much water. I didn't even know how to swim until I came here. The first time I saw the ocean I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me."

He shifted closer and wrapped an arm around your waist. He paused for a second, his breath catching, then readjusted.

"Do you want to sit?" you offered. His back had been getting worse. Walking and even standing took more of a toll on him. Discussions of surgery lingered in the periphery, but wasn't necessary, yet.

"No, I'm alright."

"I can give you a massage later, use the oil Fara made for you?"

He kissed your cheek. "I would like that very much."

"Hmm," you took another few moments to just enjoy the view. "Thank you for showing me this."

"Curious."

"What is?"

"I have past, present, and," he nuzzled your cheek, "future all in one place. It is unexpected."

"Good?"

"Yes."

You both fell into silence. The Future. Something had begun to dance at the edges of your mind and even conversations at times, but neither of you seemed willing to openly voice it, not yet. But it was there as he held you. It was there later as he guided you down onto your bed, settled over you, golden eyes soft and loving. He pushed in, filling you, pressing as close as he could, your arms wrapping tight. Could you be closer? There was one way.

"Khanfisi alsahra, my desert beetle, have you asked him to marry you yet?"

"Taita!" You looked at her aghast.

"Do not give me that look. You have been paired for long enough to know. I have eyes. I see the way you two are together. And it brings me so much joy." She walked over and took your face in her hands. "Bind your lives together, it will be good, you will be happy, I promise you. Even Fara says she has rarely seen a better match. And she is eager to do your hair."

That got you to chuckle. "I have thought about it. But they are waist deep in building something big and I cannot take him away from that."

"What? It will all fall apart if he takes a small break to weave your lives together? The wrenches and knobs and copper tubing will get lonely?"

"Taita, that's not," you shook your head, though a smile stayed on your face. "I am thinking about it, ok? And we'll get there eventually. We don't have to rush."

Something changed in her, some cloud casting shadows in her eyes. “The young always think so. Please, follow your heart, make him yours, claim the life that is before you.”

You pulled her into a hug. “I will, taita, rayieati, I will, I promise.”

“Good. And truly, what reason is there to wait?”

You thought about it, and you didn’t really have an answer.

“Hey,” Sevika tugged on your arm as you headed towards the stairs in the Last Drop. “Got a minute?”

You offered a smile, “for you, always.”

That almost led to a smile, but something kept it off her face, an unusual tension sitting in her. She pulled you off to the side on the upper floor, away from any other patrons.

“What is it?” you asked, eyeing her more critically.

She took a breath, putting her words together. “You need to be careful.”

You glanced around, “What, why?”

“You’re getting comfortable here.”

“You’re comfortable here.”

“This is my job, my life. I work for him.”

“But, I don’t see-”

She stepped closer, her voice dropping. She nodded towards the hallway. “He doesn’t have friends, I’m not sure he knows how. But you,” she put a hand on your shoulder, “he’s always in a better mood after you’ve been here. You’re good with Jinx, with his daughter. She’s getting used to having you around. Like it or not, you’re creating a space for you here and you need to be sure you can continue to do this, can be stable here, for them. What happens if you marry that Scientist of yours? Is he happy that you’re here? Does he know how much you’re starting to fit in? Everyone here has lost someone, has had people leave. So don’t make a life here and then pull away.”

Her words hit you, but you tried to reason back. “Taita lives here, I will always be around.”

“She’ll always be alive?”

“Sevika,” your voice began to hold some anger. “There is no certainty in anything, not truly, you know that.”

Anger seeped into her voice to mirror yours. “I’m not talking about you dying, I’m talking about you walking away to live with your husband in Piltover, unless you’d both move here? So far from the Academy? Because he is your future, isn’t he? So I’ll ask again, what happens to them?” she gestured to the room, and again to Silco’s office.

You just stared back at her, trying to find something to say. But a small bit of worry leaked into your gut. She wasn’t wrong.

She seemed to read your expression and gave your shoulder a squeeze of reassurance. “I’m trying to look out for you, ok, as well as them. I like having you around, I just want you to pay attention to how you interact. You’re a kind person, that’s something not many of us are used to. Kindness can be addicting. It tends to be in short supply around here. I’m glad we’re friends and I don’t want to lose that-”

“I don’t either.”

“Good. I’m not saying to not be you, just be careful, okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Oh, and I expect an invitation to the wedding.”

You slapped her arm, “Sevika, we haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Well get on it, we’re about due for a celebration around here.”

With a heavy sigh you shook your head and resumed your walk towards the hallway.

You expected to find Jinx there, but when you opened the door, the couch and coffee table sat empty. Silco looked up from his paperwork.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jinx is out tonight. I apologize for not getting the message to you. Today has been busy.”

“Good busy or bad busy?”

“There's a difference?”

You smiled. “I’d say one might involve the use of violence when the other doesn’t, but I’m not sure that would be specific enough.”

A small smile crossed his face. “How did it go? Did it work?” You didn’t need the change in tone to know what he was asking about.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He sat back, a look of amusement coming to him. “To think, Zaun is still able to surprise me.” His eyes focused on you and you found a small trill of nervousness run through you. Sevika was right. You were too comfortable here.

Then his next question caught you completely off guard.

“Have you asked him to marry you yet? Or has he?"

You huffed and shook your head. "What is it with people today, is there something in the water?”

“Yes, toxins."

"Well, I appreciate the collective concern over my future, but things are going just fine."

"So-"

"So maybe it is none of your business." But you couldn't hold the stern gaze, your eyes softening. "I'm thinking about it, alright? Why the concern?" You stepped a little closer. "You haven't asked about him before, other than-"

He glanced down a moment. "Yes, other than that."

"Did he pass inspection then?"

"He seems a fine gentleman."

"Good, because he is, and as I said, he's from-"

"Zaun, I know, though perhaps my preferences are a bit predictable."

Silence settled in. Him sitting there, you standing there, no Jinx for your planned art lesson. His brow furrowed a moment, something taking his attention, pain? He let out a huff and you adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

"I guess I'll go. And don't worry about anything, my taita will be happy to have me back early. She's baking my favorite bread, so it'll still be warm, so…" you turned to leave.

"Could-"

You paused, glancing back. He had his hand to the left side of his face, fingers almost to the scar. You waited for him to speak again.

"Could you help me with something?"

"Yes, of course."

He straightened and brought out a metal device, then gestured to his eye. "This is an old injury that got infected. I still have to treat it, to keep it from spreading. I have to inject a, medicine directly into the eye."

You paused, "into it?"

He nodded. "The pain is momentary, but severe. It is, easier, if someone else does it. Normally I’ve been having Jinx help me, but-"

You set your bag down. "Sure," you did not sound sure. "Um, show me what you need?"

You were going to inject something into his eye? What the hell were you doing? Your feet took you around the desk and he turned in the chair to face you. Another jolt of warning shot through you as you realized just how close you'd have to get. But if he needed help, you wanted to be there. How many did he trust with this?

He held it up, indicating how to align it. "Then simply squeeze the lever, it's quick."

You drew in a larger breath and took the device. You began to lean forward and paused, "are you sure you want me to-"

"You'll do fine." His arm came out to steady your shoulder. "Please."

That word caused a bloom of heat in your chest. You leaned in, your left hand coming to his chin to steady him. You did your best to not notice the hitch in his breath at your touch. What the fuck were you doing?

You shifted your weight to the arm of his chair, hip settling just against it, and focused on aligning as he showed you. That eye stared up at you. This was the closest you'd seen it. You took a small breath, held it, and squeezed the lever.

A metal needle shot down into his eye and he stiffened, breath hitching. His reaction to the pain pushed him forward, but you were there and reacted on some instinct. You sat, both arms going out, gripping the back of the chair, holding him to it. A ragged breath tore through him and his arms came up, wrapping around your torso, flexing as the pain still rocked through him.

"I got you," you said.

He tensed for another moment, breathing heavily, before beginning to relax, then he froze, seeming to realize exactly where you were and what you were doing. You made another decision. Your hands released the chair, set the device down on the desk, and slipped in behind him.

"What are you doing?" His voice came from beside you, so close beside you. Even with his question, he leaned forward to let you finish the distance with your arms.

"Giving you a hug."

"Why?" His arms remained stiff around you, his head held away what distance he could.

"When was the last time you were hugged?"

A pause, "Jinx, probably."

"Do you want me to stop?"

A shallow breath moved through him, then another. Slowly his body relaxed. His arms adjusted, settling more firmly around you, palms pressed against your back. Last, he let his head fall forward, against your shoulder. His breaths began to slow, to even out. You could feel the tension draining down and away. He adjusted to fit even closer, head tilting into your neck, taking the comfort offered in the hug and in so doing sending jitters through your stomach.

And you just sat there, your own tension taking longer to let go. Was this wise? Not a damn bit. In fact, it was pretty much exactly what Sevika had just warned you about. Did you care? A breath moved through you, the weight of his arms rested around you. No, you didn't. You felt something stir in you and somehow you managed to acknowledge it head on. Viktor burned like a sun in your heart, this tiny flicker was no danger.

His voice caught you off guard, again coming from so close to your ear, his breath fanning your neck. "If you love him, you should marry him. Life is fleeting, take joy where you can.”

“Even if I did, I’d still visit, you know that, right?”

“That is a very pleasant lie. I appreciate the kindness.”

You pulled back, enough to face him. His arms dropped, but remained on your hips, not quite willing to let go yet.

"What if I started an art school, or program, here in Zaun?"

"A lovely little dream, but that won't give them food for their table or medicine. Art is," he looked over your face, “beautiful. But it can do little to help people."

"Have you heard a word I've said?"

His response came sharp. "I've heard every word you ever uttered." A breath, then another. He softened. "You live in a dream."

"Does that mean so little?"

His grip tightened, almost pulling you closer. "You have no idea what it means."

You were starting to. He was quick, with his gaze, but you did not fail to notice it flick past your lips.

He continued, "it's a dangerous thing, to make a difference, even to one person, let alone a group or even a whole city. Be careful. They'll love you, until they hate you. Better," he withdrew his hands and you took that as a sign to stand and shift back. He wiped at his eye.

"Better to live a small life, if you can, well," his mouth quirked up into a smile, "as small a life as is possible for you."

A larger breath moved through you. "I'm sorry if that was too much."

"There is no need to apologize. It," he thought for a moment, "is something that makes you, you, and I would not have you change it.”

“Okay.”

Silence settled around you again.

“I should go.”

He nodded. “You probably should.”

So you did.

You walked the halls of the Academy, so familiar at this point. The door to the lab stood open ahead. They must be close to done or on a break, good, you wouldn’t be interrupting. The tone of Viktor’s voice caught your attention though, and stalled you just outside the door.

“What?”

Then Mel’s voice.

“Have you asked her yet?”

“What is with people recently, Jayce and now you? Why are you asking?”

"Well, it just seems like the next natural step. You two are so good together.”

“I do not disagree.”

“So?”

“So, that is for us to decide? I do not mean to be short, but we will move at our own pace.”

"Yes, of course."

A beat. "I do appreciate it, though, that you would ask such, see such as the future. I do as well, I assure you."

You cleared your throat and entered the room.

Mel's smile widened as she approached and pulled you into a hug. "You heard that didn't you?" she whispered while close.

You shook your head, not in denial but in amusement. "It seems to be the theme of the week."

"So get on it."

"As soon as you make a move for Jayce."

She stilled and pulled back from the hug.

"What?" You smirked, "I thought you enjoyed turnabout."

She let out a small huff and tucked a non-existent stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll leave you to it." And she was gone. Maybe she wasn't ready to hear that. Interesting.

"What did you say to her?" Viktor walked up to you, the light tapping of his cane bringing a warm smile to your face, the sound a familiar reminder that he was close.

"She teased me, so I teased her back."

"I am uncertain what kind of teasing would cause that reaction."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You ran a hand along his temple and through his hair.

"Yes, that is why I aske-," he huffed, "ah I see, now you are teasing me."

You shifted closer, your other hand going to his hip. "Me? Never."

"It is alright," he leaned in for a kiss. "You are you and I would have that never change."

Your breath caught the slightest bit, the familiar words trying to circle back in your mind. But then his lips met yours and his arms wrapped tight and everything in your mind washed away. Somehow, still, you didn't expect it to deepen and yet it did, his own intensity spilling into everything he did. His tongue pressed at your lips and you eagerly let him in, your hand tightening in his hair.

You finally broke it with a smile and nuzzled into his neck. "Your today sounds like my yesterday."

"Have you been getting asked about-"

"Uh-huh. It would seem Zaun and Piltover are in rare agreement."

"So-" he pressed his cheek to yours.

"So."

He chuckled. "There is no rush."

"I know." You pulled back to look at him, to search those golden eyes. "I'm happy."

He smiled, "as am I."

"I mean, it's just two cities. Surely we should wait until Noxus gets involved."

He nodded, "of course, and Shurima, I hear there's an emperor due to rise any time now."

"Don't forget Bilgewater, we can't do anything until we're sure there's a pirate queen to object at the wedding."

"Yes, very good, oh, we could make it a destination wedding."

You leaned in closer conspiratorially. "Where?"

"Bandle City!"

Laughter bubbled up in you. "And we could have a dragon be the ringbearer."

"Do you know any dragons?"

"Not a one."

"Perfect."

You found his lips again.

End of Act I

Chapter Text

You walked up the road to your apartment. The early afternoon sun shone on Piltover and had you so distracted just looking at the way it threw shadows from the architecture that you didn't notice the person leaning against the railing outside of your apartment building.

When you finally did, you came to a pause, a smile on your face, "Perah, what a surprise. How is my Pirate Queen today?" And you offered her an overly formal bow.

This brought a chuckle from her as she stepped up to wrap you in a tight hug.

"Just checking in to see if you're single yet and if I can win you back. There's always room for another queen."

You huffed in her embrace before pulling back. "Lady Sahira does as she wishes."

"You always have. How are they doing in finding a new lab?"

"How did- ah, you've been talking with Heimerdinger."

"We are besties, you know."

That got you to chuckle.

"But seriously," she continued. "He wanted to give them the boot after your little speech at Progress Day, but a few of us professors talked him down. I only just heard he finally pulled the plug."

You sighed. "Yeah, I mean, I understand, they do too, but there's still some who believe in their work. They have a few options." Mel, Mel was their option, but you didn’t want to tell her that. Even when the council quietly let them remain at the Academy, with Jayce becoming Viktor’s “responsibility”, the Kirammans kept their distance, both physically and financially. Time would tell if they ever warmed to Jayce again.

"Do tell," she hooked an arm in yours, pulling you close.

"I will when there's something to tell."

A small pout graced her lips.

"Careful, my taita says that if you pout, a bird will come by and poop on your lip."

A full bodied laugh washed through her and melted your heart just a little. That was a sound you missed.

"And how is she?"

"Mumtazza, as always." She just watched you another moment with a look you knew well. Yeah, she still missed you. "Anyway," you took a small step back, putting a little more distance between you, "what brings you to my door?"

Her face lit up again. "We're going somewhere."

"We are?"

"Yes, but first you're changing. You need to dress a little nicer for this meeting."

"A meeting?"

"Yup," she motioned to the door, "and we're going to be late if you don't hurry up."

30 minutes later Professor Aristella led you, arm in arm, through Piltover. She turned a corner and you stalled at seeing the building ahead. "Perah, what is this?"

She tugged at you. "Come on. It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Look, I do academic-"

"I know. But trust me."

With a sigh, you let her drag you towards the building that housed the Explorer's Guild.

"Perah Aristella and the esteemed Professeur D'Artiste!" Dominic Brighton's voice boomed across the space making you inwardly groan. If you were hesitant about the meeting before, now you just wanted to get it over with. "And how are my esteemed colleagues this fine Piltover afternoon?"

"Dominic! You're back!" Perah let him pull her into a hug.

"Indeed I am." He shifted back from the hug and turned to you. You braced for the same, but miraculously, he only offered his hand, which you gladly took in lieu of any kind of an embrace. His large, warm, almost sweaty hands engulfed yours in an overly friendly clasp and you fought to keep a smile on your face.

"Explorer Brighton."

"Oh come now," he released your hand and you subtly tried to wipe it on your sleeve, "call me Dominic, I insist."

You nodded, "Dominic."

He eyed you another minute then glanced at Perah, "so, you haven't told her yet, excellent." He winked and you looked at Perah.

She offered a conciliatory grimace, "he wants to be the one to present it."

"Present what?"

"A once in a lifetime opportunity," his voice once again boomed across the room as he took up center stage in the group of people gathered there.

You took a moment to look the people over. Some you recognized from the Academy- other professors or adjuncts, all who had gone on expeditions or done field work before. But a good number of new faces stood in the crowd, probably from the Explorers Guild. This was the first time you'd been in the building. It was grandiose, opulently so, with artifacts and animal mounts lining the walls. You fought the hesitancy gnawing at your gut. These were trophies, items "acquired" from people who may or may not have wanted to give them up. And posing at the center, as if a ringmaster of it all, stood Dominic Brighton.

"As you all know, I just returned from an expedition to Southern Shurima."

You had, in fact, not known because you hadn't cared.

"And what an exciting trip it was! We pressed as far east and south as we could, pushing the bounds of human endurance, and have returned to tell the tale."

Wait, did he say east and south? His words pulled your attention more solidly to him. How far east? How far south? you wondered.

"We managed to skirt around Ixtal, and did we return to Piltover? No, because I had an eye for more adventure and a need to continue on! So," he walked over to a presentation board set up along the wall, his hand gripped the cloth hung over the front of it, "we found ourselves at Bilgewater and with a unique opportunity. From land to sea, we set sail, and I am exceptionally proud to announce my next adventure!"

He pulled the cloth away in one grand sweep to reveal-

Your hand went to your mouth-

"Ionia," you said, your voice sounding louder in the hushed moment.

"Exactly right!" He pointed at you.

The board behind him revealed a broader map of the group of islands, the best one you'd seen. Your eyes tracked over it, noting villages and inlets and geographical landmarks.

"How?" You finally pulled your gaze away to look at him.

The smile he beamed your way, you were sure was meant to charm. It did not.

"As I said, I found a captain who knew the waters and who was willing to take me." He gestured to the horizon, "picture it, we sailed north, around and through storm, and there, just as the sun rose we saw this island rise from the mist. We landed in one of the eastern villages, stayed for six days, but then the weather soured and we had to leave. But," he held his finger up, "the captain has agreed to bring me back, me and a select few who may accompany me. I was also able to charm the locals and secure us a place to stay at the village. From there we can explore more and who knows what we might find!"

"We?" someone else asked.

Dominic chuckled. "Yes, everyone in this room may consider themselves invited."

Excited chatter erupted around you.

"I hand selected all of you, as experienced and esteemed members of those who hear the call to adventure and have eagerly answered it in the past. You all have skills and talents perfect for this expedition and," again his gaze swept the room, "I am also pleased to announce that this is, officially, a joint venture between the Explorers Guild and the Piltover Academy. Any of you venerated scholars will also be offered membership within the Guild, should you grace us with your presence. This is to be about exploration in its truest sense, the people, the land, the wonders of Ionia are ours to seek out! So Join me, won't you? I have all the details already nailed down and," he gestured to a cloth covered table, "here are a few examples of the discoveries to be made so that I might whet your appetite."

And with his last gesture his sleeve shifted up enough for you to catch the glint of metal around his wrist, or it looked like metal, woven delicately, almost purple- your breath caught, your mind turning to the dream, the painting - but then he moved, standing by the table and carefully pulled down the cuff of his shirt. You shifted forward with the others, but where their eyes went to the table, yours followed his hands, searching for another glimpse. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Maybe he just had an unusual bracelet.

You stepped closer, letting others move towards the table while you angled around to him. In a moment you managed to slip in at his side. He eyed you, sly smile on his face. "I knew I'd catch your attention with this. What do you think?"

You glanced at the table, still not really paying attention to it. "It's amazing."

He held his hand out to you and you took it, letting your other hand rest on his, your fingers searching for the bracelet. At your touch his smile widened.

"Come with us."

Metal, warm, woven like sinew touched your finger. The rune from Icathia flashed through your mind, quickening your heartbeat. His hand gripped tighter. "Help us record all of this. Help us show the world what we can't physically bring back. Words alone cannot describe the raw and wild beauty of Ionia. Be our eyes."

His words seemed genuine, his excitement true, but something pulsed beneath. You studied his face, one many would consider handsome, blonde hair framed a strong jaw, blue eyes, so light they were almost grey watched you intently. Something sat within those eyes, beneath his exuberant expression. The rune remained vivid in your mind, glowing a deep, but true blue, a warning.

"This is your first time in the guild hall?"

You nodded. "It is."

"Why? From the way Perah spoke of you, and from the numerous others who recommended you, and from what I can now so plainly see, you have the soul of an explorer. You would have been welcome,” then he corrected, “you are welcome."

"I," you shifted back, testing slightly, and he did not release your hand. Maybe that should have scared you, but it only seemed to confirm something you couldn't quite yet name. "I like my work at the Academy. I like teaching. The more I have done it, the harder it has been to step away. I do enjoy traveling, quite a bit, but I have much, now, to keep me here."

"Ah, yes I heard I might have another obstacle to overcome with you."

Your eyes narrowed, but he laughed, trying to put you at ease. He failed.

"I will have to convince you to not just leave your teaching, but a scientist as well? I would understand your hesitancy, but please. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. We need your talents. And I have always returned from my expeditions, safety is my top priority."

That warning pinged again inside your mind. You should say no. You should tear your hand from his grip and run from that room, from that building, and never go back. You had a dozen good reasons to tell this man looming over you to fuck off. Instead you said, "tell me more."

“Ionia?” Viktor said. “That is-”

“-a dream.” You decided not to tell him about the bracelet, nor your misgivings about Brighton. Since you still had yet to tell him about, or even draw, that damned Icathian rune. It would just be a small omission. And your words were still true. You did have a chance to go to Ionia and that was a dream of yours. There just was, maybe, another reason to go. To keep an eye on a particular explorer and maybe learn more about what lingered in your dream.

“-very far away,” he finished and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“It's one of the places that has been elusive in my research. Think of what I might be able to find! And the plan is to keep clear of any land facing Noxus. We’ve already acquired safe harbor landings and invitations to visit from several villages, which is more than we had for Targon.”

“You could go by land to Targon.”

“The ship and her crew have made the crossing dozens of times, they know the sea and they know the right time of year to go. We’ve never had an opportunity like this before!”

“When would you leave?”

You paused, hesitating.

"When?"

“Within three weeks, while the weather is still favorable.”

A new reserve crept into him, a distance. “And how long would you be gone?”

Again you hesitated, “ten months, give or take, timed with the seasons change for safer sailing.”

“Couldn't you take an airship?”

“No, the winds are too unpredictable, and we’d be fighting them the whole way. If we could somehow build one there, maybe it could be used to get back, so no, it’s by ship. That way we can avoid Noxus as much as possible.”

“You'll be sailing close to Bilgewater?”

“We’ve already paid for safe passage.”

“Someone must really want you to go.”

You closed the distance, your hand finding his. He gave a weak squeeze as you did so. "I really want to go. Yes, to see if I can find runes or understand the ones you already have better, but also for me, to push my art, my skills and just, to go somewhere new, to explore."

His hand came up to cup your cheek, some resignation setting in. "I will be sad that you are not here, but I have no intention of asking you not to go. It is," he thought a moment, "give me time, ok? I hear you. Just give me time."

You nodded. "I know it's a lot and it's sudden, believe me, it is sudden."

He kissed your forehead. "Give me time."

"What do you know about Dominic Brighton?"

Mel glanced over from where she stood by her table. The brilliant glasswork threw light across the both of you. It was stunning, as was everything about her.

"Explorer's Guild?"

You nodded.

She thought a moment. "He travels, a lot, is rumored to spend more time abroad than here. And," she paused and leaned more casually against that table, "he has dealings with Noxus, numerous. So much so that Demacia turned him away."

You walked a little closer. "Really?"

"Yes, though I do not have the best ties for information at the moment. He's a 'friend of the empire', that I can tell you."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not entirely sure, probably not something good."

"And his trip south?"

Mel shook her head. "He hasn't brought back anything that has got the Clans or Houses talking. When an explorer returns with a new metal or chemical or plant that has potential, word spreads exceptionally fast, far faster than any of us would like, though we all know that it will."

"Has he been to your gallery?"

She eyed you, "yes, he has, the day he got back. Why?"

"Were you there?"

She shook her head, "council business, Elora showed him." She narrowed her eyes at you, her voice more insistent. "Why?"

20 minutes later you both walked through the black walled hall towards the corner that held the Icathia painting. You stood squarely before it, looking it over for, you weren't even sure what.

"You think he went there?" Mel asked, keeping her distance.

You nodded and stepped forward, studying the frame again. Without question, it was the same metal. "He has a bracelet made of this."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"How? What is going on?"

You stepped back next to her and took a breath. "Months ago, almost a year ago, I had a dream, one about this place, Icathia. I," you hesitated, not sure if you should mention the rune, "saw magic there, but I also saw that thing open up in the earth. Maybe it was just my mind running wild with speculation or simply the way dreams can-"

"You think it was real."

"I don’t have any way to prove it, but yeah. And it would only take a few more days journey from Dominic’s officially logged route to go there, easily swallowed by their time in the area."

"So, what did he see? Why would he have it with him? And-"

"Why does he want to go to Ionia so quickly?"

She nodded.

"He says the seas are only favorable for a short time, but usually a returning expedition takes months to debrief, to go through and document everything they bring back. There are press junkets and presentations and fundraising galas."

"All things Dominic has lavished in before. Why not take the time to bathe in his success?" She eyed you.

“And how can he go again so quickly? He has to have backing, someone is funding him.”

"You think he has ill intent."

"I think the guild has little regard for those they 'explore'. And on top of that, maybe? I don't know enough about Ionia to say, only that I can feel something is off."

"And you plan to go, don't you."

You nodded. Your gaze swept the painting again and you froze. "Was that figure there before?"

Mel finally stepped closer. The city lay spread out with the sloping countryside flowing away from it. But there, a figure stood out in the open field. The larger brush strokes made definition hard to determine, at best they were human. Between one blink and the next, the person in the field crouched low, hand to the ground exactly where the chasm would open up.

"I don't," Mel's voice trailed off as she studied it as well. "No, I’ve never seen that before."

You didn't know why you did it, but you reached a hand towards the city, finger extending, touching the gates with the barest brush of skin. The rune flashed in your mind and the metal frame pulsed briefly with purple light.

You and Mel practically jumped back from it.

And there, another figure now stood just inside the gates. A figure in clothes of blue and gold. How could rough oil strokes look like stars in the night sky?

“How?” Mel again looked over the whole painting. “The other figure is gone.”

And sure enough, the field stretching away from the gate stood open and pastoral, calm.

“That wasn’t there before either,” Mel pointed at the faint image glowing above the city.

A longer sigh left you as you saw it.

“It looks like a rune,” Mel said.

You fought to keep the frustration out of your voice. “Yes, it sure does,” you said, staring at the rune that had sat vivid in your mind since you first saw it in a dream.

“I’ll get you paper, so you can draw it.” Mel stepped away and you just glared at the painting.

Your eyes fell on that figure again, the protector at the gates. “Is this what you want from me?” you hissed at the inanimate object hanging on the wall.

But it did not respond. It just sat there, serene, a vivid work of art. You glanced at the metal fame and it seemed duller, quieter somehow.

“Here,” Mel handed you a clipboard with a few sheets of paper on it and a pen. “Quickly, in case it changes again.”

You smiled and let your hand take the pen. It was easy to draw, you’d been seeing it for months, you could have drawn it with your eyes closed.

“What do you think it’ll do?”

“Power. It’ll be about power.”

She eyed you, taking the time to really look at you. “You’ve seen it before.”

Another sigh left your lips.

“And you kept it secret. You haven’t shown them. Why?” A new hesitancy, a scrutiny came from her. Whatever part of her mind went to business and politics keyed back in.

“Because it’s related to this!” you gestured at the painting. “There is something evil about this, or at least wrong. You were willing to help get rid of this, right? You agree there is something off. You’ve seen it, felt it.”

Her face turned carefully neutral, her posture stilling, composed.

“What else have you withheld?”

“Nothing, I swear. I’ve held nothing else back. I just wanted to understand it better. You’ve seen how Jayce gets, hell, even Viktor, if something works, they’ll run with it wherever it leads. Mages have fought wars over magic-”

“You sound like Heimerdinger.”

“Don’t you dare.” You found yourself standing up straighter, your chin lifting.

“Viktor doesn’t know your thoughts about this, does he? He doesn't know your concerns.”

“I don’t have any proof. I have nothing but what my eyes saw in the painting, add to that dreams, intuition-”

“-you don’t think that will be enough.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Why? You're projecting it all so loudly.” She shifted her stance, more surety coming to her. “Do you trust him?”

“Of course I do.”

“But not with this.”

You bit back a growl. “Mel, why are you doing this? I’m just trying to figure out the right thing to do.”

“I need Viktor at his best. The project they’ve started designing, the proposal they are going to make before the council, it is important. No,” she took a step towards you, “it will push Piltover forward. It is the progress we like to talk about so much. You have more power than you know. If you don’t want to talk with him about the painting, fine. If you don’t want to tell him that part of the reason you will be leaving him for almost a year is to follow suspicions and intuition, fine. But they are going to need every advantage and that includes any rune you find. Either give that to him,” she motioned at the clipboard, “or I will.”

You clutched it to your chest a little tighter. You hadn’t seen her like this, hadn’t felt the heat of her gaze so strongly. You wanted to fight it, but your breath left you. Your shoulders dropped. “I’ll give him the rune. I’m sure it will work.”

“Are you sure? How can you be?” The tightness around her eyes eased slightly. The question didn't come harsh, but genuine. Her hand came up, unusually gentle for the tone she had just used, and tilted your face up to her. “You’re changing.” The shift in her demeanor had you easily leaning into her touch. The air around you warmed. Did the gold on her arms seem brighter? “This expedition will change you further, won’t it. Are you ready for that?”

You met those green eyes, uncertain what to say. Because you couldn’t argue with her. You were changing.

“I will have to be.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks passed. The rune, of course, worked, exceptionally well, so well that Viktor was spending almost all of his time in the new lab. You brought them food and encouraged them to take breaks, but they politely declined, trying instead to pull you in to explain what they were doing. You did your best, but there was a level of physics and engineering they dropped into that you simply could not follow. Eventually you just kissed Viktor on the forehead and wished him luck. And when Jayce seemed a little down, you did the same for him, planting a soft kiss to his forehead as well. The smile on his face, and blush to his cheeks was worth it. Like magic, they were both up and moving again, talking blindingly fast to each other.

One thing that bothered you, that sat at the back of your mind every night, was the change in the painting and your surety that you'd have another dream. But day after day, nothing. Quiet. Two weeks and no dream. The rest of the world just filled in as normal, or as normal as preparing for an expedition could be.

Life swirled around you as you worked to write up lesson plans to finish out the semester with a fill-in professor, since you wouldn't be able to complete the year with your students. You felt a little bad, but they were as, if not more, excited for you, constantly asking you questions about the expedition, now that it had been formally announced.

You thought it would take you longer to prepare supplies, but it appeared that Dominic was decent at research and he invited you back to the Guild Hall to show you the numerous boxes of supplies he’d gathered for you. Paper of an excellent quality, pens, inks, paints, brushes, pencils, all manner of tools, and a proper means to keep them all safe during a sea voyage and time spent in unknown humidity and storage conditions on Ionia.

“This is wonderful,” you said, going through it all. “It is more than enough.”

“Oh, nothing is too good for our field artist. Your presence is pivotal, I want to make sure you know that.”

You smiled. The words felt nice. Even though you knew something was off about him, he seemed to mean what he said. Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he was being used. “I genuinely appreciate the invitation. It is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“That is it, that it absolutely is.” And he’d clapped you on the shoulder a little too solidly, smile a little too large and while the smile stayed on your lips, it slipped from your eyes. It was going to be a long trip.

With five days left to go, Viktor finally returned to the apartment, late, well past midnight, and paused to see you still up, sitting with a light on by the bed, reading.

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“It is late.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I just wasn’t ready.” You shifted, swinging your legs out from under the covers.

“Well, it is good to see you.” He hung his head a little, “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been busy-”

You pulled the rest of the covers aside to reveal that you, in fact, had no clothes on.

A small chuckle came from him. “Ah, it is to be an ambush then.”

You stood, shifting closer, and his hand reflexively went to your hip. “It is.” You pushed some of his hair back from his forehead. “Unless you’re tired, and then I can at least fall asleep beside you.”

“No,” his reply came quick, his hand tightening on your hip. “I know I have been away much more so than usual and I know we haven’t-” he let his words trail off. “I very much want to. Thank you,” he shifted closer, lips coming to meet yours, “thank you for waiting up for me,” he said against your skin.

“What would you like?”

A smile quirked at the corner of his lips. “Lay back on the bed. I shall join you.”

You shared one more kiss and then shifted back, crawling onto the bed. There you waited.

He set his cane against the bed and began to disrobe, his eyes staying on you. Vest, tie, shirt. He had to sit to take off his boots and you did not miss the hesitation and then the hitch in his breath as he had to adjust to get them off. Pain, causing him to pause more than usual, but then he was standing and reaching for his belt, soft smile on his face.

His pants fell, underwear too, and the look he gave shortened your breath. You'd missed this, though hadn't begrudged him time in the lab. You'd suspected it was also, at least a little, born out of frustration that you were leaving. He hadn't said anything, but he had literally been more distant. To see him kneeling onto the bed, eyes on you, hungry, full of desire, had you reaching eagerly for him, pulling him into a kiss that quickly deepened, his tongue dipping in past your lips.

He pressed his body down onto yours and you met that equally with your own, arms wrapping around him.

"I've missed you," you said.

"I know." He kissed your neck, "and I you. And we have such little time. I'm sorry-"

But you cut him off by pulling his lips to yours and pushing up against his now delightfully hard cock.

"I'm sorry," you began, your hand reaching down to grasp him, to pull along his length, the action eliciting a ragged gasp from him, "that I will be gone for so long."

After a few more tugs you encouraged him to line up with where you wanted him to go, which he happily obliged, shifting, pausing a moment and then readjusting to get in the right position.

You looked up to watch him, his eyes closed, concentration on his face, as he began to push in. You were more than ready, heat and moisture making him groan, which made you do the same.

Pleasure washed through you. Inch by inch he pressed, filling you, leaving you both breathing heavy. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"I don't want you to go," he whispered, setting a slow pace. "I want you to see what we're building. I want to share more sunsets and concerts and to hear you yell out my name because of this," and he thrust harder, pulling a gasp from you.

"I know." You traced a hand along his cheek. "But I'll be back. And I'll bring wonders with me, I promise, and we can share in those. I'll find more magic for you."

He nuzzled into your neck. "I'll hold you to that. Though," he started to pick up his pace, "you are more than magic enough already."

Jolts of pleasure washed up through you as he pressed harder, deeper, seeming to be chasing something, pushing himself. He shifted, adjusting, and then tensed, a cry coming from him, but not one you were expecting. A grimace of pain locked onto his face as he breathed through it, his movements stalled.

You reached a hand to his cheek, "Viktor? How can I help?"

He pushed up on his arms, earning another grunt of pain and then let himself fall to his left. You made sure to leave space, keeping your arm out of the way.

And there he lay, on his side, curled in on himself, panting, eyes shut tight. You offered a pillow, which he delicately slid between his knees.

"Is there any-"

"No, it will pass."

So you just laid there, facing him, waiting to see if he wanted a heating pad or ice pack.

After another moment his breathing began to even out, the pain seeming to subside. Then he let out a low growl, his hands balling into fists. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to one more time before-" He let the sentence die.

"It's alright. Is there anything I can do? Do you want-"

"Don't go."

"What?" You reached a hand towards him.

"I don't care about the magic," he opened those golden eyes to you, still in pain but beneath that such a look of sadness to them. "You make my life better. We," the word came sharper, "have all the wonder I need."

"Marry me."

His eyebrows furrowed, "what?"

"Marry me, I mean it. I love you. I want my future to be with you."

"Now?"

You smiled, "we could, I bet something is still open in Zaun. Or when the officiants open in the morning."

He blinked at you, then fought to sit up. You helped, providing a shoulder to lean on. He moved slowly, testing as he went and you were right there with him, making sure to support him. Once mostly upright, he focused back on you.

"You are serious?"

"I know, it would be better if we could plan, have a reception where our friends could all be there to celebrate. But, if you wanted, I'd marry you within the hour."

His hand came up, cupped your cheek. "You are trying to distract me."

"I am trying to assure you. That we have a future and it will be there. Besides, I could get run over by a carriage tomorrow, so Ionia is just one of a thousand dangers out there."

"That is not as comforting as you think it is."

You chuckled. "What I mean is, we've already been weaving our lives together, this is just to make sure the rest of the world, the land, the sea, and the stars themselves understand our intent. The magic will hear us," you leaned in to kiss him, which he warmly accepted, "and it will listen."

"You would tell magic what to do?"

"If it tries to come between us, it will never have known such fury. I would tear the stars from the sky. I would make it beg for me to let it go. I would roll up a newspaper and tap it on the nose and firmly tell it 'no'."

"I am uncertain that would be successful."

"See, it's all about confidence. You gotta show it who's boss."

A chuckle finally came from him, a smile settling onto his face. "Yes."

You eyed him, "hmm?"

He reached to pull you close, nuzzling your cheek "yes I will marry you."

Warmth, love, flared from where he touched to wash through your entire body. "Now?"

He chuckled again, gods how you loved that sound. "When you get back, as soon as you do. As a celebration of our endeavors. And then, whatever we do next, we do it together."

Your smile widened "absolutely."

You floated in darkness, though it was warm, reassuring somehow. You shifted and water rippled around you, the liquid holding you up, spread out as far as you could sense. Then sparks in your vision, golden specks glittered. A soft glow rose on the horizon, the barest hints of dawn. The sparks stilled, settled into the night sky as stars blazing above you.

Time did not seem to pass as you lay there, held up effortlessly, feeling a deep sense of peace.

You noticed the tiny ripples first, then larger ones that lapped against you. The water shifted more and you realized you weren't alone.

Twisting, lowering, your legs dipped down and found purchase on the muddy river bottom. You found you could stand, the water at your waist. A warning thought came that it would impede your movement if you needed to run.

"You see yourself as its protector?" A voice, closer than you would have thought, though at a pitch and tone you didn't recognize, even the accent was hard to place.

You turned to see, someone, shrouded in darkness maybe 20 feet from you. They stood with their back to a city, Piltover, its lights making it hard to see any detail in the shadow they cast, though they were taller and broader than you.

"I don't know what I see."

"Do you want to?"

"I want to understand."

The figure took a step closer, ripples rolling out from their movement. "Then by all means keep going."

"Who are you?"

"Someone who hopes you keep going."

"Why?"

Another step forward. As they moved a current of cold washed in from behind you. The water chilled your legs. The figure dipped a hand in, feeling the change. A metal bracelet slid along their wrist with the movement. "Because you have potential." Their voice deepened, became more familiar. Their height, his height, became more apparent as he approached.

"Brighton."

"Maybe. Or maybe that is just who you want to see. It is as good a form as any."

The water chilled further, the cold sending goosebumps along your skin.

"What is this danger? What happened to Icathia?"

He smiled, somehow you knew he smiled. Movement behind you, but too fast to react to. Tendrils of that gray-purple metal shot out of the water, wrapping around your wrists, your legs, dragging you down onto your knees. The cold water now lapped against your chest and seeped into your clothes.

Brighton, or who you thought to be Brighton, finished the distance, coming to practically tower over you. Then he kneeled and ever so gently caressed your cheek. You could see his face now, a pleased look to his features. "So much potential," he said, looking you over.

"I would never-"

"Do not presume to know the future. People do many things for many reasons. I am infinitely curious to see what you do."

The cold started to make it hard to breathe. You had to do something. Your mind supplied an image, a rune, blue and glowing, the power of Icathia. Brighton smiled, his eyes taking on that blue. He let out an appreciative hum and his eyes bled to purple.

"Oh yes, you’ll do quite well."

The tendrils tightened and pulled you back, into the water, below the surface, down into the cold, into the dark, impossible pressure building in your lungs. A purple glow began to reach up from behind you. Pain. The tendrils slicing skin. A scream. Your scream. Water rushing down your throat.

You startled awake in bed, coughs racking your body, your lungs desperate for air. Viktor's hands came to your arms and you almost fought them off until you realized where you were, in bed, in Piltover, safe. Your ragged breaths began to even out. You searched your wrists, your legs for any evidence of injury, but found none.

“What is happening?”

“Stop using the rune.” You turned to him.

The sluggishness of sleep still lingered around him. “What?”

You shifted closer, your hand going to his cheek. “There’s a danger. I don’t quite understand it, but please, don’t use it, the most recent one.”

He took a few larger breaths himself, trying to push back the tiredness.

“A danger? In what way?”

“Do you,” you sighed, how could you explain this? “That painting in Mel’s gallery, Icathia, do you remember it?”

“The large one with the city?”

You nodded. “I saw something in it. It,” you hesitated, “it changed while I was looking at it. I didn’t just see a city. I saw something come out of the ground, something dark, hungry, something evil, like a mouth or,” you stalled, “I’m not sure how to describe it.”

He just stared at you.

"And I had a dream, about Icathia, I saw the magic there, and I saw that evil emerge from the ground again. Something terrible happened there, something that is starting to show up here. That metal from the frame is a part of it."

"But, it is just a painting." His hand came to your cheek, a soft, reassuring touch. "And dreams are our own minds reflecting back what we experience."

"I know what I saw."

He studied your face. "Are you saying you had a vision?"

"I don't," you sighed, "I don't know, something like that."

"Why you? I did not see anything like that." It wasn’t a challenge, but a genuine question.

"I don't know. I," but your words stalled out again. How could you better describe it? What was worth listening to? "Just, don't use the rune, it's somehow connected to it."

"To this 'evil’?"

You nodded.

A small smile came to his face and he reached to take your hands. "Runes are just tools, ways of focusing and directing the energy of the hex crystals. They are not good or bad, just tools. Yes," he squeezed your hands, "it can be dangerous, but all invention and exploration is, you know that to be true. We are careful. But I have seen nothing in the entire time I've worked with them to make me think the runes have any kind of moral alignment or malevolence."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe you feel strongly about it. How many dreams have you had?"

Your gaze fell away from him. "Two."

"That is a very small sample size."

"I know. I-" you shook your head. "I shouldn't have said anything." Foolish. Maybe you just wanted there to be something, some part of the magic that was yours. Maybe it was just bad dreams and your own imagination.

"No," his fingers took your chin and turned you back to him. "I always want to hear what you have to say. I just, how would I take this to Jayce? What could I show him of your concerns that would warrant stopping an integral part of our research?"

With a gentle tug he pulled you to him, his lips brushing yours. "I will admit, there is much to magic I do not know, we do not know. And I will be careful, you know that, I promise you. We are both taking risks, yes? So we will both be careful. Agreed?”

You nodded. He didn’t believe you. But you couldn’t blame him, you had no proof. But you knew someone who would have answers, or would at least lead you to them. Brighton. As you kissed Viktor again you vowed to figure it out.

“A protector,” the man in the dream had said.

You settled back down in the bed, letting Viktor pull you close, and wondered what that would mean, and if that was something you could become.

Chapter Text

Two days to go. Your steps felt heavier as they took you towards Silco's office. This would be the last time you saw him for almost a year. The last time you saw Jinx for almost a year. How much would she grow?

You knocked and heard his soft, "come in."

And there he sat, at his desk. You'd rarely seen him elsewhere. This room, this place was his, and yet you felt comfortable, felt a sense of safety. You would miss this. The list of what threatened to keep you here was longer than any previous trip. How much had changed in the last few years? Would he still be here when you got back? How uncertain was life in the undercity?

He stood, eyes on you. “What's wrong?"

"What?" You shook your head, bringing yourself back to the moment. "No, nothing is wrong. Sorry. I'm a bit distracted.”

“Ionia?”

You nodded. "Not long now."

"You are prepared?"

A larger breath moved through you. "As I can be. Oh-" you reached into your bag and closed the distance to his desk to offer him an envelope. "I wanted to make sure I got this to you before I left."

His eyebrow ticked up as he opened it, pulled out several pieces of paper.

"It's my design for the window. Viktor helped me with the more technical architectural notes. I had to do a little research on stained glass construction, but it should work." You watched him look it over. "Do you like-"

"It's-" a smile grew on his face as he looked at you. "It is just what I asked for. And-" he set it down and shifted a rectangular wooden box to the center of his desk. "I have something for you."

"Oh?"

He motioned and you reached, undoing the clasp and lifting the lid.

"It's lovely." It was not what you expected. You reached in to pull out the well made and ornate knife, as long as your forearm and a noticeable weight. The handle had been carved to match the patterns in Zaun you had shown him. Pieces of green glass were inlaid in the hilt, matching the flow of his window. Your fingers wrapped around it and tugged it free of its sheath. It looked, sharp, very sharp.

"Do you know how to use it?"

You huffed, a little nervous, "I can infer the basics. This end goes into the other person." You pointed at the tip.

That earned you a small chuckle. “The hilt is a little smaller than one I'd use, as I was hoping to gage it for your hand. It's also a little lighter, though still strong, so the balance should be good. Now, for someone with little experience-" he paused to give you a chance to say otherwise.

"A correct assumption."

He nodded "-it is important to recognize your own strengths and weaknesses. Only use this when your life is already threatened. If the other person does not have a weapon drawn, do not," he paused to make eye contact, "do not be the first person to introduce a weapon. You will be the one putting your life in danger. Even if you think it will scare someone off, especially when you think that. However, this rule ends the second they reach to touch you in an aggressive way. For the untrained, draw it only for your immediate defense. Does that make sense?"

You nodded.

"Good. Now, if you have drawn this knife because you are in danger, immediate danger, the best way to stop someone who wants to do you harm, is to make them more worried about their own survival. This," he reached for the knife, which you easily let him hold, "can take a life, so you need to be prepared to do so. If you are not," his face softened for a moment, "and that is okay, not all can, then don't wear it or be aware it could get taken from you and used against you."

"Presuming you are willing to use a knife," he stepped around the desk, up to you, and placed it back in your hand, but kept hold of it by wrapping his warm fingers around yours. He stood very close, you could smell his light cologne, though not as much cigar at the moment. And his eyes, looking at you, pinning you in place. You fought the heat that wanted to rise into your cheeks.

"The goal is to end the fight as quickly as possible. If you have it in your hand, especially for someone with little training, your only goal is to kill. You do not have the experience and skill I do. I could maim, sever specific nerves, make them drop a weapon, or inflict immeasurable pain, all without threatening their life. Such is useful, but requires time to learn."

Your heartbeat picked up as he talked. He said it all so casually. Again you realized how much of his life was a mystery to you.

He chuckled, bringing your focus back to him. "Do my words scare you?"

"No. Or," you corrected, "a little, but, I'm just realizing how little I know."

"About me?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps, in time. But first you have to make it back. So," he adjusted his grip slightly, used it to direct your hand and the knife towards him. "You need to hit something vital, to stop the fight as quickly as possible. First and most open," he brought your hand up towards his neck, "you have my windpipe, which I need to breathe, you have several large arteries, which I need to keep my heart beating, and from the back you have my spine, again, quite necessary. A slash cut is better from a little farther away, try to use the cutting edge of the knife, not just the point. The more contact you make the better. But if you're up close, and you stab, make sure you retract quickly. The blood needs to flow and you need to keep control of the knife."

He brought your hand up. "Stabbing in the eye is effective, but a smaller target, and there's more bone that might turn the blade."

He moved your hand down, pointed the tip into his armpit, "there is an artery here, as well as," he directed your hand lower, pointing the knife to his inner thigh, "here, but if you miss and get only muscle, the fight will continue."

"The center of the body," he directed the knife to the right side of his torso, "must be stabbed, a slash will only make a flesh wound; ribs, muscle, and fat protect too well here. Make sure the blade is flat, so as to better fit between the ribs. Puncture a lung and usually the other person will stop. Go too low, and, while stabbing other organs can be fatal, it will take too long, though," he mused to himself, "if you cut into the diaphragm..." he huffed and focused back on you.

"Lastly," his grip tightened on yours and brought the tip of the blade up to the left side of his chest. Some new intensity came to his eyes, "if you can reach the heart, you will have won. No one survives a blade slid into our most vital organ. But it takes good aim to reach it." He adjusted your grip, "you will have more precision if you hold it this way. Now, take a moment to get a feel for where my heart is. You would stab right," the tip of the blade scraped lightly over his vest as he adjusted before letting it come to rest, "here. Look at the whole person, see their proportions, see where it is in relation to my arms, my neck, the cut of my shirt. Use your artist's eye to see what is right in front of you."

Your eyes flicked up to his. You weren't a fool, and you did not fail to catch the slight waver in his tone. Those eyes, soft, not pleading, not imploring, just offering, making sure you understood.

You offered a soft smile of your own. "I do, I promise you I do."

"May I take a small liberty?"

Your breath caught in your throat, but you nodded.

His hand slipped free of yours, leaving you with the knife still pointed at his chest. That hand came up, those long fingers reaching to hold your jaw, rest lightly on your skin. "Do not climb any mountains. Do you hear me?" His grip tightened, "do not sail off the edges of the map or follow some spirit into a cave. You come back. This is your home. Zaun," then he grumbled, "and Piltover. Even," his fingers loosened, "even if you only return to your fiancé, you come back. Do you understand?" And in his eyes there was more, much more he wanted to say, but did not.

You nodded, then paused, "wait, how did you know we-"

"You're calm. You're permitting me this with a surety you did not have before. You were tenser the last few weeks, uncertain. Now…" the barest heat touched his cheeks. It was subtle, but unmistakable. "Congratulations, I am glad to see you happy."

Then he let go and stepped back and you had to fight not to follow that touch.

"May I show you how to wear it? The best ways to reach it quickly?" You expected his reserve to return, but an odd openness remained, a vulnerability he seemed to continue to make available to you.

You nodded. His touch on your thigh remained light, respectful as he strapped the sheath to it. "It is easy to draw, but is visible here. That may deter some, but also offers a knife to those around you."

He continued to explain a few more ways to wear it and hide it. Something about him seemed lighter, his words came more freely. His touch never strayed from where it was necessary, but also seemed to come with some underlying familiarity.

The knife, you realized, brought you more into his world. He was giving you not just something of Zaun, as was clear in the design of the weapon, but of himself to take with you. His knowledge, his wisdom, giving you a way to survive, if you needed it.

Then he was going over the knife itself. "Keep it clean and keep it sharp. The cleaner the cut, the more likely the wound will continue to bleed, because if you don't sever an airway or spine or make it to the heart, bleeding out is effective, though it takes a little longer. But, usually, once you start the process, the other person becomes very keen on stopping their own blood loss and will not attack you further."

He also gave you a small kit for sharpening and cleaning. "These are what work the best." And you had no doubt that they did.

"Thank you." You began to reach but he beat you to it, arms wrapping around you to pull you into a warm hug. You let your weight settle more against him and felt his deep sigh, and the tension leaving him.

"You come back," he said.

"You better be here when I do."

He huffed and his arms tightened briefly.

"I have no doubt that magic will find you, yet again. And when it does, do not be afraid. Embrace it. Fold it in. Claim any power you're offered."

You huffed. “You want me to come back a witch?”

He pulled back, studying your face with an open affection. “No, you think too little of yourself, come back a goddess.”

“You’ll be gone how long?” Jinx sat beside you and just stared up with her big blue eyes.

“Ten months, but maybe a year.”

“A whole year! That’s forever! Why do you have to go?” her voice came pleading.

“I want to and it’s a part of what I do, what I’m good at. I will get to draw things few people have ever seen.”

“Like a dragon?”

“Maybe.”

"Would," she tilted her head a little, "would you bring me back a dragon?"

You chuckled. "How about a drawing of one, that I did, from a very safe distance away?"

"Hmm, how about a dragon egg? Then I could raise my own."

You were sure Silco would love that. "Best I can offer is a dragon scale." If there were dragons, surely they lost their scales. And, if nothing else, Perah could help you find something that at least looked like it.

Jinx held her hand out. "Deal."

You shook it, fighting to maintain a serious face.

"Do you," some of her shyness returned, "do you think you could stay for a little longer tonight?"

A warm smile came to your face. "I definitely can. What did you want to practice?"

"Well, I actually wanted to read, but would you sit with me while I do?"

You glanced at Silco's desk, which sat empty at the moment.

"Sure, I have some reading to do myself."

"Ok, great." She got up and dashed out the door. Mere seconds later she came back and began to arrange an armful of pillows on the couch. "Ok, you sit here."

Who were you to argue, so you followed her instructions, got comfortable and then were surprised when she climbed up and settled back against you, practically in your lap. You were left with nothing else to do but wrap your arm around her and let her nestle closer. She adjusted the pillows one more time and then opened her book. "There, that's perfect."

The door opened and Silco returned, though paused, his eyes on you and her. She'd never sought this kind of affection before. In fact, you'd rarely seen her this snuggly with anyone, only, really, with him.

Silco finally recovered and returned to his desk without comment.

After a few minutes she looked up at you, "aren't you going to read?" Those big blue eyes in the sweet face, the comfort and trust you saw finally drew a smile to your own.

"Yes, of course. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable."

"Oh, yes," she flashed you a bright smile, "this is just right."

Just right. At least you'd have the time on your trip to figure out how to navigate this when you returned. You met Silco's gaze and he almost looked pained before his face became unreadable and he returned to the papers on his desk.

You realized one thing, as she hummed to herself in your arms, you wouldn't just be coming back for Viktor, you'd make sure you came back for Jinx and Silco too.

Chapter Text

The last night before you left, you sat on the floor in front of your couch, Viktor's arms around you. The last light of sunset settled into darkness outside the windows. The remnants of dinner still sat on the table, but you didn't want to move just yet.

"What is it like," he said, breath fanning your ear as you leaned back against him, "out on the open sea?"

Your hand played along his leg while you thought. "There is so much sky. Blue extends from horizon to horizon, both above and below. The creak of the ship, the push of the bow into waves, the changing pitch of the wood planks beneath your feet, all finds a rhythm that is like a dance. Walking along the deck in a rolling sea, shifting balance and knowing the lines of rigging that are safe to use. It's something I love, actually."

"You did seduce a pirate queen."

You huffed, "not on purpose, not at first. But Perah is one of the most," you searched for the right word, "vibrant people I know. She makes a friend out of everyone she meets. She had the whole damned ship charmed, but only seemed to see me. The attention she gives is, intense, the love even more so. Six months of intoxicating affection, and yes, she is as good as she writes in her novels."

"Hmm. Those were very enjoyable parts to read." His hands reached for your waist and tugged you closer against him, offering a playful nip at your ear. "What happened? Why are leaning against me and not still with her?"

"After a while, it became too much. She excels among groups and in crowds and that's where she likes to be. Even knowing how to reassure me, I couldn't keep up. She understood. She wasn't happy I left, and she still occasionally pushes my boundaries, but we parted ways amicably and I'm glad to still call her a friend."

"Hmm," he hummed against your back, "do you think she will write more novels this time?"

"Depends on the expedition. Maybe she will fall madly in love with someone else."

"Maybe she will fight a dragon."

"She would be the one to try."

"Maybe she will seduce an Ionia prince to-"

You chuckled, "it wouldn't be a prince."

"Ah, princess then, wait, it would be a queen wouldn't it?"

"Without question. Though I'm uncertain Ionia has that kind of royalty."

"And what if you find a handsome Ionian prince?" He nudged you.

"Then I bring him back with me and cause an international incident the likes of which Piltover has never seen."

That earned you true laughter from the man behind you. "I would expect nothing less. Just make sure he's handsome," he added, "though slightly less handsome than me."

"Easily done, as the whole world of men are less handsome than you."

He nipped at your neck, the action sending a shiver through you. "Now who is the charmer?"

"You, if you do that again."

And he did, a larger, warmer bite to just below your ear, drawing a moan out of you. His hands, that had been sitting idle, became more deliberate, one reaching higher, the other reaching lower.

Your breath caught as he reached under your shirt to find a breast, then hone in on a nipple, pinching just enough to get you to gasp. The hand reaching lower ghosted over your clothes, up one thigh, across and down the other, not spending nearly enough time where you wanted him to.

You reached a hand back to run it through his hair, drag your nails over his scalp. He bit a little harder, causing you to tense, and in that time his lower hand found his way back up, to the top of your pants. Deft fingers worked at buttons. You reached to help but he whispered to your ear, "just enjoy yourself. I've got it."

So you settled your hands back on his legs and focused on his movements. It took far too long, but finally the buttons came free and he slid a hand down into your pants. But again, he stayed above, tracing a finger down and over that line of you with your underwear still in-between. Your hips pressed up but his other hand came to hold you down against him. "Patience. You leave tomorrow, not in the next hour. I want to take my time. I want you to remember this," he slipped a finger under the side of the soft fabric and into you, "for the entirety of your expedition."

He started slow, so slow, too slow, but it felt so good, that one finger rocking into you, going as far as his knuckles would allow.

"So wet. If I am to be honest I want to remember this too. The sounds you make and the way you feel."

He added a second finger and your grip on his legs tightened, a soft "Viktor," slipping out with your next breath.

He kissed your neck. "That's three."

Still so slow, he brought his other hand down, slipping under the hem of your underwear to find your clit and barely trace along it. The action jerked your hips upward, causing a chuckle from him.

"I love the way you react," he whispered as he began to speed up and apply more pressure. "I love the way you moan and the way you taste and the feel of you around me. I want to bring you joy and pleasure."

He found his rhythm, the one that had your body jerking, your breaths coming short and your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

"I am excited to be your husband, to live my life beside yours."

You were close. "Keep going."

"If you asked me too, I would never stop."

"Viktor!" His name fell from your lips as your head fell back, your legs shaking, a wave of pleasure washing through your body. He kept going, making it last as long as possible, until you settled your hand on his, breathing heavily against him.

"That's four."

You lavished in the moment, the aftermath smoothing everything out, making you limp against him, wanting to pull you towards sleep. But no. That wasn't nearly enough.

A breath and you were shifting, moving forward, turning, your hands reaching for his pants. "These, off, now," you said, causing a bemused chuckle as he undid them. Carefully you worked them off and then your own. And then you were kneeling, settling back down on him, hand reaching for his beautifully hard cock now resting along his stomach.

An idea hit you and you scooched back enough to lean down, pull the foreskin back and lick off the bit of precum already gathered there. Viktor's head dropped back against the couch and his hand settled in your hair, his touch light, affectionate.

"Ooh," he said as you took the tip into your mouth, your tongue licking along the head, then around it. The warmth and hardness made you smile. You did this to him. You excited him. You took more into your mouth, slowly, deliberately, tightening on the pull back and then sucking back down, taking more of him along your tongue. Your hand reached lower, grasping what part of him didn't fit in your mouth.

"Ahh, yes." He swallowed, "that is-" his sentence ended in a gasp as you set a slow and deliberate pace, sucking, pulling, giving more attention to whatever made him moan and twitch. His hand remained on your head, no more than a gentle caress that would occasionally tighten out of reflex, which would make you smile and almost throw off your rhythm.

You began to pick up your pace ever so slightly and just as his breaths began to quicken you pulled up and off, shifting forward, reaching down to line him up with where you wanted him to go. His eyes fought through the haze of pleasure to refocus on you, hand reaching again, this time coming to your cheek, pulling you to him, his lips seeking yours.

Just as you met the kiss you set your knees outside of his hips and lowered, his cock catching on your folds, the tip just slipping into the considerable moisture gathered there. He moaned into your mouth, a sound you relished. You lowered, slowly, so slowly, focusing on the stretch, the press of his size into you. He fit so well, filled you up, your own moan rattling in your chest as you set your hips all the way down. His arms wrapped around you, his warmth one of the many sensations flooding you.

“You, ahh, feel so good,” he said between heavy breaths.

“So do you.”

And then you began to move, to rise up and his grip tightened. You lifted up and then sunk back down, controlled enough to keep a good angle. Pleasure pulsed through you. Your hands balanced on his shoulders as you did it again, and again, taking your time, focusing on the drag of him within you, committing this moment to memory, making it last.

A slow pace, the feel of him, his arms securely on your hips, you made love to him, bathing in the pleasure of the moment. His breaths shortened, as did yours, your chests rising and falling as you dragged in more air. Sweat began to prickle on your skin, trying to cool you as you continued the rise and fall of your motion.

You glanced down to see he’d closed his eyes, his mouth parted, his hair growing more unkempt. You watched for a moment, taking in the subtle movements of his face as you helped drive pleasure through him. After a moment you whispered a soft, “Viktor.”

Those honeyed eyes opened, turned their gaze fully to you and it felt as though you could fall right in, swim in those golden depths. “Five,” he breathed back at you. A smile touched your lips and you began to speed up. He kept his eyes on yours and you stared right back, holding that connection as pleasure built in you, and by the dilation of his pupils, in him as well.

Movement, pleasure, the fullness of him in and out, you let go as much as you could to be there, with him. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed, just his body and those eyes.

Heavy breaths grew ragged, muscle tightness gave warning in your thighs. You reached a hand down between you and he nodded. “Yes, I’m close.”

You found your bundle of nerves and began to circle, watching him, trying to time it. But he smiled, a hand came to your cheek, and you let yourself speed up until your orgasm washed up through you, stuttering your movement. His hands returned to your hips and helped guide as he thrusted up, keeping his own speed and shortly after, coming himself, a yell of your name on his lips. You kept what movement you could until finally settling down on him, still, sweaty, and in a few moments undoubtedly a little sticky.

You just sat there, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to his, being close.

“Come back to me,” he said, those eyes opening again. He took your face in his hands.

“I will, I promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

He pulled you into a kiss, something warm but still full of longing.

“Come, let's shower.”

“I have something for you,” Viktor said as you both sat in bed, neither wanting to go to sleep, knowing morning would bring goodbyes. He stood and used his cane to go into the other room. He used it more than he used to, not able to handle the little steps in and out of a room anymore.

He came back holding something wrapped in a soft cloth. “I would have liked a little more time to polish it, but it will have to do.”

He handed it to you and then carefully sat back down. You weren’t sure what to expect, but it was a decent weight and solid. You unwrapped the cloth to see an almost complete band of metal, steel maybe, if you’d learned anything from Viktor. The size looked like it would fit your wrist and was two almost three inches wide. A smile grew on your face as you realized, “it’s made out of rune plates.”

Viktor nodded, but let you inspect it further.

You looked closer at the symbols on it. Three had been cut out of the metal in a similar way to when preparing a rune plate, though this piece of metal was bigger and had three runes in it. The one in the middle you recognized immediately. “The rune for Zaun,” you said, tracing a finger over the smoothed edges. “But, this other one-”

Viktor reached and pointed at the one next to it, “this one is a shielding rune, it acts as a buffer when we are working with more volatile runes. It has saved the lab quite a few times, so I hope it might offer the same protection for you.”

His words warmed your heart and made your smile grow wider.

“The one in the middle is your masterpiece, and, of course, is for adaptation and ingenuity, so you may find the safest paths. The last one-”

“The Freljord rune.”

“Since you found it to be based on river systems, I hoped it would help provide a natural strength, the steady flow of a river. I know it is not quite the ocean but-”

You pulled him into a kiss, offering joy and desire. “It’s perfect,” you said when you broke the kiss.

A soft smile sat on his lips after the unexpected action.

You pulled back to look over it some more. Something shiny and reflective outlined the runes and the metal itself shone with a bluish tinge you hadn’t seen before. “Did you somehow inlay glass into-”

“No, and that part was actually Jayce’s idea. We made a shallow groove around the runes, ground up broken hex crystals, put the dust in there and heated it until it resolidified as stone. We had to use a forge. Luckily Mr. Talis is good with a hammer as he also helped me shape it. Then we tempered it to help with oxidation and strength, that’s also what gave it its bluish color. You might still need to oil it a little, but it should be fine with sea water and whatever else you get yourself into. Oh, and the reformed hex crystals in there are now more precious stone than magic, I would not have done it if any of the ‘live’ properties of the crystals remained.”

You looked it over again and then slid it on your wrist. He reached to help you. “There, and if you pull this small bar out, twist it once, and then snap it back in, it should be snug enough to not fall off, but still loose enough to move a little.” He showed you how to do it and then you admired his handiwork, getting the feel of it on your wrist. It was heavy enough to feel sturdy, but not so heavy as to be distracting.

“It’s beautiful,” you said.

“I’m glad you like it. I wanted you to have something of me to take with you. Ehh, I know it is not a sword but-"

"It's a knife," you swatted his arm playfully, "and it has utilitarian uses."

"So you're not going to stab anyone with it?"

"I don't have any plans at present, but," you shrugged, "the night's still young." You leaned closer, "do you really think I could?"

His hand reached up, cupped your cheek. "No. But if it will in any way keep you safer, I'm glad you have it."

"We should go to sleep."

"I know."

"I will come back."

"I know."

Chapter Text

It was always incredible to you, the ability of a sound to bring back memories in such vivid detail that it took you back in time. You stood on the docks, saying your goodbyes to Viktor and your grandmother. Sevika, too, had shown up and hugged you to about an inch of your life, her prosthetic arm having gained a lot of strength. It made you proud, if it didn’t also threaten to squeeze the air from your lungs. But while standing there, surrounded by the people you cared about, it all vanished the moment you heard the rolling ruffle and snap of wind catching in a canvas sail. It was such a distinct sound, almost a smaller version of thunder, that you knew immediately what the wooden railing would feel like under your hands, that the smell of the sea would change once you got away from land to something open and clear and wild, the point at which the pitch of the ship required everyone to get on deck, and that the soft lullaby of the waves against the side of the hull would lead to a deep sleep in the cocoon-like hammock.

“Are you alright?” Viktor asked, his hand on your arm bringing you back to the moment. You offered a smile, but knew your eyes still failed to focus fully on him.

“Yes, just,” your gaze drifted to the large tall-ship, a clipper of some sort, based on the hull and the amount of sail on it. Built for speed and maneuverability, which made sense if it was to get to and from a mysterious set of islands.

“I’ve seen that look before.” Viktor leaned in close and kissed your cheek. “You really do love traveling.”

Finally, those golden eyes of his came into focus, leading to an even bigger smile on your face. “Yes. I do.”

His hand caressed your cheek. “Then your happiness is mine.”

“All aboard!” rang out from the ship, one of the crew, probably the bosun, giving the call.

You pulled Viktor into a tight hug.

“Be safe,” he said against your neck, “and come back to me.”

You pulled back and met your lips with his, the kiss warm and lingering. “I will. I promise.”

Your taita and Sevika also got in one last hug and you made your way to the gangplank, your gear already stowed the day before.

You found a place along the side, out of the way of the crew and their duties so you could watch the people you loved a little longer. Perah settled in beside you, her arms resting along the wood.

“Who’s that?” She nudged you and nodded towards one of the bridges. There, standing at the edge of the main one to Zaun, two people. One taller, in darker colors, and the other shorter with blue hair.

Another moment passed with you staring at them before you answered. “Friends, from Zaun.”

“They didn’t come down to the docks?”

“Probably too many people and definitely too many Pilties.”

She huffed, “true Zaunites, then.”

A smile crossed your face and you offered a wave to them. Jinx waved back, but Silco did not. Your hand drifted briefly to the knife sheathed at your back, out of sight. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Hmm,” she hummed.

It took you a moment to realize she was looking at you. “What?”

“Oh nothing, you just still manage to surprise me.”

“Perah.”

“What,” she held her hands out. “I know what your smiles mean and we are going to have a longer conversation later.”

“Oh we are, are we?”

“Absolutely.”

You shook your head and looked back at the crowd, now growing smaller as the crew worked to set the sails, and the wind began to catch the ship. You found Viktor and waved a final time before the crowd grew too small and the bend in the river moved them out of view.

“Welcome aboard the Pītara Wai, a clipper barque with a wee bit of steam, but don’t worry, we let the wind do the sailing.” The captain’s accent came as a mix, Ionian perhaps at the base, but he’d clearly spent enough time in Bilgewater to pick up the pacing and colloquialisms.

With the ship underway, but still in the protective confines of the inlet leading to Piltover, those on the expedition gathered midship for formal introductions. “As a friendly reminder, I am Captain of this ship and any requests you have go through me or my first mate.” He gestured to a woman standing next to him, taller by almost a foot, shaved head, skin tanned to almost leather and dark brown eyes that took in everything around them. “I’ve been told most of ya have been on a ship before, good, then you know to stay out of the crew’s way and let us do our job of getting you to Ionia. Now, the trip should take three weeks, if the winds are with us, so settle in. We have a long way to go.”

“Ha ha, Yes,” Brighton clapped his hands together, claiming everyone’s attention. “Allow me to give you a tour of the ship.” He beamed a smile at everyone and then proceeded to take the next hour leading everyone around. One thing you had to acknowledge, he knew the ship and moved around it well. You watched the others, getting a feel for those who seemed to know what they were doing and those who stared wide-eyed at everything, clearly new to this type of travel. They’d be the ones to look out for as the first to get into trouble and the last to be able to get out of it. Brighton continued to be his bombastic self, and it did come with a certain type of charm. It, fortunately, did not work on you as much as the others, but he still seemed genuinely excited to be on the expedition.

“This is half a size bigger than the Pirate Queen,” Perah said, settling in beside you at the back of the pack.

“That was a working ship. This is a runner.”

“You think they have anything fun in their cargo? You never know what you’ll find in Piltover, or Zaun.”

You looked at her pointedly, “don’t know and don’t care. How’s about we not get into trouble on the first day?”

She pouted. “Fine, I’ll wait till tomorrow.”

You just huffed. With any luck she’d have found something else to catch her interest by then.

It took you almost four hours to spot them, but that time was more than enough for the voyage to be underway and your course set. Quick, angry steps took you down a set of stairs and into the cargo hold following after the short dark hair and face you recognized, but very much should not be there.

They turned just as you reach them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

They let out a huff. "Nice to see you too," Ran said.

"You are not a porter."

They gestured to the stacks of boxes and supplies. "It would seem that I am." Then a larger smile, “and it would seem that I am yours.” She tapped the boxes containing your art supplies. “How do you think they got on board yesterday?”

Your eyes narrowed. Of course they were. "Did he send you?" Anger still rode your voice, pushing you into their personal space.

They offered no indication of being intimidated. "Of course not, I just wanted to go on a pleasure cruise."

"I don't need his protection."

"Look, I'm not the one to argue with. But that ship, literally, has sailed."

"Okay, you listen to me-"

"No," the first flash of anger added heat to their voice, "you listen to me. It is my job to watch out for you, so how's about you not do anything foolish and if others decide to act that way, you stay near me. And maybe," she took a step in your direction, "we both make it back alive. Cause if I make it back without you, we'll, I doubt I'd live much longer."

That gave you pause. "What?"

"Please tell me you see it, you have to have seen it."

"I don't know what- I'm engaged."

"Congratulations. But that doesn't change the fact that he sent one of his crew along on this expedition to protect you. And, this ship ain't turning around and I ain't jumping overboard. So learn to deal with it."

You stood there, hands balled into fists, breathing heavy. And they just stared right back, clearly just as happy you were that they were there. But what could you say? They were right. And it gave you pause. Gifting you a knife was one thing. Sending along a whole person, one of his crew, and a very proficient one at that, if Sevika was at all right in the casual comment’s she’d made about them, was another thing entirely.

You shifted back a step. Proof of something stood before you that you did not want to deal with at the moment. With a final huff you turned and let the steps lead you back up-top, into the open air, into the shouts and bustle of the ship and her crew. Your hands came to the railing and it took a moment for the solid presence to ground you. Again you were pulled away from your thoughts by the wind in the sails, the crew unfurling one of the squares, to get more speed probably. You glanced towards the bow, looking past as the inlet opened further, more room. At least the ship felt sturdier than the Pirate Queen.

You leaned back against the side and just watched the ship. The movement felt good, felt like you were doing something. That thought led you to look for Brighton, and you found him surrounded by a group of the younger members of the expedition. He must seem quite the hero to them. His experience far outpaced yours. He had been all over the globe, traveled and seen so much, survived much. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he had the insight you needed.

That thought almost spurred you to action, but you’d been on enough expeditions to know one thing. You had time. You had plenty of time.

You had several days before reaching the open sea and so you set out to do what you always did at the start of expeditions, getting to know your fellow explorers. And the easiest way? Do what they all wanted you to do anyway, draw them. It's one universal truth to all your trips, didn't matter the person, at some point, on seeing your art and especially after seeing you draw some of the others, they either intentionally ask or give that longing look when reviewing others portraits. And you didn't mind, it was practice, drawing different bodies and skin tones, drawing in different lighting and backgrounds. And if, at the end, it made someone a little more friendly towards you, that came as a pleasant bonus.

Days passed and people began to settle into routines. Some rushed around trying to learn everything about everyone. Those would tire themselves out before they even got there. You just sat back, watched the world around you, and took your time. You didn't have to get to know everyone right away. Opportunities would present themselves.

Ran you avoided, and to their credit, in the times you did see them, they gave you space, acting as if you did not know each other. A small part of you was grateful for that. It gave you time.

It was five days in before you managed to catch Brighton alone, or more accurately, he gave you the opportunity. You’d all gathered for dinner in the small mess. Different people took the time to offer their own stories as the expedition crew began to settle in. Like personalities drew like and there had yet to be any tiffs, but it would eventually happen. Brighton seemed the one to be able to deal with such, possibly on charm alone. If not him, then Perah, who quickly rose through the ranks as people’s favorites. Only five days and she had Brighton dead to rights in terms of who sought out their attention. One worry, at least, abated as Brighton seemed to take it in stride. He remained the leader and you knew Perah had no real desire to challenge that. Gods no, she happily drew the line at any attention that also brought on responsibility.

But the conversations wound down and people headed to their bunks or to the deck to enjoy what was left of the evening. Brighton had disappeared with his usual followers in tow, only to peek his head up from the cargo area a few minutes later, apparently alone.

“Are they gone?” he quipped, scanning the area. Upon seeing you alone, he smiled and climbed back up, taking a seat across from you. He set two glasses and a bottle down on the table, bourbon with a familiar label. Your mouth ticked up into a smile, the kind Silco liked.

“Ah, so you’ve had this before. I didn’t take you for bourbon, I would have guessed wine, something lighter and sweeter.”

You huffed, but did not refuse the half-filled glass he slid over to you.

“Perah was right when she said you were quiet. I’ve been waiting for you to share your own stories over meals. I’m sure you have good ones.”

You leaned back, trying to get comfortable against the bulkhead beam behind you. Anxiety trickled into your stomach as you studied the brown liquid in the glass. This was your chance, you told yourself, you could ask him anything. But, what if- you stalled your thoughts and took a sip, seeking some small courage it might provide. The warmth, the sweetness, it helped ground you as you swallowed.

Just start small. “You’re brave to bring out glasses like this on a ship.” There was nothing to keep them from sliding off the table and shattering on the floor should the ship list unexpectedly.

He nodded, seemingly pleased to get any response from you. “Oh, once we hit the open sea these will be carefully packed away and won’t come back out until we are firmly landed on Ionia.”

“It’s a good ship.”

“Bigger than the one you were on with Perah?”

You nodded, then let a smile tinge your lips. “What stories has she been telling?”

His own weight shifted back as he sought a similar resting spot against the ship. With your table tucked in against the hull, it provided a small amount of privacy, what could be had on a ship like this. “Only good ones, I assure you. Seems you had yourself a good time around Bilgewater.”

Another sip, another line of heat traveled down your chest and into your stomach. You definitely wished it was Silco sitting across from you, though, that thought caused you to pause. That would provide its own challenges. “Bilgewater is a place that either makes you have a good time, or a very bad one.”

“A fair observation.”

“Though, for clarity, Perah and I were on a fishing vessel most of the time, a working ship. It was low, wide, and smelled like fish all the time. Not exactly as glamorous as this.” You gestured to the ship around you.

That earned you a huff of amusement. “She is exceptional at telling tales, isn’t she?”

“That she very much is.”

He leaned forward slightly, some question on his lips. He took another sip before asking it. “She said you’d been to Targon?”

You nodded, “Shurima first, but yes, almost five years ago. Trip was as long as this one should be. Got to see parts of Shurima I’d never seen before and of course, the mountain.”

“You’re from Shurima.”

You nodded, “but came to Piltover when I was 13.”

“Ah, so you’ve spent most of your life in the city of progress.”

“It is a beautiful city.”

“That it is.”

“You ever been to Targon?” you asked back at him.

He sat forward a little more. “No, it’s one of the few places I have yet to see. What is it like?”

“Mountainous.”

The unamused look on his face actually caused you to laugh. “Here,” you pulled out a notebook and pencil and began to sketch. “Sand turns to low hills, that very quickly climb. You can see The Mountain from miles away. It,” you worked on a closer study, pulling from what you remembered, “is truly a wonder. I only made it a little ways up, to one of the villages.”

“You didn’t climb it?”

You huffed, though the memory came back again. This time, though, you could hear Silco’s voice, “have you not found your way into magic, again?” “I thought about it. Who wouldn’t, with the promise of the divine at the top. But no, I kept my feet on the ground.”

Something about him seemed to relax, possibly out of disappointment, but- “So instead you came back to Piltover, just as noble a choice. Still, you have to wonder, don’t you?”

“Oh, of course. But the vast majority who climb it do not come back. I assure you, I was not prepared. I would be another ghost on that mountain, if I had tried. Instead I get to be here.”

“Here here,” he offered his glass up in a toast, which you met. You both finished your cups and he generously refilled them. You found yourself holding your liquor a little better this time, thanks, no doubt, to Sevika and her invitations to drink. That turned your thoughts to Ran. They’d sat next to you at The Drop and had been just as friendly as the others, treating you like a part of the crew. Maybe your words had been unfair to them.

“So, no Targon, but Shurima and Ixtal?” You refocused, getting back to the task at hand. “Your last trip, how far south did you go?"

"As far as one can go."

"You made it to the sea?"

"Oh, no." He fell quiet for several minutes. Finally, the action you'd been waiting for, his hand went to his wrist, to the bracelet, not visible, but you knew it was there. "There's an impasse, a point you just can't go any further." His eyes remained distant, his features contemplative.

You leaned forward. This was it. If you were wrong then he'd just be sharing a story. And if he was an immediate danger, well, you had the knife at your back. Though, still being in the inlet, just jumping overboard would be the safer option. You could swim to land. You quickly went over your exact route to the deck and side before asking, "what did you see?"

Finally his eyes settled back on you. Fear, his natural bravado seemed forgotten and instead a man haunted by something sat before you. "I, we could only go so far. But I felt, we all did, something-"

"Hungry."

His focus sharpened. "Yes."

"Not quite death, but not anything you'd call life."

His hands reached to take yours, as if seeking to steady himself. "Yes, exactly, how do you know this?" His eyes searched your face.

"I," shit, you couldn't tell him about Hextech or the runes. "Icathia, you got close, didn't you?"

He nodded. "Far closer than we should have."

He gripped your hands tightly. The shake to them seemed real. The pulse in his neck showed clearly. But how to tell? "There's a painting in the Medarda gallery. It shows what happened there. Something terrible destroyed that city." Did he see it, did the painting show him?

He let out a breath. "I thought I was the only one who saw it. Councilor Medarda's assistant didn't seem to react. I thought maybe having been close affected my mind. But you've never been and you saw it?"

You nodded. "I don't know why. I have no connections."

"You're not alone," he said, giving your hands a squeeze.

You eyed him. Might as well go for it all. Your hands worked free of his and you reached for his wrist. He stilled, eyes wary. Carefully you slipped the button on his cuff free and pushed up the fabric and there, encircling his wrist, that purple-gray metal. You held your breathing steady and let a finger come to rest on it. Heat, it was warmer than it should be, but the air around you seemed to turn cold. The rune came to life in your mind and you had to swallow before you could speak.

"Where did you get this?"

"Do you know what it is?" Somehow he had gone completely neutral, unreadable, his breaths shallow but measured. Was that interest or worry hiding beneath? The dream came back to you. Was he a willing partner or being used?

"I think-" how much should you reveal? "That it's connected. Has it done anything?"

"Done anything?" He looked at it and then back at you. "No, not that I know of. Do you think it's dangerous?"

Yes! "I don't know. There's a lot I don't know. I had hoped you might know more." He didn’t answer your question. Where did he get it?

He sighed and pulled his arm back. "Not much more. I can tell you the land is dead there, nothing grows. But we heard things, shifting in the sands at night and weird purple glows on the horizon. We almost went into Ixtal, we were so rattled. I didn't want to go straight back to Piltover, so we went to Bilgewater, just to drink and try to forget about it, but that's where I met the ship's captain. He was headed to Ionia so I convinced him to take us along. And," he reached for your hand again, "I can't wait for you to see it. The air is so clear and refreshing, the land so peaceful. If there is any place that is opposite what I saw in Shurima, it's there. Come," he refilled the cups again, "lets talk of better things."

You let him steer the conversation away, a slight sense of disappointment in your gut. Was it as simple as that? Was there more but he didn't want to say it yet? One thing did nag at you. Did he not notice the frame of the painting was the same metal? How could he fail to see that? Had his bracelet reacted? Or had he been too unsettled by what the painting showed him?

You finished one more cup before handing it back. "Thank you for the drink. I look forward to more, when we are on a ground that doesn't shift beneath our feet."

He flashed a winning smile, his bravado returning. "As do I. We'll celebrate the first night we land."

"Sounds good. Thank you, Dominic."

"It was my pleasure, I assure you."

As you turned to leave you saw him reaching for the cuff, to secure the sleeve back in place. Why hide it? Did anyone else know what it was? Frustration gnawed at you. But, you reassured yourself, you had time.

Chapter Text

The change in mood and tension in the crew became palpable as you neared the outlet into the open sea. Sailing between the Shuriman and Valorean continents provided protection, eased the waters and gave light breezes. But there, miles ahead, came the truly unpredictable. Ideally a ship like this had numerous safety measures and specifically designed features meant to deal with the majority of what the ocean could throw at it, but not all, never all. And every member of the crew had at least one memory of a time when they faced the truly unexpected and survived due to either luck, the gentle nudge of the divine, or some power completely and utterly outside of their control. It's what led many to be superstitious or outright religious.

Some of the expedition crew noticed, those that didn't found themselves getting barked at by said crew to remain in their designated quarters or at least below deck. The crew respected the sea, good.

The peaks of the swells on the horizon gave you the first clue that your voyage was about to change. The second came in the tightening up of the sails, the crews cleaning up of the deck and the captain's presence a lot more visible.

Small shifts of the deck beneath your feet gave way to rocking, to shifting of hung lights and hammocks with the ship's motion. Then the ship began to pitch, needing to pay heed to the swells marching across the surface. A constant wind was nice, but it also churned up the sea.

You found a place along one of the railings leading down below deck and let the sea come, let yourself get used to the movement of a ship on a testy sea. Perah settled in beside you. "Here we go," she said, sliding a hand around your waist to steady herself. You gave her a look, but didn't push her away. The solid presence of someone felt nice. Added to that, she knew what she was doing on a ship and it wasn't the worst company. But you knew the slight worry of truly heading out to sea, outside of the sight of land, did affect her, as she remained quiet, no quips, no casual conversation, not even any teasing. Good. At least she could still take things seriously.

To your slight shame, it took you several hours into the first full day at sea to realize Ran had deviated from their daily routine. Other porters still moved about, but you hadn't seen them since sunrise. The deck rose and dipped, rolling with the considerable swells. Then you realized you didn't know if they'd been on a ship like this before. Had they ever been out to sea?

You slipped below deck, looking for and finding them right where you suspected they’d be. On their knees in the head, face pale, a line of spit on their chin, face still close to the metal bowl.

You tapped their boot with your own. "Your stomach empty?"

All they could do was nod.

"Then you’re not doing any more good here and dehydration is only going to make it worse. Come on," and you held a hand out.

They looked at you, a distinct unfriendliness in their eyes.

You sighed. "Look, I've been where you are, you can ask Perah about it later. But I promise, I know how to make it better."

Finally, with far less strength than you suspected was normal, they clasped your hand and you helped them stand. The boat shifted beneath you and a queasy look hit their face.

"Hold on, follow me."

And they managed to, though you needed to help steady them numerous times. Finally, sunlight, the last steps to the main deck. You guided them over to the side, out of the way of any crew work, but at a place able to let go of their stomach if needed.

"Breathe the air and just look," you pointed away from the ship to the endless blue, "watch the horizon. It always holds true, let it steady you." You kept a hand on their waist and shoulder, "I've got you. All you have to do is watch that line and breathe the open air. It smells different out here doesn't it? Different from the inlet waters? With no land about, the sea breathes in its own way. There's only water and sky, and often that's all any of us has to go by. A compass helps, for sure, but any good captain and crew could do without."

Their hands gripped the railing as if it were the only steady thing.

Your hand shifted to rub circles in their back. "It's worse below, your body gets tossed about but your eyes don't have anything to anchor them."

You waited a beat and then were rewarded with the angry side-eye at your pun. That tugged a smile to your face. "But really, if you ever start to feel queasy, get on deck and track the horizon. It will help."

After another few moments they straightened. "Thank you."

You let your body shift with the deck and took a spot beside them. You studied the horizon as well, watching for a change in the swells, for some sign the waves might calm. But no, not as you could see, it was going to be rough for a while.

Finally you took a larger breath. "I'm sorry I was angry. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled."

They shrugged. "It's not the worst thing someone's done in my line of work."

"Still, if you're going to be my porter, you should have some idea of what you're in for. Thank you, for helping move it all aboard."

That earned a huff. "You think you brought enough?"

The slight tease of it brightened your smile. "That's Brighton, and it's his expedition. But yeah, more than enough."

"What's in it all?"

You took a breath and began to explain it, the paper, the inks, the tools, the protective and preservation gear. Also, how you would be carrying what you needed during the day and the ways they could help once on land. Slowly they began to calm, to grip the railing with a little less tension, the paleness leaving their knuckles.

"You're good at this," they said.

"Yeah, I am." You offered a pat to their shoulder. "Welcome to my world. Though, if you're good, I'll try to find someone for you to stab."

That earned you an actual laugh. "It's not nice to tease." After another beat, "besides, it's not the stabbing that's the fun part, at least not to me. I like the fight, the tussle."

"Like Sevika."

"Yeah, she does love a good dust up. She usually wins, too." Ran nudged you with her shoulder, something you took as a very good sign. "You ever roll with her, you know, before…"

That led to your own laugh at the innuendo. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, that's why I'm asking."

You stared at the sea a few more minutes, making them wait. Finally you shook your head. "No, but I thought about it. For a long time she scared the shit out of me. I wasn't brave enough to lean in and see if her teasing had any weight behind it."

"Oh it did."

You stared at them, your eyebrows as high as they could go. "And?" You prompted, but they just stood there, smug as a bug and enjoying your attempts to continue the conversation.

"How do you know that, Ran?"

"Hey, what do you call the mast thingy up there at the top?" They pointed up, deliberately ignoring you.

"The crows nest. What did she say?"

"And there, why is it called the poop deck, is it where-"

"No. Ran. Look, don't make me-" you shifted but they were faster, and had recovered more than you realized. In the next moment they had you bodily pinned, your back to the railing, and their hand under your jacket and on the hilt of the knife strapped to your back.

"One," they said, "don't ever think to threaten me."

You swallowed, not able to tell the level of seriousness to their words, but it damn sure felt genuine.

"Two, you want to tussle, we can, and maybe I'll teach you a few things, but not here." Some of their bravado faltered, "not until the ground acts proper and stays still."

They loosened their grip "And three, half the crew wants to roll with you. But even if you left that scientist, who you very clearly love, they wouldn't say a peep."

You sighed. "Because of Silco."

They nodded.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Nah, not yet anyway. Just be aware. Do not give him an opening and expect him to pass it by. Otherwise, he respects you, more so than some of the barons, but you did not hear that from me. And he's got a lot of pull, his standing rises by the day. It's not the worst to be backed by a man like him. For instance," they gestured to themselves, "you got me to keep you company. See," they tapped your shoulder, "good life choices."

A smile finally returned, though you paused as you thought back a moment. "Wait, when you said tussle, did you actually mean-"

"Ha! No." They shrugged, "I don't roll with anyone. Makes life easier."

"So Sevika-"

"Look, we make it to land, I'll tell you more, how about that?" They held out their hand.

You clasped it, "deal."

Six more days of rough seas when finally the wind eased and so did the swells. The ship lost a little speed, but everyone seemed relieved to not be getting tossed about as much. You took the opportunity to spend the night on deck, to which you dragged Perah and Ran with you.

Settled in on a bed roll and staring up at the cloudless sky, you watched the stars blaze overhead. You glanced over to see Ran just staring, their mouth open in wonder.

"I don't think I've ever seen so many."

"The lights of Piltover dim them too much," Perah said.

"And you can't even see sky much lower than Promenade," you added, knowing it to be true.

Ran nodded, not wanting to take their eyes off the sky. "It's beautiful."

"Much of the world is," you said.

"And too few get to see it," Perah added.

"Takes money." Ran finally turned to the two of you.

You sighed. "It does. Or pain, tragedy to push someone out of their home."

Perah slipped an arm around your shoulder, offering a brief hug at your comment. "So, how do you two know each other?" she asked.

You gave Ran a look, but they just shrugged, letting you answer. "Porter is a side gig, Ran also works at a bar, I know the owner and see them fairly frequently."

Perah smiled, "the man on the bridge."

You nodded.

"And his name?"

Did it hurt to give it? "Silco."

"Oh, that's a good name. But I've never heard of him."

"Give it time," Ran said, with some emotion sitting behind it.

You watched them a minute, but they didn't elaborate.

"So this Silco, what's he like? You said you were friends?" Perah prompted.

"Well," you laid on your back and looked up at the stars. "He's fairly quiet, with pretty dry humor. He dresses well. He owns a bar and keeps himself busy most of the time."

"Sounds like loads of fun."

You eyed her. "Not everyone is flashy and dramatic like you."

"Right, cause your other choice is a shy scientist. Your tastes have obviously gotten more boring over time."

"My taste? Do not put them in the same category. Viktor is my fiancé. Silco is-"

"A friend?" Perah offered, "yes, you already said that part. And maybe if you keep repeating it, it'll become true."

Ran snorted on the other side of you.

"There's nothing wrong with friends."

"You and I were friends once."

"We are still friends! And Viktor is also my friend, he's my best friend! There's nothing lesser about it."

"You're not making the argument you think you are."

"There is nothing physical happening between Silco and myself and there isn't going to be."

"Look, you do know you're allowed to look at other art even when you have a masterpiece at home, right? I thought you were an artist, isn't it your job to see beauty?"

You let your head fall back against the bedroll.

"At least admit you find him attractive, I can tell it from your voice." Perah nudged you.

Your glance at Ran did not help as they were solely focused on you, their grin nothing less than shit-eating.

"Come on, you're going to be drawing the whole crew and half of Ionia, are you telling me you won't find any of them attractive. Please don't tell me you've lost yourself to art snobbery so much that beauty is now an abstract concept."

A heavy sigh left your lips. This was a bad idea. "I think his face is lovely. The line of his nose, the blue of his eye, it's very, striking." You found a soft grin forming on your face.

"See, that wasn't so hard, now go on."

"I guess, his hands are quite nice and he has good posture."

Perah laughed out loud. "I don't want a book report, paint me a picture."

You sighed, "fine," and got up. A minute later you came back with your notebook and a small chemlight. They both watched you draw, fighting the breeze and slight roll of the deck. Finally you turned it towards them.

"Wow," Perah leaned a little closer. "He certainly is, something."

You gave her a playful shove, but she'd already turned to Ran, "she does like them skinny, though, doesn't she?"

Again that smile sat on Ran's lips, "at least in men."

Perah gave a small bow, "well spotted. But now," her eyes settled back on you, the chemlight reflecting in them, "draw him naked, I'm sure you could do it."

You slammed the book closed. "Perah!"

"What? You know anatomy, I'm sure you have guesses. However, the real question is," she paused for dramatic effect, "how big do you think his dick is?"

You just let your head drop into your hands a second before looking back up. "Hey, you don't even like dick!"

She shook a finger, "not true, I just don't like men. Artificial versions of that particular body part do me just fine."

You couldn't help but laugh.

"What” Innocence dripped from her voice, “Men seem to care so much about it, I figured I should get to be a part of the pissing match too. Turns out, they don't like it very much when you tell them your personal size preference and all the research you did to get to that number."

Ran themselves laughed out loud at that.

You just set the notebook down and began to thumb through it, seeking any kind of distraction. Casual drawings filled the pages, mostly of the world around you. The other two beside you watched as you turned the pages. A lot of Piltover and Zaun, architectural sketches or light and shadow studies. Quite a few were of Viktor. One was shirtless, that you'd forgotten was in there. You tried to quickly turn the page but Perah stopped you.

She smirked. "You do know how to pick 'em. He's got lovely lines, on top of being brilliant and making you happy." She caressed your chin a moment, an action you had to fight to not lean into. "Don't hide this, show it off!"

"Huh," came softly from Ran. "Silco's got a little more muscle, and a lot more scars."

You just stared at them.

"What? I helped Sevika dig a bullet out of his back once."

It took you a moment to realize Perah had gone quiet. She watched you both carefully before speaking. "What did you say he did again?"

Ran just shrugged. "The Undercity is a rough place, even more so the Lanes."

"His bar is in the Lanes?"

It was your turn to try and shrug, but you weren't as successful at casual as Ran. "There's a lot to Zaun, the people do what they have to."

"Look, there's making a life and then there's crime-"

"Perah," you put a hand on your shoulder, "I love you, but you haven't lived there. It's not some crime ridden dark counterpart to Piltover. Zaun is its own city, with a vibrancy, and ingenuity, and a rawness that can be so beautiful. Yes, it can be ugly too, but don't you dare boil it down to a tagine from a Piltie newspaper." True anger turned in your stomach. You'd been seeing it more and more, the words used to easily to dismiss an entire city.

Ran's hand on your back brought you back to the moment. Their touch was unexpected, helped you refocus on a wide eyed Perah still staring at you.

"Sorry," you were quick to add. "It's just, the city catches a lot of shit just for literally catching Piltover's runoff."

"You've changed."

"I've watched and learned."

A small smile quirked at the corner of her mouth. "You also said you loved me."

You huffed. "Of course I do, because we're friends."

Groans came from either side of you as both people laid back with slightly dramatic flares. You set the book aside and turned off the light. Silence settled in on the three of you with just the breeze, the waves, and the sails breaking the quiet.

After a while you reached a hand up, pointing to a brighter set of stars. "That one's the archer. She's a hunter. The red star at the center is named Valorantis. It's rumored that's where the continent got its name, Valoran, the heart of the hunter. She keeps the night sky safe. She's a protector-" your words died as you said them. A protector in the stars. "They are listening."

"Are you?" you whispered, soft enough to be covered by the wind.

It would be easy to write off the falling star that streaked across the sky as coincidence. They were fairly common on clear nights. But then three more followed, all streaking in the direction of the ship, all pointing to Ionia.

The sight drew sounds of wonder from the two beside you, but a different emotion sat in your chest. What if it all was real? What if the divine lived in the stars? What if they needed people to go up the mountain? No, it was simpler than that. What if they needed people? Is that the figure who stood at the gates? There had to be someone to answer the call, but there also had to be someone to ask the question. “Which one are you?”

A hand shaking your arm brought you back, pulled your sight from a sky full of stars back to the face of a friend.

"Hey, where'd you go there?"

"I," you weren't ready, not yet, "I just love looking at the stars. It's so peaceful."

"It is," Perah said, her arm intertwining with yours, her hand slipping fingers between yours and squeezing.

You let the warmth and touch bring you further peace.

Ran's softer tone came as unexpected as the question itself. "Do you know more of them?" they asked, pointing up.

"Oh, lots, she's named after the stars you know," Perah said, quite pleased with herself.

"Really?"

A smile came to your lips. "Yeah, really, taita taught them to me when I was young. Look, over there, that's the dragon, he's the hunter's companion, and on the other side is the mother wolf…"

Chapter Text

19 days in. You now knew the expedition members, you knew the crew, you knew the ship and you'd relearned quite a bit of the sea. Ran was doing much better with the seasickness and they'd become friends with Perah to the point that it was now a detriment to your sanity. You'd had a few more conversations with Brighton, but none had gotten you any closer. He continued to be friendly, inquisitive, and seemingly genuine.

You happily just followed along, sketching as you went, working with the journalist of the expedition. Your duties weren't just to draw what you wanted, but to work with the others to provide detailed sketches to the specificity of their particular scholarly focus. Fish and fishing for Perah, weather and sea conditions for the meteorologist, sea birds for the aviculturist, the crew for the anthropologist. The botanist? He hadn't had much for you to do, and when he'd brought out his little square device you'd ground your teeth, certain he wasn't going to be asking much of you. Apparently he was a "photographer" and had brought along a camera. You'd seen a few of his "photographs" and we're not impressed. He, and a few of the others, may seem enrapt by the new technology, but its limitations were painfully clear. Let him take his grainy and undersaturated pictures. You'd make your own botanical drawings and then the academics who publish the books could decide.

You'd finally come out through the backside of a storm when you felt it, a shift. You watched the realization wash through the crew. A new smell on the breeze. Dawn came to cloudy skies and a new, cooler tinge to the air. Mist began to form as that coolness collected the moisture around you. Something else, too, not able to be seen, but bringing with it a prickling along your skin. You'd only felt it once before, in a dream. Fear started to trickle into your stomach. Was something coming for you, for the ship? Then, unexpectedly, you heard a chime.

The captain stood at the bow, an unusual shaped bell hung from a chain in his hand. He used a small mallet to tap the side of it, sending out another chime in a tone unfamiliar to you. The ship sailed deeper into the mist. Goosebumps ran over your skin. The captain continued to tap the bell at set intervals.

For some reason you thought you saw movement above you, and several others also looked up, but you could barely see the top of the mast through the heavy fog, let alone anything higher.

The tingle along your skin became a buzzing, seemed to vibrate. You glanced at the cuff Viktor gave you. Was there a faint blue glow outlining the runes or was it a trick of the light, which had begun to honey with the rising sun.

The others all looked around, feeling it too, but not a one was willing to break the pressing silence. Only the chime of the bell let you know that your hearing still worked.

That unknown pressure increased and then, a breeze like a great beast sighing washed over the ship. The captain paused, the mist swirled and the shout of "land ho!" broke whatever spell had entangled you all.

The mists parted and there, much closer than you would have expected, a green and white coastline. Ragged cliffs ran the length of what you could see. With the spell broken, the crew began to move again, the captain giving orders to adjust course.

"We're a little north of where we want to be, but should only be a few more hours to Aoi Gaido," you heard him say to Brighton.

"Excellent job," Brighton clasped him on the shoulder. He then turned to your group. "Let's make ready, we're almost there."

And with that, the quiet anticipation at the beginning of a journey gave way to the true turn of excitement in your gut. You opened a fresh, new notebook, the pages bright and empty, and started to draw. It was time to get to work.

The village that came into view was like nothing you'd seen before. What at first seemed to be thatched roof houses turned out to be trees, but no, they were also the houses, but still living? They all grew in a large valley that led up into a series of hills. A river came tumbling down that valley to spill into a broad estuary area. You glanced at Perah, who was also taking notes. She’d be wading in that water by sundown, you were sure of it.

A large dock reached out from the shore. The wood of it seemed to be made of some kind of mangrove, the tree of it still living as branches extended out from the sides but with enough openings that various sized ships could dock. The roots reached deeper than you thought they could, to accommodate a ship of that size, but again, it all seemed to be a natural part of the land. How were they doing that?

Activity, movement shuffled around on the dock, people from the village came out to meet the ship, the group of them seemingly familiar with where and how to moor it to the wood. Once the ropes were tossed and secure you watched the crew visibly relax. They were there, they had done their job. A smile crept onto your face. You were there. You were in Ionia.

Ran stepped up beside you. “Do we unload now?”

You glanced at Brighton, who beamed a smile at the expedition. “We’re here. We are to get our things unloaded and settled and then we’ll meet the magistrates of the village. Welcome to Ionia!"

"Where are their defenses?" Ran paused next to the door of what would be your, theirs, Perah, and her porter's dwelling. It was, again, a living tree that also had pretty much all the comforts you were used to.

You'd all just finished unloading the boxes and crates and had them stored in the "house."

Their words caused you to look over the village, your house being one of the outliers farther up the valley, thus giving you a pretty good view of the houses spread out between you, the river and the sea beyond. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," they gestured to the water, then up the valley, "what's to stop someone or a band of someone's from just riding down here and attacking the village? And it looks like open access to the sea, anyone could just sail up there. Does there happen to magically be no violence in this country?"

"Generally, only what people bring with them," an Ionian man, close to your own age, stepped into view from the side of the house. Ran almost startled, him having approached somehow completely silently. He wore simple clothes in which he could move well, but that also provided some protection. His boots showed much wear, but still seemed in good condition. Ah, and on his belt hung a sword. Was he a fighter, a warrior of some kind? He looked you both over with exceptional criticism. But you just let him look, this was just as much a part of going somewhere new as seeing the pretty sights.

Ran stiffened, doing less well under his gaze. You reached a hand to their arm and they immediately shot you a look. You squeezed your hand and offered a strained smile.

"I can truly only speak for myself, but I promise you I have no intention of disrupting the peace."

"Then you have managed to fail on your first day, as your presence has already done so."

Ran tried to pull from your grip while also pointedly looking him over. "We don't have to listen to this, you-"

"Are graciously hosting us here, in this land where we know no one and have no ties." You met Ran's look with your own.

"Well, at least one of you has manners."

"I'll show you-"

"-its magic," you said, grabbing their attention, the topic catching them both off guard. "That's how you're protected from the sea. The mist, it's a barrier. The captain had to ring a bell and we were permitted to come through?"

The man stared at you for several seconds. He gave a nod. "Close enough."

"Ok, then what about by land?" Ran gestured aggressively up the valley.

He chuckled, "you will find that the land protects itself. Though, it would be in your best interest to not gain first hand knowledge of that." The man looked you over once more, his eyes landing briefly on the cuff Viktor gave you. While you would not describe his tone as any friendlier, it at least wasn't goading. "Come, everyone is gathering in the village heart, there are rules that must be made known."

He turned and began to walk away when you called out.

"Is it okay if I draw?"

He paused, turning back to stare at you, his brows slightly pinched.

"I'm an artist, I'm the artists for this expedition. My job is to record as much of this as I can. May I bring pen and paper and draw what I see? Is that permitted for gatherings?"

Again his gaze lingered before giving a slight nod and walking off.

"What's his fuckin' deal?"

"He's probably one of the ones that helps protect the village, maybe also a hunter."

"I thought he said 'the land protects itself.'"

"Yeah, but who do you think the land protects itself from?" You gave her arm a pat. "New land, new rules. What worked in Zaun probably won't work here. Take a breath and let's see what this land, and its people, have to show us."

"How are you so calm about it?"

You shrugged. "Watch the expedition crew. The ones newer to travel will rush about seeking everything all at once. Those of us with a few trips under our belt will give the place around us the time it needs to get comfortable with us." You gestured to the man, now much smaller as he walked back to the main cluster of dwellings. "Aggression to newcomers is common, especially to those who see it as their job to protect their village, or to those who manage traditions. But there will be others who will be far more welcoming."

She stared at you, not unlike the way the man had done a few moments before, some new understanding clicking into place. "We'll see."

Those words brought a smile to you. You reached for your bag containing your daily drawing supplies. "Yes, we most certainly will."

"Welcome to Aoi Gaido, and welcome to Ionia," a much older man stood at the center of a large tree-building, a space clearly made for communal use.

Your bag sat tucked over your shoulder and closed, your hands clasped respectfully in front of you. Even with tacit permission to draw, you knew the importance of paying attention to the rules and laws of a new land. Not that the scene before you wasn't striking with the golden hue of the open bark walls, the fires that didn't seem to burn said wood, and the richness of the dyed fabrics worn by the circle of leaders, "elders?" in front of your group.

"I am Chiru, head magistrate for this village. To my right is Dorima, she is Keeper of the River and Speaker to the Spirits, one half of the balance." An older woman, at least a decade your senior, gave a small bow. She wore simple robes, the only mark of station possibly a more ornate cord to her belt. "To my left is Tsubata, he is a warrior and protector of the village, the other half of our balance."

You nudged Ran. "See," you whispered.

She did not acknowledge you.

"We welcome you into our home and are happy to share with you how we are a part of this land and how you can be as well. Some of our ways may be different, but you may also find many similarities as, in the end, we all seek the same things. Though, we must begin with matters of safety.”

Tsubata, the man you and Ran spoke with earlier, stepped forward. “The village is safe for you to move about, as is the connected shoreline. However, it is advisable that you stay within sight of the village. Swimming too far, traveling unaccompanied north towards the cliffs or further into the hills will be at your own risk and this land can be very unforgiving if you make an error." His eyes scanned the room, but you found the small smile on the "keeper of the river," Dorima, to be more interesting. It would seem he was like this often enough that it amused her. Her eyebrow lifted as she caught you watching her. A small bit of heat hit your cheeks and you returned to Tsubata's speech.

"There are predators, both plant and animal, that will not hesitate to make you a meal. Now, the river here in the valley is safe, for swimming, drinking, and fishing, but do not,” he took a moment to emphasize his words, “do not follow it farther up into the hills.” He glanced at the woman on the other side of the magistrate.

Dorima took a step forward, her movement graceful and measured. “At the source of one of the many springs that feeds the river is a shrine. It is a sacred place and not just to us. We ask that you not go there unless accompanied by myself or Tsubata. There are many dangers and we do not want to see any of you harmed. Offer us and our land respect, and we will do the same.”

“Of course,” Dominic clasped his hands, offering a small bow, “absolutely. We are deeply grateful for your hospitality and allowing us to visit here.”

Chiru gave him a friendly bow and continued on, outlining a few more general rules and laws, none that stood out as unusual. In fact, the next few hours went on as all of your previous expeditions, though with considerably less drinking than the one to Bilgewater. Everyone got a tour of the village, you met the others who had roles to play, saw the small building that doubled as school and space for those working on crafts. They didn’t have nearly the same technology as Piltover, but few places did. It had earned its name as the city of progress. However, that did not stop anyone here from living just as fully.

Ionians were a little quieter and more reserved than Piltovans, or at least most in the village seemed to regard life with a quiet, pleasant acceptance. Perhaps that would change in time, if you stayed in the village long enough. One thing Brighton hadn’t done was provide a detailed itinerary. You had the location where you landed and that was the agreed upon place to get back on the ship in roughly 10 months time. But in between, he seemed to imply that you had freedom of movement and could travel some, once you were done with the initial village. But who decided what “done” meant? Most were just happy to be there, and really, you felt the same. Whatever you saw or experienced, it would be new, and potentially pave the way for future expeditions. Still, something about the lack of benchmarks pinged a warning at the back of your mind. A strange country in a strange land should necessitate more structure, as a matter of safety. Were all of his expeditions like this? You reminded yourself, again, that he had more experience than you and had invested a lot to come here. In this, you would have to trust him.

Three hours later, the sun sitting well into the afternoon, you stood with your pants hiked up, pad and pen in hand, staring down at the cold water shifting back and forth across your shins. Perah stood a little further out, making her way between the branching roots of the clump of mangroves. In one breath to the next the water cleared and you went back to drawing the scene before you, or, more accurately, below you. Perah insisted it was vital to get the shallow water of the estuary along with the growth of the sea grass and the scuttle of things that looked like crabs, or whatever Ionia’s version of a crab was.

You glanced back, the village still well in sight, the water on the way out as the tide receded. Still, you saw him, Tsubata, standing on the pier watching you. And a little further back, Ran stood watching as well. Both seemed equally as unhappy you were out in the water. But, you were well within the rules and while Perah might occasionally sweep down with a net, she always put back what she caught, after thoroughly inspecting it.

Your day ended with a good meal, every one seated at a series of large banquet tables. A gentle wind made the warmer air just bearable, though a slightly cooler breeze let you know the night may cool off more than it did in Piltover. Brighton held court, sharing stories and leading the conversation. Halfway in you watched Dorima get up and leave, excusing herself. With the lights and the closeness of the houses you did not see where she went, but she did not come back as long as you stayed out there. Tsubata didn't seem concerned, so you decided there was no reason to be. If there was one to worry in this village, it clearly was him.

So you let your attention be brought back into the people around you and the decidedly pleasant evening full of good food and good company. You nudged Ran. “Happy to be back on land?”

“Gods yes,” they whispered back.

Brighton found you later, as you were about to head to bed.

“I believe I made a promise to bring the glasses, and the bourbon, back out once we made it to dry land?”

Ran, who was already on their way back to your house, paused to look at you.

“Go on, I’ll be up in a little bit.”

They stared another minute before turning and continuing on their way.

“You’ve made friends with your porter, good, she seemed a little gruff at first and I was worried she might not be a good fit.”

You huffed, “they’re growing on me.”

“Good, good, so,” he gestured to one of the tables nearer the water, clearly put out for picnics or such, “shall we?”

You nodded and followed. Again he had managed to be alone.

He set the glasses down and proceeded to fill both to a decent degree.

“What do you think?” and he gestured to the village and the land beyond.

“It’s incredible. The colors are so vibrant and the houses, they’re trees! How do they do that?”

“I heard they somehow convince the trees to grow into those shapes.”

“With magic?”

A broader smile hit his face, “maybe!” While he was always one to beam a smile, he truly seemed to be shining, a sense of mirth and excitement to him.

“You really do like it here.”

“There’s so much, just so much. Wait until you see a windfarer, and the shrine. I haven’t seen that yet, but when I do, will you come along and draw it?”

His attention seemed to double, his focus watching your response keenly. “Of course.” It was an honest answer. If they let you see something sacred to them, and let you draw it, you would of course do it. Your eyes glanced down, looking for the bracelet, but it seemed to be well hidden by his cuff. “What do you think it is a shrine to?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard they are fairly common, usually to an aspect of nature or something about the ‘spirit realm’.”

“Spirit realm?”

“Yes!” he leaned forward conspiratorially, “I’ve heard there is another place, full of magic, like another world but a mirror to this one. And that the people and the land here can access it. To think, something so amazing and somehow so close. I’ve heard it spoken of a little, but want to know more. If you hear anything about it, will you share?”

You took a sip, letting the warmth travel down your throat. Again it reminded you of Silco, and that thought brought you back on guard, shifting slightly in the harness that held the knife to your back. “Yes, if I hear anything, or get the chance to ask about it. Though Piltover might be less enthused about things of an arcane nature.”

“Oh pish,” he waved his hand, “the voice of a few, stuck in older ways. There will always be those interested in new forms of wonder.”

His wording made you think of Viktor, which pulled a real smile to your face. “That there are. I mean,” you course corrected, “it’s certainly worth an academic study.”

“See, I knew I liked you for a reason.” He lifted his glass in a toast, though his voice teased at seeing a deeper meaning, “To academic study. ”

You met his glass with yours. “Look, I’m not saying-”

“Don’t you dare. This is the place to explore such things! Don’t you want to know more? If there is magic to be had, don’t you want to follow the path towards it?”

You tried to downplay the excitement that rose in you at his words. “Who wouldn’t?”

He huffed, “being modest again. It does not suit you. I can see it, your interest.” He reached for your hands, taking both in his warm fingers. “You’re right, not everyone hears the call, but you do, I know you do.” He locked eyes with you, a heightened intensity to his gaze, “let us be of like mind in this. Let us seize every opportunity to follow the magical. Please.”

“Is this why you came?”

“I know it is naïve or maybe even immature for someone of my standing and experience to be so charmed and excited by a place, by the potential here, but I am. I want to share this with the world, and I wanted others to see. And you do, that’s what you’re good at. People look to you for that. Don’t just be our eyes, be mine.”

He seemed so genuine. That desire, that fire showed so clearly in him. It made you smile. Finally you nodded. “I think I can do that.”

Joy beamed from his face, though he shook his head. “Being humble does not suit you, and I will see that you are broken of such a boring trait. Here,” He poured another drink and you accepted.

“Have you ever seen other magic?”

His smile faded some as his mind turned to other things. “Yes, but mostly at a distance. I would argue that some of what I saw near Icathia was such, though,” he held up a hand to forestall your commenting, “a terrible thing, it was still some power other than what normally graces the vast majority of us. I saw flickers of it at Bilgewater as they certainly have their own gods. And Noxus, I saw some there as well.” His eyes settled into the middle distance. “It is something closed off to so many. And those that have it, well,” he finished his glass and poured another, “they are as bound to the choices and intentions as the rest of us. One thing I have learned, “his eyes finally flicked back to you, “having it does not make one great. It just makes them more. Saint or monster, magic doesn’t change that.”

You found your own hand reaching out, taking his, a gesture that seemed to ease the tension on his face. “Travel means seeing more than most, the good and the bad.”

He gave your hand a squeeze. “That it does.”

You sat in silence a moment, listening to the soft hiss of the waves.

Finally you lifted your glass in a toast. “To finding the wondrous.”

He smiled and met your glass with his own. “To magic.”

Chapter Text

Your feet ached as you climbed the steep incline of the hill. The worn dirt path provided a guide leading you higher. How long had you been walking? A gorgeous green countryside expanded out in all directions, rolling hills seemed to continue on and on, though when you glanced back up, the hill you were on seemed taller. You couldn't even see the top. A cool breeze pushed past you and caused you to pull your jacket a little closer. You weren’t even into fall yet, where did the cold come from?

You continued on, walking the path, climbing higher. The day turned towards evening and still you climbed. Knees, back, and neck joined in with their complaints as each step took a little more effort. You finally glanced around again, taking your eyes off the dirt before you, and paused. This wasn’t a hill, it was more. A large mountain range extended out around you. But it clearly wasn’t Targon, no these were more even, and the air wasn’t as thin. A rushing sound caught your attention and you stepped to the edge of the path to see an active river rushing past and tumbling down to flow into the valley that stretched out far below. How long had you been walking?

You looked up, seeing the clouds not that far above, just beyond the peak. If you made it to the top you thought you might be able to touch them. For some reason that idea spurred you on and you convinced your aching body to move once more.

The sun sat on the edge of the horizon, moments away from sinking below, when your steps finally began to even out and you came to a surprisingly gentle slope at the top. And there, as if growing out of the rock itself, stood a great tree, one of the largest you had ever seen. It’s soft teal bark and red leaves made a vivid statement against the darkening sky. Buds of flowers sat on the branches, readying to bloom, but not quite yet.

You approached the tree, hand going out to rest lightly on the trunk. A soft turquoise glow lit up underneath your fingers. Goosebumps raced along your skin from the contact. The breath of something moved in the air around you, drawing your attention away. You heard the river again and walked to the edge. And there, as if from the base of the tree, gushing out from within the roots, the water flowed, beginning its way as the river you saw as you climbed.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, a storm on the way. You could see the flashes and the dark clouds beginning to obscure the horizon. If you started down now, maybe you could find a place to shelter. Aside from the tree and the river, there wasn’t anything else up here to protect you. But, you put your hand back on that tree, staring at the glow. Magic, it was magic. If you left, would you be able to find it again?

You began to explore its extensive root system. Large, gnarled wooden shoots buried themselves in the rock, keeping the tree secure. Maybe you could hide in there. Every time you touched a root, to climb over or under it, it gave that same turquoise glow. A smaller path led down along the base and there, you could see the water pouring out, maybe there was a cave.

Thunder rumbled closer. The force and flow of the water became a roar as you drew closer. The sheer volume of water pouring out was something you’d only seen at waterfalls. You reached a hand to touch the water and paused, a blue glow at your wrist catching your attention. As you brought your hand near the water, the runes on the cuff Viktor made you began to glow with the deeper blue you were familiar with seeing around Hextech. A humming began at the back of your mind, some energy gathering around you.

Lightning flashed closer and you ducked beneath some roots as the thunder quickly, and loudly, followed. A choice, you could further hide, or you could reach for the water. The answer came easy, you stepped back out and extended your arm, your hand reaching into the edges of the cold flow. It washed up your hand, reached the cuff, and seemed to explode in a flash of white, too bright, blinding. The rocks beneath your feet gave way and that endless expanse of time lingered as you began to fall, your vision returning in blips, the tree, the storm, the river, the mountain.

You fell, seemingly forever, and finally hit water, hard, knocking the breath from you, the cold seizing up your chest. Flailing, you tried to get back to the surface, but the rush of the river kept you under, tumbling, caught in eddies and dizzying swirls. You found the surface once, drawing in a ragged breath before being pulled under once more.

Panic lingered at the edge of your awareness as you tried to fight back to the surface. You’d become a strong swimmer, but this made you feel like that first time you’d swum out too far and could no longer touch the bottom. The sea had felt endless, just as the river did now.

Air burned in your lungs, rocks dragged at your skin, up and down lost their meaning. You reached out for, anything.

A large hand, far larger than anything you could put a body to, wrapped around your arm and pulled you towards the surface.

You woke, your breaths short, your blankets wrapped tight around you from your movements in the dream. It took you a moment to calm and to figure out how to get free of them. A glance around the room let you know you were safe, in the house with the others. One of them snored in another room, but quiet settled over everything else. Well, maybe not a complete quiet. A bird call sounded faintly outside. The house remained dark, the sun not yet risen, but you got up, stretched sore muscles and glanced out the window at the pre-dawn glow on the horizon.

A glance back at the bed and you knew you were up for the day. You had no desire to chance returning to that dream. But the thought of it brought your eyes to the cuff on your wrist. It’s polished surface reflected back what little light was there, but it did not glow. A heaver breath moved through you. Just a dream. A new place, new sensory input, the mind just wanted to try and make sense of things.

You dressed as quietly as you could and slipped from the house, your bag slung over your shoulder. The gentle slope carried you easily towards the main part of the village, though you kept as clear you could of the other dwellings so you didn’t disturb anyone. Once into the main village, you noticed it remained quiet, with few up yet. A glance towards the water let you know exactly where you wanted to go. A lone figure sat at the end of the dock, feet folded up in a meditative pose. Based on the garb and build, you had a feeling you knew who it was.

Even knowing you were trying to be quiet, your boots still made some noise as you stepped onto the dock. But you didn’t approach fully, no, you stopped well back and tucked yourself against one of the branches growing off the side. The land seemed to want to cooperate with your watching, as the dock faced east, putting him sitting facing the sunrise.

You slipped the drawing pad out of your bag and reached for your colored pencils, as there was no other option with what the dawn presented before you. Arguably you could have used watercolor, but you could do that later when you had room for water and brushes and your kit. You began to sketch out the shapes, finding the horizon line and waiting for just the right colors to come from the sunrise.

The simple act of sitting and drawing, your back to a living pylon and the sound of the waves all around you pulled you into a deep peace, your body relaxing, your mind clearing and your focus turning to the world around you, as you coaxed its essence down onto the paper.

The whole time he never stirred, never glanced back or said anything. No one else came onto the dock. It was just you, the Ionian sunrise, and a potentially grumpy village protector. You hadn’t explicitly asked to draw him and were prepared to discard it if he did not approve. But as the night turned to morning and the sun began to peak above the horizon, the sky a blaze of color caught in the high clouds, you found you’d be happy either way. As just existing in that moment was enough. You quickly added the brighter colors as they presented themselves and as you looked over the drawing, your eyes drifted down, to the cuff. A slight pang of melancholy hit. You wished nothing more in that moment than to share it with Viktor.

“It’s early in your trip to be missing home,” his voice snapped you out of the thought. You glanced up to see him standing only a few feet away. How had he moved so silently?

When you didn’t correct him he approached and crouched by you. While his face remained mostly unreadable, you didn’t sense any anger or frustration. He reached and you let him inspect the cuff.

“It’s beautiful. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

“It was a gift from my fiancé.”

“Ah,” did you detect a small smile? Maybe. Damn, he was harder to read than Silco. “The symbols?”

For some reason you decided not to lie. “Runes, for magic.”

He eyed you, a definite suspicion building.

“Not that I can do any of that-” you added, quickly, “not at all. Just, I’ve researched it and he is studying them. They mean something to me, to us, and possibly to others. Though, it’s hard to study something you cannot see.”

“But he tries?”

A small smile touched your face.

“No,” he traced a finger over the Zaun rune, “he succeeds. Interesting. What do they mean to you?”

You arched up an eyebrow, but again chose the truth, “the one in the middle I discovered. It represents the city that took me and taita-tii, my grandmother, in. The people have been through a lot, but they continue to not just survive, but innovate and thrive, in their own way. The one on this side acts as a buffer for stronger energies, it is protective, while the one on the other side is about determination and natural strength, like the flow of a river.”

“Hmm,” was his only reply.

Then his eyes glanced at your pad. He stilled slightly, well, more so than the already preternatural calm he naturally emitted. He spent several seconds looking over your drawing. You expected him to comment, you’d done a damn good job after all, but he simply stood and turned.

“Wait,” you tugged the sheet free of the pad and held it out. “This is for you, if you want it.”

He tilted his head to the side, “you would seek to buy your way into my good graces with art?”

A sly grin came to you. “Are you saying your good graces are for sale?”

He huffed, and just when you thought he was going to turn away, he shifted back, took the sheet and then continued on down the dock, to the village.

The sun sat a little bit above the horizon, the day starting in earnest, the dream that started it largely forgotten.

Until it happened again the next night, and the next. The mountain, the tree, the fall, the river, someone or something pulling you from it. Each time you woke around the same pre-dawn hour. You dressed and went to sit by the water. Tsubata sat in meditation at the end of the pier each time, in what you were suspecting to be his routine. The second morning you merely took one of the benches further up in the village, keeping your distance. The third morning you walked a little ways onto the pier and just let your legs dangle, staring down at the waves. Both times, when he finally walked from his seaside spot facing the sunrise, he passed you without comment.

On the fourth morning, as you watched the small line of rain moving across the water, having had the dream again and not finding a way to change it, you saw the shadow fall over you but not move.

“You are not drawing?” He paused, “something is disturbing your rest?”

You glanced up, looking a little more tired than the previous days. At first you pointed at the rain, “I didn’t want to chance the weather warping the paper.”

“That answers one of my questions.”

Frustration, your teeth ground together but you held back harsher words, that wouldn't be fair. Instead you let out a small huff. “I’m having the same dream.”

He tilted his head to the side a little.

“I’m walking up a mountain. It’s a long way. There is a tree at the top, huge, bright red leaves. A storm is coming, so I try to take shelter in the roots, but there is a river coming from the roots and when I touch the water I fall. I almost drown in the river. Then I wake.” You didn’t know why you didn’t tell him about whoever saved you, but that’s the only detail you kept back.

He thought for a moment. “The line between realms is thinner here. Perhaps there is a message in it?”

“Beware of the river?” you asked, a slight smile finally coming to your lips.

“Always, but perhaps there is more.” He gestured to you, "you clearly didn't drown. So, how did you get out of the river?”

You paused for too long and he crouched to get on your level. “What did you see?”

“I didn’t see anything. But,” again you hesitated. It took effort to speak the words, “someone grabbed me and pulled me from it.”

He studied you another moment. “Next time, if you can, take a blossom from the tree.”

“Why?”

“You’re too focused on your own sinking.” And then he stood and walked off.

The day seemed to pass slower than the previous ones, as you thought over his words. You followed the geologist around that day, and Ran of course followed you, holding an umbrella, and grumbling about it the entire time.

That night the dream came again. Your tired feet led you up the mountain. You arrived at the top to see the grand tree. You walked closer, looking it over, watching how the bark glowed under your touch. You heard the river and almost continued on with the dream when his voice came to you, “take a blossom.” Turning back you could see some of the buds were just starting to open. The storm still marched closer, but you returned to the tree.

A soft, barely open pink bloom glowed with a gentle light. You reached up, your fingers pinching it at the base, there you paused.

“May I have this?” you asked the tree, not certain why you were doing so.

At your words the bud came free and dropped into your hand. As it hit your palm it opened further, into a full, lovely bloom. A sense of peace settled into you. It was beautiful. Holding it carefully, you made your way down towards the roots and the river. Thunder rumbled close and you did not wait for the storm this time. Holding the flower meant you couldn’t hold the roots while you reached for the water.

Viktor’s cuff glowed, the cold water splashed against your hand, and this time, instead of waiting for the flash, you jumped. It was, upon looking back on it, a foolish choice. Why even reach for the water, why not just shelter in the tree that gave you the flower? But no, now you were falling. You clutched the blossom to your chest and waited for the force of the water to hit you.

Except it didn’t. One moment you were falling, regretting your choice, and the next you were floating and dry. The hand holding the flower sat empty as you yourself laid on a giant, soft pink petal, holding you up like a boat in the water. On either side of you other petals floated. While the flow of the river still moved at a good clip, its angle had evened out. Mountains gave way to hills and a green terraced countryside. One of the petals drifted towards the shore and lodged itself there. You and the rest of the petals floated on.

You traveled for hours, the countryside changing with the distance. Occasionally one of the other petals would drift to the edge, its journey ending, but yours continuing on.

Finally it was just you and one other petal left. And where the river should have widened further in its flow to the sea, it instead began to narrow, to pick up speed, to flow uphill.

The scenery began to look familiar, the low hills stretching out in a way that was becoming familiar to you in your waking hours. The other petal fell aside and then it was just you. But no, something told you this wasn't right. There should be a lake.

"But you're not on that journey," whispered a voice.

The river picked up speed further. You could do nothing but flow with it, up into the hills. You went around a bend and up ahead, darkness, the opening of a cave. All of the water poured into it. No, this wasn't right. This was danger. You considered trying to swim to shore, but the rapids would have dragged you under like before. Like before in your dreams. A chill ran down your spine. What had pulled you from the river?

If you stayed on the petal, it would take you in. Better to at least try. So you took a breath and dove, angling for the shore, praying. But the current wrapped around you and dragged you with it. The flow took you to that cave. You fought against that current, swimming hard, with purpose. Darkness came all the same. The light of day vanished and you woke, sweat beaded on your skin, hands gripping your blanket.

You marched down to the village in the pre-dawn of morning, your steps heavy as you walked along the wooden pier. You came to a stop only a few feet away.

"What the fuck was that?"

Tsubata let out an amused huff, but did not turn to you. "Took a blossom, I see. The path is long, there are many-"

"What's in these hills?"

At that he stilled. Somehow you knew his smile slipped. "You did not go to the lake?" He finally turned slightly to look at you. The next question came guarded. "What did you see?"

"What is in these hills?" Anger threaded your voice.

In a fluid motion he stood, his presence taking up much more space than before. "Why are you the only one to have a guardian?"

You took a step back, the question catching you off guard. "What?"

"Your porter, they are more than that to you."

"No, they're-"

"It would be ill advised to lie to me."

You stared at him for several seconds. When you spoke, it felt as though the truth was your only option.

"They're a friend."

He huffed. "And?"

Tension built in your jaw as you grit your teeth. "It's complicated."

"Take all the time you need."

You shifted, the harness holding the knife to your back suddenly feeling constricting.

"They're connected to whomever gave you that knife?"

Your breath stalled. You'd never taken it out or off other than in the house.

He held out a hand and waited.

Slowly, you felt it would be unwise to make sudden movements in this moment, you reached back, unsnapped the loop holding it in, and carefully set it in his hands.

The ability to breathe returned to you as his attention shifted to the knife, the pressure of his scrutiny momentarily abated.

He turned it over in his hands, adjusting his grip, manipulating it in a way that left no doubt he knew exactly how to use it.

"This is well made, and it was made for you. With the same care and craft as that," he tapped your cuff where you had your arms crossed, "but not by the same person."

You glared at him, but your lack of denial was enough.

"So, you have people who would see you protected, so much so that they would send along one of their own, disguised as a porter. I'm assuming your leader," he huffed dismissively, "Explorer Brighton, doesn't know? You do see how this looks? I should send you and them to the Kinkou, let them judge if you are dangerous."

You just shook your head, frustration welling up in you. "I'm not the danger here."

Your words caught him off guard, his inspection of the knife stalling. "But you know of one?"

Whelp, now what do you say? "What do you know of a power that is like an endless hunger? It has a purple glow and uses an odd, almost flesh like metal. It is cold, like death, but wants only to feed, to destroy."

He had taken on that preternatural stillness. If you didn't know him to be breathing, you'd mistake him for a statue.

"You've see this?"

"Only glimpses, in visions and-"

"-dreams."

You nodded.

"And you have no magic?"

"No, I-"

His hand went to your cuff, "but it has touched you. You have some understanding." Then his hand shifted to touch your forehead, "show me-"

Boots scraped wood as you stepped back from him, though you only had a few more steps before the edge of the pier. Your heartbeat picked up as you realized he had you trapped.

He also seemed to judge the situation the same and so stepped back, giving more space and offering the knife back to you.

"That hunger, it has a name, one given to it by the city that doomed itself."

"Icathia."

He nodded. "Most of what I've heard is rumor and speculation, is gleaned from what can be felt at a distance and in whispers from the spirit realm. It was called the Void, and yes, it seems it's one desire is to consume until there is nothing left. If you have seen it, would you show me?"

Carefully you sheathed the knife. "How would I do that?"

"I do have magic, at least some ability. It is a part of everything here. Your group is odd to me, to us, because you are so cut off from it. Well," he eyed your cuff, "most of you. If you let me, I could see into your mind, see what memories you would choose to show me."

"I have no doubt that magic will find you, yet again. And when it does, do not be afraid."

You took a step back towards him, drawing in a larger breath, trying to calm your heart. Another few breaths and you nodded.

He finished the distance and his hand came back up, the pads of his index and middle finger coming to rest gently on your forehead. As you watched, his eyes began to glow white. Goosebumps washed over your skin and a soft buzzing started at the back of your mind.

"Ok, I am ready, show me."

"And you'll see whatever I think about?"

"Yes."

You started at the beginning, standing before the painting. You watched it change, the room darkening, the glow in the frame, the maw opening up, and then all returned to normal.

Then you moved onto your first dream, standing before the city itself.

"What came before this?" his voice echoed in your mind.

"What?"

"Is this the whole dream?"

So you started at the beginning, floating in the stars. It almost felt like you could sense some emotion from him at seeing that, but he said nothing else and you let the dream play on. The desert, the countryside, the city, magic, the rune, and then the maw, the void opening up and coming for you.

He broke the connection then and you sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself back in the present moment. He stepped away and walked down the pier without a word.

"No wait, what-"

Then you heard your name from a familiar voice, friendly, jovial even. "Ah, good," Brighton stepped onto the pier. "I'm glad you're already up, I have need of your services today."

You glanced behind him, but Tsubata was already gone. Why did he leave?

Refocusing on Brighton, you threw on a smile. "Of course, what can I do to assist?"

"I wanted to follow the shoreline for a bit, see what we can find."

"Which direction?"

"Oh, not towards the cliffs, the other way, I'm told there is a lovely series of caves. All safe, I assure you, but I want to capture their grandeur as only you can."

Caves?

Concern sat in your gut at the thought of caves. But, two hours in, and the only offending thing seemed to be the amount of bat guano stuck to your boots. They chittered high in the cave above you as Brighton and a few others prodded deeper. They had a few lanterns, but the mouth of it was wide enough to provide light well towards the back, where it seemed to end without much fanfare. Ran was not impressed, but they still held her lantern where you directed so you could draw.

You sketched what you saw, the stone eaten away by storm and wind and water when the seas rose unusually high. Some of the lichen glowed as you touched the stiff matting of it. Let the photographer get a picture of this, in this dim light! You put a bit of effort to get it just right so he could clearly see your work was better suited to his needs. Insects skittered about. You drew what you could of them, and discovered Ran had a particular distaste for the longer ones with a lot of legs.

“I don’t care if we are out in nature, that is unnatural,” they said, stepping another foot away from the wall while still trying to keep the lantern - and so the shadows it threw - still.

While you could hear the bats, from this distance, they were just a shifting dark carpet covering portions of the ceiling. Maybe you could come back at dusk to see them flying out. Ran agreed to accompany you, if you promised not to go back into the cave, where the bugs were. It was a fair agreement.

Brighton shifted a little closer as he walked next to you on your way out. “No magic here.”

“I don’t know,” you showed him a couple of sketches, “I think it will certainly seem so to others. How many have seen things like this?”

He patted your arm, “right you are, right you are. I will cede the point, but only because you made it so.” His tone became more serious. “Is everything ok? Was that villager giving you trouble this morning?”

“What villager?” Ran stepped up on your other side. “Is someone giving you trouble?”

Brighton gave them a look, one of annoyance, but didn’t outright tell them to walk away.

“What? Tsubata? No,” a small trill of fear shot through you at how that might have looked. What had Brighton seen?

“He seemed upset as I passed him, so I wanted to make sure I didn’t need to talk to the magistrate.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine. We were talking about the weather, if it would storm today.” You tried for a lighter tone, “I’m starting to think that may just be his demeanor. I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile yet.”

“He’s a dick.” Ran crossed their arms.

Brighton chuckled. “Ah, not quite how I would put it, but he does seem the dower sort.”

“I think he just wants to keep everyone safe.”

“Well, he can watch his village,” Brighton pulled you closer for a moment, “I can look after my own just fine.”

You could feel Ran bristle on the other side of you. To Brighton, all you could do was offer a smile and consider what you would show Tsubata if you continued with your memories. You had encountered magic and you found you didn’t want to tell Brighton. Would you have to tell Ran at some point? If you thought Brighton to be a danger, didn’t they deserve to know?

There was too much you didn’t know and some instinct kept you silent for the rest of the walk back to the village.

Brighton didn’t notice, but Ran did.

"So, Tsubata, spill it." Ran nudged you where you both sat watching the light diminish and the bats stream out of the cave. You drew quickly, trying to capture the scene.

"Just being cautious."

"You lie like shit. There's something with Brighton too. What's up? I can't protect you if I don't know what’s going on."

"Will everyone stop, fucking, trying to protect me? I'm not -"

"-in a land where we know no one and have no ties?"

You paused to glower at them.

"Let me in on this."

"You and therefore Silco."

They leaned back, "have to get back for that to matter. Which is my immediate concern."

A few more minutes passed as you studied the structure of the cave, choosing shadows and texture. Finally you set your chalk down. "What do you know of magic?"

"Bunch of unnecessary bullshit that I do not want to get involved with."

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Fuckin', no, just, no. I do not get paid enough to deal with that kind of shit."

A smile slid onto your face. "Have to make it back to get paid."

"No, fuck you."

"You asked."

"How is it possible that you are this much trouble?"

"Ok, so first there is this ancient, terrible evil in Southern Shurima."

They stood and started to head back, "you know what, forget I asked."

Your voice rose as you called out to them as they stalked away. "And then there's this shifty painting from Noxus."

A pause, a turn, and an angry face greeted you when they stalked back. "This has something to do with Noxus?" Anger covered fear in their voice.

"Actually, I don't know if it does, I was just curious how you'd react to that."

They let out a loud groan and then sank back down next to you. "Fuck it, fine. Ancient evil, terrible painting, maybe involving Noxus, let's hear it."

You sighed and put your tools and pad carefully away, trying to decide how much to actually say. "We've got a good hour walk back, I'll tell you on the way."

"But I just sat back down-" they shook their head, "alright, fine, whatever."

"So, it all started almost two years ago…" You picked your way along the shore, listening to the waves, watching the twilight darken, and gave Ran the basics, knowing eventually Silco would hear your words, would know one of the reasons you went on this expedition, would know more than you wished for him to. But again, that only mattered if you made it back.

Chapter Text

The tree, the blossom, the river, the fall, floating on a petal. The dream repeated. You floated through varying countryside that both seemed familiar, but were also places you'd never seen before. And again the river picked up speed, flowing seemingly in reverse up hills that definitely matched the ones surrounding the village and up one in particular, a side stream from the river that yet again led towards the cave.

You dove, sooner this time, swam harder, and almost made it. As the water flowed and swept you up into the mouth of the cave your hand reached out and caught onto the side. Sharp rock dug into your hands, pain searing through it. The water dragged at you, the rock sliced into skin and your grip slipped.

You woke, one hand going to the other, expecting to feel torn skin. But none greeted your fingers as you felt in the dark. Your palm was smooth and whole, the pain from the dream no longer there. You rubbed it all the same, reassuring yourself.

Dressed, you left the house and took the steps growing more familiar by the day, towards the pier. Tsubata sat at the end and today you marched all the way and sat down next to him.

He chuckled. "Find the lake?"

"No."

His smile faded. "What are you seeing?"

"The petal takes me up the river, it flows up a tributary, into these hills, and towards a cave."

"What do you do?"

"I've tried to swim for shore."

"Do you make it?"

You shook your head.

"And in the cave?"

"I wake before I see anything more."

"Why are you avoiding the cave?"

It was dark? You didn't know what was in there? But, you suspected the question was meant to challenge that. If it was truly a danger, wouldn't he warn you away or offer another action? What was in there? Did it want you to go to it? And if Tsubata knew more, why wouldn’t he just tell you? Why did this damn island-

He put a hand on your arm, bringing you back to the moment. “This mystery has presented itself to you and so it is yours to figure out. If you truly do not want the dreams, it could be arranged that you no longer have them. But,” he studied your face for a moment, “perhaps it is something you are seeking and if so, you must decide what the cost will be to find the answer. Remember what I said, this land protects itself. It will meet you where you meet it.”

He gave you a small bow, “good luck,” and then walked down the pier.

He was already gone when you remembered that last time you’d talked. He’d managed to disappear again, so you couldn’t ask him if he wanted to see more of your experiences. Why hadn’t he brought that back up? You clearly weren’t done. But you now stood alone on the pier, the sun slowly climbing on the horizon.

You made a mental note to ask him again, the next time you saw him, or at least the next morning on the pier. Even if the dreams were unusual, getting to see the sunrise wasn’t a bad way to start the day, not a bad way at all, and you felt a little gratitude towards the dreams for waking you to see it.

Later in the day, you were an hour into following the biologist around, pen in hand, furiously trying to keep up when a blinding cramp locked up your hand. You gasped, dropping your pen and handing off your pad to Ran so you could begin to massage the pain.

"What is it?" they asked.

"Cramp, I've been going at this too long." As you worked at trying to release the tension you realized it was the hand that had grabbed the side of the cave. You took what time you could to try to relieve it, but the pain persisted.

"I'm sorry," you turned towards the biologist, "I'm going to have to take a break, head back to the village."

"Oh, it'll take that long?"

You tried to stretch your hand and pain shot up your forearm. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"OK, we'll go on without you." She turned and kept walking, the small group with her in tow.

Ran huffed. "Real friendly, that one."

You shrugged. "She's top of her field. And they don't hand out doctorates based on sociability. Don't take it personal."

Ran turned their attention to your hand. "What can I do?"

"First, put my pad away in the waxed pouch, we might get rain," you glanced up, "then just walk with me. I've got to work on it a bit."

Ran did as asked and then settled in beside you to walk back. It would be several miles, but at least a warm bath could be had, that would help a lot. For some reason that thought reminded you of another.

“Oh, right,” an evil grin slid onto your face, “Sevika.”

Ran huffed. “I kind of hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“Look, if you’re betraying a confidence, then you don’t have to tell me.”

They thought about it a moment, “eh, you’re engaged, and even if not, Silco-”

“-don’t.”

They held up their hands, “okay, okay, regardless, it’d be up to you to make a move at this point anyway. But yes, she’d mentioned you to the crew years before we met you, a ‘hot’ Shuriman artist. You worked in Piltover, which was a shame, but had you responded to her desire to be ‘friends’-”

You couldn’t help but groan at that. “I’m never going to live that down.”

“-she would have thrown you over her shoulder and carried you back to her apartment.”

“You seen her do that before?”

Ran laughed, “oh yeah. She likes ‘em smart and shy or, well, smarts doesn’t have to play into it, pretty’ll do in a pinch. Now, she’ll bed the bold and brash ones, but those relationships never last.” They slowed a little, “actually, relationships don’t work great for most of us. What we do, trust is hard to come by, on both ends. Lock’s had the best luck out of all of us.”

“Oh?”

“He’s had a partner for almost a year now. Pretty little number, well, everyone’s little compared to Lock. Works on the docks, they’re almost as strong as the big lug, but smaller package.” And then they chuckled at some inside joke. “They make him happy and we all do our best to keep them off Silco’s radar.”

That made you pause.

“Shit. Look, Silco’s a great boss, but he can be-”

“Intense?”

“That’s as good a word as any. Yeah, and what we do… the docks are safer. But Silco can smell out talent, he seems to know precisely how to use someone. If you’re not careful, he'll use you up. Lock doesn’t want that for them, so we all respect that.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You really don’t realize it?”

They stepped over to you and put a hand on your arm. “We protect our own. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t one of us. Now, was I pissed that I had to go to the far end of the globe? Fuck yes, but you’re important to him and,” they smiled, “more importantly, they crew likes you. Not a single person questioned it, when he told me I was going. If Sevika wasn’t his number two, she probably would have volunteered.”

Their words pulled a smile onto your face that you couldn’t fight. Why did it feel so good to know that?

You walked on in silence for a bit, the rolling hills stretching out, all lovely shades of green dotted with small trees. Wild flowers poked their colorful heads above the grasses creating patches of pink, purple, yellow and blue. The sound of the river became louder, one more bend and you should be able to just see the village. But as you walked, the water sound grew louder than expected. Both you and Ran paused as you saw the smaller stream making its way down towards the river.

Goosebumps ran over your skin as you followed its path back up into the hills. Familiarity teased at the back of your mind. You had seen this. You walked to the water’s edge and brought your hand to the water, let it run over your fingers. Cold, like the dream. A faint glow caught your attention as your hand dipped lower. Viktor’s cuff, the outlines of the runes made of the hex crystals, they, without question, glowed blue.

“Ran.”

“What?” something in your tone brought her to your side quickly.

“Look.” You pointed to the cuff.

“What does that mean?”

You pulled your hand out and as the water dripped off, the glowing dimmed, fading as it dried. You stood and looked up the stream. Ran caught your arm before you could even take one step.

“Fuck no.”

“This is what I’ve seen in my dreams.”

“Then that’s double the fuck no.”

“There is something up there.”

“Which is exactly why we are going to go in the opposite direction.”

You tried to shake their hand off, but they moved bodily in front of you.

“This is precisely one of the reason's I'm here. That,” she pointed up the stream, “only leads to danger. It is literally what that asshole Tsubata told us not to do.”

“So, all the better to defy him.”

“Nice try.” They shook their head, “what if I wasn’t here? Hmm? You would have followed that and then what? You'd of gotten into trouble, without me there to drag you back out of it. No.”

“Ran-”

“This is not up for discussion. Don’t think for a second you are capable of getting past me and I will carry you if I have to.”

You wanted to fight them. Some form of an answer was up there. But, a voice of reason that sounded a lot like Viktor, asked you to consider that you knew very little about your dreams. There were those you could talk to and-

“Look,” Ran sighed, “whatever’s up there, do you think it is going to leave or can you at least ask someone about it?”

Your head dropped as a larger breath moved through you. “I saw the stream and then a cave.”

“See, cave’s don’t move and the stream isn’t going anywhere. And you’ve only got one fully-functioning hand. So, let’s get back to the village?”

“Fine.” You were not fine. You were frustrated. But it was the smart choice. Besides, a mischievous side of you offered, if you had the dream again, maybe you could make a different choice.

Mountain, tree, blossom, roots, river, storm, jumping off, floating on a petal. You rode on it through the countryside. Then the seeming reverse flow, going up the stream. You gripped the petal tighter and tried to breathe, but you purposefully stayed put. It flowed closer, the dark, open maw of the cave rushing towards you. In the last second you closed your eyes, held your breath.

Stillness. You stood, on unknown ground, in complete darkness. Warm air, but not too much so, settled around you. The silence lingered and the lack of any visual information sped your heart, threatening your balance. You reached out, but could feel nothing.

Shorter breaths moved through your chest. “Hello?” you could barely force the word out.

“There is no need to be afraid,” a voice, rich and resonant, rumbled through your body as it spoke in that darkness, directionless.

“Who are you?”

A chuckle. “Someone very curious about a traveler swimming in my waters.”

"Where am I?"

"My home."

"Am I allowed to be here?"

"If I did not permit it, you wouldn't be."

"And why do you permit me?"

The air shifted around you, the barest whisper of a breeze, but still the darkness shrouded everything. "I appreciate your curiosity. Now go on, I'm enjoying your questions."

"Why am I here?"

"You took the blossom, you chose to walk the path, you finally decided to go with the flow of the river. There are few who face their fear in such a way."

"Oh, I'm still afraid."

A deep throaty chuckle rumbled through the air around you. Whatever was speaking must be large.

"Did you pull me from the river, in my dreams before?"

"And if I did?"

"Thank you."

"Hmm, I heard you had manners."

Your breath caught a moment. "You know Tsubata."

"The grumpy warrior?" Another chuckle, "I do."

"Do you live in darkness or could you make it so I can see?"

"Now that's the most interesting question you've asked yet, even though you don't know the full breadth of the request. You know what? Why not? It will make for a far more interesting dream. Now hold still, I need to concentrate to open your eyes."

You did your best and nearly jumped out of your skin when a jolt of heat shot through your head. It zipped down your spine, through your chest, and out and down your arms and legs, leaving tingles in its wake.

Your eyelids suddenly felt so heavy, something weighing them down. You blinked once, again, the second time lasting longer than the first. The third blink lingered even longer. And then a flash of light shot through your vision, as it faded, the world filled in around you, a large cave, walls studded with glowing mushrooms. Glowing moss grew up the wall. The colors all seemed, off, too saturated, hues shifted from what you were used to, and it all seemed to have a slight haze that wavered as you changed focus.

You glanced down and froze, thinking that maybe realizing it would break whatever spell that let you stand on the surface of a wide pool. A soft green light shone up through the rippling surface as you realized it wasn't a still pool, but a spring. Vibrant colors washed through the water, some zipping their way through, others swimming at a more leisurely pace. Their glow seemed to cause an after effect in your vision. One that, as you watched it further, began to suspect it was something else.

"Magic. I'm seeing magic."

"Of course you are. It's the spirit realm."

You froze, "I'm in the spirit realm?"

"Oh, no, I'd never let you just wander in there, you wouldn't survive the hour, but, you can see it. My home is still quite dark, this is just the overlap."

You glanced down again and hazarded a step. As you did so, your footing held, but ripples of light drifted away. "I'm affecting it?"

"Of course you are." An exacerbated sigh punctured the air before whomever it was spoke again. "You really don't-," the voice softened, "your home must be so quiet, so dark."

You weren't sure what to say to that. But as they said it another glow caught your attention, one on your wrist. Viktor's cuff, the outline in the hex crystals glowed a steady blue. "Maybe it's not all dark," you whispered, bringing it up so you could look at it. The shallow channel with the blue glass radiated a steady light that grew in brightness as you stooped, bringing it closer to the water.

"Clever," the voice said. "And you are right, lady of the stars, you have seen it. Though I think it still pales to what occurs here naturally."

"If I'm not in the spirit Realm, then I'm still in Ionia? This is a spring? Where does it come from and," you glanced around, searching for the mouth of the cave, "where does it go?"

"More good questions. But I'm curious what you might think."

You turned in a slow circle, trying to take it all in. In the shifting light, the cave seemed to stretch on around you, the edges hard to determine, as if it would change the moment you looked away. A stronger light shone near one of the far walls. At first it appeared to be veins, or lightning, or- as you stepped closer it flared brighter, a small sapling of a tree with pale teal bark and a few red leaves grew out from the stone, its roots reaching down into the water.

"This is the same tree as what I saw on the mountain?"

"The same type, but not that exact one. That one was destroyed by the storm an exceptionally long time ago. It is a guardian tree."

"It's young?"

"Yes, just a sapling. I've managed to coax it into place and am doing what I can to get it to grow."

"Does it need light?"

"Oh, it gets plenty."

You stepped closer, though still kept a respectful distance. The line of roots wove into and the through the rock, like what you saw in your dreams. However, where the tree in your dream was large and the river came from it, you noticed the roots reaching down into the water and faint pulses of light traveling up from it, as if the tree came from the water. No, not the water-

“The spring, it comes from the spirit realm doesn’t it? It feeds the tree.”

“Very good. Though, in time, it will grow up through these rocks and take its proper place in this valley.”

You watched the swirls of energy linking the tree to the water, to the rock, and to the glowing heart of the spring. You could see it now. A shimmery iridescence deep in the water. Light flowed out of it as much as water, pouring magic into the land. “The tree guards the spring?”

“It will, in time. But it must be nurtured.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

A chuckle came from behind you, but when you turned you still couldn’t find the owner of the voice. “No, I lived here before the spring made its way out of the Spirit Realm. Or, perhaps it followed me. I am not sure, but I’m happy to watch over it. These connections strengthen Ionia, help secure the balance.”

“How long has the village been here?”

“See, I knew I’d like your questions. Ask another.”

“Why won’t you let me see you?”

“Also an excellent question. Any more?”

“What do you know about the Void?”

Something shifted in the world around you. A coolness washed past your legs as you began to sink into the water. The outline of a creature began to fill in around you, long, long enough to easily encircle, body taller than you by another half, scales, clawed hands, and a longer face, teeth, finally eyes that glowed a deep sea green. A growl came from its throat, one that reverberated through your entire body, and you woke.

The word for what you thought you had seen sat on your tongue, but you did not want to voice it, as you almost didn’t want it to be real. What were you getting yourself into? You brought your hand up to rub your face and paused. The runes on the cuff glowed softly, the blue light clear to see. Water still dripped from it, leaving dark spots on the blanket.

“Shit.”

You stared, giving it another minute. Finally, the glow began to fade and once it let your room fall into darkness you could breathe again.

You dressed quickly, intent on speaking with Tsubata.

As you walked down to the pier in the pre-dawn light, you were so in your own head, going over the events of your dream, that you didn’t realize the pier was empty until you stepped on it. It jarred you, the long stretch of living wood reaching out into the water with no one seated at the end. Your steps came slower as you walked the length of it, determined to be sure he wasn’t somehow hiding himself.

You walked down to end, more out of habit than expectation. Still it stood empty. Where had he gone? You glanced back at the village, but had no idea which house was his or where he could be. Maybe he was just late? Uncertainty gripped you. If the dream was real, had you angered something that potentially lived not too far away?

Well, the village didn’t have any answers. And you didn’t see anything along the shore or out on the water. The warmth of the morning fueled storms already building out over the ocean Those storms might limit what you could do with your day. Their tall white columns stood out in the morning light, catching vibrant colors that caught your attention. Tsubata was going to miss a heck of a sunrise. You let yourself pause. It was beautiful.

Sitting where he usually sat, you let yourself relax, or at least try to. A nervous energy buzzed in your chest, wanting you to be doing, something. So you did. You swung your bag around and pulled out your supplies. You weren’t necessarily in the mood, but it assuaged that building anxiety enough. Maybe if you could just focus on the sea, let the colors and shapes guide you into muscle memory, it would get you started on the blank page.

You began to draw, using the oil crayons, feeling a different style push forward. Vivid blocks of color that seemed to push against each other came onto the page, each vying for your interest. Just as your mind did the same. A part of you watched the sunrise, another ran questions through you. What was that? Could it have really been- was one of those living close to the village? Had you actually seen the spirit realm? The crayons stained your hands and your sleeve as you continued to work, a sloppiness of it jarring from your usual style. But you let the process continue until something lively and brilliant sat upon your page. You brought your focus in from the overall composition and stilled. The sunrise was certainly there, but so was another shape, lines of greens and blues drawn over it. A ghost of the creature wove through the image. And you couldn’t deny it.

“That looks like a dragon.”

You turned, having not heard the Keeper of the River, Dorima, approach. She stood serene, having that same stillness Tsubata possessed, and was just as unreadable. The breeze moved in her clothes, tugging at her sleeves. “He is right about your art,” she said, looking at your pad. “It is lovely, though I am curious as to your inspiration.”

“Thank you, I-” but your words failed. If you had seriously fucked up, you were about to find out.

She waited another beat and you rushed to put your supplies away, wiping your hands on a small towel before starting to stand. Her hand reached out as you did so and you caught it, letting her help you up, which she did with very little effort.

You finally spoke just to confirm that you still could. “Is Tsubata alright? He's normally here in the morning.”

“He is.”

Another moment passed with you both just standing there.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, follow me.” And she turned and walked down the pier.

You immediately followed, feeling like the academy student again, being called to the Dean’s office.

She led you down into the village and then off to the side, a little further into the hills. You walked in silence for a good 15 minutes before she entered one of the dwellings tucked into the side of a hill, no, not just set into the soil, but growing into and from the very bedrock of the land beneath. The smell of it greeted you before even entering, the rich scent of pine filling the air and at times the amber sap seeped from the bark. The massive tree, its needles sighing in the sea breeze filtering through the house, added to the calming presence of the space. A prickling washed over your skin, sending goosebumps along your arms and neck as you stepped inside. Small insects moved about and flowers grew along the walls in colors you had never seen, that would be hard to describe, and that you certainly did not have the pigments to replicate. Most of them gave off a soft glow.

“Magic,” you whispered as you stopped to admire a flower with numerous, long, flowing petals that moved in slow motion, as if underwater. A damselfly of some sort flew around it, little arcs of electricity shooting between them.

“It really is that rare for you, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen a flower like this.”

“Magic, I mean.”

You tore your gaze away to turn back to her. “Is it so common here?”

“I told you,” Tsubata stepped into the room from one of the others further in, “they are cut off, or have cut themselves off.” He sank down into one of the chairs in what seemed to be the main seating area. Dorima gestured you over, indicating that you join them.

“She was asking about you.”

“Oh?” a smile slipped onto his face far easier than you’d ever seen it. You weren’t sure if it was the comfort of Dorima, the dwelling, or some other reason, but it helped you relax a little, seeing him capable of being casual, or as casual as someone like him could be. “She’s turning out to be one of the least offending of her group. It’s a low bar,” he offered you a wink, “but it's something.”

“Tsubi, be nice.”

Some look colored his face at the nickname.

“Tsubi?” you said, hoping to capitalize on the joviality of the moment.

“She can call me that. I am Tsubata the grumpy, to you.”

You stilled. How did he know he’d been called that?

“I am quite aware of other nicknames. They serve me well enough.”

“She was waiting for you on the pier.” Dorima sat, but held a hand out to you. “She drew something quite interesting.”

Again, feeling like a student at a disciplinary meeting, you sat and handed over the pad.

Dorima opened it and set it down on the low table between the chairs.

Tsubata leaned forward a little, “that’s a good likeness, and I like the bolder style.”

“Tsubata-”

“Don’t get angry at me, she invited her in. It is not my place to question Tama.”

“Well it is mine.”

Tsubata made a gesture inviting her to “be my guest.”

“Did I do something wrong?” your voice cut through the room.

Dorima took a breath and spoke, “not technically, as I sincerely doubt you have control of your dreams. But, what you have seen is something we have a duty to protect."

Understanding came to you. "That's the shrine."

Dorima nodded.

"But isn't there a," your voice quieted as you said it, still uncertain of using the name, "dragon, protecting it?"

"Yes, but-"

Tsubata sat forward, "everything is connected here. There is a balance. If violence is met with violence, it can still change the world around it. Blood spilt is blood spilt, especially in a place like that."

"You speak of balance as if it is a tangible thing. It's not just an idea?"

"I'm not sure whether to be sad or angry that this is so foreign a concept to outsiders."

Dorima put a hand on his arm. "It is the very fabric of our existence. That shrine has one of the newest connections to the spirit realm on this island. And it is our village's duty to protect it. In time, the tree will grow, the spring will mature, and the magic will feed the land for miles around. A strong, grounded, and guarded shrine will strengthen all of Ionia and will be able to handle more visitors and be able to calm the unsteady waters brought in by those seeking solace or healing. But it is only a few generations old, and interference now could cause damage that would take hundreds of years to undo."

"You talk about it as if the shire itself is alive."

Dorima raised an eyebrow expectantly.

You nodded. "Because it is. That's, this is all incredible."

"So you understand why we must ask you to keep this knowledge to yourself?" Tsubata said.

"I do. And thank you for explaining it."

"It's better you know, now that Tama has spoken with you."

"So they are a dragon?"

Dorima studied your art. "Of a sort. There are many types, she-"

"Came from the spirit realm, didn't she?"

"See," Tsubata nudged Dorima, "clever."

"Yes, and fortunately she has accepted the village and permits us to be here, so long as we help protect her home."

"Does she protect the village?"

Tsubata huffed, "when she feels like it."

Dorima shot him a glance. "In all things there is a-"

"Balance?" you offered.

"Just so."

"You are connected to her, aren't you? You knew I'd dreamed of her."

Dorima nodded. "Dreams are a common way to glimpse the spirit realm and connect to this world. It is not entirely uncommon for others to dream of the tree, however, Tama exceptionally rarely interferes in order to offer a personal invitation."

"Did I make her angry?"

Dorima thought for a moment. "No," though the tone belied a level of uncertainty, "not really, more shocked her. It, the Kyo as we call it, is an outside force that would very much threaten the balance. We don't know much about it other than glimpses and whispers, all steeped in fear. Magic, to us, is a wellspring of life, quite literally in this case. Kyo's destructive, consumptive nature acts against that in a primal way. I know you showed Tsubata, but would you show me as well? We haven't met anyone who's had any kind of contact with it."

You nodded. "I can, and," you looked to Tsubata, "I didn't show you all of what I've seen. There may be more of a danger here than you know."

Both sat forward at your words.

You shifted closer and Tsubata reached for your hands.

"Aren't you-"

"No, she's more skilled, she can connect all of us."

You settled in front of him and Dorima placed a hand on your shoulder, and one on his. Her eyes began to glow, as did his and you wondered, did yours as well?

"Alright, show us."

"Everything, or pick up from last time?"

"I have seen what you showed him, please continue."

You paused. "I don't mean to cause trouble."

Tsubata squeezed your hands. "You already said as much and I already assured you it was much too late."

His chiding caused a smile, helped you relax. You took a few breaths to steady yourself, uncertain how what you were about to show them would be received.

You closed your eyes and when you opened them you stood in the explorers hall, Brighton announcing the expedition. Your focus narrowed to the metal wrapped around his wrist. Tsubata's hands tightened, the memory fading, he started to draw back, but Dorima's voice cut through between you.

"Wait, we should see all she has to show."

"If this is true, he should be dealt with."

Fear hit your gut. "See it all, please. I've tried to get answers from him."

After another moment he settled, his hands relaxing. Dorima nodded and you were now standing before the painting again, with it changing, the two figures. Upon watching it again it felt incredibly naïve to consider yourself as the person at the gates. How were you anything more than a child playing at things beyond her understanding?

"You see more than most, continue, please."

Next, the second dream, in the river, a figure talking to you, Brighton, though maybe not him. The tendrils of metal dragging you down, dragging you under. You were a few exchanges into your conversation with Viktor when you stopped the memory.

"Sorry, you don't need to see that."

"He's the one who made the cuff?"

"Yes."

But Dorima did not comment further.

Really, the only things left were your conversations with Brighton. They played out as best you remembered them and then Tsubata and Dorima withdrew their hands.

You began speaking, more out of nervousness than necessarily needing to explain. "I'm uncertain what to think. He's connected to it somehow, and has an interest in magic, but he also seems genuine, he-"

"Has ghosts that follow him," Tsubata said.

"Wait, do you mean real-"

"No," a chuckle, "my apologies, I see how you might think, but no, some shadow follows him, internally, personally."

Dorima took up the explanation, "the first time he came here fear sat over him. In the few days he stayed that faded and became hope."

Tsubata nodded. "It's because of that change in him that we permitted him to return. When he returned, he stepped back on our dock with determination."

"I had hoped maybe he had faced his fear, that this land could help him as it has helped so many others seeking better understanding of themselves or their place in the world."

"And now?"

Both were quiet a moment. Finally Dorima spoke. "I am uncertain. You, however, are either kind, naïve, or both."

You furrowed your brow.

"By that I mean you are trying to see good in him. That is not a bad thing, but it might endanger you. Thank you," she placed a hand on your shoulder, "for showing us. It is brave. And please tell us if you see anything more."

"What are you going to do?"

They looked at each other.

"We need to determine his true intentions," Tsubata said.

"How do you do that?"

"He asked to see the shrine the first time he came as well." A small smile played at Dorima's lips. "Perhaps we will give him what he wants."

Chapter Text

"You came back," Tama's rich, resonant voice rumbled through your whole body as you stood in the cave again.

"I wasn't sure I'd be invited back."

"Dori has made assurances, and I know where you sleep, so there's only so much trouble you can get up to."

"Do you also call the grumpy warrior, Tsubi?"

"Oh yes, on every occasion I can."

You huffed.

"What? Am I not what you expected?"

You looked back up, taking more time to study the massive creature that lounged in the cave. It was both a bit of what you expected and a bit not. Her scales shimmered in the dim light. Now that you understood a little of what she was, you could see the glow in her, like at the base of the spring. Her size was impressive, but she didn't have any wings. Could she fly? You let your breath out, a little sad that she might not.

"What, do I disappoint?"

"Wait, can you read my mind?"

"Where do you think this dream is taking place?"

"Oh."

Tama chuckled and rested a hand on one of her giant claws. "But yes, I can fly. Now, enough about me, tell me about Viktor."

"What?"

"The one who made the cuff. The one who warms your heart so much I can feel it from here. Love is the best of what we are, will you tell me about yours?"

"Oh, yes, I can. Um, he's a scientist and an engineer and an inventor."

"My my, impressive, and?"

"He's kind and sweet and passionate." A smile came more easily as you talked. "He likes his coffee black, which is an abomination, and he talks in his sleep, but it's always in his native language. He prefers croissants to bagels and he wants to make the world a better place. He and another scientist are trying to bring magic into the world through technology, to harness the power for good, to help people."

Tama shifted closer, her eyes focusing on you intently.

It caused you to swallow, uncertain what she meant to do. The warm breath from her nostrils washed past you and goosebumps raced along your arms. Her gaze sharpened even more until whatever pressure that built around you broke, her sharp-toothed mouth breaking into a grin.

"The truth. Good. You are a decent match."

"Decent? We are engaged."

"If this world offers you change, will you take it? Do you understand the ebb and flow of life? You draw, but do you truly see what you put onto paper?"

"What do you mean?"

"The world is not always kind. Predators hunt, prey runs or defends itself. Life and death are both natural, and you must decide what you are willing to give and take to make your own way in this world. The Void," her voice cooled for a moment, "is not natural, would seek to take and never give. But what would you do to protect your love? What is right? What is good? Are they both the same thing?"

You didn't have an answer, so you didn't offer one.

"I know these are big questions. And your lives flash by so quick you truly do not get the chance to understand them. But I would ask that you try."

"Why?"

"If you're going to be a protector, you need to understand what you are protecting and how far you are willing to go to do so."

A small spark of anger stirred in your gut. "Perhaps it is rude to wander through someone's mind without asking."

Tama nodded, "a fair point."

"Why did you let me see all of this?"

A soft sigh, "even I must yield to the stars, sometimes."

"What does that mean?"

"That you can take it up with them."

A bead of frustration joined the anger. But that quickly stalled as you looked around. The spring, the tree, a talking dragon, more than you ever expected to find and, having talked of Viktor, pulled your curiosity back to the forefront.

"Do you know what these are?" You took a step closer, showing the runes on your cuff to Tama.

"Hmm, runes, a little crude, but fashioned well enough. There is a hint of spirit magic to them, but they more belong to the stars."

"What do you mean by that? There are different types of magic?"

A broad smile crossed her face. "Oh good, this is an excellent question. Yes, there are. There are three foundational sources of magic. Celestial, which is what you’ve seen, in the stars.”

“Targon?”

Tama nodded, “yes, that is their most direct connection, but not their only one. The stars birthed the first magics, really, as it was there before this world ever existed. Some of us would argue that the spirit realm and our magic also existed, but there are few in the spirit realm old enough to ask, and they are overly fond of riddles. The third is based on the elements, and tied to the natural forces of this world. Like how the Freljordians have their true ice and cold."

"They also have a rune," you pointed to the one on the cuff.

"Ah, but rune magic is a mix, is what helped shape this world, a mix of the stars and the land. What you have there is a boundary rune, it is the summer melt, the flow of a river, not one frozen over. That is more about the land, than its people, or," she paused to think, "it is not the magical intent of them, but a natural, physical reality.”

“So I’m right, the runes are a reflection of the land.”

Tama huffed, “look who is so sure of themselves now. Did you mean, ‘so I am correct in understanding a basic concept about something I would have known if my society hadn’t cut me off from it generations before?’”

You purposefully paused to study a particularly interesting mushroom growing on the wall. It took a moment to gather the courage to speak again. “Look, I did find this one, though,” and you showed the Zaun rune.

“Ah, that one is very old. For clarity, all of the runes are old, but some speak to foundational aspects.”

“Oh,” you looked at it, “I wasn’t sure if the city had maybe developed it.”

“More like the city embraced it, perhaps out of necessity, people will do a lot to survive. It’s the only way to pass on what you know. Even if something is written in books, if the language is gone, the knowledge becomes just squiggles on a page. But, gathering and sharing, that is how magic grows.”

“It can grow?”

“Oh yes, the world is complex, energies mix all the time, or else there would be no variation! Though the one constant is that all magic is about your connection to the world. How you do what you do, and why."

"Why?"

"Magic is always a choice, no, let me correct, magic is about choice. It can be embraced, it can be denied, it can be manipulated and twisted, it can tear down mountains and heal a papercut."

"You know what a papercut is?"

Tama huffed, "I've heard of them."

"Magic is power?"

Tama paused. "Yes and no. Anyone who approaches it as simply that, something akin to strength or intellect, will always be ruled by it, as they are ruled by their desires and emotions. A true, balanced," she offered a wink, "accepting connection with magic is as true as breath. Is as simple as a falling petal in the wind. Is the stillness of a lake and the flutter of a butterfly’s wing."

"It is natural."

"You're close, remove one word from that sentence."

You turned and reached your hand for the water, letting it run over the cuff. The blue glow lit your face.

"It is."

As you said it, golden sparkles glittered away from your hand. For a brief moment time seemed to slow and the surface of the pool came alight with stars, their constellations playing out over the water. In the next breath, time resumed and they faded.

"What was that?"

"Listen to me," Tama's voice came just over your shoulder. Her warm breath heated your skin as she spoke. "You are going to need to decide. Are you the one who asks, or are you the one who answers."

"Do I have magic?"

"Is that you asking?"

"Don't-"

"I'm not. I swear to you. It is not a riddle. What is another constant of nature? What is always happening, what cannot be stopped?"

"Time?"

A chuckle, "no, time does not exist. What is the thing we do not ask permission for?"

Viktor's voice came to you clear as day. If you're going to- "Change."

"Precisely. Do not trap magic into a single idea. You cannot force it to be anything, not for very long. Magic is so much more, it is a part of everything. It lives with us.” Her focus shifted out towards the pool. The light within it began to dim, began to turn indigo, then purple. A cold wind gathered around you. “You asked about kyo, the Void. Do not be fooled, it is not magic, it is a parasite, it feeds off this world with the intent to destroy it all. It corrupts, its energies only take.” Tama’s large clawed hand settled on your shoulder and your vision went dark, all except a tiny speck of light very far below you. That speck turned, the distant shape of an eye, and as it swept over you, life and color began to drain away, a cold numbness slithered up your arms, seeking your chest, your heart, intent on unmaking it utterly. Hate, but colder than anything you’d ever experienced, lanced through your skull.

You cried out but had no breath, tried to see but had no eyes, tried to reach out but floated adrift, alone, lost.

Tama’s arm pulled you close against her warm side and the vision broke. Your breaths came ragged, your eyes opened to take in anything, to confirm you were real and alive. The dragon glowed a gentle turquoise, the soft light calming.

She sighed and you could feel the movement of it against your back.

“What was that?” you asked.

“The memory of a vision, passed down along my kind. So that the ancient evil is not forgotten.”

“How could it be?”

“It had been safely locked away. Then the foolish thought they could use it for war.”

“Icathia?”

“Yes. That was 3,000 years ago. But, even with access to this realm, it has remained hidden and quiet. Which is why your question was so jarring. If it can, the Void will be the end of all things. There must be something holding it back. Unfortunately, how to deal with it is beyond my knowledge. I suspect, if it is darkness and cold, light and heat would be a good start."

"Fire?"

"Maybe, or again, maybe something more."

"What's more than fire?"

Tama pulled her hand back and your vision went dark, well not totally dark. Your eyes took a moment to adjust, but you could see a dim light coming from the side of the cave. The rough curve of it drew your eye and you understood. "The mouth of the cave." Feet moved over unsteady ground in the dim light, but you walked the edge of the opening, looking out at the brightening sky. The golden glow of dawn touched the higher part of the hills around you. Movement and you turned to see Tama resting her head and shoulders beside you, the rest of her stretched out in the cave. In normal light, with your normal sight, she was a pale pink, with shifting blues and greens in the curve of her scales. White teeth gleamed, still incredibly sharp, and her eyes were a vivid pink that faded to an orange around the edges.

Tama huffed, a bit of steaming coming with her warm breath. "Everything you hoped?"

"And more."

And then you got to see what pleased looked like on the face of a dragon.

"So, what is more than fire?"

Tama just kept her stare out at the morning light.

You were about to ask again when hands shook your shoulder.

"Wake up sleepy head, sun's up, you're going to miss breakfast."

Ran stepped back from your bed as you rubbed your face, trying to wipe the sleep away.

"Rough night?"

"Nah, good dreams."

Ran raised their eyebrows and you shook your head.

"Not that type."

"Aww. Well come on, Perah has a busy day for us."

"Oh she does, does she?"

"I think it sounds terrible, you should love it."

Four hours later, sitting in a boat a mile out from shore, fishing lines hung over the side, you did, in fact, love it. A relatively calm sea rocked the fishing boat gently, a breeze kept the worst of the heat away and this for out, no insects could bother you.

Perah worked the lines, checking them and reeling in when necessary. Ran helped too, grumbling the whole time. You'd told them to bring a hat, but no, they said they would be fine. Judging from the tension around their eyes, they had at best another hour before a headache set in.

But, the owner of the boat also clocked the problem and produced a wide brimmed straw hat with a loop of cord underneath to secure it. Flowers and a band of lavender ribbon decorated the top.

"No." Ran's voice held no amusement.

"You can wear this hat or you can feel like the sun is baking the inside of your skull within the hour. Out on the water, it is like having two suns, one above and the other below, reflected back. Then, once you have the headache, the seasickness will set in."

Ran practically growled at the man, but she took the hat and put it on.

You tried to subtly reach for your oil crayons, but Ran caught you. "Don't you dare."

A slow smile spread across your face as you continued to reach, deliberately, for the more vivid colors.

Ran stepped over, getting real close. "I will toss you overboard. I know you can swim."

"Look, it's a part of the job, and your crew would love to see this."

"Don't make me-"

"What is that?" Perah's voice cut through your conversation and you both turned. A little ways to the north something large flew through the air. Anxiety shot through you at seeing the pale hide, but then you relaxed at seeing it had wings. The anxiety returned when you realized how big the graceful creature was as it skimmed over the water.

The captain of the boat was a few steps out from the small cabin of the ship, bell on a chain hanging from his hand when he sighed, setting the bell down.

"Ah, it's just a windfarer."

"Is it a type of dragon?" Perah asked, excitement in her voice.

"Nah, they're more cat than reptile. Fierce hunters, normally stay near the cliffs, but sometimes they hunt out along the water."

"Will it hurt us?" Perah asked.

The man scratched his chin. "Probably not, but I've got a firework of two to scare it off if we need it. They don't like the flashes and the noise."

"Why did you have a bell?" you asked.

"Oh, that? It's a spirit tamer. The sound calms spirits, can even put them to sleep. They can be pesky buggers, sneaking out of the spirit realm, causing mischief, or worse. Come in all shapes and sizes. The mists out here are dangerous, spirits love the mist."

"That's why our ship had one."

"Yup, but you gotta be a trusted ship. I've known the captain of that one for a long time. He's always done right by us."

Ran nudged you and you turned your attention back to the large winged creature. As it dipped and dove closer, following a school of fish, you did your best to try and get it down on paper. The wings seemed feathered, like a bird, but the face was blunter, had more of a muzzle. Front legs and back legs hung close to the body, but seemed clawed. There was something feline about it.

The creature ended up getting close enough that the captain brought out his little paper bundles on sticks, but he didn't end up needing to use them.

Once it moved on the captain cranked up the small set of sail on the boat.

"The fish move off if a windfarer is hunting, come on, I know another spot."

You were tired and a little sunburnt when you finally got back to the house for the night. You went to bed in anticipation. Eager to see what dreams would come.

A warm breath on the back of your neck. Soft lips kissed your shoulder.

"So the expedition went well, my love?" Viktor's warm voice rumbled against you from where he pressed along your back. Warm skin lined warm skin.

You turned your head on the soft pillow to face him and lean into his touch. Hungry lips found yours and he shifted his hips against you, his erection full and eager.

"It did," you said, shifting higher, giving space for him to find that line of you and rub deliciously against it. Moisture gathered quickly. Heat washed through you, wanting more. "I missed you."

"Really?" The head of his cock caught in just the right place and he began to push in. "I, ahh, couldn't tell."

You went to chuckle but a moan came out as he slowly filled you, pressing in, then pulling out a little, only to push in further. The stretch, the warmth, it felt so good.

"See anything of, hmm, note?"

"Oh you know, ocean, trees, flowers, ahh," your words stalled as his hips met yours and he filled you up.

He too took a moment before moving again, but when he did another moan rose from your chest. Words failed you and you just gripped the sheets, your face against the pillow, your hips higher, Viktor an enveloping presence behind and in you.

He picked up speed, pleasure jolting through you every time his hips met yours, and he pressed deep. His own moans and gasps joining yours. It was perfect. How had you gone so long without his touch?

Warmth and love and pleasure. The moment blurred and then you were done, showered and nestled against him, wrapped in his arms.

"Do you know what you are going to say to the council?" he asked.

"Hmm? The council?"

"Yes, how are you going to explain the deaths?"

You pulled away to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

He furrowed his brow. "Dominic Brighton, Perah, Ran. How are you to explain that you were the only one to come back alive?"

"No, that's not-"

"You know-"

"Viktor-"

"It's okay," his eyes began to turn purple, "we'll get them to understand."

"Mine."

A cold shot up your arm and you didn't want to look at your wrist, but you did anyway. Instead of the cuff, a thick bramble of purple metal wove around your skin reaching halfway up your forearm. It bound tighter and twisted like wet sinew and you could feel a different hunger creeping up deep inside.

Viktor traced a finger along that metal and kissed your cheek.

"We could do so much," the voice, not Brighton's, not Viktor's, echoed through your mind. "You'd never have to be afraid again."

"This city will be ours," Viktor cooed. "Thank you for giving me a true understanding of your new magic."

"No." You pushed away from him.

He watched you leave, lounging back in the bed and you could see it now, winding up his right leg. Had you spread it to him?

You rushed to lock yourself in the bathroom, to buy yourself time to think, but as soon as you stepped through the door you fell into water, rushing water, cold and tumbling. You lost direction, breath escaping out of panicked lungs, water rushing in, when a large hand settled around your arm and pulled you up-

-out of the water and onto moss, a soft patch in a dark cave. You sensed movement and held your arm up. "No sight, just let me breathe."

"Take your time," rumbled Tama's voice.

You let your body sag, coughs trying to get out some of the water you'd breathed in.

"You're connected to it, somehow. The barest thread."

"You can sense it?"

"No, and that is what's concerning. I can only see the shadow that it casts of you."

"Dorima and Tsubata have some kind of plan."

"That will take time to prepare. Hmm. I might be able to-"

You felt her touch your forehead.

"I need you to see to explain and the sun isn't up yet."

"What, you can't make fire?"

"What I make could hurt you, even in a dream."

"Oh."

"Quite so."

"Ok, yes, I'm ready."

That heat shot through you again, but you blinked your way into it faster this time. The cave filled in with the unusual glow of magic. You stared, it truly was beautiful.

"I appreciate your wonder. Anything of spirit always will. Joy nurtures joy. It is its own kind of magic."

You turned to find her lounging along the side, part of her bulk in the water. It must get deeper out in the middle as the spring seemed to accommodate a good half of her body.

"I wasn't expecting to dream about that."

"Are you ever?"

You just shook your head. "What did you want to show me?"

"I might have something that can help." She reached into the water. After a moment she tugged and pulled out a small tendril of root. Well, small in her hands.

"From the tree?"

"Yes."

"Will that hurt it?"

"No, it has an extensive connection to the spring, I can take a little and encourage it to regrow when we are done. Here," she held it in her hand and little motes of golden light began to flicker in and out of existence, but none would last for very long. "Come on, I know you haven't heard my voice in a while, but you know why I'm asking. That should be reason enough."

More glittering bits of gold light appeared and the strip of root began to rise up and bend into a circle. The motes gathered closer until they began to pass into the root and disappear within it.

"Alright, come here."

You stepped closer.

"Give me your hand, the one with the cuff."

Slowly you reached your right hand up.

As it got closer the roots reached out to the metal. It warmed on your wrist, the blue glow of the runes illuminating the process as the woody bramble merged into the metal, falling into place as an elaborate, flowing arboreal design. The larger root turned into a soft golden, gilded accent on the cuff. It was familiar, but you couldn't quite place it, though you were sure you had seen that design before. Once the root was fully integrated, Tama withdrew her hand.

"There, now, wear this in the sun as much as you can."

"What is it?"

"Protection. But it needs the sun."

"Ok. But people might notice it has changed."

She patted you on the shoulder. "Life is full of little challenges."

"You're not going to explain this, are you?"

She resumed her lounging position along the wall. "I have found the joy of learning is truly mastered through self discovery." Then she chuckled to herself.

Another thought came, "did you see all of my dream?"

"No, just when you were floundering in the river. But I could tell what the concern was. That should keep it from your dreams." She pointed at the cuff.

You took a moment to find a seat near her, letting whatever wanted to, catch your attention. It ended up being the tree growing along the far wall.

"The mountain, the tree in my dreams, am I seeing a memory?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?"

"I'm talking to a dragon."

"That is only an unusual occurrence for one of us."

"So you talk to other dragons?"

She laughed. "No, actually, not very much. The ones further inland, the ones not from the spirit world, are a little less," she thought for a moment, "amenable to conversation and a lot less friendly."

"Can they talk?"

"Some of them."

"What about a phoenix?"

"Hmm?"

"A bird made of fire."

"Exceptionally rare. And fire is only one of the many elements they could be."

"Unicorns?"

Tama laughed again.

"Not what you'd imagine. Bigger, bulkier, thick hides and the horns are used for defense or to fight with each other. It's a good thing for all of us they eat plants."

"What do you eat?"

"Explorers who ask too many questions."

"It's a good thing I'm an artist asking the appropriate amount of questions."

Tama smiled, showing her extensive line of long, sharp teeth. "I eat meat."

It caused you to smile.

"How long do you live?"

"A lifetime, same as everybody else."

"Alright, alright, I'll stop asking."

"Do you think length of life imparts greater value or meaning?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Look, it's almost sunrise, time for you to wake."

"Wait, are you already awake, or are you dreaming too?"

A chuckle rumbled from her. "Enjoy your day, little human."

Chapter Text

Time began to pass more like normal. One week turned into two, which turned into three. Life went on. Summer settled in in earnest. You drew, you picked back up your search for runes, now with a certain dragon friend to run them by. You never went in person, but you visited enough in your dreams to form a certain friendship. At least, you thought it was a friendship. She showed you how to more purposefully dream to reach her. And in general your dreams returned to their more normal sort. No more dreams of the Void came, much to your relief.

As for Brighton, he seemed to just be himself, helping organize outings and settle disagreements among the expedition members. Friendly, bombastic, charming, always first to share a tale at your group meals. He found a small colony of otter-like Vastayas and dragged you along to meet and draw them. You found a small handful of spirit caterpillars and you spent an entire week checking on them, watching them spin their chrysalis. Then you both sat together, along with the entomologist, and watched them pull themselves free, wings freshly formed, and fly away. It had been a good moment, you’d never seen him smile so wide.

On the way back he pulled you aside.

“I’ve been invited to the shrine.”

“Really!” You didn’t have to try hard to make your shock genuine, because it was.

“Yes, next month. They say there’s a full moon festival we can attend.”

“We?”

“Yes! You, me, and four more, to start. They say, if it goes well, then the rest of the expedition can join us for the next month.”

“That’s amazing!”

He actually stopped to pull you into a hug, the action catching you off guard. “It means so much. I can’t wait to show you.” He took your face in his hands, an oddly intimate gesture. “You'll see, you'll see everything.”

You forced a smile, trying to match his enthusiasm. It left you with questions. Were they really going to go to Tama? She hadn’t said anything. Wasn’t that a risk? Did they have a way to counteract him if he tried anything? Certainly Tama could keep control of the situation.

But she had no further comment on it when you spoke with her next. And neither did Tsubata. You didn’t have much to report on Brighton. The expedition was going as planned. But Tsubata seemed confident in the future. You were far less sure. And as the weeks passed, and the moon grew in fullness, so did your anxiety.

Ran noticed, but didn’t have much to offer, other than to show you a few ways to use the knife. It was all she could give, seeing as, to her own frustration, she was not invited to the shrine. But there was nothing she or you could do about it.

Finally the day came. You, Brighton, Perah, the anthropologist and two more followed Dorima, Tsubata and a few other villagers into the hills. You tried not to give away how hard your heart was beating, forcing a smile onto your face. You kept waiting to recognize the landscape, to see the stream that would lead up to the cave. But Dorima began to lead in another direction, more north. You followed another stream, but it was definitely not the one that led to Tama. Anxiety turned to confusion, which turned to curiosity. Was there another shrine?

Not long before sunset the group stepped onto a more level area with a series of trees growing around some kind of central structure. The stones were worn and old, some of the trees starting to grow into or over them. Set into the stones were a series of pedestals with some kind of quartz gemstones shaped into polished spheres. They held a misty crystalline center that shifted while you watched, almost looking like smoke. The blooms on the trees drifted into the water and then flowed away down stream. The source of it seemed to be another spring flowing up through the base of the structure.

From the elevated area you could see the ocean and, presumably, where the moon would rise.

“The stones," Dorima motioned to the orbs, "will take in the moon’s light, and once it is directly overhead, they will allow us to see the spirits around us. We use this time to celebrate the wealth and fullness of our lives and our connection to both the land and the stars above."

Dorima walked around the outer ring of the shrine area, setting small bundles of some type of moss and then lighting a fire beneath. "This is the closest source of freshwater for the larger creatures that live in the cliffs, normally, it is not safe to come here. But the smoke the moss creates will keep them away."

"Thank you, for allowing us to be here," Brighton said, a large smile on his face.

Dorima offered him a bow. "Thank you for your interest in our land and culture. Your expedition crew have been respectful and understanding. I am happy to share this with you, and with the rest of them, in time."

He nodded eagerly. "May I?" He gestured to the spring and the stones and trees around it.

"Yes, of course, just stay within the larger circle. And perhaps don't swim in the spring. It is quite cold."

He chuckled and wandered towards the center.

You took a moment to look at it all, appreciating the beauty and wondering if maybe you'd been wrong. Maybe Tama and her spring weren’t the only sources of magic in the area.

Then you found a seat, facing the impending moonrise and brought out your notebook and tools. It would take several drawings to capture the spirit of the place, so you got to work.

"The moon is rising."

Everyone followed Dorima's voice to look towards the sea, and sure enough, the sliver of a deeply golden moon began to peek above the horizon. It crept both slowly and faster than you could work, growing larger as it rose from the sea. The calm night led to a sea eager to reflect the moon's light.

Once it cleared the line of the horizon you were pretty sure it was the largest moon you'd ever seen. Soft swells rippled across the sea, drawing small marching lines in the reflection.

"Look." Someone said and all eyes turned to the shrine. The pale orbs were starting to glow, to radiate the light from the moon.

You finished up your one perspective drawing and shifted to get more of the Shrine itself.

The moon settled into its more leisurely pace once it was a little ways up and everyone fell into quiet contemplation watching it, or the stones. The ripples of the spring also reflected the now numerous light sources.

Brighton inspected all of it, feeling the rocks, letting his fingers come to rest on the orbs, dipping his hand into the spring. It almost seemed like he was searching for something, but his attention never stayed in one place for very long.

Dorima stood calm and serene, at the edge of the spring. Tsubata squatted by the edge, looking down towards the sea. Or at least he had been before you heard his voice over your shoulder.

"You capture the light well."

You let out a breath as he startled you.

"They should tie bells on you."

"You're not the first to suggest that."

You turned to him. "This is a beautiful shrine."

"It is, isn't it." And then he tilted his head, implying something you weren't quite getting.

"The spring is-"

"An excellent source of freshwater for miles around."

You dropped your voice.

"I haven't dreamed of this."

"No, you haven't." He winked and stood, walking over to talk with Dorima.

You finally put your pen down and rubbed your hand. The moon was halfway to its zenith and you wanted a little rest before whatever happened when it rose high enough. With your bag slipped back over your shoulder, you found a seat next to Brighton, who leaned against one of the stones, his finger tracing shapes on the glowing orb.

You reached a hand and the surface was warmer than expected. You waited for more, for the goosebumps or the tingling sensation of magic, but none came. The orbs radiated light, but it didn't seem to be magic. You reached down into the spring, but your cuff didn't glow. It was a normal spring.

"It's incredible isn't it?" you said.

"Do you think it's magic?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I guess, we'll see if we see spirits? Just a little more and the moon will be over us. The spheres are getting brighter."

He nodded. "Yes, we'll see." But his smile slipped a little at the edges and around his eyes. His hand played at the cuff of his shirt.

You pulled out your pad again and began to sketch him in the light from the stones, with the shrine around him. He was, maybe you could admit, a tad handsome. His smile faded into contemplation and you found it suited him well.

It was a rough sketch, just enough to fill in what was necessary. Then you showed him.

He studied it. "You are very kind. This is an excellent drawing of me."

"Not too somber?"

"Nah, it's more rogue-ish, leaning towards mysteriously dashing, wouldn't you say?"

You chuckled, "I could be persuaded to say that."

His gaze drifted around the space. "Is this what you expected?"

"I didn't know what to expect, except for maybe a wooden building with some kind of statue inside. This is grander than that."

He nodded, "true, it's more than that."

"Is it what you expected?"

He huffed, "I wasn't sure what to expect either."

"Maybe when the moon gets overhead?"

"I appreciate your optimism."

Silence settled back in. The anthropologist and Perah talked with Dorima for quite some time. You could occasionally overhear the explanations of the moon's cycle and the purpose for moments like these. It wasn't as grand as the larger festivals, like the spirit blossom, but the smaller moments could be rich in meaning as well. The conversation turned towards the spirit realm and Brighton shifted closer.

Dorima answered their questions with the same calm grace she met all of life, going into detail of what she knew. You asked a few questions that you thought would be expected, but had already been answered by Tama.

Dorima only spoke a few times in a way that counteracted what you'd learned, each time was a question on how exactly it was connected to the real world. She purposefully led those questions away from anything that might reveal the spring or the tree was possible.

"Oh," she paused mid sentence to look up. "It's just about time."

All attention turned to the center stones and the spring. The moon settled overhead and the orbs, glowing brightly pulsed and sent a wave of light out through the space. Finally, goosebumps, the tingle along your skin and the air began to almost sparkle, like an ember about to reignite. Shapes formed in those floating lights, almost like bioluminescence, with something unseen stirring up the charged nature of the air.

More movement, small creatures drifted through, their shape revealed by the glittering motes that swirled around them. Where it touched them, their forms glowed for a moment, as if the lights passed through them.

Everyone watched from the edges, not wanting to disturb what was happening.

"You can move closer. It is safe. The lights let us see them, where they are in the spirit realm, but they cannot pass through. It reaffirms that we are close and share some parts of our world with the other."

At her words the others crept closer, hesitantly reaching out to drift their fingers through the lights. Sometimes the creatures would zoom away and other times circle a hand or arm before moving on. Some forms looked vaguely avian, others seemed insect based and others looked like fish. A long, jellyfish-like creature drifted through, its extended tendrils floating through the group, causing chuckles of delight.

You did your best to draw it, picking specially made darker paper and drawing with white chalks and pencils. The orbs provided enough light to draw, but the variety and number of creatures pushed you to your limit. You'd have to rest tomorrow, but that was alright.

You were four pages in when you heard a gasp. Perah stood completely still, pointing higher in the sky. The motes from the orbs extended a good ways up towards the moon, and there, swimming or flying, into view was a shape far larger than any of the others. Your hand came to a stop as recognition sent another round of goosebumps through you.

"A dragon, it has to be," she said. And Perah was right. You watched as Tama circled overhead, the motes glinting off her scaly side. She truly was massive. She flew like an undulating serpent through the air.

You thought you saw the barest hint of frustration come to Dorima's face. It passed quickly, but her eyes too remained trained on the creature, watching it more intently than the other spirits that passed through.

Brighton's hand came to rest on your shoulder. "Are you getting this?"

You nodded and pulled a new sheet, quickly returning to drawing.

As you did, you heard the barest whisper from him. "There you are." It took everything in you not to react to that, not to ask him what he meant. Instead you focused on your drawing, sketching her grand shape above the shrine.

After a few more circles she flew lower, passing through the shrine, including flying directly through the people also standing there, causing a series of gasps. But, you reminded yourself, she was on the other side, the lights merely permitted her to see you and you to see her.

The wind picked up, the trees shook, purple blossoms fell, and the lights and spirits vanished, the orbs going dark, the moon passing on in its trek to the other horizon.

"That was incredible!" The anthropologist said. "I can't wait for the others to see this!"

In the darker space it was hard to tell Dorima's reaction.

Tsubata spoke up. "The moss is almost out, we should head back."

With the spell broken, people huddled back up and the group made their way out. Perah slipped a hand around your waist. “That was amazing. You have got to show me your art when we get back.”

You leaned into the touch, her warmth a comfort you hadn’t expected. “I think that can be arranged.” The night had gone well. It was lovely. And Brighton hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. You glanced back to see him hesitating, looking over the shrine.

"Hey," you called, with Perah stalled at your side.

When he turned back you thought you saw a flash of purple, but your eyes were still adjusting to the dimmer moonlight, and Brighton didn't say anything as he caught up.

The others talked excitedly and their enthusiasm helped you join in on the conversation. But Brighton did not. He remained a few steps behind, quiet, his eyes on the sky above as your group made their way back. He was the first to excuse himself, even when others came to ask about the shrine.

Whatever spark that had been in him, dimmed over the next few days. His smiles lacked luster, his stories held detail, but also a sense of longing, as if he truly missed those experiences and wasn’t trying to brag about them. Perah noticed, and tried to talk to him, but he politely assured her there were always ups and downs on expeditions. There were few others who had actually been on expedition with him before, but your casual inquiries didn’t lead to any discoveries. Maybe the expedition would move on soon, go further inland or to other islands.

More than a week after your visit to the “shrine” you woke in the middle of the night, a dream pushing you into consciousness. The Icathian rune blazed in your mind. You hadn’t thought of it in over a month. Everything had been quiet. But something urged you to pull the covers aside and get dressed. A cool breeze swept past you, down towards the rest of the village. Goosebumps crawled along your skin as you followed it.

There, a figure sat at the far end of the pier. You relaxed, your steps automatically drawing you towards who you at first thought it to be, but your feet slowed when the outline showed someone else.

At 30 feet away you came to a stop, staring at Dominic's back where he sat, legs dangling off the pier, his boots behind him. He turned, slightly, the bottle of bourbon now visible in his hand.

Then he just turned back, his attention fixing onto the sea. His breaths came heavy, a tension sitting in his posture.

Caution, the rune remained, a warning. But, something about his boots and his socks, knowing his bare feet dangled over the edge, something was wrong. Now that you were closer you could see his coat too had been cast aside, his vest loose around his shirt.

Carefully you finished the distance. Against better judgment you sat down at the edge near him, giving what space was available between you, a few feet, at least.

He offered you the bottle, but you held up a hand.

“Probably a wise choice,” he said, before taking another long swig of it. The bottle caught in the dim light, barely a quarter of it left. How much had he already had while sitting there?

Silence settled in after that, just the sound of the waves passing below. You waited, giving him the chance to speak, if he was going to. After another few minutes he finally did.

“Everyone is so good at lying.”

“What?”

He gestured back towards the village with the bottle. “The Shrine, very pretty, but it’s bullshit. There’s no magic there, ah,” he held up a hand to forestall your objection, “no real magic there, just a light show.”

“How do you know that?”

He held up his wrist, the circle of metal visible under his open cuff. “I’ve got a special bracelet too. It lets me know.”

Your hand instinctively went to your own wrist, to wrap around the cuff there. “What do you-”

“Come now, miss artiste, we’ve told enough half-truths to each other, have we not?”

You turned more to him, studying his face, though it mostly fell into shadow from the village lights behind you both. “Why are you here? Why did you really come to Ionia?”

He chuckled. “There it is. That’s the main reason you came isn’t it? All of this adventure and wonder and a chance to see something new, you left your home and friends, all because of little ol’ me. But no,” he held a finger up, “not like the others, not the ones following Explorer Brighton, no-” he took another drink and you yourself swallowed uneasily. How fast could you get up and run if you needed to?

“The painting, the dreams, I know how it’s touched you, that you’re afraid of it. One thing I can’t figure out though, what did you intend to do, here, so far from what you know, from those who could protect you?”

He finally looked in your direction and a tension tightened in your gut. His eyes, had they glowed purple, had the bracelet? Was he teasing you? Toying with you? You glanced down the pier, but even if you ran, where would you go? A steadying breath moved through you, your hand tightening into a fist as you tried to keep calm.

“Why does the shrine matter?”

He thought for a moment, his features becoming contemplative. His gaze slid off of you, out towards the dark water, and then perhaps farther beyond.

“What do you know of Noxus?” His voice came soft, barely loud enough to be heard over the waves.

“It's an empire, spanning a third of Valoran, which makes it one of the largest countries. Its architecture is harsh and commanding and it is warlike, its armies feared.”

“Hmm, ‘warlike’, that's putting it mildly.”

“You’re close with-”

“I was born there. On a farm, if you'll believe it. No fancy clothes, no electricity. Horses, my family raised horses, well warhorses, everything in Noxus serves War, in one way or another. But,” he lifted his bottle, “I rose above my station, I got out of the farm and into the halls of power. I was so naïve. I thought I could be great.

But you’re right, Noxus is an empire. And empires are sure to do one thing, to want one thing, to expand, to claim everything as their own.” He held up his wrist again, touched the bracelet with a finger, it most definitely glowed a soft purple in response. “You think you’ve seen evil? You think, what this wants, is evil? No, or maybe it's just a different kind of hunger, something purer.”

“Why did you come here?” Your voice held strength as more concern pooled in your stomach.

“There are mages, in Noxus. I've seen them. But shh," he brought a finger to his lips. "You're not supposed to know. You're definitely not supposed to see them, and it is absolutely the worst idea to take one into your bed. His attention was, like the intensity of the sun, but if it was darkness instead. He said magic was but a ghost in me, only enough to see past his illusions." He huffed, "I don't actually know if that is true, but I do know whom he serves, I saw one of her faces once.” He paused to consider the botte. “Do you know what a Warmason is?"

You just shook your head.

"Another one of Noxus' secrets. They're specially trained people who go out into the world, build a new life in a new place and learn all its secrets so they can then scuttle back to Noxus and tell them the best way to invade and take over." He glanced your way, "I'd call that evil."

"Are you-"

"Oh gods no. I do not have that kind of patience. No," his tone darkened, "they found other uses for me."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I suppose I want someone to know the truth, to know my story." He huffed, "Noxus would be proud, ironically, if they knew how hard I tried."

"To do what?"

He took a long drink, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Destroy them."

You shifted back, away from him.

"I searched the world, this whole damned sphere, searching for a way. And," a smile slipped onto his face, "I did it all on their coin. Oh I provided plenty of useful information, bowed low enough, smiled and played the buffoon they wanted. It opened so many doors. I thought I'd found it," he brought the bracelet up to stare at it, "I thought it would be enough. It said it would, that I would, if I just-"

"What did you want at the shrine, Dominic?"

"But then they had to lie. And that damn beast had to flaunt it in my face, like I wouldn't know what she guarded, what they keep from me.” He took a breath and straightened, running a hand down his vest to smooth the rumpled fabric. “I will own one thing. I am Noxian, and I will have what I seek. I would have played nice, I would only have turned it on my true enemy. But, we are all out of time."

"What do you mea-"

The soft toll of a bell drifted in from the sea. A large fog bank had begun to form a few miles out.

The chime came again, closer, and dread sharpened in your gut.

"Who's coming?"

He tilted the bottle up, finishing it. "I was supposed to destroy them." He let the empty bottle fall into the water. "But now I'll have to use them, to get what I need."

"What have you done?"

"What any good Noxian would do."

The chime continued to sound, growing ever louder as you stood and sprinted down the pier.

Chapter Text

Change comes to most people in little moves, a thousand small choices made day in and day out as the future washes through you to become the now, always the now, you can only live in this moment. Many barely notice, their minds taking them elsewhere, the past, or tomorrow, of the day after that. Often it takes something truly grand or something truly a horror to ground you in the moment.

Right now, on an island thousands of miles from home, it is the latter that forces you to see where the culmination of your choices has brought you. Not just your choices, of course, you didn't plan for this.

The ship that docked as you ran to warn Perah and Ran, was indeed Noxian. And the force that poured out was one that nothing could have prepared you for, nor really any in the village.

How could one ship hold so many? Each carried at least one weapon, but often more, and each warrior seemed able to wield their sword or axe or spear with deadly precision. Each wore their own armor, should have seemed separate, but they moved with the same lethal purpose.

Roughly fifteen minutes was all it took, fifteen breathless, terror-filled minutes and they had the village gathered at its heart, the magistrate, Dorima, even Tsubata, who’s numerous wounds dripped blood in little streams down to the ground, stood restrained. Some of the expedition too had gained their specific attention, yourself, of course, but also Ran, Perah, and a few of the others who might be foolish enough to try to interfere. The rest stood huddled together, surrounded by a wall of warriors in black and red. Brighton stood, jacket and boots back on, face a mask of grim determination, with presumably the leader or captain of the Noxian ship. That woman, as tall as Brighton, face more severe, deferred to him once all were gathered.

Your breath caught, you’d seen that face before, the first mate on the ship that sailed you there. But what did-

“You know what I want,” Brighton approached Dorima, his voice dragging you away from your question.

“It is not yours to take.”

The woman beside Brighton huffed, “that is what they all say. And, in the end, all fall to Noxus.”

“This is who you are?” Dorima kept her attention on Brighton. “A warlord?” She nodded towards the captain, “a deceiver? Do you stand and fight with a sword next to these warriors?”

“Not quite, but there are many ways to show strength. I am a finder of opportunities. And you have what I’m looking for.” He took a step closer. “If your dragon hadn’t shown itself, I might have believed you, might have thought this village useless and moved on.” He straightened. “Show me to the shrine, the real one.”

“No.”

He sighed. “So be it.”

The captain began to step towards the villagers, but Brighton put up a hand. “Not yet. She isn’t going to talk.” He glanced at Tsubata, “neither of them will.”

“So what, we wander these hills-”

“No, there is another.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you knew, even before he took a step, that he was coming for you. You tried to struggle against the Noxian soldier at your back, but it was as if a stone grip held you in place. Your dagger was long since gone and now glinted from where it sat tied to Brighton's hip.

He took slow, measured steps and settled in front of you, his size and demeanor seeming to press in even as he stood at just the proper distance for polite Piltovan society.

“You will show me, as you should have, when you first discovered it.”

Not a chance in hell, you thought. You practically snarled at him, the word “no” forming on your lips.

But he was already turning to the captain. “Now you may proceed.” He pointed at a particular soldier, holding a particular expedition member.

She nodded and dread began to pool in your stomach. She walked along the line of her crew then came to a stop. Time slowed, you couldn’t process it, couldn’t conceive of the next sequence of events as real.

You had watched them flirt. You had watched Perah's charm bring laughs to the stoic woman. And now you watched as she drew her sword and shoved it through Perah’s back, the long metal line of it sticking out of her chest. The metal glinted red, covered in blood, her blood. She tried to cry out, but only a ragged, gurgled gasp escaped into the night air. Her body tensed, her eyes wide, searching. And then time resumed. The captain pulled her sword free and the crewmember holding Perah let her fall to the ground.

If anyone else spoke, or reacted, or did anything, you didn’t know. Maybe your own screaming drowned them out. You tried to call her name, but your throat closed up on you, making breath hard to draw. Finally she stilled, the pool of blood soaking into the ground beneath her. Perah. it didn't make sense. None of this made sense. No. Tears stung your eyes. No-

Brighton reached for your chin, turning your face back to him. He did it so you could watch him nod again to the Captain, whose bloody sword approached Ran.

“Stop!” you forced the word out through a throat that felt full of broken glass.

Brighton held up a hand and the captain paused, waiting, almost bored.

When you finally tore your eyes away from what still couldn't be real, you found yourself meeting Dorima’s stare, but you didn’t see anger or accusation, only sadness. Your head dropped, your body sagging.

“I’ll show you. I know.”

A small look of relief crossed Brighton’s face, his hand going to your cheek. “That’s my artist.”

“Bring the porter, those two,” he pointed at Dorima and Tsubata, “and the bells. Keep the others here.”

The captain nodded. “Finally, I’ve always wanted to hunt a dragon.”

The walk across a moonless landscape, following the river and then the stream, was the longest hour of your life. And yet when you eventually looked back on it, you could barely remember it. Time skipped and tripped, your mind still trying to process what had happened. No, what Brighton had done, you would make him pay for that, somehow. But that anger rose to only fall back out of the hole that felt carved into your own chest. The empty feeling left you hollow, barely there. Rage wanted to come, but you couldn't hold onto it. It slipped away, one more thing lost to you.

The bells, the crew had found two more to add to their own, began to ring, their chimes rattling through you and across the hills. A growl greeted your group from the entrance of the cave, but you did not see her. Smoke drifted from that dark space a moment before white fire darted out, turning the water of the spring to steam.

Brighton merely waited, the bells continuing to ring.

Eventually the fire dwindled and then stopped.

He and the captain stepped forward, him with a lantern, her with her sword. "Ah, good." He waved for the rest.

In the dim light you could see Tama a little ways back, lips in a snarl but eyes heavy, sluggish. She hissed, but her body movements came slow. She shook her head as if trying to clear it, but the bells kept ringing.

“So that’s why we ring the bells,” the captain said.

“One of the reasons, yes.”

The captain stepped closer. Tama tried to claw at her, but she easily avoided the clumsy attempts. "It's a beautiful beast, but this hardly seems sporting."

Brighton, his focus solely on the spring, barely acknowledged her. "Stop ringing the bells then, see what happens."

The captain took more time to study Tama, but she didn't tell the crew holding the bells to stop. Their sound became oddly melodic in the space, as if the tones bouncing off the walls complemented each other.

Brighton knelt at the edge and reached a hand into the water. Purple light flared at his wrist, but in the next moment he drew his hand back, a hiss coming from him. He turned to look at the sapling. "Protecting your home, little tree?"

Tama snarled again and weakly lashed her tail through the water, sending a spray of it across the room, the cold water hitting everyone, including you.

"Clever Tama," Dorima's voice sounded softly at the back of your mind.

You stilled and did your best not to look over at her. But it was Ran's gasp that drew your attention. She stared, wide eyed at Dorima before realizing her action and letting herself sag once again in the warriors grip.

"The water, it has power," you thought.

"Yes, enough for me to tap into, but Tama is too addled to do much more. We need to stop those bells."

"There's more of them than us."

"Yes, but far fewer than in the village. Tsubata will create a distraction-

"Aren't you a lovely little thing." Brighton had walked as close as he could without stepping into the spring. The tree grew at the back of the cave and he reached his hand out. For the first time you saw his bracelet move, tendrils of that sinewy metal stretching out, purple energy rippling along its surface.

You held your breath. It was hard to see clearly, the lantern light flickered and threw dark shadows around the space.

But the small tendrils reached the sapling and began to wrap around it, then pierce into it. The purple glow doubled and Brighton gasped. "Yes, you can show us the way."

"If only I could see," you thought, wishing Tama could open your eyes to the magic in the room.

"You'll have to go into the water for that," Dorima responded. "You-" then the voice paused. "Tsubata has a plan to free Tama, but we need to know. Can you stop Brighton, or at least delay what he is doing?"

Stop him? You barely understood what was happening. But maybe you could delay him. "Yes, I can." You weren't sure if your uncertainty came through with your words, but- "Tsubata is injured."

"Far less so than he appears."

You hazarded a glance towards him to see the slightest smile curve at the corner of his mouth, blood still dripping from it.

"You can talk to Ran?" you asked.

"Yes. She desperately wants a sword in her hand."

"How do I get free?"

"Use your cuff. Now be ready."

"Wait-"

Tama growled again, lashing at the water, sending another spray and forcing the captain back a few steps. The cold water hit you again and as it seeped down your back you felt your wrist grow warm. At the same time Tsubata let out a yell and movement caused the warrior holding you to loosen their grip ever so slightly as they turned to look. The heat in your cuff increased and you focused in on it. You thought of the Icathian rune, where it hung in the sky blocking out the sun… the sun, your cuff. You focused on the times you'd let it sit out during the day and then you prayed, trying to will, something, to happen.

A breath, then heat, searing into your skin and a flash behind you. The warrior shouted in shock and pain and you were free. Quick steps, motion and yelling to your right, but you had one focus. Five more steps and your feet left stone.

The cold of the spring shocked your system, trying to steal your breath. Heat and light came from your wrist as the water surrounded the cuff. Tingles, warmth, another flash had you blinking as you dove and, from one blink to the next, you could see the spring, could see the tendrils of roots reaching down into that iridescent glow beneath you. The magic came alive in your sight. The flow of the spring should have been impeding you, but it didn't, in fact you could swim easier than you ever had. You reached for the roots, intent on using them to guide you to the tree when you saw the purple glow seeping down along them, smothering the green, working its way down towards the heart of the spring. What would happen when it made it?

The water muffled the sounds from above, but you did notice one thing. The bells had stopped.

You swam for the tree. You had to stop Brighton. But you didn't realize just how brightly your cuff glowed.

Slithering, snaking, metal tendrils wrapped around your waist, your arms, dragging you up. The roots slipped from your hands. You broke the water's surface, the tendrils effortlessly lifting you, up and towards Brighton, who stood a few feet into the spring. One hand remained towards the tree, tendrils now embedded deep. The other went out to you and, with your sight, you could finally see. The deep purple wove through his body. Veins spiderwebbed away from his eyes, which both glowed as well. Even the pulse of life that was his heart beat with a sickly violet.

It had him.

"We both could have this power. Don't you understand? But," the tendrils wrapped tighter, pulled you higher out of the water and further restricted your movement, "of course you do, look at you." Were your eyes glowing as well? Your cuff certainly was. The runes in it glowed a steady blue, but the leaf design shone a brilliant gold. Waiting, it was waiting, it was ready. The sun-

"Why are you fighting?" His voice held sadness. "This is our chance at magic, at the power we are owed. Here, feel it. This is the promise."

Purple flashed and the cold of the sinew lanced through you. That endless hunger clawed its way in and then, there, a direction, that hunger turned towards the tree, then the spring, then the spirit realm and then ripping back through to your world, devouring, consuming, yes Noxus, of course, but then onward from there. How could he not see that it wanted everything?

"What do you want?" an unknown voice asked in your mind with a careful neutrality.

Your cuff glowed brighter. You thought of Viktor, of Silco, of your grandmother and Sevika and Ran and then, a fire built in your core, finally, the rage finding purchase, you thought of Perah. You couldn't protect her, but you could protect the tree.

"Does it need light?" you’d asked Tama and now, you could provide it.

You pushed your will into the cuff and it flared again, heat roiled against your skin, but the metal tendrils recoiled enough that you could lunge for the tree. The water tried to help, pushing you closer, the cuff warmed further, starting to blacken your skin, ready to release its light upon the tree and you were almost there, your hand reaching, when pain, slick and sharp, seared into your chest.

Movement and breath stalled. You looked down to see two sharp points of purple metal pushing through from where they stabbed into your back.

"I'm sorry." Brighton's voice came from behind. Slowly the tendrils turned you to face him, to bring you closer, the motion tearing into you further. "No more chances." Sadness sat in his eyes. "I wish you had chosen differently, I truly wanted to share this with you."

You tried to bring air into your lungs, or let it out, but only felt pain. Light flared around you as your blood began to drip into the spring, sparkling bright and then turning dark, spreading like oil. "Blood spilt is blood spilt."

"I offer my blood willingly," you whispered, breath barely moving.

Time slowed as the blood leaking down from where the metal pierced your body turned to rivers rushing down a mountain, flowing towards the sea. A hand settled on your shoulder, a voice whispered soft at your ear. "Focus." Silco's voice. "You're not dead yet."

The glow to Brighton's eyes threatened to drag you in but with effort you looked away, down, at a flash of green from his hip, your dagger.

His hand came to your face, bringing your attention back up.

"Don't worry, I'll bring your body back. And I swear to you the Noxians will pay."

Anger. Heat in your gut. "Good." Silco's voice once again. "Use it."

"You," a cough, "you killed her."

"It was necessary, I'm sorry -"

Movement, the next moment happened so fast, if it wasn't for the pain it would have felt as though you were merely watching yourself. The tendrils tore more flesh as you pushed forward unexpectedly. Your hand found the dagger, wrapped around the hilt, pulled it free, and, continuing with your momentum, aimed the blade up and stabbed. You'd kept it sharp and it slipped into him easily, sliding along a rib, piercing what was, to your sight, a sickly glowing beacon in his chest.

A wide eyed Brighton stared at you, mouth agape, words half formed. Warm blood washed over your hands. The tendrils shuddered and slackened, enough that as you pulled out the knife, you could cut yourself free of him.

Then you were falling, the cold water racing up your legs, your waist, your chest. But you weren't done, the tendrils still extended to the tree, even as Brighton's legs began to buckle. The mouth that so often smiled and offered jovial words, worked silently, eyes not yet understanding.

The world shifted, you almost lost your footing, but reached, grabbing those cold tendrils and used them to drag yourself to the tree. Finally, your fingers came to rest on the bark, now dark and twisted from the Void's corruption. Your vision blurred. Pain dulled by lightheadedness barely registered, and you focused what consciousness you had left down to the cuff, and whispered one word. "Burn."

Light erupted from your wrist. The pain of your skin bubbling and melting in the heat lanced through your awareness, keeping you awake long enough to let the cuff empty of all your days in the sun. Your moments with Perah and Ran, even the times exploring with Brighton.

As it grew dark and cool, your strength finally gave out and you went under. The water of the spring pulled you deeper. The liquid around you muffled the sounds from above, but another light came to your eyes, a white fire, and screaming, Brightons? Had he any breath left to?

It all grew more distant as you sank deeper. The need to breathe slipped away from your awareness. Blood still seeped from your wounds. In that liminal space you realized where you'd seen the designs on the cuff, the ones that shone with the sun. They had been etched in metal on the railing in Zaun. They were the story of the tree, the storm, the petals and the river, the last one sinking into a lake and so you knew what was coming- a hand reaching up from below, from the mud, from the darkness, wrapped around you and dragged you under.

You had never felt such a sense of loneliness. It hollowed out your core, leaving a gaping expanse where your lungs should be. Air that smelled of, nothing, drifted idly through you. Darkness engulfed, giving you no sense of even existing. Maybe you didn't, anymore, and these thoughts were the last lingering vestiges of what you had been.

A sickly purple light drifted in from everywhere, all around you. Spiderwebs like sinew stretched and draped in your peripheral vision. The only thing holding it back, the only thing keeping it from consuming you in its nothingness, in its languid anger at your mere existence, was a small light in your hand, golden, flickering, a single candle shaped like a tree, its canopy alive with fire. Where had that come from?

You heard your name said by a voice that pierced your heart.

"Viktor?" You called back, the word echoing in the vast expanse around you.

"That's one," a voice said.

"Where are you?"

"What a silly question. I am right here."

"I can't see you."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes, please, where are you?"

His voice at your ear. "I'm right here, I'll always be right here."

A hand settled on your shoulder, turned you, and you were back in his lab, a large chalkboard to one side, notebooks scattered around. He stood before you, but different. Dark circles hung under his eyes, he leaned on a crutch as if it was the only thing holding him up. He wore grey and indigo and violet. His eyes seemed to burn. The hand that rested on you, his right hand and a good deal of his forearm, glinted oddly gray in the diffuse light. Your breath caught as you recognized it as the same metal that had pierced through your chest. It stretched and warped like the sinew that still lingered at the periphery. And you could see it now, this image was merely a set, as if the world around you draped loosely over that sinew, like too much skin. On his arm, that purple glow slipped up through the open veins in that non-human flesh.

You blinked and the crutch vanished, he stood tall, sure. What you could see of his right foot matched the same unnatural metal, had the same glow. It spread, both hands and forearms, across his chest, up the sides of his cheeks. As it did so it darkened, hardened, forming plates like a beetle’s exoskeleton. Violet light wove between the blackening armor. He smiled. "See, I am fine. Better than fine, actually.” He looked at his hands, his arms, “yes, this will do nicely, a perfect progression.”

Your hand clenched into a fist. "You're not him."

"No, I suppose I'm not, not yet, anyway."

“And you’re not Brighton.”

“No, but he was useful.”

You brought your other hand close, keeping the flame still burning in it near you. A cold threatened to creep in, an eternal cold that you knew would stop your heart. But you weren't dead yet and the flame, it reminded you of something, of two things, your taita reading to you by candlelight and, oddly, the flick of a lighter, bringing the end of a cigar to life. You were so far from home. But at least these things you could hold onto. You focused on both, kindness and cunning, on what was soft and what was sharp. The glow in your own hand brightened, pushing back at that cold.

"Look at you, trying so hard."

This thing before you, wearing the face of the man you loved, caused anger to curl in your stomach. You reached, grabbing his wrist, your fingers wrapping around the hardened shell, bitterly cold to your touch. Focus, you could do this, you stoked your fire even brighter, willing it to flow into him. "You will not have him."

He made no move to pull his hand back, merely staring at you with a face so familiar it was its own kind of blade, cutting into you with each second those golden eyes watched. Then the gold faded, filling with darkness, turning black. You glanced at his hand, at the cold still against your palm, trying to will your heat into him.

He sighed. "Burn as bright as you like, but that is not your choice to make, it is his. He is a creator just as much as you."

"I will stop you. I have stopped you haven’t I? You-"

"You have no idea what you have done, what I truly am." He moved, blindingly fast. Twisting his arm to catch yours to pivot you and pull you to him. With your back to his chest his arms came around, one at your waist, the other slipped up to wrap around your throat, "armies have tried to stop me." He hissed, "Who are you? Nothing but a desert rat. Little, stolen magic, no one of importance. The only thing in your veins, is sand.”

His grip tightened and the two wounds in your chest ached, small rivulets of sand began to pour from them.

"Get her out of there," Ran’s voice, distant, muddled.

"We can't. She's in too deep. Move her and the magic that is keeping her alive fades,” Dorima responded.

Then Tama’s voice, “She either makes it through, or it takes her, and we burn the husk that remains."

Silco’s voice had come to you when you needed it, why not, "Viktor-" you called out again.

"That's two," a distant voice whispered.

"This isn't about him. I will find him, in time. This is about you, here and now." The cold of his hands began to seep into your skin, making breath hard to draw. "It is strange, having a mind to form thoughts. Normally I, we, are just hunger. We chew through the sands, devour as we please as it is all that we are. Brighton found a tiny piece, the last vestiges of one of us and managed to keep control far longer than was expected. He bonded to us, gave us shape, much like we are bound to the painting, a hunger trapped in silence and stillness. And yet, you found us too, so much potential. But it might all be for nothing. You are dying. We can save you.” His hand tightened around your waist as if it were wrought iron. “Give something of yourself to us. Or, take something of ours with you. It's the sharing that matters. Bind us together. You could wake from this," he nodded to the dream, "whole and stronger than before. Maybe this will suit you better?"

Your apartment filled in around you, the soft evening lights of Piltover coming in the window. He remained at your back, holding you, feeling as though a granite statue grew around you, Cold arms wrapped tight. "Take us to your bed. You could be in control. You could take our power. It will feel incredible, we promise."

Your Taita's voice pulsed within the fire still in your hand. "Always in threes- answers, problems," she winked at you, "magic. The third time, always act on the third."

"Viktor."

"Yes, I am here," he kissed your neck, "just let go."

"That's three." You closed your eyes, focusing on the other sensation, the sound of a cigar cutter taking the tip off, quick, clean, precise, sharp. The light in your hand became a dagger, took on a familiar shape, and you brought it up to stab into the figure behind you.

He screamed, a sound that threatened to deafen, as if it were a thousand voices, and released you. Then you did the only thing you could think to do. You ran. Yes, you still had the dagger in your hand, glowing like a sun, but whatever that thing was you were not foolish enough to try and fight it. There had to be a way out.

You scrambled from your apartment and ran through Piltover, one direction in mind. The bridge. If you could just make it over the bridge. You didn't know why, you just did. Zaun, you'd be safe in Zaun.

Another scream, this one in anger, far closer than you would have liked, but you didn't look back, you couldn't look back. If you saw that thing, it would see you. So you let your feet and the light guide you.

Finally, there, the bridge. Your feet hit the edge and you sprinted. A cold swept in from behind you, it was close, gaining.

A figure stood ahead of you, her hair braided as you remembered, wearing her favorite green robe, arms outstretched.

"Taita!"

"To me, quickly!"

100 feet. 90, 80, 70.

Something grabbed your foot and you fell. Now scrambling, hands and knees found for purchase on grit and stone. Cold bit into your ankle and finally you looked back, to see this thing of numerous arms ending in sharp claws like daggers, chitinous skin in black and purple melded with blackened bone to cover its segmented body. And its eyes, so many eyes, all made of a malignant purple flame. And behind it, massive claws bursting up through the ground, grasping at buildings to tear them down. Black sinew stretched to cover windows and extinguish streetlights. You slashed with the dagger again and it released. You found your footing, pushed off, and as you ran into the arms of your grandmother a small blue speck shot past going the other way.

"No!" the thing hissed.

You turned back to see it scuttling back and forth, held at bay by… a small blue bird.

"She can only hold them for so long; here, this will help." Your grandmother handed you a slip of paper, on it was a sigil, no, a rune. "Do you accept this gift?” She took your face in her hands, her eyes searching yours. A question formed in your mind, but your mouth stalled. A choice.

“I hear you. Yes, I accept your gift.”

For a brief moment her eyes became a field of golden stars. The paper in your hand began to glow. “This is for Sight. Draw it and it will be," and she held up your hand holding the dagger. As you reached up to trace it in the air, the golden light mingled with a familiar blue to grow into a rich green, not dissimilar to a chemlight. Pain radiated from the arm holding the dagger, but you pushed through and completed the rune. The green and golden outline hung in the air, and then reformed into a line on the bridge, adding to whatever the bird was doing.

"What is happening?" Tsubata’s voice whispered in the distance.

"She’s answering the call of the stars, though, hmm,” Tama’s rich voice sounded louder, closer, “the spirits too are helping, and the land itself. Rarely have I seen all three in cooperation."

"This will also help," came a smoother, deeper voice. You turned to see Silco step close. He studied your face a moment before handing you another slip of paper. His hand lingered on yours as you took it. "This is for Breath, if you will have it."

You nodded. “I will.”

He lingered close another moment. “Come back to me.”

“Silco, I-”

He took your chin in his hand. His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in close, his red coat framing his face. "Someday you will have to acknowledge it."

Then he turned and walked off, not waiting for you to draw the rune.

More pain came, radiating up your forearm, as you did, light flaring along your skin, but you persisted. Once completed, a warm wind washed from behind you pushing that thing further back.

"Always in threes," your taita said.

"Now, I think, it is time." Viktor, your Viktor, stepped up beside you, cane in one hand, a slip of paper in the other. "This,” he handed the paper to you, “is for you to discover."

You reached up to touch his cheek. "What is happening?"

"You finally decided to answer"

“And you offered your blood,” whispered a shape further in the background, its form shifting, never settling into one thing, “and we accept your offering.” A gold and teal glow infused the shape as it twisted and curled.

“And we,” Viktor said, reclaiming your attention, “are glad you are here.”

"Who are you?"

"You already know the answer to that.”

"I don't-"

"You do." He leaned close and kissed your cheek. "Come, draw this last rune with me."

His hand, warm and familiar, reached for yours and together you began to draw the final rune. As you did so, time slowed, began to crystalize. Viktor’s grip on your arm tensed, something shifting.

“Never enough time,” you heard him whisper.

The rune was halfway drawn, but you pulled your attention away, looked back to him, and found him different somehow, older, maybe, his eyes, something off about his eyes.

“You must finish the rune.” Sadness sat like a pale cloak around him.

“What is going on?”

His grip tightened on your arm, trying to get you to continue. “It does not matter. Nothing I say ever matters.”

“Do not interfere, shade, you do not belong here,” the formless shape swirling behind him began to grow, to solidify.

“Viktor-”

“You cannot save me.” The words held bite, frustration.

“What?”

His hand went to your cheek, it felt cold.

The thing on the bridge howled, sounding larger, closer. Glass began to crack.

“Finish the rune.”

You looked back, saw the creature pressing against the energies, pushing forward.

“Please.”

You looked at the paper one more time, and willed your hand to move, to continue the design dawn in the air.

As it solidified, the energies meshing and coalescing, you heard an intake of breath.

His voice came rushed, at your ear, trying to get words out- “you cannot save me, but, you might be able to -”

The creature across the bridge screamed, consumed by rage. Light flared around you, through you, washing everything away.

Chapter Text

"She's waking."

Breath returned to you. You floated in cool water, dim light barely providing enough to see your surroundings. Pain pulsed in your chest and your right arm with each heartbeat, which was slower than you expected it to be given the current situation.

"What happened?" you croaked, your throat tight, sore.

"You saved the tree and the spring."

"What?"

You tried to move, but a hand settled on your chest. "Be still." Dorima's voice. "You need to heal. Your wounds are delicate, but are holding closed. Move too much, and that might change. The water will help, just breathe and sleep, if you can. There is nothing more to do.”

“Perah?”

“Shh, breathe. Sleep. There is nothing more you can do.”

A tiredness crept back up and darkness took you.

Awareness. You were dry and still, no longer floating, though you were pretty sure the world would shift if you tried to move. You lay against a warm, soft wall, but it was moving, breathing?

“Ran?” you asked.

“I’m right here,” they replied. You felt a hand settle onto your shoulder. “Take it slow.”

Light, you cracked one eye open and then the other. The cave, you were in the cave and lay nestled against Tama.

"She wouldn't let us take you," Ran said.

"You'd heal best right here," Tama's deep voice rumbled against and through you.

"So she says."

"You question me, little human? You know the ways of healing with the spirit?"

Ran huffed and refocused on checking you over. "You okay if I take a look?" They reached for the bindings covering your chest.

"That eager for a peek?" your voice came out weak.

Ran chuckled, but waited, as that hadn't actually been a yes or no.

"Go on," you said.

It only caused a slight twinge of pain as they pulled the cloth back. "Hmm, good, you're healing."

"Tsubata, Dorima?"

"Both fine."

"Brighton?"

The wall you leaned against tensed.

"Burnt to ash, then burnt again."

"The tree is alright?"

Tama chuckled and shifted, moving some of her bulk out of the way. "See for yourself."

The shifting of your head caused your world to spin a moment. When it settled, you could see a small tree, no longer just a sapling. Its branches scraped the roof, its roots were beginning to weave through the rock. You wondered what it looked like with the sight and from one blink to the next your vision flared into a multitude of colors as the magic came alive around you. At the same time a spot on your forearm warmed, sending goosebumps up to your shoulder, the tightening of skin also pulsing pain from either side of your wrist.

Ran paused and Tama stilled behind you.

"How did you do that?" Tama asked.

You huffed, "do what, you gave me the sight."

"No, I did not."

"Your eyes," Ran said.

You turned to them and could see their soft presence in the world around them. "What about them?"

"They're glowing."

You began to lift your arm up, to see if the light would show on your hand, but a larger twinge of pain stalled your movement. So instead you looked down, still fighting the slight vertigo, to see a snug wrapping around your wrist and hand, where the cuff had been. It appeared to be some kind of fish skin. To your sight it shimmered faintly, like an oil slick of fluid colors.

"Ah, that is what those mean," Tama said.

"What do you-"

"Your arm," Ran reached and helped turn your hand so you could better see your outer forearm. What you saw caught the breath in your throat. Three runes sat in a line between your elbow and your wrist, the lowest one glowed a steady, vivid, green, the others only had a faint outline of the same green color. Woven around them was a familiar arboreal design, shining in gold. It continued down under the bandage. You traced a finger over the runes, recognizing them from the dream, or had it been a vision?

You remembered the pain in your arm upon drawing them. The one glowing brighter was warm to your touch. Ah, it was the one from your taita, a rune for sight. Was that- Your heart began to pick up pace, could they-

"Congratulations little dreamer," Tama said.

But, what did it look like to the normal-, you concentrated, trying to will the sight away, seeing if you could make the rune glow less. A breeze shifted past and the glowing colors faded from your sight. Your skin returned to normal, except it now looked as though an intricate tattoo covered the lower half of your arm.

You followed the pattern to where it disappeared under the bandage. “What is-”

“OK, now,” Ran reached to help with carefully unwinding the strip of skin. “A healer from a neighboring village, trained in this kind of injury, came to help. You, well I saw the light you made by the tree, but we didn't realize the damage until Tama pulled you back to the surface.” She unwrapped the last few rounds and helped hold your hand up. “The wrapping helps keep pressure on it, but we didn't know what movement you'd have left until you woke.”

“The cuff.”

Ran nodded.

“Melted…”

“Yes.”

You stared at the white and pale pink scarring. Streaks of shiny, raised filaments of hardened skin radiated across the back of your hand barely covering tendons and bone. The line of scarring all lead back to the focal point of your wrist, which was wrapped in tighter, more vivid and warped skin. Pain pinged in odd places from the edges, but nothing from your wrist. Nothing. You touched the too smooth skin gently, feeling the texture, but not feeling the touch of your other hand.

“Can you feel-”

“No, I can see it, feel it with my fingers, but nothing from the wrist. Just maybe a tightness.” You tried to extend your fingers, but found you could only open them so far and only had sensation in three of them.

“There is much work left to do, and most of that will be on you. The healer spoke extensively with Dorima.”

“I was there too,” Ran added.

“Of course.”

You brought your wrist closer. “Is that, is there?” The gold of the arboreal design seemed to weave in and out of the scarring, as if flowing with the skin rather than be warped by it. A small glint of blue caught your attention and you traced it along the back of your hand to a deeper, larger gathering of the familiar deep cobalt. “The runes from the cuff?”

“Yes, they apparently wanted to stay,” Tama said. “As to what that means, I do not know. Magic rarely binds itself to someone after they are born.”

The smaller runes on your wrist remained quiet, but tingles danced up your fingers as you traced the other three. A resonant hum echoed in the back of your mind. "Magic."

"Yes," Tama answered.

"In me."

Tama's body wrapped closer. "Always has been. It is in everyone and everything. Now it is just, a little more insistent than before."

"What can they do?"

She chuckled. "I have no idea. What did you see when the spring pulled you in?"

Ran reached to re-wrap your wrist, which gave you a moment to think.

"I saw the Void. It wanted me to let it in. I refused and it chased me. I saw my grandmother and she gave me this rune, said it was for sight." You pointed at it. "Silco, a," your eyes flicked to Ran briefly, "friend from home, gave me the next one, said it was for breath. The last one Viktor gave but he didn't say what it was for. Together they pushed the Void back and that was it." That was mostly it, you still weren’t sure about Viktor’s words to you at the end.

"Hmm," Tama shifted closer, inspecting. "It reminds me of a deep earth rune, but it’s not quite right, and even small differences can change the focus of a rune. I’m sorry. I’m just not sure. Looks as though it is up to you, to figure out."

“It seems there’s a lot that is ‘up to me’ to figure out.”

“That is how life works, isn't it?”

A smile touched your face, work to do, yes, but the possibilities… excitement, you couldn't wait to tell- the smile froze as pain lanced through you, but not from your wounds. Ran saw the change and put a hand on your shoulder.

"Perah?" you asked, tears already welling up.

They just shook their head.

"I didn't-"

"It's not your fault. None of us knew him for what he was." They gently pulled you into a hug, letting you cry against them. "I'm so sorry."

Tama wrapped her tail around you both.

You cried until your head felt heavy and the pain hollowed out your chest. After a little while you asked, "the others?"

"Once we dealt with those here, the Noxians at the village reacted when they saw Tama. She was quick, but-"

"Not quick enough." Her voice rumbled through, anger riding her words.

"We lost five villagers and six from the expedition, before we pushed them back," Ran added.

"We let them get on their boat and start to leave so I could send it to the bottom of the sea," Tama finished.

"They're gone?"

"Yes."

"Do we need to prepare a funeral, I'm not sure-" your words died as you looked at Ran. "What is it?"

"That was over a month ago. You've been sleeping, healing, we didn't want to wake you."

"So-"

"We held a ceremony, as they do here. We have her ashes to take back with us."

"I burned the bodies," Tama said, "I didn't know who might have been exposed to Brighton. I've inspected the rest to the best of my ability. Even looking with the spirit, it is hard to see something that is nothing, an absence that isn't an absence.”

“And me?”

“I doubt you would have been given those,” she nodded at your arm, “if something of it remained, but I cannot be sure. You will have to be mindful.”

"Oh." Sadness settled in as a dull ache in your chest. "Are," it took another try to steady your voice, "are we leaving?"

Ran shook their head. "We don't really have a way to. The anthropologist, Gavrielle, has stepped up to organize. We have inquiries out to other villages to see if there are any boats or ships expected, but this far into autumn, it is unlikely any would venture far. We’ll probably have to wait through the winter, into spring."

You thought of the Noxian captain. “Our boat won't be coming back, will it?”

Ran shook their head again. “Tama went searching, she found the wreckage washed up further down the coast.”

“Why didn't they just take the bell?”

"Ionian ships who've earned a bell, don’t give up theirs willingly," Tama said.

You thought over Dominic’s words on the pier. "Brighton wanted to return to Noxus. I think that warship was supposed to take him back, with some more powerful version of the Void in tow."

"Why?" Ran asked.

"He was from there, he still worked for them. But he wanted to take the power here," you nodded at the spring, "and turn it on Noxus. He hated them."

"Hate is a powerful emotion," Tama said.

"He used the expedition as an excuse to get near the shrine."

"Why did the Noxus ship come when it did?"

"I don't know. There's still so much we don't know. And now we never will." You leaned back against Tama, suddenly so tired your eyelids started to droop.

"It's okay, we'll figure something out. Remember," Ran patted your arm, "I don't get paid if I don't get you home. Get more rest, you're still healing."

You nodded and settled in more snuggly against Tama, who brought her tail up to rest warmly on you. It felt so comforting, you faded out as Ran spoke with Tama.

"I'll go tell them what she said. Oh, how much longer do we have before Tsubata's friends arrive?"

"A week, two at most."

"She won't be healed by then, and with what we saw today-"

"She'll be strong enough."

"She'll at least be stubborn."

"That'll work too."

"Here, Tama finally fished it out of the spring." Ran presented Silco's dagger, hilt first to you.

It was clean, not blood soaked, like the last time you saw it, when you-

"You wanna talk about it?" Ran asked.

"I um," it still felt distant, unreal, had you really-

"It was a good move, a clean strike, considering."

Finally you met their eyes. "I killed him."

Ran huffed, "nah, he still had a scream in him when Tama roasted him. That is what killed him."

You still hadn't taken the dagger. "Yes, but-"

"That's the first time, isn't it, that you've-?"

Finally you wrapped your fingers around the smooth glass and metal hilt. "Yes." You gripped, only feeling it against part of your palm. Fingers tightened and you slowly took it from her, focusing on maintaining grip strength. You were glad when you didn't drop it.

"It was the right call, if that makes you feel any better."

"And now, this," you nodded towards the door to your house, and to the people gathered beyond it. "I don't even know what they want."

"The same as when Tsubata walked by us on the first day. They want to know if you are a threat. Talk to them. Show 'em what you can do."

You stepped out into the morning light to see a group of six people all in well fitting and well worn iris colored robes, a color and style almost an exact match to Tsubata, who also stood with them.

"Ah, there she is." The tenor of the voice that spoke caught you off guard and pulled your gaze lower, to stare at a grinning yordle standing at the head of the group.

"You're the one who faced the evil and saved the shrine?"

You nodded.

"And now you suspect you have changed?"

Again you nodded, your hand going to the sleeve covering your arm.

The Yordle walked a few feet towards you. "Come here," he beckoned with his hand.

Only a faint pain stirred in your chest as you finished the stairs and closed the distance, then knelt, offering your hand.

His was warm and soft, comforting. He smiled and looked you over.

"You have seen Yordles before."

"Yes," why did your mouth feel so dry? You swallowed, "Professor Heimerdinger is Dean of the Academy in Piltover, and on the council."

"Ah, yes, I've heard of him. Very industrious. Well my name is Kennen, and I'm with the Kinkou, do you know what that is?"

"No, I'm sorry, I do not."

He chuckled, "no reason for you to, I doubted Tsubata would say much, though he was right in calling us in."

"Why are you here?"

"To see you. To make sure you are safe."

The way he said it made you pause. "That I'm safe from danger or that I'm safe for you and the people here?"

He nodded. "You will be tested, to see where you sit in the balance. But first, I'm hungry and would very much like to hear your story, if you will share it with me."

What you did next was becoming reflex, whenever you encountered something new. From one blink to the next the world around you erupted into color and vibrancy, the overlay of magic becoming clear. And the Yordle in front of you beamed like the sun.

The group behind him gasped, a few taking a step forward, but the Yordle held up a hand, pausing their movement.

"It's alright. I've been watching the entire time." He eyed your sleeve. "Will you show me?"

Slowly you pulled up the fabric, exposing your wrist, then the line of three runes up your outer forearm. The lowest one glowed.

"Ah, very interesting. Yes, we will have much to discuss. Though you may wish to be a little more tactful in the future."

You blinked again, dropping the sight. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Oh I understand, but we will work on that. You can't go making your eyes glow in front of just anybody." He leaned in a little closer, "how would your Heimerdinger react, hmm?"

"Oh."

He patted your arm. "Just so, but I'll help you. It's what we do. The Kinkou, we protect the land."

"From people like me?"

He stared another moment, "I don't think so, but again," he strode past you, as much as a Yordle can stride, "I'm hungry. Shall we eat and talk?"

With the Yordle relaxing, the group with him began to follow suit. Tsubata stepped up to walk with you.

"He can help, I promise."

"You are with them?"

He nodded. "I'm here to watch the shrine and to report in when the situation warrants it," and he gestured to you.

Finally a smile came to you. "Gee thanks."

"Come on, I'm hungry too." He clasped a hand on your shoulder in what you realized was the most friendly and casual he had ever been. Was it because more of his people were here? Or because of your actions at the shrine? Whatever it was, a smile suited him, though you had no plan to actually voice that particular observation.

Chapter Text

Kennen clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's get to it."

----- 

Sight came first. As it was all you knew you could do. Kennen studied you and your arm intently, often mumbling to himself in Ionian, as you brought on the Sight and then let it fade. You did it again and again and again, gaining a greater familiarity of what it felt like to call on and use the runes. After several hours, and with you feeling fatigued, he had you sit and do breathing exercises. While calming, you weren't sure what he wanted until the second rune began to glow along with the first.

As it did some new energy flowed in with the breath and the complexity of the world around you doubled, no tripled to your sight. You didn't just see the magic, you could see into things, see the nutrients moving through trees, see blood moving through the bodies of those around you. You turned to the group, looking over not just their place in the world around them, but something deeper.

It's when your gaze slid to others of the village, to one of the older women sitting at the tables, that something odd caught your sight. It was as if a thin red line snaked through her gut. You rose and were about to walk closer when a hand stopped you.

Dorima stood at your side, she spoke low. "What do you see?"

"Something's wrong. Is she-"

"Sick, yes. She and her family are aware. We are doing what we can."

"Can you also see-"

"Yes. It can be useful, but you must be careful. When you use this sight, you have to be prepared to keep secrets. To learn things you might not wish to know. I have watched death creep up on those around me. Sometimes there is something I can do. Other times-"

She shook her head.

"There can be pain in both the decision to act and the choice not to. And it is, in a way, an intrusion, so be mindful."

You nodded.

“But,” she turned to face you, “this is a good thing. It indicates the magic can be combined, that will increase its complexity, but it will also allow you to better integrate it into your new life.”

“My new life?”

A brief flash of sadness crossed her face. “Change is here. You must face it, learn and grow. You cannot go back.”

Concern, anxiety shot through your gut, “Wait, are you saying I can’t return to-”

“No, no, of course not.” Kennen stepped up on your other side. “You are free to do as you wish, but do you want to return not knowing what you might be capable of?” He pointed at your arm. “These are a part of you, and will react to your wants, needs, emotions, fears. You might not be safe, even for those you love. Come,” he directed you back to the group, “let us continue.”

After another moment you let them guide you a little ways away from the village.

“There is another question.” Kennen said. “Do you want your expedition to know, those who came with you from Piltover and who will return. Do you want them to be able to tell others the extent to which you have changed?”

“Ran already knows, so they can stay and help-”

“Yes, of course,” Tsubata smiled, “I doubt I could have kept them away.”

“But the others,” you glanced back, “no, it is probably best that they not know.”

“Then we are here to help you heal,” Kennen said, “which is also the truth, in a way.”

The excitement inside you ebbed, just a little. You were so far from home, were uncertain of how you would get back, and were learning magic. You told Viktor you’d find it for him, though this seemed a lot more than merely finding a rune or two. And Silco?

A larger breath moved through you. Forward, that was the only path, wherever it might lead.

 -----

There was a stillness to it, a silence, somewhere deep within. Which was ridiculous because the river flowed past you quick and strong. You could hear the stones tumbling in its flow from where you sat on the bottom, the surface a good five feet above you. The water dragged at your hair and cooled your skin.

This far from the spring, the magic was mostly dispersed, but you could still see small wisps of it shimmering as it passed over the glowing rune in your arm, like heat briefly reigniting an ember, for it to then fade as it continued on.

You sat in that stillness that was also movement and let the sense of peace settle in, as if the flow of the water washed the worry and unease away. It was lovely. You'd taken a big breath while concentrating on the middle rune on your forearm and then sunk into the river.

Time passed, you waited for that air to grow stale, to press upon you the importance of getting fresh air in to replace it. When learning to swim you'd experienced that need for air often. But the movement of the water over your skin was so soothing and the sight of the little filaments of magic in the water so captivating that you simply remained sitting there.

Finally, as if remembering, you pushed up and reached for the rocks along the edge. As you pulled up Ran and Tsubata sat there staring at you.

"What? Did I make 5 minutes?" Your breath steamed out in the late autumn air.

Ran just looked at you. "It's been thirty."

Kennen wore a broad smile. "Another for breath, add it to the list!"

----- 

You were running. Have you ever run this fast before? You pulled air into your lungs and that breath fed you. The rune in your arm pulsed with heat, with life. Beside you a small figure kept pace, the air around him naturally charging as if the air itself powered him.

You glanced back but no others followed. When had you left them behind?

Kennen slipped ahead and angled closer to the edge of the cliffs. "Follow me and trust your sight."

With a blink the world came even more alive. And you could see Kennen's connection, to the land, to the air, to the spirit realm.

He angled even closer and then began to run along the edge. "The floating stones, you see them? Go ahead and follow their path. I'll be right behind."

Breath, filling your lungs, pulling in the air that was so closely tied to everything else. Your eyes, only a faint glow, you were getting better at control, looked ahead at the stones and looked ahead at what was to come. You couldn't see far, a few seconds, maybe a little more, into what would be, but it was enough. Your feet met the edge and pushed off, easily clearing the ten foot distance to the floating stone. It was long enough to take a few steps before leaping to the next. The flow of the wind, the gentle drifting of the large boulders, the flight of birds, the angle of the sun, places where your feet might slip and where they would instead grip and propel you further, you could see it and all you had to do was follow the flow set before you.

How was it possible to feel such freedom and connection at the same time? The world breathed around you, with you. Each day you felt closer, more in tune, and as ragged surf pounded against rocks far below, you raced your way across the floating stones, leading further on to the cliffs.

Movement in the distance caused you to slow. You willed more from the runes and the creatures came into better focus. They were large, winged, Windfarers, that was their name and the reason to stay away from these cliffs as they were the largest predators around.

Kennen chuckled and raced past you. “Follow me, we’re going in the right direction!”

“Now,” Kennen’s voice came low and even, “we will test that top rune of yours. Extend your hand, it’s alright.”

Alright? This was alright? The 30 foot creature with a 50 foot wingspan, sharp claws, and even pointier teeth perched on the end of the rock, eyeing the both of you. Its feathered wings remained ready to snap out, lift it aloft, as its more feline head sniffed in your direction, its nose bringing in deep breaths. Soft ivory fur turned to pink along the wings and ended in a deep indigo at the main flight feathers. Briefly you thought the biologist would love to see this. Then your mind began to try and memorize features so you could draw it when you got back. A pause, draw it? Your hand flexed, were you ready to try to draw again? You’d-

“I suggest you do not dawdle.” Kennen’s voice pulled you back to the reality that you were standing there facing this beast, not just watching from afar, though his tone held far less concern than you might have thought appropriate for this situation.

Breath, always start with the breath. You pulled air in and out, sharpening your senses, centering you. Be here, now. Then, slowly, very slowly, carefully, you reached a hand out, your right hand, the ones with the runes that glowed softly under the fabric of your sleeve.

You glanced back at Kennen. This had only worked once before, and with a small lizard. It had not worked with the bees, though that was not your fault. Ok, focus. You let your sight show you all it could about the windfarer. It seemed healthy, all of its internal systems came to your sight as in tune with the world around it. Its “spirit” also remained a soft teal, a good color, or at least not an angry one.

The top rune on your arm began to warm and you reached out, both with your hand and with the rune. With the sight you could see a small filament of green and gold stretch out from the rune, wrap around your arm, your wrist, and then continue on to where you directed it. As the “tether” of connection you offered drifted towards the creature, you did your best to adjust the tone, to shift the end to match the teal, to seem properly “of this world” or “of its world.”

It sniffed the air again, leaning closer. The wings relaxed further. It tensed as the bit of your spirit tether touched it, but then it took a step closer, then another. You did your best to not think about the claws that dug into the rocks to pull it closer.

You just kept breathing, and watching, and opening yourself up. The heat in your arm increased, warming past the edges of comfort, but there was no going back. If you moved unexpectedly now, you would startle it, and that could go one of two ways, the worst of those involving harm to you or it or both.

Steady, even, consistent, reaching, offering.

With your breath only a little quickened by its closeness, finally you felt the soft skin of its muzzle against your fingers. Fully stretched, ready to recoil, the massive predator gently pressed its nose along your hand, taking in your smell. And with the connection strengthened by touch, you could feel its curiosity, its interest. That link not only touched the creature, but reached back for something deeper within yourself. A spot in the center of your chest warmed, providing balance, with the rune as the fulcrum between what was outside and what was within.

After another moment it inched closer and pushed your hand along its face to the point that you were touching behind its ear, where you began to scratch, letting your fingers dig into the fur.

Both a sound and vibration came from its throat, a series of low chuffs that reverberated up your arm. It came with a sense of contentment and pleasure. The tension in your core began to ease, a smile slipped onto your face, and you brought the other hand up, slowly, to assist. The creature found that to be most agreeable.

You were uncertain how long it lasted, time always seemed little less tangible when using the runes, and especially when reaching out with the magic, but eventually another windfarer called in the distance and that seemed to break the moment. The large creature before you shook its head and lifted it to listen more intently. Then, gracefully, it pulled back and stepped off the edge, its wings snapping out to catch the wind.

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Kenned said, patting your arm. “Very good.”

That evening you sat on your bed, drawing pad in your lap, a simple pencil next to it. The image of the windfarer remained vivid and alive in your mind. You wanted to put that to paper, to capture the image as you had done thousands of times before. A breath, you reached for the pencil and missed, it sliding away along the sheet. Another breath and you tried again, successfully grabbing it, but holding it in your fist. As soon as you loosened your hand to readjust, a movement that had become a smooth action in your muscle memory, the pencil dropped again, as most of the muscles that held that memory were no longer there.

You stared at it, that damned pencil, and tried again, and dropped it again. On the next try you picked it up with your other hand and did your best to place it as it should be in your dominant hand. There, you had it, held as if ready to write, but you could barely feel it. What you saw did not match the physical sensation your body was trying to give you. Knowing what was going to happen, you tried anyway, bringing the pencil to the paper and watching as it slipped from your grip as soon as you pressed the tip down. This time it rolled off the bed to the floor, where you left it.

Anger, you wanted to cry, to scream, to throw the pad across the room. But you didn’t. Something softened those emotions. You were aware of them, frustration wanting to coil and strike. You could certainly feel them.

Your gaze drifted to your wrist, to the pale scar and the gold vines, the deeper blue and the vibrant green. You weren’t drawing power into them, so you just studied what your skin had become. The world was new again and with that came the pain of growth.

“Everything is connected,” Dorima had said, the first time anger and fear had tried to steal your mind and twist your body into knots, “intricately, irrevocably. It always has been. We are just taught separation so desperately and so often we start to believe it. And that belief turns it into truth. You have been given an incredible gift. You had that lie wiped away. It is now yours to relearn or walk a new path.”

Beneath the pain and the fear, you found something just as ancient and just as strong, desire, the hunger of a seedling for the sun.

You reached for the pencil again.

----- 

"I have another idea," Dorima said as you sat around one of the tables at dinner. The chill in the air caused you to wrap your coat a little tighter and led everyone to sit a little closer to the fires. They expected snow with the next storm that came through.

You warmed your hands with your breath, adding only a little bit of magic, testing your control. "Something new?" You finally responded, once a group of villagers passed out of earshot on their way to the central fire.

"Breath is life, yes?"

You nodded.

“You breathe in and out, life comes in and flows out.”

“Makes sense.”

“And you can see when there is an injury or illness in another?”

Again you nodded.

“Would you like to be able to do something about that?”

That pulled your focus fully away from the cold. “What do you mean?”

“There are ways to give some of your life to another, or to use the life around you, to use the spirit to help heal the tangible. It is not easy and it comes with its own set of choices, sometimes none of them good.

“Oh.”

She took a breath, “it might not be something you can do. I myself have limited abilities, but have spoken with Kennen and we agreed you should be offered the chance to learn.”

Emotions shifted through you. Interest certainly, but also fear, wonder, hesitation, desire, to be able to do real good.

As if reading those emotions Dorima continued “There is a danger hidden within this ability. If you heal one, do you heal another, and another? Where do you stop? How do you choose? There is no limit to injury, illness, and death. I’ve heard of people wasting away, burning themselves out, or losing themselves to the darker parts of their own mind trying to do too much. It takes control, and not just in the moment, but to not keep going. You must be able to draw lines, set boundaries, and know that people will die as a result.”

You sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind, to the distant surf, to the laughter and chatter of conversation at the other tables.

Sitting straighter, you nodded to yourself. “There’s no going back.”

A few days later you stood a respectable distance back from a family gathered around a dying man, a seedo you would have called him, a grandfather. Many of the village had come as well, gathered around the family, to be present and with them.

“Healing can be a wondrous act.” Dorima spoke quietly beside you. “But you must also know that which can only be delayed, but never fully avoided. For all the work you do, you cannot save someone forever, you are just giving them more time. It is a precious gift and this,” she motioned to the man, “is what makes it so.”

“Death,” you said.

She nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder, “use your sight and bear witness.”

A larger breath moved through you and your arm warmed, now carefully wrapped so that the glow did not show through. You were far enough back that the little bit of light in your eyes should not attract attention.

Vibrancy, life, each person glowed and flowed within that larger tapestry you were growing used to seeing. There was a deep peace settled over the place as those gathered stood together, unified in a way you rarely saw. The man in the middle’s glow was so faint. It was easy to see the deep red wrapped around his heart, slowing it, squeezing it, causing it to stutter. He didn’t have long, the disease would take him any moment.

Movement to your left, you shifted to turn, but Dorima’s hand gripped tight, keeping you in place. “Be quiet and be still. Do you see them?”

Something, someone, stepped into your periphery, a pale figure surrounded with a soft white glow. The shadow behind them dislodged and shifted to pace around the figure.

“Who?”

“The Taker, they are the two hunters.”

Even though they had moved a few paces closer and would be clearly visible to those there, no one reacted, no one but the man in the middle. He turned his head to look, a smile forming on his face, and he nodded.

It took everything in you not to move, not to want to interfere, but Dorima’s grip held strong. “You must not. This is their purpose. This is the face of it. This is what will take us all.”

The pale figure wearing some kind of mask lifted their arm and a white bow formed in the air, an arrow appearing as they drew the bowstring back.

“This is how we pass on. This is the natural turning of the cycle. The only choice is to accept it or to try to run. If you run, the shadow will hunt, and it always wins, always. But Botan was a peaceful man, he has long since accepted the arrow.”

The shadow at the pale figure’s side seemed to deflate, to drift back, and the white arrow left the bow, striking the man in the same organ that was shutting down. The man let out a long breath and did not take another. A small light drifted up from his chest and vanished. The two hunters faded away.

“The hunters bring peace, so the soul can move on. That is the balance.”

 -----

“Let me see your wrist, human.” The shorter, scaled vastaya held out their clawed hand to you. You'd traveled a week with the Kinkou to find this blacksmith, no, you were corrected, they’re a metalsinger.

You'd found them in an ornate cave seemingly molded from the stone into not just a dwelling, but a forge, a workshop, and numerous tunnels that led deeper into the metal rich countryside.

You stepped closer and pulled up your sleeve, offering your arm.

Fernandi tugged you a step closer and pulled down a set of spectacles that had been resting on their head, lodged between a small set of horns. “Ooff, that is quite the injury, a worked metal alloy melted right off you didn't it? You're lucky you didn't lose your hand entirely.”

“How did you know?”

“The scarring pattern here,” They traced the uncommonly smooth flow of pale flesh along the side “though it's curious that it stretched away along the top of your hand,” they paused, peering closer, “what is this?” They tapped the small blue lines that ran along the top of each stretch of flesh radiating away from the focal point of your wrist.

“Hexcrystal?” you offered, but weren't sure that would make any sense, “it was inlaid in-”

“Ah, I see. The metal had an inlay of a crystalline mineral that, my word, that naturally reroutes and directs the flow of magic in a specific way…” they turned your wrist back and forth looking at the way it refracted light, “this was, this is rune magic. And in the melting it did its best to continue to function, bonding to you as a new host for its magic.”

“A host?”

“Maybe not the best word, a new partner perhaps. Runes want to do their jobs almost too well,” and they cast a glance at Kennen, who gave a slight nod.

“But they haven't done anything yet.” You'd tried, many times, but they never responded like the larger runes.

They huffed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I, they don't react like the other ones.”

“The others were given directly, are bespoke, if you will. These,” he tapped your wrist, “were bonded to you first, in a great working of magic that you choose to enact. They run deep. Might be harder to reach because you get in your own way. Just remember, they wanted to be a part of you and they want to fulfill their purpose.”

“You make them sound alive.”

They just stared at you, a small membrane shifting briefly over their eyes to remove dust.

“It was a cuff, specially forged yes, but the crystals were inert, their magic spent.”

They chuckled. “Well, no one told them that. Anyway, what was the dowsing medium? What cooled it once the magic was done?”

“A spring.”

“A dragon?”

You nodded.

They sighed, “of course there was.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Fire acts different when they're near, especially if they're spirit-born. That's why you still have your hand. Hmm, and this gold pattern, not actually metal but,” they paused and looked pointedly at Kennen. “Who did you bring into my shop? This is star-working.” Their gaze shifted to you, looking you over more carefully, in a way that you knew they were using more than just sight, so you offered the same, a green glow filling the space between you.

The world came even more alive, the spirit of the rock flowing with its crafting and shining within the various tools. The vastaya before you looked like molten lava, a warm red and orange glow to every part, with their eyes like the heart of a forge. Their very presence offered a warm reassurance.

“You're learning to work with them, good, very good.” They carefully inspected the larger three runes, muttering to themselves. You could see their own aura reaching out, touching the runes to make them flare briefly in response.

“Blood was a part of this.”

“Kyo,” Kennen replied.

The vastaya stilled. “Here?”

“Not any more, not thanks to her,” he nodded to you, “and a dragon.”

“Yes, yes, of course, thank the dragon, must always thank the dragon, “ their voice lowered, “dramatic showoffs.”

They huffed, their warm breath fanning your skin. “You have been given a more direct connection, well earned, it would seem, but be mindful, the magic isn't just in your skin or bone or blood, it's bonded to your spirit. This is a part of you and will be with you until the white arrow finds you.”

“But,” they dropped your arm, “you’re not here for my musings, you are here because of the more physical changes, I think. So here pick up this hammer and show me your full range of movement.”

You did as you were told, reaching for the simple tool and found it to be heavier than expected. You'd been doing exercises daily as well as small healing sessions on yourself. It was slow going, but you were seeing progress. Still, it was quickly clear that you did not have the same grip strength, manipulation, or range of movement as your other hand, nearly dropping the hammer at one point and feeling the bits of overextension in your forearm.

“Very good, now, write a couple of sentences here, I don’t care what language,” they indicated a paper and pencil sitting on his desk.

You hesitated in reaching for the pencil. A good portion of your wrist and hand was still numb, which hindered any precise movements. It took two tries to get the pencil in a good place, without using your other hand to place it. You breathed out and forced words onto the page. The letters looked alien to you. It was your hand, but not your writing. While you had made progress, as anything legible was certainly better than your initial attempts, you still quickly set the pencil back down.

“Ok, ok, come with me, let's get the metal for it.”

Two hours later, with a lantern seemingly powered by a large bulbous insect who made a low chirping sound the entire time, you and Fernandi emerged from one of the tunnels, you struggling to hold a crate of chiseled or chipped out hunks of rocks, some of which glinted, though Fernandi assured you they were all metals you would need.

Once back in the workshop, Fernandi got to work, sorting the rocks and ore, laying them out in order and heating their forge. They did not use their breath, as you thought they might, to heat it, and they caught you watching.

“I’m not a dragon, I use my breath far more elegantly than those behemoths.”

You wondered what they meant and when they had several crucibles with the individual molten metals inside heated until they glowed, they began to sing. You expected tools and wires and hammering. Instead this reptilian vastaya sang with one of the most beautiful voices you had ever heard. As the melody dipped and rose so too did the metals, rising from the pots and intertwining. It was captivating and you could feel the song echoing in yourself as well, your runes warming ever so slightly.

Fernandi smiled as they sang, their very essence going into the song, into the crafting. You let your sight fill in with the magic of it and could literally see the melody on the air, warm notes stretching, folding, and weaving.

They beckoned you closer and held out a hand for you to take. You did, nervously watching the still white hot metal drift towards your skin.

“You must add your voice to this, so that the brace can become yours and do what you need it to do.” You heard their voice in your mind, while they continued to sing.

“But, my voice is not very good.”

“It is the intent that matters, it is the giving that matters. Even if you could not speak, your spirit knows the music.”

You almost asked what you were supposed to sing about, but knew both, that it was for you to decide, and that it would flow if you let it.

You took a breath, pulled power into your runes, and added your voice to the mix. You had to fight that part of you that recognized your voice didn’t match and so closed your eyes, focusing on intent. What did you need?

Strength, support, and another thought, beauty. You thought of Zaun, of the art that flowed throughout your lovely city, of the railings and archways, providing guidance to steps and support to buildings. You thought of Sevika and your grandmother, of Jinx and Silco and on an intake of breath you paused, opening your eyes to see the middle rune in your wrist, the rune for Zaun, glowing a deep blue. You resumed, singing to it, singing to the city you loved and the people who called it home, and you watched as small sparks of blue reached out to the metal still forming around your wrist, beginning to direct it, to draw it in.

Your voice took over the melody and Fernandi began to harmonize. The metal began to settle against your skin and where you expected heat, or burning, it alighted with a gentle warmth. Larger pieces formed a framework along your wrist and arm to provide strength. Metal divided and pivot points formed to allow movement. A part of it looped around your thumb, across your hand, the rest filling in along your wrist, weaving into the more rigid framework to draw it all together and then stretch halfway up your forearm. It wove along the runes and the gold, not covering or hiding, but enhancing, highlighting. It was the flow of a river over rocks. It was the path of a bird through the sky. As you thought of constellations they appeared in the metal, hints of copper and bronze gathering into stars, patterns that you had known since you were a child.

You closed your eyes and felt the cold winds of Targon again. It washed past your face, down your chest and to your arm. The metals cooled, solidified, and ever so softly, the song ended.

Something settled in your chest, a certainty and a need, though not yet voiced.

You opened your eyes to see Fernandi studying you closely. “What thought did you douse this with?”

You looked over the brace now covering your wrist. “Targon, I’ve been to Targon.”

A smile crept onto their face. “Of course you have.” They took a heavier breath that seemed to break the hold of the moment and reached to inspect their and your work.

“Very nice, yes, this will serve its purpose. But you should test it. Move around, pick up the hammer and write again.”

You did so, first just seeing the range of movement in the brace. You had a little less than before, but when you picked up the hammer, you found it much easier, the brace allowing you to use more of your arm in moving it around. For writing, you had to change how you were holding the pencil, but you didn’t feel like you were going to drop it at any moment. The writing remained different, as you suspected it always would, but it flowed better, was smoother.

You ran your fingers over the metal, feeling the smooth lines and curves of it. “Do I leave it on all the time? Is there a way to take it off?” You didn’t see any latches or pins that would indicate it could be removed.

“Wear it as you like. I’ve seen many burn injuries and while you might be able to heal a little more, the brace may become a permanent part of your life. It is a tool and if you put in the time to learn to use it, there is much you can achieve. And of course, let me teach you the tones necessary to take it off.”

“Tones, am I going to sing to it?”

“Exactly, not so intensely as for the crafting, just a few short notes will do it. But you will have to be the one to sing it, as it is now tied to, and is only going to listen to, you.”

 -----

The soft fall of large snowflakes filled the open circle in which you stood, wooden sword in hand, eyes on your opponent. For a moment, the lazy drift of the white flakes was the only movement, but that peace did not last. The disturbed snow at your feet showed as a testament as to how long you'd been at this particular exercise that day. And with not enough time for you to fully regain your breath, Tsubata began his attacks again.

The sharp crack of wood on wood sounded out as your practice sword met his. He shifted and came in again, and again you barely met him. Even with increased speed from the runes you were sloppy and you knew it, in part because you didn't want to be there. You didn't want to learn this. You were not a fighter. Even if this improved your endurance and helped focus the ability to see his strikes a moment before he made them, he was still exceptionally fast and in full control, something you were not. And the brace helped. You could move the sword well enough and keep hold of it through the impacts, but you were still far from the strength you would need to actually keep up with him. And yet this continued.

You'd been at this for days, to what felt like everyone's frustration. Everyone but Kennen, who insisted you continue and who'd clearly told Tsubata not to hold back. He easily slipped past your guard and cracked you hard on the knuckles, the cold making the pain sharper. Your sword clattered to the ground and everyone waited for you to pick it up again. You did, with a growl, and attacked, poorly. This time the sting came to your side in what would surely bruise. You saw it coming, but just couldn’t block it or get out of the way, and Tsubata didn't stop, he came in again.

Anger, frustration, exhaustion, something in you decided you were done, heat welled in your arm. You will shaped something new, you sucked in your breath and yelled a single word at the man sending another stinging blow your way. "Stop!"

Light flared on your arm and the wooden blade came to a stop three inches from your chest.

Tsubata stood perfectly still, muscles frozen, breath caught and then continuing shallow as he looked at you in astonishment.

Kennen spoke to him, "did you intend to freeze?"

A small smile cracked Tsubata’s lips as he remained exactly where he was. And you could feel it, a waiting, a suspension, your breath holding him. Finally you sighed and stepped back. His muscles relaxed and he could lower his arm, all the while staring at you. "No, I did not."

Kennen laughed. "Breath is voice! Add it to the list."

Tsubata gave you a nod of appreciation, and then attacked again.

 -----

“She has requested we bring her.” The tone of Tama’s voice caught your attention.

As what she said clearly caught Kennen’s. “The Speaker? That is interesting.”

“I told you what happened that night.”

He nodded. “Well then, we obviously go.”

“You would come with us, Sun Courser?”

Kennen smiled often, but this smile seemed to hold something more. “My place is in both, so yes, I think I will.”

Then they both turned towards you. Tama spoke. “You made an offering and the Speaker of the Old Ways has accepted. Time to learn what that means.”

“Hold on.” Tama stood at the edge of the spring in her cave. Over the past 6 months, since the incident, the tree in the corner had continued to grow, the rock seeming to part to make way for its branches to reach higher, for its roots to dig deeper. Something happy always hummed at the back of your mind when you looked at the tree, as if it was aware and was thankful.

You grabbed onto her foot, well a finger of that foot, and nodded. She turned towards the spring and plunged in, her bulk pushing the water up past the edge, it washed over your feet and then you too followed, holding onto her, letting her guide you deeper, towards the bottom, towards the source. Kennen swam effortlessly next to you both, keeping pace. Unlike when you swam in the river or the ocean, the water here didn’t add pressure as you went deeper. The cold matched the weather outside the cave where a deep carpet of snow covered everything. The vibrancy of the source of the spring, the iridescence of the magic washed over and through you. Light filled your sight and a cold - natural, refreshing, nothing like that of the Void - filled you.

In the next moment you stood in the cave again, but not really. It looked almost exactly the same, but was definitely not where you had been a moment before. Color, light, vibrancy, the world around you threatened to overload your senses. The runes on your arm glowed brightly, even with little actual will put into them.

“We’re in the Spirit Realm.”

Tama moved past you towards the entrance. “We are, and we have a bit of a ways to go.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Autumn Valley.”

“How far away is that?”

“A long time by foot.” Kennen said, eyeing Tama.

To which she chuckled. “Very true little Yordle, which is why we will not be walking.”

A realization hit you and you too turned towards her, a smile beaming on your face. “Does that mean?”

“Yes, yes. We’re going to fly.”

Yes, you had been learning magic, had been studying and surrounded by it daily. All of that paled in comparison to what you were experiencing at that moment - clutching onto a massive, serpentine dragon’s back as that dragon wove her way through the sky at a speed that threatened to literally tear your breath away. The topography matched what you’d seen of Ionia, but in the spirit realm it seemed like so much more. Creatures and trees and beings you’d never seen passed beneath you, far below. Magic wove through the land, the water, the very air itself. You kept your top rune stoked low, the one that always wanted to reach out, to connect, so as to not be overwhelmed and to not attract undue attention. You’d been warned that things were more sensitive here and while Tama was one of the largest things around, she wasn’t the largest.

Time passed, you know it did because you had a memory of your time in the sky, but when you landed in some kind of grand temple area it felt like it had been only seconds. Creatures met you, vastaya possibly, there was an intricacy to them that was hard to pin down to your sight.

All of that washed away when you heard the growl, something low and guttural that reverberated through your chest. The spirits around you moved back as a large shadow loomed over head.

When you looked up, a feline creature of almost unimaginable size slowly lowered itself with massive wings. It dwarfed Tama, who had bent low in deference. All the others were also offering a bow so you followed, though not taking your eyes off the massive tiger, with some kind of large crystals growing from its back. This creature, being?, glowed like the sun to your sight, something of almost pure spirit and yet, as physically real as any of the inhabitants of these islands.

It stared at you, eyes focused, taking in all of you, studying far more than your physical being. You could feel it, her spirit filling the space, suffusing you and everyone there. She asked no questions and you remained silent, waiting, unsure if that gaze was meant to be as predatory as it felt. Pressure built, breath became hard to draw, two points of pain echoed in your chest and another at your wrist.

Then an exhale, her breath like wind washed over you and you could breathe again. She glanced at Tama.

“Teach her how to cross over and our words of kinship.”

Her voice rose, addressing the group, carrying far. “This human has done us a service, and so, if she asks for help she will receive it. And, in turn,” her intense gaze settled back on you, “if we ask for help, you will give it. You are a part of the balance. Do you understand?”

“A little, I think. This is new. But I will do what I can.”

The creature nodded. “You will learn.”

 -----

"Alright, what are we up to?" Ran asked, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Well," you pointed at the first rune up from your wrist. "I can see the spirit world, I can see into people and other alive things and know if they're healthy. I can see just a spec into the future, sort of, a few seconds at least."

"Only a few seconds, not that impressive."

You just smiled at them and pointed at the next rune. "I can run for miles and not get tired. I can hold my breath for a long time. I can make people and other living things follow a single word command, though I think I can make it a longer phrase." You huffed, "that one's hard to get people to volunteer for."

"Can't imagine why."

"I can also heal, small wounds, but I'm getting stronger."

"Still can't fight for shit."

"I don't want to fight."

"That right there might be the problem."

That earned an outright laugh.

“Oh, and I can do this.” You stood and focused, your runes flaring, then stepped to the side.

Ran just stared at you. “What, you’re learning to dance?”

“No, wait, let me try again.”

Focus, intent, you knew where you wanted to go, just slip the veil. Your runes flared again, aligning, splitting, and you stepped to the side again. Your vision wavered and the air changed to something cooler, fresher.

Ran shifted back. “What the fuck?”

You took a few steps to the side and chuckled.

They shifted, looking more in your direction, but not seeing you.

“Where did you go?”

You steadied your breathing and stepped back through the veil. It took a bit of concentration, but getting back was just a little easier.

They reached out to grab your arm, to prove you were real. “What was that?”

“I can walk in the spirit realm.”

“You mean where all the truly wild stuff lives?” they twirled their fingers indicating the area around the village.

“Yeah.”

“Can you still see, here, when you’re there?”

You nodded. “But it’s hazy, like frosted glass.”

“Damn. What's it like in there?”

“A lot like this,” you motioned around you, “but, yeah, wilder. It has its own rules and dangers. There’s creatures, sprints, demons, allegedly, I haven’t seen any of those.”

“So, if you ever want to dip out on a boring conversation-”

“Oh yes, that's actually the reason I leaned it.”

Ran chuckled and then motioned to your arm.

"What about your wrist, the bottom three runes?"

You shook your head. "Not much. Just the middle one when making this,” you shook your wrist indicating the brace. “I can get it to glow a little when I, I don’t know, think happy thoughts at it?”

“Think happy thoughts?”

“Yeah, it’s the rune for Zaun, so if I think about Zaun, it seems to respond.”

“By glowing?”

“Yes.”

“So it’s a night light?”

You chuckled. “For the moment. But for the other two? They don't even glow. I mean, I can see them with my sight, so I know something is there, but, nothing."

"Nothing yet."

"Hey, I'm lucky to be breathing at all. Even if I've reached my limits, it's still amazing and more than I could have ever dreamed. It's new and strange and-”

"Powerful." Ran purposefully met your gaze. "You realize that right? You're powerful. This is a strength that no amount of lifting Lock does or physical training Sevika does can ever match. You have the tools to go toe to toe. Now if you'd just learn to fight-"

"Ugg," you fell back onto the bed.

"At least the dagger. Let me, or let Tsubata, let someone teach you properly with that."

You really didn't have an argument against it. As much as you did not want to build more skills centered on violence, you knew the world held far too much of it to deny learning how to better keep yourself safe. "Okay."

"What did I just hear?" Ran leaned closer.

"Fine, the dagger, will you teach me?"

In the next moment they were on their feet and heading towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To steal a dagger from Tsubata. I'm not beating up my good one teaching your uncoordinated ass."

Chapter Text

It was still surreal. Magic, training with the Kinkou, falling into a rhythm of life in the village. The other expedition members too, in the face of uncertainty about the future, helped the village as much as any attempts to continue their studies. Or, they turned those studies to the benefit of the village. You'd arrived as observers, now you were active participants, even picking up the basics of Ionian.

Spring had settled in nicely, with the Spirit Blossom festival only a week away, and you now found yourself standing in the house Dominic Brighton had stayed in. Even though Tsubata, Dorima, even Kennen had given it several thorough look-overs, you'd yet to step into the space. Was it fear? Fear that some evil still lingered, though the healthy growth of the tree that was the house indicated it remained a simple dwelling. Well, simple in that it was still a living, thriving tree. It remained somewhere you sincerely did not want to go. As did few others. It had been six months and no one had chosen to take up the space as their dwelling, not even any of the village.

Why were you here? Oh, right, the dream. Your newly gained access to the spirit realm had bled over too easily when you slept and Tama was slowly teaching you how to shore up the borders in your mind. In one of those dreams you'd seen this house, except it had been covered in a thick bramble, sharp thorns lined the vines, which were dotted with the buds of some kind of dark flower. The spirits avoided it, whispered about it, told you that since you had brought it, you had to be the one to make it go away.

You sighed. The spirits saw so much and yet seemed to lack specificity at all of the important times. Looking at the house now, again, it looked like all the others.

“Alright.” You placed a hand on the door and entered.

The inside was just as unremarkable, his things long since cleared out and inspected. With a blink the sight came to you. The house came even more alive. That was good. The magic of it glowed a soft green, as it should.

You took your time, looking over the walls, the ceiling, the furniture. Something came to you and you knelt down, looked under the bed, even though you were sure someone had done so already. Tsubata was very thorough.

A small bit of dust poofed up as you sat on the bed.

You tried to recall the dream, the bramble, the thorns tipped in red. An idea came and you pulled your dagger and nicked the tip of your thumb. A small bead of blood welled up and you felt your heartbeat pick up. No, not yours, something pulsed beneath you.

You ran your thumb across the other fingertips and, without looking, reached over the side, between the wall and the bed, feeling that heartbeat increase in speed. You almost had your whole arm down the side when your fingers touched something solid and smooth, definitely not tree. With a little more effort, you got your fingers mostly around it, a sphere, roughly the size of a grapefruit, and pulled.

It came free and as you brought it up, you saw a perfect sphere of glass, it had to be, there were no irregularities to make you think it was a type of crystal. What had started cold began to warm to your touch. The blood from your fingers smeared along the surface and then sank into it, absorbed. It got warmer. To your sight a small flicker of shadow appeared in the center. You stood, were about to call out when your world shifted and you almost stumbled.

You caught yourself, a hand on soft fabric and looked up to a room of dark stone, the edges of which were all sharp angles. The air was also warmer, the flicker of a fire coming from the far side of the room. Your hand rested on the back of a couch, upholstered in fine fabric.

A voice, deep, filled the space with even more warmth. “My dearest Dominic, you are late. Very late. You called. We answered. Where is our ship?” A man stood from a chair facing the fire. The light behind him made it hard to see features, but his skin was dark, a deep brown, almost black.

You knew the moment he saw you because he paused, and if you hadn’t been watching, if you hadn’t come into this moment with your Sight still with you, you would have missed the waver, the tell you were learning meant manipulation, illusion. You still held the sphere, which had gone completely black, but you focused on your arm, on calling more power to you, trying to see past whatever they were hiding.

A pressure built and then slipped, and the person’s image shifted to a woman, slightly shorter, pale skin and dark hair, face well hidden in shadow.

Her head tilted to the side, but not enough to reveal features. “You can see me.”

“Who are you? Where am I?” Your tone had more confidence than you felt.

“Who are you?” She offered in return, “and where do you think you are?”

This had been Brightons, clearly, so you could make a guess.

“Noxus.”

“Very good.” She took a step closer, though kept her back to the fire.

You took a step back in response, though, glancing around, you didn’t have far to go. And the only door you could see was beyond her. Though, you had no idea what would happen if you ran. How were you even here?

“Where is Brighton? Did he send you to report? I rarely give extensions. Tell me-” she paused, “ah, you’re the artist aren’t you? It seems you did find magi-”

“Dead,” anger rode your words. “He’s dead.” The satisfaction that came with saying it surprised you.

“I thought maybe he had convinced the spirits to hide him. A pity, he was useful.” With her next words you knew she smiled, even though you still couldn’t see her face. “Did you do it?”

Should you be talking to this woman? Who was she? Was this even them or just another form this person can take? How powerful were they?

A chuckle, “you did, didn’t you. How unexpected, nothing from his reports suggested you had that kind of strength.”

“A dragon burned him to ash.”

A huff. “A half truth. You cannot lie to me.”

“Who are you?” You took a step to the side, trying to get her to turn even a little bit towards the flickering light.

And she started to, but she also extended an arm and the flames in the fireplace went out, leaving you both in darkness. Her form barely stood out to your Sight, you could see her, but only an outline.

“So,” she extended her arms, “what are we to do? I’ve lost an asset, and the ship I sent?”

“Dragon.”

“Of course. But clearly it didn’t eat you.”

“Clearly.”

“What do you want, what can I-”

“No, nothing, I’m not interested.” You knew trouble when you saw it. This, whatever it was, whoever this was, was dangerous, extremely dangerous.

“Really? Tell me, how are you going to get home?”

Your breath stalled, the question unexpected. In truth that exact question had been at the back of your mind since you'd awoken beside the spring. It was a question you still did not have an answer to. And your pause was long enough to be an answer in itself.

“You think your ship is coming back to you?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“You're correct. It served both of its purposes. You were never going to go back to Piltover. He was supposed to come back to me and he was to bring what he promised he would find there,” she tilted her head to the side, “with you as a bonus.”

Frustration, anger. Fuck him, you thought. Then you looked back up and took a step towards her. “Be glad he didn’t. In fact,” you took another step, leaving only a few body lengths between you. “I did you a favor.”

“Oh?”

You looked at the darkness around you, felt the warmth of the sphere in your hand, this had to be some kind of vision. You weren’t in Noxus, not really. And if she could alter things around you, maybe you could as well. You placed both hands around the sphere and drew more power to you, the runes in your arm beginning to glow.

“Interesting.”

You did your best to ignore her and focus on connecting with this space through the sphere. You recalled the vision, the one after you’d sunk down into the spring. A small purple glow formed in the sphere and the air cooled, grew bitingly cold, dark purple sinew began to drape around the edges of your vision.

“There is a hunger, an immeasurable desire to consume. This thing, this Void, wants to devour everything. Dominic found a small piece of it in Shurima, and it told him he could grow strong. He was going to empower it in Ionia and then bring it right back to you, so it could devour you and everyone here. He hated Noxus, loathed it, was willing to give up his soul to destroy you. I've seen it. And had he succeeded, what would have stepped off that ship would have been a horror. So yes, I stopped him, because it wouldn’t have stopped there. It would have only grown more hungry, is still hungry in fact, but one piece, at least, has been burned away.”

The room fell into a silence so complete your heartbeat sounded loud in your ears. A pressure built in your skull, and then eased.

“I believe you. And Brighton greatly underestimated you.” She snapped her fingers and the fire relit, the heat of it melting away the sinews, returning the room to what it had been before. Now she faced the flames, but wore a porcelain mask, eyes dark holes, lips red, gold edging the entire thing.

“What do you want?”

“What?”

“I’m willing to trade a favor for a favor, in lieu of fully passing Brighton’s loss onto you.”

This was a bad idea. No favor from her would come without something dark attached. But still that frustration gnawed at you, the uncertainty. How were you going to get home?

“Aww, you do want to return to Piltover, don’t you?”

You couldn't bring yourself to say it, but of course it was true.

“If you promise not to have a dragon sink it, I could send another ship.”

“Another Noxian warship-”

“No, of course not, something simpler. We do trade in things other than war, on occasion. So,” she turned towards you, “is that what you want? A ship to come take you home?”

Yes. You wanted that more than anything. But you did not want to ask her for it. You didn’t want to ask her for anything.

“And what do you want?”

“Nothing, for now. You’re not ready to be of use to me. I’ll contact you when I want to talk again.”

“When will the ship come?”

“So we are in agreement?”

Again you paused, but then nodded.

“Yes. When?”

She shrugged. “When it can, I’m not a sailor.”

“What about this?” You motioned to the sphere.

“That, is not yours to keep.” She moved fast, faster than you expected. In the next second she stood right in front of you and you could almost see her face. Then her hand wrapped around the sphere and she pushed you back, keeping it and sending you falling.

You landed on the bed in Brighton’s home, the brightness of the day almost blinding. Once you readjusted, the air smelling as it should, the bed feeling as it should, you looked for the sphere, but it was gone.

Pink petals falling,
One last chance to say goodbye.
“Perah, I love you.”

“Have you picked the path for this?”

“What?”

Tsubata stood a few feet away, a sword, a real one, in hand, facing you with your dagger.

“How will the next moment end?”

“I can't see that far.”

“Yet, but when we begin, how do you want it to end?”

You thought about it. “I want to finally fucking block you. I'm tired of healing myself.”

He gave a small smile. “That's good enough,” and attacked. You both had very different sized weapons. For you, it was learning how a smaller blade could still be useful and when to change strategies.

You focused, the runes on your arm warming, sending off a little steam in the lingering chill of the morning. There, you saw it, a way to disarm. Once seen you just had to follow the path, and you'd been training for months so that your body could do just that.

Three more heartbeats and his sword hit the ground, Only a small nick of blood to his wrist. You reached to heal, but he waved you off. “After, let's keep going.” He picked up the sword and you reset.

“This time, I want you to see the path to kill me.”

“What?”

“Can you do it?”

“I-, why would-”

But he was already advancing and you were forced to react. With his words at the forefront of your mind, you pivoted, your arm warmed further, and suddenly the steps were clear. A different tack, use his expectation against him and you came to a stop, his sword falling and the tip of your dagger aligning with his throat, ready to cut it halfway open. A breath, the slightest pause, and you tore yourself from the action, refusing to follow through. In the distance a pale figure with a large shadow at her side lowered her bow and vanished.

He caught you as you started to fall, easily taking the dagger and waiting for you to catch your breath.

For your part you just hung there, off balance, leaning against him, wide-eyed.

“You're alright,” he said gently.

The softness of his tone is what brought you back from that place where in your mind you stood over his body, him gasping for air that would never come.

“Why would you ask me to do that?” Anger rode your words.

Another beat, another few breaths, your mind cleared further. Finally you settled back into the moment and could look at him again.

“What you think affects what you see,” he tapped the lowest rune on your arm, “just as much as what you see affects what you think. With Sight comes the ability to shape the world as you wish to see it. So be clear on the decisions you are making, and why.”

“Will I have to?”

He thought for a moment. “There is always a choice, whether it be to maim or disarm, their life or yours, or someone else's. There is always a choice, though peace may not be among them.”

“Is life truly like this?”

“Have you not found it to be?”

You glanced at Ran and they just nodded in agreement.

“Not that you aren't physically capable of going back to your life before,” he continued. “And some part will always want to, because that is what is easy, is what feels safest. Many would. But, having seen what you have, would you, could you?”

He handed the dagger back. “It's easy, here,” he pointed at the space around you, “to do this, it's a part of your life that can simply be packaged away, when you go back. Balance, yes, a beautiful concept for a foreign land.”

His hand gripped your arm tighter. “But will you look when you get back? Will you open your eyes and see the cities you call home. How much are they in balance? Is there anything you can do about it? Will you want to?”

His hand fell away and he left.

Ran shrugged. “He's still a dick, but he's right.”

You didn’t know when exactly the ship would return, but more time passed. Spring gave way to summer. You hadn’t said anything about your vision, not wanting to give false hope or reveal that you had made a deal with some dark unknown entity. You were one hundred percent sure that was going to bite you in the ass eventually, but if you could get the rest of the expedition home, that made it a little more worth it.

So, not knowing there might be another ship, word had been sent out to other villages for any ships that might be able and willing to make the trip to Piltover. Those who'd returned all said no, not at the moment. So all you could do was wait. Those remaining of the expedition agreed they did not want to go to the western side of Ionia to look for a ship, as none of you wanted to chance sailing anywhere near Noxus.

The Kinkou, including Kennen, finally bid their farewell, though with an open invitation for you to go to them and train further. You were a part of the balance, their robes could potentially be yours, with time and training. Kenned presented you with beautifully tooled leather bracers, for both protection and to cover your runes, should you wish to continue to keep them secret. You might be able to keep your eyes from glowing, but the runes refused to be quiet.

And then the Kinkou were gone.

You were three steps into your walk up the mountain when you paused and began to laugh. Ionia stretched all around, a land now very familiar. Your voice echoed, humor and delight rolling with it. You looked up, at the distance you had to go to reach the tree, and accepted the path before you. It had been almost a year since you first had this dream.

You took your time, admiring the view, breathing in the air, listening to the wind, when then you had a thought. You pulled at your runes, seeing if they had any sway here. Your arm warmed and the path before you flared in brilliance and movement. A quick step to the side, you tried to get out of the way as you saw others. The path became teeming with travelers, some passing directly through the others, as some went up and others walked back down. None seem to notice. Humans, vastaya, creatures, more ethereal beings. Some were determined, some more cautious, some were fearful, and others acting as if it was an afternoon stroll. You watched for a bit, getting a feel for the flow.

A shifting of colors brought your attention to your arm. Your runes were glowing, all of them, the green, the gold, and the three on your wrist. Upon watching, small flares from them would drift out to then undulate to another rune. The gold flowed as if it was molten. Sparks of blue darted out to connect with the green and gold. You let your eyes relax, as when you’re drawing and want to get the overall shapes of a piece. A large smile spread across your face. It was alive - leaves, fertile land, gold branches and roots reaching down into blue depths of infinite pools. The blue also extended along the top of your hand like tiny tributaries and the gold, in the tiniest tendrils of new vines, wove up past your elbow.

“Stare too long and you’ll go blind,” a familiar voice pulled your attention away.

“Tama.”

“Hello little dreamer.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I like to walk the path on occasion. It is good to keep the memory fresh and weave my presence into the pattern.”

“These are other dreamers?”

She nodded, as much as a giant spirit dragon can nod. “The path is always being walked.”

“Well, may I walk with you on your way to the top.”

“I would like nothing more.”

You returned your attention to your arm as you walked, “they don’t look like this normally, even with my sight.”

“Ah, we are in a dream, there are fewer constraints here. They can be as they wish to.”

“Is this how you wish to be?”

“Always so many questions.”

“Life is always changing, that encourages a desire to understand.”

A huff, “careful, you're starting to sound like Dorima.”

“I take that as a high compliment.”

“You should.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the familiar storm gathering. You took a breath and fought the instinct to rush.

“You never stayed for the storm, did you?”

“No, by the end it was walk, tree, flower, fall, petal, you.”

“Hmm.” But she didn't say anything else. You both walked up the path, letting it take you to the top. Movement around you slowed, as the other travelers thinned out. By the time you reached the top, it was just you and Tama.

The massive tree with pale bark and red leaves reached high into the sky. Flowers in full bloom dotted the tree. To your sight each held a white glow at their center. Reaching to the tree, it glowed a soft teal where your fingertips touched, which sent small ripples across its surface. There was a sense of kinship.

“This is what the sapling will become.”

“Yes, in time.”

“There are no trees like this in my city.”

Tama too placed a clawed hand on the tree, the teal glowed much brighter. She seemed to lose focus for a moment, before smiling. “Are you sure about that?”

“I mean, definitely not in Zaun. There might be some good sized trees in some of the gardens, but you have to get pretty far away from either city to see one this grand. And still, not ones that glow when you touch them.”

“That is probably true. These trees flourish because the spirit realm is close, because we tend to the balance. If,” she eyed you, “you can get your city in balance, come back, and maybe I'll let you leave with a seed.”

“Challenge accepted.”

“Is it?” She turned more fully towards you. “Do you accept the charge of finding and keeping balance for your home?”

The weight that came with her words made you pause. You turned, looking towards the horizon. It felt as if all of Ionia was spread out before you. There were hundreds, thousands of beings working to keep the balance here, and still it was a challenge.

Piltover? Zaun? You could never do it alone.

“No one can do it alone.”

“But no one else-”

“Cares? is trying? Do you think magic is required, that you could take no action without your runes? Yes, you can see it more clearly now, but could you see nothing before?”

You shifted back to lean against the tree, uncertainty tugging at you. The two cities, you'd lived in both. The imbalance was clear before you'd ever stepped foot on these shores.

“I don't know where to start.”

“Where matters far less than just simply starting at all.”

Thunder rumbled, but the storm didn't seem to have gotten any closer. You watched the clouds, so much movement, a roiling mass of grays that looked angry, dangerous, but- “why isn't it getting any closer?”

“What purpose does the storm serve?”

“In the past it made me rush, I wanted to find a place to hide.”

“And did you?”

“I thought to hide under the roots, to avoid the storm but the water, it held magic, and I wanted to follow that more. Once I knew what would happen when I fell, I just always took that route.”

“And now?”

You looked around, saw the path to go down to the roots, to the start of the river. Then up at the tree, its leaves fluttering in the wind. The storm shifted and swirled, waiting, listening.

You held out your arms. “I want to feel the rain.”

Tama stepped up beside you. “Then let us feel the rain.”

A cool wind rushed past you. The scent of rain hitting dry ground eager for moisture filled the air. Then slowly, one or two at first, large, cold drops crashed against your skin. As it did, bursts of color flew up with each impact, like iridescence or liquid prisms. Droplets fell faster, hitting your arms, your chest, your legs, your face. It soaked into your clothes, weighed down your hair. It was refreshing and calming and your arm warmed as the rune on the right of your wrist began to glow a vivid blue, the one for the river systems in Freljord, so you held it higher, letting it greet what was quickly becoming a downpour.

“Trees need more than just sunlight. They need rain and healthy soil and birds to carry their seeds and insects to pollinate their flowers. They rarely thrive alone.”

“You're talking about me aren't you?”

“I'm talking about everyone!”

You turned your face up to it, letting it wash over and through you.

Tama's voice came softer. “If I may ask a personal favor? Remember this, remember us.”

“I promise you. I will.”

“I will miss you, little dreamer.”

“I will miss you too, Tama.”

You woke with a deep sense of calm, water droplets still on your skin, and a rune slowly fading back to normal.

It was still dark outside, but the few soft bird calls let you know dawn would soon arrive. You dressed quietly, grabbed your bag, and left the house, heading towards the pier.

A faint hint of lighter blue to the horizon provided just enough light to see the familiar silhouette sitting at the end. Soft footballs, much quieter than when you'd first arrived, carried you to the end, where you sat down next to him.

“You're up early.”

“Good dreams.”

“Hmm.”

Your hand slid into your bag on instinct, cued by setting and company, and pulled out your drawing pad. For a long minute you just stared at it, before finally flipping it open. The first few pages were vivid and detailed drawings of plants, animals, sunsets. Your fingers lingered over a few fish specimens. Then it was blank, though a few frayed edges showed where you'd torn pages out.

You flipped to the next available blank one and reached into the bag yet again. Your hands closed around the case for your oil pastels and it made you smile. Yes. That would be the right choice. They may have been called pastels, but the colors you selected were bold, vivid.

Tsubata watched you silently. Colors were already starting to fill the horizon, so you let nature show you what to draw. You had a solid grip, and were getting better about pressure control. This medium was supposed to be rough, and blended, and messy and so you let your elbow and shoulder do most of the work. Straighter lines, broader curves, it was a hazy, more abstract approximation of a sunrise. But damn if it wasn't pretty, and playful, and a hushed promise of a landscape.

You worked until your arm ached and you were covered in smudges of different colors. And it really was a heck of a sunrise.

Once the colors were slowly fading, and the sun properly on its way up, you held it out for the both of you to study. A smile crept onto your face.

“I kind of like it.”

“It's beautiful,” Tsubata said.

You closed the pad and put it back in the bag, taking the time to just sit there and be in that moment.

Small waves drifted past below the pier before softly rolling onto the shore. Shoreline birds danced along the shallows, following each wave as the motion stirred up the sand exposing tasty morsels.

You were about to stand, to seek out something for breakfast when a sound echoed across the water, a sound that shattered your peace and forced your lungs into short, fitful breaths. By the second toll of the bell, which echoed out of a building fogbank about a mile out, both you and Tsubata were standing, you ready to run, ready to fight, your heartbeat thumping in your chest. But Tsubata put a hand on your arm. “Wait.”

“But what if-”

“Look.”

“What?”

“Use your sight, what do you see?”

You didn’t want to. Fear told you to run. It was only his calm presence that kept the full panic from setting in. You took a breath in, then let it out, then took in another, breathing the air, willing calm. Each toll of the bell rang through you, but you closed your eyes, focused inward, and pulled magic to you.

You opened your eyes to a calm sea, a beautiful sunrise, and the soft glow of a ship making its way through the fog. You could see the reverberations of the bell each time it tolled, how it rippled through the spirit, quieting it, and, in a way now, quieting you, if you let it. You relaxed, eyes going over the shape of the ship, still far off.

“It’s not Noxian.”

“Good. Very good.”

After a few more moments the tolling stopped and the bow of a ship split the fog. A normal wooden bow, with normal Ionian sails, though one of the flags on the gaff was of Piltovan design. The ship made its way to the dock. At the front, inexplicably, stood a woman you recognized, though did not know well.

“Elora?” What was Mel's assistant doing on an Ionian ship?

“Ah, finally, this is the right village.” She turned towards one of the crew and spoke in Ionian.

Others were starting to walk up. Ran slowed their initial run, sword in hand, to a trot, letting the sword lower until they came to a stop by you. “What is-”

You put a hand on their shoulder, “this might be our ride home.”

“How?”

The ship settled into place along the pier.

Elora stepped off the ship and gave a small bow. “Greetings. I was on an errand for Councilor Medarda when, at our last port, the captain informed me the itinerary had changed. I, well, I honestly thought the worst, that he was leading us to pirates, but then,” she motioned to the village. “The first village we docked at told us of your inquiry, and so we came here.”

You sagged, relief flooding through you. You were going home.

“We can, of course, take you back, if you are indeed ready. I’ve always wanted to meet Explorer Brighton,” she gave a small smile. “Though, what happened to your original ship?”

You looked back at Ran, then at a few of the others. Finally you sighed and stood a little straighter.

“There was an incident.”

End of Act II

Chapter Text

“Viktor!” you surged forward into his arms, holding him tight, causing him to stumble and give a small hiss of pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You began to pull back, to steady the two of you, but he kept you close.

“It is fine, do not let go.”

You nestled close, burying your face in his neck, taking in the realness, the scent of him. You were home. It was unexpected, but tears came to your eyes. The emotion built so quickly a sob racked your chest.

“Hey, what is it?”

You were still on the docks, people surrounded you as the ship began to unload.

“No it’s” you pulled the emotion back, trying to keep it all in.

He took your face in his hand so he could look at you. Those eyes, so warm, so loving. For a brief moment they lost color. You cannot save me.

“What is it?” He studied your face, “what happened?”

You brought your forehead to his and just breathed. “There was an incident. I’ll tell you more, but not here.”

“Yes, of course.” He kissed your cheek.

The crowd around you shifted and moved as people began to unload and greet others. It was smaller than when you’d left.

“Sorry we couldn’t plan as big a welcome as we’d hoped, since we were unsure of the timing.” Mel Medarda stepped up to you both and she read you instantly, her eyes narrowing. You gave the briefest shake of your head to which she nodded.

“It was,” you started, “there was an incident.”

That became your mantra, the words repeated over and over.

You stood before the Explorer’s Guild. “There was an incident.”

You stood before the sheriff. “There was an incident.”

You stood before the Council, a few others of the expedition with you. “There was an incident.”

Each time the same story. Explorer Brighton secretly worked for Noxus and planned the expedition to try and steal something from the village. You didn’t know what it was. Fighting occurred with those from the village. People died. Some were injured, including you. A dragon was involved.

The last part usually stole enough attention that you could remain sparse on the details.

Fortunately, no one asked about the porters, why would they? They were just hired help. Ran was never mentioned. In fact, you hadn’t seen them even leave the ship. But you knew where they would go. Knew who would hear about the incident. The question was, how much would they tell him?

The sail back took two weeks and now you felt like you had no time, though you weren’t sure what to do. You-

“-hey, talk to me.”

You sat at your small kitchen table, in your apartment, staring down at a warm cup of tea, slowly cooling before you’d even taken a sip. Viktor sat in a chair next to you, his hands around his own cup.

You'd pictured this moment nearly every day on the trip home. Each time it went different. You chose the option that might go the worst. You wanted him to know the truth, whatever his reaction might be.

Movement, you were barely thinking, your arm going back behind you, flipping a small snap, bringing out the dagger. You were still wearing it, even in your own home. You placed it on the table. The hilt sent little shafts of refracted green light across the polished surface.

“I killed him.”

“What?” Viktor leaned forward.

“He killed Perah. He was hurting others, hurting me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

His fingers ghosted over the hilt. “You mean Dominic Brighton?”

You nodded.

Silence sat heavy around you both.

“You said the villagers, the dragon-”

“I put this into his heart. The dragon just, finished what was left.”

“You were in their sacred place, their shrine?”

“Yes.”

“What did he want there? You do know, don’t you?”

“Power. The Shrine was a source of magic.”

His hand shifted to take one of yours. “Will you tell me what really happened?”

You stood, your hand pulling from his, and retrieved one of your old notebooks, the one from your first exploration of Zaun with Sevika. You opened it to the drawing of the railing.

“Everything is connected. It started with a dream…”

You pulled the bracer free and rolled up your sleeve. You shifted the arm closer to him and let him run his fingers over the brace and the scarred and uneven skin of your wrist.

“My cuff, how did-?” He lifted your hand to inspect it closer. “This is a burn.”

“It melted.”

“The heat that would have been required to-”

“It saved my life and everyone’s there, possibly many more.”

“Your wrist, can you still- did you lose-”

“A lot if it is still numb, the one upside is I don't really feel the damage. I have exercises I do every day and my writing is slowly getting better. It could have been a lot worse.” You tried not to let nervousness show in your voice while he continued to inspect it.

He traced his fingers over the ridges of skin and then peered at the deeper blue within the scarring. “The runes, they are in your flesh now?”

You nodded.

“How is that possible?”

“I was told they didn't want to leave, that they wanted to keep doing their purpose.”

“But they are just-”

“I'm not sure anything is ‘just’ anymore.”

His fingers shifted to the metal lining your wrist. “And the brace, it helps with the injury?” He studied it more closely. “It is expertly designed, but how do you put it on? I don't see any latches.”

You bent towards it and sang a series of notes. The metal warmed and shifted in response providing enough space for you to slip it off your arm.

“What did, how did you do that?”

You offered a small smile and handed him the brace.

“It is lighter than I thought it would be, and these designs are of such detail, how was it made?”

“There was a metalsmith, they heated the metal and then sang to it. I watched it form right in front of me.”

“That's incredible, and so you, just now, you sang at it to get it to adjust?”

You nodded.

“How wondrous.” His fingers traced the metal, feeling the shape and flow of it. “It does not need padding? The metal against your skin does not cause irritation?”

You thought about it. “I can only feel some of it, when it’s on, but I have not had any issues.”

“Hmm, I would love to have a conversation with this metalsmith.” He eyed you, “but there is more, isn't there?”

You nodded at your arm.

He set the brace back down and shifted focus, his fingers tracing up your arm, outlining the larger runes.

“You got a tattoo of runes? I don't recognize any of these.”

“They aren't tattoos.”

You could see something begin to debate within him, excitement, fear, curiosity, uncertainty.

“Then what-”

You took a larger breath, trying to keep the knot from forming in your stomach. This is why you went. This is how you were able to come back. He deserved to know all of it.

It was second nature now, pulling on that tangible tether to magic. Keep it simple. You drew power into the lowest rune and in the dimly lit apartment a green and golden glow filled the space between you.

Viktor gasped.

“This, how are you-” he looked up and stilled, his breath stalling completely. You could see the pulse vividly in his throat, as the world became more alive to your sight. It was the first time you’d used it since Ionia and you’d let the light fill your eyes as well.

“What,” he licked his lips, “what are you doing?”

You looked over his face, a soft golden glow to it. His eyes were even more lovely. You drifted down and some small wisp of red ghosted off his chest, but it was so dim, you weren’t sure where precisely it led. Your eyes drifted lower, his back - “You had surgery.”

He huffed, “a small procedure, it helped, some.” He slowly reached a hand towards you and you had to fight not to pull back from it. Soft fingers came to rest on your cheek as he leaned forward studying your eyes. “You can see it, can’t you, see into me?”

“I can see the spirit of things. I can see injury and emotional state. I can see the spirit realm as well. If I concentrate, I can get a sense of the next few moments to come.”

A soft smile came to his lips. “That is miraculous. And the others, can they-”

“You’re not angry?”

He paused, “why would I be angry? Surprised, not fully processing it yet, if I’m honest, but-”

“With what I did.”

He glanced at the dagger. “Even with your description, I truly cannot imagine being in that position, making that decision. But, from what you’ve said, you tried everything to do the right thing. And that aligns with what I know about you.” He took both of your hands in his. “You went through something that will take me a while to fully understand. But please, tell me, share with me, let me be here with you.”

Relief, you let yourself relax, a little at least.

His eyes lost focus, some series of thoughts passing through, but then he came back and lifted a hand back to your face.

His thumb stroked your cheek. “You said you could see a moment ahead.” His lips ticked up into a smile. “What do you think I am going to do next?”

His smile pulled one onto your lips and you leaned in eager for the kiss. It felt so good, the taste of him, the smell and feel. The kiss began to deepen and he shifted closer, arms reaching.

“Don't you want to see what else I can do?”

“Desperately” he said between kisses, but showed no indication of stopping.

Finally, the kiss slowed, he pulled back to look at you, the light of the runes having faded. After some thought, he let out a larger breath, stood and offered you his hand. “Come, we are only at 2.”

“Are you sur-”

“Absolutely certain, in this, at least.”

True relief, almost tears. He was okay, you were okay. He still cared. You took his hand and followed, only glancing back once at the dagger.

The tap of his cane eased you further. This was familiar. This was from before, when things were simpler. Yes, you wanted desperately to return to this, to lose yourself in the feel of him.

He undressed you slowly, taking in each new exposure of skin. Vest, shirt, bra, he paused, but not for the normal reason. Fingers came up to outline the two, roughly circular scars in your chest.

“These are new.”

He spun you to look at your back and you heard an intake of breath. “All the way through? How did-”

You turned back to him, put a hand on his cheek, to which he overlaid his own.

“- how did you survive this?”

“Magic, the spirits, the land, the stars, Viktor, it's all true. I'm some part of it now.”

“Technically, scientifically, you already were, we all are, matter being tied to energ-”

You pulled him in for another kiss, letting him balance against you.

The rest of your clothes, and his, were set aside with much less care and you crawled back onto your bed, Viktor eagerly following.

He kissed each scar, then down your arm, kissing each rune. The top one lit up ever so slightly under his touch.

“Curious.”

You pulled him to you, kissing him deeply, the rune glowing brighter as more of your skin touched, the long line of his body pressing down, warm, soft, perfect.

He shifted to better align that particular part of himself and paused, his breath hitching. “Can we,” a breath, “can we flip?”

You nodded and moved to the right, him falling down and you bringing yourself on top, knees on either side, arm by his head. You’d left the brace on the table so kept more of your weight on your other arm.

He brought a hand up to stroke down the line of runes, then looked slowly across the rest of you. “Hmm, yes, this is a good view.”

“Oh it is?”

“Quite.”

He kissed your cheek, your neck and you reached down to feel him, eager, ready. You pushed and then pulled just a little, just enough to get a moan from him.

“Good?”

“Could not be better.”

You smiled, lined him up and then shifted your weight back, pushing him in, taking your time, enjoying every inch, the stretch, the warmth, the realness of him.

A green light began to fill the room as the top rune on your forearm glowed brighter. And you could feel it, his heartbeat, not just against you, but in you, with you. His breath, in and out, sped from pleasure, his chest rising and falling against you. The green light grew brighter as the middle rune began to glow. He was your breath and you were his, but, something, you tried to focus, something kept the rhythm from matching. He pushed up and the pleasure overrode your thoughts and you fell back into him.

You sped, pleasure, breath, connection heightening, driving towards the crest. How he had the presence of mind to think to reach down, to do anything other than feel, you didn't know, as one moment you were climbing higher and then the next, his fingers found exactly the right spot and your orgasm rose up and washed through you. His followed quickly after.

You lay there breathing against him for forever, just existing, the runes on your arm having gone dark.

He roused first. “If you could, I need-”

“Of course,” you shifted off to lay beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too.”

“And now sex comes with a light show.”

You chuckled. “That'll cost extra.”

“I'll have to ask Councilor Medarda to expand our funding.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if she agreed.”

That earned a chuckle from him, which ended with a slight cough.

You glanced over, the barest hint of green coming from your arm. Again, some wisp or red lingered around his torso, but nothing solid. The green faded.

“I see why you wear the bracer.”

“So far it's the only thing I haven't been able to control about them.”

“You were looking?”

“Yes.”

His next words came with the slightest hesitation. “Did you see anything?”

“No, I don't think so. Just your back.”

“My leg?” he asked.

You sat up to get a better angle and the green glow filled the lowest rune. You looked him over. A few old, small scars but-

“No, it's not an injury, not really.” You glanced at him, “you're just you. There's inflammation, irritation,” you touched his hip gently. “It hurts here?” and slid your arm under a little to touch his spine, “and here?”

He nodded.

“It's more than it was before?”

“Yes, but,” he reached to pull your hand back, “nothing I can't-”

You tensed to keep your hand there.

“Does it hurt now, after we-?”

He hesitated, “barely, truly, well worth being with you.”

More of your runes began to glow as you steadied your breathing, the middle rune filled in, and then the top.

“What are you-”

“May I try something?”

“What, precisely?”

“I think I can ease the pain.”

You waited, watching him process what you'd said. It took another moment, but he nodded.

Your focus shifted to the feel of him, to the murmurs of his spirit and the nature of his physical form. Your eyesight had been right, there was inflammation and building tension, but no big initial injury, just his body moving through time. You closed your eyes and let your connection guide you. There, just off the spine, near where doctors had already worked. You whispered to it, calming it, easing it, letting the body remember some time earlier, letting the blood flow more freely, calming the body's misguided defenses, letting them rest for the moment.

A sigh from Viktor brought you back to your own body and awareness. His head lay back, eyes closed, mouth slightly open from the exhale.

“That is-” he breathed slowly, “I haven't-”

Eyes at ease opened to you, relief clear on his face. “Thank you.”

You gently shifted closer to hold him, pressing along his side.

“I'm sorry I can't do more.”

“You've done more than most,” his voice grew distant, “in so many ways.” He relaxed further and you felt him drift off to sleep.

The dagger was still on the table in the morning, and you returned it to its hidden sheath at your back on your way out the door.

“You are back!” your taita rushed up to hug you, a small hitch to her step. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you, my knee is off again. But Viktor sent word you were arriving, so I knew you were coming home safe.”

From one blink to the next you glanced down, looking her over, and there, a red shifting haze in her right knee, present, but temporary. You let out a breath and realized Viktor was watching you, his hand on your arm. Could he feel the warmth of it through the bracer? He huffed and you continued on, following taita towards the dwelling portion of the space. The shop around you was delightfully busy. Good, they were doing well.

Your telling of your time in Ionia came out happier, with a grander flare. Yes, there was tragedy, but you were okay and perhaps you would take a break from expeditions for a while.

“Good,” she patted your arm, “that is good. Now, let's eat, you both are too skinny.”

You did not tell her about the spirit realm, or about magic, and certainly not about your arm. You weren't ready for that.

“You did it in there, didn’t you?” Viktor asked as you walked back to the Howl on your way home.

“Yes”

“You can do it without your eyes glowing?”

“Seemed like a good skill to learn coming back to” and you motioned to Zaun and Piltover beyond.

“Good, that is good.”

Jayce's hug practically crushed you. His arms wrapped tight, his form an envelopment. “I'm so glad you're back!”

“Me too.”

He was also a long hugger, but in that moment you didn't mind. It was comforting in its earnestness.

Finally he pulled back. “I'm sorry about the incident, that must have been awful.”

You just nodded.

“But, you're back, and you're here, and we have so much to show you.”

He motioned to a device you'd never seen before. It was more circular than the testing device they'd used previously. It also had a small wooden sphere, maybe an inch in diameter, set on a pedestal just in front of where the hexcrystal would sit.

Jayce began to describe it, talking about them thinking too linearly without accounting for energy in motion along a curve. Viktor stepped up to another device set up several feet away, aligning a metal plate to face the device. A thin metal mesh hung over the plate and draped down to form a small net beneath it. Lastly Jayce retrieved a hexcrystal and prepared to begin.

Your hand went to your bracer and you backed up a few more steps. This was an unknown you and Viktor had talked about, but agreed you needed to know. Would hextech affect you?

You watched the crystal and thought you could hear the faintest hum coming from it. A breath and you pulled magic through your lowest of the three runes. The lab increased in saturation and detail. The hexcrystal seemed much more alive, its energies a soft blue, darting around and through it, reaching out to inspect anything near it without fully making contact.

You didn't really feel anything until they activated the metal rings that began spinning around the crystal. As its motion drew power out of it, goosebumps spread out from your wrist and up your elbow, your hair beginning to stand on end. You flexed your fingers and could feel a tightness in your joints.

To your sight, you could see your other two runes glowing softly, as if reflecting light, rather than generating it.

The hum from the crystal increased and you watched the device pull power out and begin to weave it into a spherical shape. Viktor adjusted the plate by him and the best way you had to describe it was that the energy “looked” in his direction.

The sphere of woven blue energy coalesced into a smooth surface and then collapsed in on the small wooden ball. The bead of energy and matter shot across the distance towards Viktor. But it didn’t make it. Instead heat flared from your wrist and the bead of energy turned before hitting the rune plate, angling straight for you.

And you knew it was coming, too late to warn them, but with enough time to trust your instincts and throw up your arm in defense.

Pain, sharp, buzzing, like an electric shock shot through your wrist, bringing a small yell from you. Your hand stayed locked in a fist and you just breathed through the biting energy that shot up your arm.

“What the-” Jayce looked between the devices but Viktor moved as quickly as he could to you.

“Are you alright?”

“I don't know.”

“What happened?” Jayce asked.

Viktor's hand went to your shoulder, his eyes asking the same question he'd asked on the way to the lab. “Do we tell Jayce?”

You weren't sure. It was still so new and the more who knew, the more who might be in danger because of it.

“Trust him,” he whispered.

Jayce trotted over after securing the hexcrystal. “Did it hurt you? I'm so sorry. It’s never done that before.”

You sighed, the pain fading, your hand finally able to relax. You looked at your arm again and thought you saw a lingering blue haze, but whatever it was faded before you could fully focus. You closed your eyes and dropped your sight, trying to fully relax. And that’s when you felt it in your grip. You opened your hand to reveal the wooden ball sitting on your palm.

“How did you-?” Jayce picked it up to look at it. “Did you catch it?”

The answer was no, you hadn't. You met Viktor's warm eyes and nodded, setting your arm on the table next to you. Viktor loosen the clasps to the bracer and slid it gently off your arm.

Your hand paused at the cuff of your shirt. “Jayce, something happened on my trip.”

“You should have discussed this with me before bringing her into the lab,” Jayce's raised voice came through the closed office door.

“How could we have predicted-”

“Exactly! You couldn't! That's unknown magic, around our hex-”

“They're runes! Our runes!”

“Only half of them. We don't know what the others do.”

“She does.”

“Clearly she doesn't.”

You sat back against the table that lined the side of the lab. How had you fucked up so quickly?

“Jayce,” the softness in Viktor's tone tugged at your heart. “We made that cuff for her. We sent her off with it. She almost died. Magic saved her. She didn't have to tell me. She didn't have to tell you. Some, having faced what she did, would have never set foot in this lab again.” A huff, “she will bear the scar of our magic for the rest of her life. We're honestly lucky she came back at all.”

Their voices dropped too low to hear as they continued their conversation. Finally, footsteps and the door opened. Jayce came out first, Viktor behind. You kept your eyes on the floor, letting the tap of his cane calm you.

You didn't look up until Jayce was right next to you. His hand briefly went to his own wrist, tracing over the leatherwork and stone before reaching for your own arm. He ran his finger over the brace and the scarred flesh beneath.

“It would seem that near death experiences can lead to unexpected outcomes.” He breathed for a moment. “And that predictability is the hardest facet of magic to master while, at the same time, being a vital pursuit of science. Would you,” another breath, “allow us to study these and share any discoveries you make on your own?”

“I'm sorry I put you and Viktor in danger.”

He nodded. “Apology accepted. It's just, you know how dangerous this is.”

You put your hand on his. “I do.”

You gave him another moment waiting for him to look at you, to really look at you, before continuing. “I was afraid. I am afraid. You know how magic is regarded in this city.”

He gave a small huff. His hand squeezed yours. “Well, you don’t have to be afraid around me. And I promise not to tell anyone.” A beat. “Are you going to tell Mel?”

“I don't know.”

“And that is your choice to make,” Viktor stepped fully up to the two of you.

Jayce nodded, then rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, we are done for the day. Would you,” he put a hand on your shoulder to include you, “like to go out for dinner?” He motioned towards your arm. “This counts as a discovery and we have a tradition around discoveries.”

You lifted an eyebrow at him. “Oh you do? Cause I thought it was to work without food or break until your bodies finally shut down for maintenance.”

Viktor chuckled. “Ehh, you are not wrong. But, we can always start a new tradition. There is an excellent restaurant by the river.”

“Oh yes, I love that one.” Jayce gave you his biggest, brightest hazel-eyed look that was impossible to refuse. “What do you say? Celebrate something new?”

A smile crept into your face and he knew he'd won. Casual, playful chatter resumed and you gathered your things. On your way out you paused, noticing the right edge of one of the chalkboards. A long line of the same number, of '0's, ran down the board until they were broken by other numbers, equal to the number of days you'd been back. Viktor slid his hand into yours and led you from the room.

Chapter Text

“Perah was,” you looked over the crowd at the memorial, “one of the most effervescent beings I'd ever met. We started at the Academy the same year, she almost failed out that first semester. Then she discovered caffeine and biology and not a thing in this world could stop her. We became pirates for a summer, if you believe the stories she tells.” Your gaze drifted to the mausoleum that now held her remains, “the stories she told.”

It was strange, trying to sum up a life that held so much. How do you get those standing before you to understand who Perah was when they hadn’t had the decade you had with her? You spoke what words you could, knowing they would not be enough, and then walked from the stage to stand next to Viktor, and listen to the next person share their stories.

No one offered any words for Brighton. His remains had been sealed in a box and given to the Kinkou, for safekeeping.

The sunny day seemed at odds with the event. A clear blue sky, no storms or even clouds. You and Viktor left flowers for Perah and then he kissed your cheek.

“She is waiting for you. Whatever you wish to say, I trust your judgement.”

“I'll see you back at the apartment later.”

“Sounds good, my love,” he gave a nod, and then a small wave to Mel who was offering words of condolences to others.

You took a breath and finally walked over to her.

She took your hands in her own. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's still hard to believe she's gone.”

“It was a tragedy, an evil thing to have happened. I am glad you are back, though, and safe.”

You nodded and let her lead you away from the crowd, towards a quieter part of the cemetery.

“Have,” she paused. It was rare to see her uncertain. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“I-” you squeezed her hand. “Yes, I think I have. It's been hard to adjust to being back. Things changed, I changed, and I haven't been sure about a lot-.”

“More happened than your official statement, didn't it?”

“Yes.”

“But you're alright?”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

The concern from her was unexpected. Though you had built up a good friendship before. Before, that life felt so -

“Distant, where did you just go?”

Again you hesitated, and let your hands fall away.

Some tension eased, your mind feeling clearer, your arm cooling. Odd, how much had it warmed without you noticing? You took in another breath and turned to face her, putting the words together to start to explain, but you watched her stand straighter, pull her councilor mask back on. “At least tell me, the painting, did you find out anything more. Is it a danger?”

An instinct, your runes warmed again, your sight grew in complexity and there, something shifting around her, a glow trying to slide just out of view. It was as if it sensed your focus and moved to avoid it.

“Have you heard a word I've said?”

You blinked back to face an anger you weren't expecting.

Even with few people around, the cemetery suddenly felt too exposed.

“I'm sorry, I will explain, but can we go somewhere more private to talk?”

“More private, there's no one around.” She gestured to the gravestones and you thought you heard the faintest growl.

OK, something was definitely happening, but what? Focus. You turned inward, slowing your heartbeat, lengthening your breathing, blending into the spirit of the world around you. You felt the top rune warm and you let the world flow in and past you. A breeze picked up for just a moment and you watched as Mel relaxed. Whatever was sliding away from your gaze faded.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Let's get something to eat?”

She took a breath and smoothed down her dress. “Yes, I would like that. I don't much care for cemeteries.”

A cemetery, a place of the dead. Maybe that was it?

You let her lead you away.

“...and so I said to Salo, ‘How did you miss his birthday again!’”

“You did not."

Mel laughed and you joined her, finally having made it to her private terrace.

“It's fine, I offered a gift idea, saving the day yet again.”

You walked to the edge, staring out at the late Piltover afternoon.

Mel walked up beside you. “I'm sorry I raised my voice after the memorial. I'm not sure why I did.”

“Your question was valid and I'm sorry I didn't answer then. What we saw in the painting is real, I do think it is a danger. Brighton had a piece of it, or a piece that came from a similar thing. He wanted to make it stronger in Ionia so he could use it as a weapon against Noxus.”

“Against Noxus? Why?”

“He was born there, sought a place of power there, but that power used him instead. He spoke of,” your voice grew quieter even though you two were alone, “mages and manipulation. They used him and he grew to hate them.”

Mel crossed her arms, but didn't turn away.

“I know your family is from there, if you don't mind sharing, does that sound at all familiar? What did, or does your family do there?”

Her gaze settled somewhere on the horizon. “What everyone does in Noxus. War. And we're very good at it, well,” she looked at her hands, “everyone except me.”

“War is-” you huffed, “fuck I don't know. Shitty? Destructive? Only one aspect of the breadth of experiences in this world.”

“Thank you for that. Too many find a certain glamor in it.”

“Well, Brighton did not succeed.”

“Yes, a dragon.”

“And me, I was there.”

She nodded. “I had a feeling.”

“He wanted to share it with me. The power the Void was offering.” You reached for the buckles on your bracer.

She watched you curiously.

“I made a different choice. You remember the cuff Viktor gave me?”

She nodded.

You set the bracer down and rolled up your sleeve. “With magic, it got heated enough to melt. It burned me, but also burned the evil that was trying to gain more power.”

“Oh, your hand.” She reached for you and you pulled back slightly, pausing her movement.

Your next words were spoken to her, but also to whatever energy you saw before, in case it was still present. “I'm going to show you something, but I need you to know you are a friend and you do not need to be afraid.”

She eyed you and you let power flow into the runes, though with no directed purpose, merely to let what power wanted to come, come. Slowly, a green light began to fill the runes. The world became more solid as you took a stronger place in it. You found it calming, more so than usual.

She gasped, staring for a moment, before reaching out again. “May I?”

You let her complete her movement and paid very close attention to when her fingers came to rest on your skin. Your eyes didn't glow, but you let just a little of the sight through.

She touched the top rune first, as you knew she would, and there, ever so slight, a gold light ghosted across her shoulders. The most you could feel was a slight hint of curiosity. Her fingers slid down to the next rune and as they did a gold began to shine from your skin, the arboreal designs lighting up whenever she traced over them.

“This is incredible. They're warm.”

“Viktor theorizes it's something about resonance frequencies and energy refraction. It makes sense when he explains it.”

“But, what you're showing me, this is-”

“Yes. Magic. I helped stop Dominic and so the spirits helped save me, and in so doing, I woke up with these.”

She inspected the lowest rune and then came to the brace. “The metal is it also,” she looked closer, “your wrist! It is, you said the cuff melted, are you alright?”

You let out a breath. “I am fine, I promise. The brace is there for stability and support. My movement is a little more limited, and actually this whole area is still numb. I am having to relearn some, no, most of my drawing techniques, that's taking a little while, and I'm a little concerned about teaching next semester, but-”

She pulled you into a hug, which took you a moment to process, but then happily accepted.

“You almost died, didn't you?”

You relaxed into the hug. “Yeah, I almost did.”

“And you can't tell anyone about it.”

“Openly revealing I use a power this city was built to avoid would change a lot of things I'm not ready to let go of quite yet. I'm not really sure what to do with it all.”

You pulled back just a little and she gave one more squeeze and ended the hug.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, for trusting me. Truly.”

You let your hold on the energy go and the runes faded.

She ran her hands over them again. “Like this, they could pass as tattoos.”

“And if I could just keep them from glowing, I wouldn't have to cover them all the time.”

“Do you have to be, I'm not even sure how to phrase it, ‘using’ them for them to glow?”

“Most of the time, but sometimes they just randomly react. I'm not always sure why.”

“What do they,” excitement grew in her voice, "what can you do?”

“How much time do you have?”

She paused, “a good question.” She walked from the room and came back a few minutes later, a satisfied smile on her face.

“It turns out my evening is free. Now, if you'll share it,” she took your hands again, “tell me everything.”

“This next part I haven't shared with anyone, and I mean that. The last conversation we had, Dominic said there were mages in Noxus, moving in the dark, unknown to others and… I met one, or at least spoke with one.”

Mel sat a little straighter. The firepit threw shadows around the terrace, the sun having set several hours ago. It almost reminded you of your experience with the orb.

“One minute I was in a house in Ionia and the next I'm in a dark stone room somewhere else. I don't think I actually went there, I think this glass orb had a way to connect people, mentally or spiritually or something. But it was Noxus, and I watched this person change form right in front of me, though I couldn't see their face.” You focused back on Mel. “Have you ever heard of anything like that?”

“No. Though Noxus's history is long and the Immortal Bastion is deep. It's entirely possible. What did they say?”

“They asked about Dominic, seemed to have expected him to have returned already. They knew I was an artist and expected Dominic to bring me back with him.”

“What did you say?”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “The truth? That he was dead. And then maybe I got a little angry and told them it was good he wasn't coming back and that I'd done them a favor.”

Mel's eyebrows went up. “A bold move.”

“I don't know how any of this works! Mysterious mages, political intrigue, hidden machinations. I draw plants and animals and people. I am an artist.”

“Did they accept it? That you had done them a favor?”

“I think so.”

“So? What did you ask for in return?”

“I did not want anything from them.”

“That is not how favors work.”

You sighed and sat back. “They offered a ship to take us home.”

That got Mel's attention. “When did this conversation take place?”

“About a month and a half before the ship with Elora showed up.”

“She never found out who had changed the ship's itinerary. She got a look at the books, but the only information listed was the new destination and the amount paid to cover it. The rest of the ledger was blank.”

“Was she in Noxus?”

“No, but anywhere along that coast is close enough.”

“I'm sorry, I hope I didn't put her in danger,” you looked around, but everything seemed normal, “or you.”

“It's alright. You couldn't have known.” She took a drink of the wine sitting on the table by you. You had a glass too, but was hesitant to test how inebriation affected your runes.

“Do you think they will contact you again?”

“Yes. I do. But I have no idea when. They said I wasn't ready to be of use to them.”

“That is ominous.”

You laughed. “It's ludicrous!” You allowed yourself a small sip of wine. “I mean, I'm not, I'm just-”

“But you are.”

You looked at your runes, at your brace. You thought of Zaun and the middle rune glowed a faint blue. “I guess I am.”

“So the ones from the cuff are still a mystery?”

You nodded, “mostly.”

“You think the boys can figure it out?”

Her phrasing made you chuckle. “Maybe, as long as it is safe for them. Hextech has been acting a little wonky, when I'm there.”

She studied you. “Could I help you figure it out? Even as just a sounding board for ideas? Or books, I have a large collection and can gain access to other private libraries.”

That brought a smile. “I, that is very generous.”

“Alright,” she stood, “before the night ends, I want to know if there is anything that needs to be done about the painting. If it could hurt people, I could potentially have it moved or stored away.”

“Has anyone else asked about it or seen it?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Well, now that I have the ability to better inspect it, we could go take a look?”

She nodded, “we could indeed.”

Being in the gallery after dark was a completely different atmosphere. The building was, of course, wired for electricity, but as you walked the dark marble halls, the sconces seemed to flicker like gaslight. Maybe it was just the setting.

And there, in its dark corner, hung the painting. With only the internal lights, it felt much more sinister. Shadows gathered easily within the frame.

“3000 years,” your words came hushed, only a little above a whisper. “Dominic got close enough to find a small piece. He kept it alive, without being consumed. Tama, the,” a small smile crossed your lips, “dragon, had only heard old stories about it.”

“Yes, casually mention that you had regular conversations with a dragon.”

You chuckled and then let the levity go. You took a space dead center in front of the painting, letting your arms hang at your sides.

“Alright, this was one of the first things I learned.”

Breath, in and out, centering, grounding. Your middle rune began to glow. Next, claiming your space, you were here, you were to be recognized. Your top rune began to glow. Ok, nice and easy. Your eyes drifted closed and you drew more power to you. Light, not just from the bottom rune but from behind your eyelids began to glow.

Slowly you opened them, letting that light fall upon the painting.

Vivid color filled the canvas, both the purples of the maw, clearly visible now, not able to hide from your sight, and a brighter truer blue that washed over that insistent hunger. The rune for Icathia beamed like its own sun from above the city. Blue lines, like cables, lanced across and through the maw, holding it in place.

“There's something more to this. It isn't just the frame that is, active.”

It took you a moment to realize you could barely see the frame. Purple light slid in and out, like some forever extending serpent, hunting for something, but not finding it. You could feel the frustration. A slight blue haze sat over the frame, it almost looked like a lattice, but you weren't sure. You took a step closer to see and Mel put a hand on your shoulder.

A flash of gold, a surge, like electricity down your arm, only to hit your wrist, curl back up, and then loop back down. The stars shone brighter over the city in the painting, a robed figure stood at the gates. They looked up and then to you, their hand moving, beckoning.

“Sisters, you have questions.”

The Icathian rune flared, growing brighter. You glanced back to see the energy from your top rune reaching out towards the painting, drawn towards the city. The green was lined in more gold than usual as a molten line of it flowed down from Mel's hand on your shoulder, her fingers ablaze with light.

Then everything went blue and the gallery stood empty.

Chapter Text

“Welcome, I rarely have visitors.” A warm voice greeted you as your vision returned. You stood on old stones, at the gates to an ancient city. An older woman in indigo robes offered a small bow to the both of you.

Mel stood beside you, her breathing shallow, her eyes wide. Some energy built in her and you placed a hand on hers, where it still sat on your shoulder.

“It's okay, we're not in danger,” you let a small bit of will enter your voice, “breathe.” And she did, one large breath, and then another, slower. The sense of buildup you could feel in your skin began to abate.

“I am sorry. Had you not wanted to come? I thought you were reaching out,” the woman said.

“Where are we?” Mel asked.

“I think we're in the painting, right?”

The woman nodded. “Just so.”

“How?” Mel asked.

“A simple channeling, with very little distance to go, it does not take much. I do hope you don't mind me using a little of yours to help guide? It is preferable that you arrive here and not,” she pointed to the maw, “over there.”

“So we're not,” you motioned to the ground, “here.”

“Icathia? Oh no, it has long since been consumed. This is how I remember it.”

“How is this possible?” Mel asked.

The woman studied her, then you. “What order are you with?”

“I don't-”

“We,” Mel interrupted, looking between the two of you, “are not with an order.”

“Hmm. Your city has been very quiet. I don't think I've had a single inquisitive visitor since I came here, well except that man, almost as hungry as what festered around his wrist.”

“He won't be back,” you said.

“Did you deal with it?”

“Me, and a dragon.”

“Ah! Very good. He only had a small piece but it could still be very dangerous.”

“Is it the same as the frame?”

She nodded, “it's the best I can do.”

“Are you still alive in here?” you asked.

“Huh, you two really are on your own aren't you? Or maybe the ways of it have finally been lost.” She gestured to the space around you, including the countryside and further beyond. “I painted this. Come, let me show you.” She turned and walked into the city. You glanced at Mel and she slid her hand into yours as you both followed.

“I was born here, trained here, and saw the fall. I should have died here, am not quite sure how I didn't.”

You wove through an intricate city. Ziggurats floated in the air above. Birds flew between them and along rooftops. You could smell fresh baked bread and incense. But there were no people. A city in full but also empty.

“So,” she caught her breath at the top of a set of stairs, “I was fighting and then I was miles away, a piece of that thing in my leg. I did what I could to contain it and ran, well hobbled as fast as I could away from here.”

She brought you to one of the higher towers, so you could look over the city and beyond. “I loved this city and did my best to represent it with my art,” she gestured wide.

“I kept expecting to die, or that thing to wake enough to finally take me, but I made it to a Shuriman port and then just kept going. I thought, if anyone had the ability to destroy it, it would be one of the Noxii tribes.”

“But no, they thought they could use it instead. The fool, so many fools. One day it finally figured out how to get past my magic. So, I did the only thing I could. I trapped it and bound my soul to keep it here. Every couple of centuries the hunters pass by, but they can't get me!” she chuckled. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“So a piece of the Void is here, but you used all of your magic, yourself-

“-my soul, yeah-”

“to seal it in the painting?”

“And the frame?” Mel added.

“Ahh,” she tapped her nose and pointed at her. “That's the right question.” She sat down on a bench. “The frame is its attempt to get out. I keep it chasing its tail, and it's so mindless that it’s easily tricked. That man could have done a lot of damage if he actually knew how to use what he had. I can only work from inside. That's why I convinced the previous owner to move me. They never realized, but I did not like the whispers I was hearing in that dark place.”

“Noxus?”

She nodded. “There's demons and worse about. No, I like this Piltover. It's quiet, keeps it from getting ideas.” She pointed out towards the maw.

“Is there something we can do to help?”

She thought for a moment. “I'm not sure. It took all I had just to trap it, and even then. I don't remember as much as I used to. The hunger is endless and I think it steals little pieces of me when I'm not looking. I can hold it for a bit longer, but eventually, it will need to be destroyed.”

“How do we do that?” Mel asked.

“A dragon could do it, if you have one around?”

You both shook your head.

“Fire, if it's hot enough, and I mean forge hot or greater. Or decay, but that's nasty magic to work with, might cause more damage than the frame would. I swear I used to know another way, but maybe that was the first memory it ate. But, magic is always changing and evolving, maybe you will come up with something new.”

“If we destroy the painting, would that kill you?” you asked.

“Oh, I'm long since dead, I'm just pigment on canvas. It would be,” she turned her face to the sun, “freeing, actually. Finally let her take my hand and lead me on. But, until then, I have a job to do, so I do it.”

“A protector?”

“Yeah, that's what I was trying to tell you before, but you weren't ready, didn't have those yet,” she motioned towards your arm. You offered it to her and she gently took your hand in her aged ones. “Nice bit of runework, with some kind of resonance crystals to enhance, a weaving done in heat and pain, with a bit of star shine. This’ll serve you well once you get to know each other.”

You huffed, “magic is as alive as everything else, isn't it?”

“Of course. It's all connected, well, all except that.” She stood and walked to the edge of the small parapet. You stepped up next to her and followed her gaze to the violet and purple rend in the earth.

“What is it, really?”

“I wish I knew. I wish we'd understood before reaching for its power, but we were desperate. We were a city of wonders, should have stood on our own, been our own kingdom, but the bloody Emperor,” her words dripped with venom, “and his Ascended. We couldn't stand against them.” Ghosts of people began to move through the city as hazy figures. “They treated us as slaves, as dirt beneath their feet. They took the riches of our labor and left us little. We, a people of mage kings! Magic was ours!” Her hands clenched into fists, clouds gathered overhead, sinews of the void stretched a little closer to the city.

You placed a hand on her arm.

She sighed, her hands relaxing, coming to rest on the stone edge in front of her. “And we were fools. Both can be true. We destroyed everything in a day. We lost ourselves. And so few know, so few understand.”

“What is your name?” Mel asked.

She offered a small smile. “I don't remember.”

The ground shook, a vibration rattling the city.

“You should go. It can sense you and might try to reach you.”

You put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, for showing us this.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Can we speak with you again?”

She nodded. “Just reach out and touch the city, I'll feel ya.”

You barely had time to register what happened next. She waved her hand lazily, energy flared around you and then you both were back in the gallery, standing facing the painting.

“Fuck.”

Mel rarely swore, but the reason seemed worthy of it.

“Mages,” you looked over the city.

“And something that is alive and wants out.” She studied the frame but did not reach to touch.

“How big is Jayce's forge?”

“Not big enough for this, not as the whole piece.”

You let out a breath. “We'll have to keep an eye on it.”

“Without drawing undue attention.” Mel looked the whole painting over. “This is a registered antique, I have to report any changes in location or housing. Right now, we might have to leave it be. But I'll tell Elora to limit requests to the gallery as a whole.”

“Does she know about it?”

Mel shook her head. “While she is privy to some aspects of Jayce and Viktor's work, this seemed separate. The fewer who know the better.”

“Agreed.” The end of the word was clipped by a yawn.

Mel put a hand on your shoulder. “It is late, but thank you for coming, for talking with me and for sharing,” she ran a finger over the gold on your skin, watching it light up under her touch. You did not mention that it only did that for her.

“Thank you for listening and not judging.”

“Judgement is rarely fairly assessed by those who did not live through the experience. There can be hard choices where none of them are good.”

She led you out of the gallery down to street level. “Do you want me to call a carriage?”

“No, I'll walk. The night is pleasant enough.”

You reached for a hug the same time she did.

“Remember, if you want a sounding board for ideas or just to share some tea,” she smiled, “or wine, you are welcome any time.”

You gave her a final nod and let your feet carry you away from the tall building.

She was right, it was a bit of a walk, but the movement felt good. The clear day had led to a clear night and the stars shone overhead, well, what stars the light of Piltover let through.

Your pace remained casual, your boots tapping lightly on the cobblestone street. Much of Piltover lay quiet at this time of night. Viktor might even beat you back to your apartment.

You paused at the road that would lead to the bridge that would lead to Zaun that would lead to Silco. The courage rose, but not high enough. Tomorrow, you'd go tomorrow, when Jinx was more likely to be up. Though you realized you had no idea what hours she might sleep or be awake. Anyway, you didn't have your drawings for her with you.

That brought a smile to your face, imagining her reaction. And well, just seeing her again. Silco brought out more complicated feelings. How much had Ran told him? Tomorrow, you'd find out tomorrow.

Something hunted you, a dark shadow in a dark forest. Trees that rose impossibly tall blocked any light that the moon might be able to send down to you. Your boots shifted carefully, taking measured steps from one tree to the next, trying to keep that sense of movement, of animosity, of dread from seeing you.

You could feel its focus shifting, searching, but it did not speak and you were uncertain it could.

A voice came from the opposite direction, only a few feet away. “Why are you hiding? I thought this was what you wanted.”

The voice, his voice, Dominic’s, came from a shape, roughly human, but skin blackened and flaking off. Hollow eye sockets stared at you. “Oh no, that's right, you refused our gift.”

“I burned you out of me,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice down.

“Did you? Are you sure? Was going into the painting the wisest idea? It's not like you have any idea how any of this works.”

A breath.

That thing hunting through the woods turned in your direction.

You stilled.

“Noxus is worth destroying, you know.”

You had to get away from Brighton, but how? If you ran it would surely find you, but if he kept talking it also-

“She's right here!” he yelled.

You ran, darting between the trees, your runes glowing, giving you speed. The thing hunting you screamed, a familiar sound of rage, and it's many chitinous legs dug into the ground to give chase.

Running, your legs starting to ache, you pushed faster, knowing you'd soon tire, knowing the runes could only do so much and it was gaining.

The trees thinned, an opening, you sprinted for it and almost ran off the cliff. A warning, awareness of the mistake, and you skidded to a stop at the edge of the rock outcropping. Stars filled the open expanse before you, no ground, no water, nothing could be seen beyond where you stood but an endless expanse of stars, more than you'd ever seen.

A sound, scuttling, you turned to see the creature at the end of the tree line, watching you, a sense of uncertainty at leaving the shadow of the forest. But then it took a step, then another. Hunger, you could feel it, it would consume you and then the rest of the world.

You pulled your dagger and prepared. Though you knew it wouldn't be enough, still, you would face it. Both fear and acceptance mingled in your gut. Let it come.

Light, shining, a hand came to rest on your shoulder. A being of pure light stood at your side and tilted its head at you. It didn't speak, but you sensed intent.

Danger?

“Yes.”

It lifted its other hand towards the creature and gold lashed out, slicing into the thing and then tearing it apart, burning every piece it touched. Then the pieces lay still.

“Thank you.”

The being of light studied you another moment.

Friend?

“Yes.”

Protect?

Your voice held more strength. “Yes.”

Something shifted, the gold beginning to retreat, remaining as bright lines against dark skin. Mel's face smiled at you, eyes ablaze with light.

“Good.”

You woke, breaths heavy, mind going over that glow you'd seen from her. Was that-?

Half a city away Mel woke, breaths heavy, mind going over the dream. An odd sense of reassurance warmed her chest. A weight, comforting, sat across her shoulders. She looked at her hand, and realized her fingernails were gold.

Viktor shifted next to you and you placed a hand on his side to reassure, to keep him from waking.

How much was hidden beneath the surface of this world, of everyone around you? You looked over Viktor again, studying his spirit, the flow of his body, his place in the world. You knew a brilliance sat in his mind, and love in his heart, that was a form of magic, wasn't it? But, aside from the known ailments, he lay quiet, a being settled into the space around him. You gently kissed his shoulder. Did the spirits know? Did any others who could sense such things know this unassuming man was making magic, was crafting it with his own hands?

The world was changing and those around you would have a hand in its direction.

You turned fully and shifted closer, your hand over his side and across his chest as you fit in behind him. He hummed happily for a moment, then you both relaxed into sleep.

Midday. The Howl jostled as it slowly lowered its passengers into Zaun. You'd promised your taita that you'd help her in the shop that afternoon, but you had more than enough time to make your delivery.

With your bag slung over your shoulder, you made your way to the Drop. The first afternoon bell would ring soon and you hoped it wasn't too early. You'd never come by at this time before. Worst case, you could come back later, but one of the doormen was there and he tipped his hat as he let you inside.

“He in?” You asked, to which the man nodded.

Good.

“Hey hey, look who's back!”

You were barely in the door when Sevika pulled you into a bear hug, her prosthetic more intricate than before. She squeezed tight and you returned the embrace.

“What took you so long? Those Pilties in too many meetings?”

“Something like that. Had to get resituated.”

“Ran said you had it kind of rough.”

“Did they?”

“Said they got to be a part of the action too. Fighting Noxians, betrayal from within, a dragon! I'm getting you drunk soon so we can hear all about it.”

You huffed. “Maybe. How's everything around here?”

“Oh you know, rough and tumble, the usual. The Barons are always up to something, but we hold our own. There's no dragons though, so it might be a bit boring for you.”

That got you to laugh.

“You want to see what the dragon looked like?”

“Fuck Yes.”

You pulled out your pad and began to flip a few pages.

“Hold on, what's up with your wrist” Sevika caught your arm and pulled it towards her.

You almost fought her, but let the action stand.

While your bracer covered the higher runes it ended just before your wrist, the brace itself extending farther. Your shirt normally covered it, but yours had a higher cuff today.

“Ran said you'd had an injury, but this,” she ran her hands over the warped flesh, “how can you even still grip?”

“I've worked very hard to recover.”

“I hear you on that.” She flexed and rotated her new prosthetic. It looked much more like an arm and her movement with it was smooth.

“Very nice. Oh, and-”

“You're back!” a familiar voice exclaimed, followed by quick steps and then a small form, though larger than before, crashed into you, almost knocking the pad out of your hands.

Sevika helped, slipping the pad back into your bag.

“Jinx!” You shifted so you could hug her back.

She held on for a while before finally stepping back. You helped push the longer hair away from her face. “I am back and I come bearing gifts.”

“Yes,” she did a happy dance. “Did you bring a dragon?”

You smiled. “She wouldn't fit in my bag, but I have several drawings of her and one of her scales that she gave to me to give specifically to you.”

“A dragon knows about me?!”

“Uh huh. I even showed her a few of your drawings. She quite liked them.”

“Oh wow.”

“Have a good adventure?” A smooth voice said from the top of the stairs.

You took a breath and turned to him. Something seemed more casual about him, maybe that his vest was undone, his sleeves rolled up.

“As good as could be had,” you replied.

“She brought me a dragon scale!”

“Did she?” He gestured to her, “come back up, finish your breakfast. Then we can chat with our artist.”

Jinx grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs. You gave a small wave to Sevika and let Jinx lead you to his office.

A plate of food sat half-eaten on the coffee table. An empty one sat on his desk. Jinx let go of your hand to return to her meal, which she dug into with a mission to finish.

Silco leaned back against his desk, studying you.

“You're back.”

Some tightness curled in your stomach. “I am.”

“Ran-”

“-did their job well, very well. They helped keep me safe and I'm very thankful they were there.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “She said you-”

“I'm done!” Jinx showed her empty plate.

You turned back to Silco, but he just waved you over to the couch.

You took the out and plopped down next to Jinx. First you pulled out a folio and handed it to her. “Her name is Tama and she is a spirit dragon.”

Jinx unwound the string and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Oh wow.” she laid them out, all drawings you'd made of Tama from before the incident. You were still a ways away from getting back to this level of skill and detail.

“A real live dragon?”

“In the flesh.”

“What does she eat?”

You chomped your teeth, “meat.”

“Does she fly?” she studied one of the drawings more closely, “where are her wings?”

“She doesn't have any. But she can fly.”

“How?”

“Magic.”

“No way.”

“Uh huh.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right, and here,” you pulled out a waxed pouch bigger than the plate on the table and handed it to her.

Carefully, well, as carefully as an overly excited teen could, Jinx opened it and pulled out the iridescent, ridged scale that glittered with an array of colors. It was tough too, being from Tama's back. You'd helped her clean through her scales on occasion and when this one dislodged she'd let you keep it. You had one similar to it at home.

“It's so pretty, and big. How big was she?”

“She could fit from here, down the stairs, and to the door.”

“Wow.” Then she looked up from the scale, "can we start our art lessons again?”

You paused, shifting your wrist slightly. “It might be a little while longer. I have to get things sorted, finalize my part of the other expedition researchers’ projects and make up for being gone for a year.”

She deflated a little.

“But I would like to and will let you know when I can.”

“Speaking of studies, you have yours now,” Silco said from his place by the desk.

“Aww, I want to keep talking about the dragon.”

“I'm sure she'll be back, but it's important. Go on, and take your plate.”

She sighed, grabbed your drawings, the scale, and her plate and trudged towards the door.

“Bye.” She walked out, and, as the door closed, turned back to shout "Thank you for the scale!” Then the door clicked close.

A deeper breath moved through you. Now you were alone with him, you on the couch, him leaning against the desk. After a beat he pushed off and came to take a seat on the couch, a respectable distance away.

“Ran said you were injured, may I see?” he held out his hand.

You reached, but instead of towards him, behind you. In what was now a fluid, practiced movement, you brought the dagger out and placed it on the couch between you, blade towards the back of the couch.

He watched, eyes studying you.

“This saved my life. Ran saved my life. Thank you.”

“The incident, I read about it in the papers. Ran filled in a little more. Said you made a good choice with this,” his fingers ghosted over the hilt, “that you had to use it.”

“I did.”

“You took a life?”

“Yes.”

“How does that make you feel?”

The memory of it flooded back fresh. The feel of it piercing clothes, skin, then deeper. The warmth of his blood on your hands. The shudder of his breath. The look in his eyes, eyes gone purple, eyes still wanting you to join him.

“I did what I had to, to survive. I did what was necessary to save the shrine, to protect it.” You huffed. “I hated it.”

“But?”

“It happened so fast. It came so clear to my mind. It should have been harder.” You huffed. “I don't know. I had a punctured lung and was bleeding out, my mind wasn't exactly clear and calm at the moment.”

“Ran said you did well, and I believe them. You have fully healed from your injuries, I hope?”

Now you did offer your hand. “From most.”

He took your hand gently and inspected the wound. “Does it hurt if I move it?”

You shook your head so he, again gently, began to manipulate your wrist, inspecting the full extent of the burn and your range of movement. It was still odd, some part of the wrist being numb, watching his fingers shift from where you could feel them to where sensation ceased. You were sure he saw the runes tucked within, saw the gold woven around it, and waited for his questions.

“Coloration is odd, but overall, this was well tended. The brace is both exquisite and functional.” Then some realization clicked into place. “This is why you are postponing the lessons.”

“I'm having to adapt, relearn, or come up with new ways to draw. It is not a quick process. But, I will, I promise, I just need more time.”

“She will like that.” Then his hand shifted higher, “One question though, why are you wearing this?” He tapped the bracer.

A small bit of relief came to you. Ran hadn't told him. But the relief didn't last as now you had no idea what to say. You stared at it.

“I-” but you couldn't say it.

“You've never worn them before. These are made for defense, not just presentation, but I doubt you're considering that stark a career change. They are well tooled, but are outside your normal style, even now.”

Still you remained silent. Didn't he deserve to know? Wasn't he already a part of it? Didn't you have the rune he helped you find embedded in your skin? You warred with yourself. You refused to lie and also refused to share it. It would be progression. It would be bringing him into your life more and something deeper warned you that would be a catalyst for further change.

He reached for one of the buckles and finally you moved, your hand came to rest on his, stalling his movement. You looked up to meet his stare, to meet his question with a plea of your own.

“It is a rare thing to win the loyalty of one of my people. They do not trust easily. I know the broad strokes of what occurred, but am well aware Ran held something back.” He huffed, his hand sliding away, “and in so doing is protecting you still, aren’t they?”

“A lot changed. I'm still adjusting. Give me time.”

He shifted back and stood, “something you’ve already requested, to which I have not denied.” Silco took his seat behind the desk, reserve settling solidly back into place.

Larger breaths moved through you and you put the dagger back, uncertain you'd made the right decision. You stood and slung your bag over your shoulder.

“I hope things have been well here.” It was a weak attempt to connect and you knew it.

“Business is business.”

Well shit. But you'd made a choice. You weren't ready to show him. You had to limit those who knew.

“I'll let you know when I can do lessons again.”

“Jinx will be pleased to hear it.”

You offered a small smile and turned to leave.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes, and much more,” and you left.

You paused a few steps down the hallway. Sevika was sure to try to stop you, to talk. And you wanted to, but it was suddenly too much. Even only a quarter full, the sounds, the lights, the people in the Last Drop caused your breath to grow short. You needed to not be there anymore.

For the moment you were alone, so you took a steadying breath, your arm warmed, and you stepped into the spirit realm.

Muted colors, slower movements, the world around you showed the movement of the spirit of Zaun. It took a moment to situate yourself, to center yourself in it. The real world now sat behind frosted glass, could, in fact, disappear completely if you focused enough, or moved away from buildings and structures.

You were about to leave, when the door to his office opened.

“Wait, I'm-” he took a few quick steps, stopping not far from you, though unable to see you. He walked to the top of the stairs and looked down, searching the crowd. He sighed, then softly, “fuck.”

He ran a hand through his hair, buttoned his vest, and returned to his office.

It took effort to not go back into that office, effort to turn and leave, slipping out the door as others walked in. It was hazy, how much beings and structures interacted in the spirit, sometimes you could pass through as if they weren't even there. other times, in sites or people who were grounded and supported in spirit, they were close to solid.

But, once out the door and a good distance away you let yourself breathe. Activity in the lanes was still pretty low, it no doubt would be more active later, and the spirits of the area seemed to respond to that activity. In Ionia many were active when the people of the village were.

You stopped and took the time to truly look around. Where Ionia's spirit realm was a wild place, made of natural features and wooded expanses, this looked more like the wetter forests you'd heard of in Ixtal.

But where there it was trees, the world around you was more rock and metallic- patina and rust and gunmetal. Pipes ran like great vines. You glanced up and smiled. The art elements of Zaun, the railings and elaborate doors reflected in the quasi-organic branches and copper molded stairs. It was as if the tubing and supports and I-beams had been animated and then frozen again, a clockwork canyon of industrial flora and fauna.

Small things, very much alive, scuttled along those canyons. You listened for anything bigger, aware there could be dangers here. Predators existed in every environment, and you had no idea what might be here. But after a few moments, all seemed quiet.

It took a bit of concentration to reorient to the right path to get back to your grandmother's house. As you walked, you could hear movement, but everything seemed to be avoiding you. Maybe they saw you as a threat, an unknown entity. You knew words to speak if you came across something with the ability to converse, but not all could.

Taking the steps up a few levels, you tried to imagine what “balance” would even look like here. It was certainly darker, colder, and less friendly than most of what you saw in Ionia, but how do you judge?

Movement of something larger, easily three to four times your size caused you to still. You worked to keep it in your peripheral vision. Colors, indigo, navy, plum, smooth skin, large eyes that reflected the light back at you from forty or so feet away. All you could see was the top of the head. When you turned to get a better look, it slithered away.

OK, it was time to get back to the world. You slipped into an empty alley and stepped back into the Zaun you knew.

Chapter Text

Another lovely day in Piltover. A few clouds dotted the horizon, but the intense blue stretched over the early morning sky. You stood on Mel’s terrace, alone. You’d hoped to catch her before any meetings, but Elora had met you at the door, informing you of her schedule. Even with it possibly taking several hours, you’d chosen to stay, to wait. It was important.

What were you going to say? “Hey Mel, you remember when we were talking about mages? Have I got an idea for you!” “I think there might be two people in this room with magic.” “There's a time in our lives when our bodies start to change…”

“Ugg,” you wiped your hand over your face. Then an idea came. You did have a mage you could talk to, and she was in the same building, if a decent number of floors lower.

You walked to the door that led back to the main corridor to the building, it was unlocked. So you slipped out and made your way to the stairs. You were halfway down when you heard voices coming up. With a small shift to the side you stepped into the spirit realm. The floor wobbled a bit, but held, the building was old enough to have some solidity.

The figures came up, you didn’t recognize either, though they were dressed as service workers. To your sight they looked normal, people going about their jobs.

A few more floors down and you stepped back into the real world and slipped through the door that led to the gallery. You waited, listening, but all was quiet. You paused, you probably could have just asked Elora if you could go here, but this path had come to you first. You weren't sure why.

On a sunny day, with light coming in from the windows at the far side of the gallery, it looked like normal. Priceless works of art sat on the walls, but your focus led you to one corner.

Ok, take a breath, you can do this. You let warmth fill your runes and you reached for the city.

“You’re back. That was quick.” The older woman in indigo robes offered a friendly smile. “You have more questions? Unless you wanted to just stroll my lovely city.”

“Questions. My friend-”

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

“How did you know?”

“Oh sweetie, I could feel it when you came the last time. Her magic met mine, agreed to bring her in here, as did yours. Magic responds to magic, often as wary acquaintances, sometimes as friends, sometimes as enemies. It’s a part of us and something more. But hers is still instinctual, at least you are in communication with yours.”

“So, how do I tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That she has magic.”

“Is that yours to tell, or hers to learn?”

You thought about it. “Better to know you have something and choose not to use it, than to be surprised when it wants to be known.”

The older woman nodded. “That’s a fair assessment. You had a good teacher. So why are you here talking to me when you already know what you want to do.”

You huffed, and then laughed.

She patted your arm. “That’s a part of learning. So, is there anything else?”

You looked around the city, then out at the maw. Shadows shifted within it, reminding you of your vision in Ionia, of the thing on the bridge, which reminded you of another mystery.

“What is a ‘shade’?”

“Hmm, a curious word. There could be multiple meanings, what’s the context?”

“I had a vision. It was when I received these,” you motioned to your arm. “People I knew were a part of it, helping me. One, that I love,” though you realized that applied to more than one person in the vision, “gave me the top rune. As it was forming something about him changed, his appearance, his demeanor. The spirits that were with him became hostile, called him a shade and demanded that he not interfere.”

“That sounds like deep magic. It would take someone very strong or, possibly, adrift to find their way in. To my understanding, a shade is something more than a spirit, but less than the physical.”

“A ghost?”

“No, those are lost or stuck echoes of spirits. They wander without destination or are trapped in a loop of action. A sad state, really. A shade retains who they are, but have been, or chose to, cut themselves adrift from what normally tethers us to our lives. We’re born, we grow, we die, our spirit moves on. It usually takes something very traumatic to break someone from that cycle. And one came to you in a moment of great change. Did they say something or just observe?”

“They said-”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Those words were for you, meant to alter some course of action, I’m guessing.”

“Can I trust them?”

“Of course not.”

“But how is he not the person I know?”

“Magic isn’t linear. Nothing is, at best it’s overlapping cycles. The world is full of pain and suffering and it’s full of those trying to help and those trying to harm, sometimes both. We want, we need, we fear, we pray, we dream, we love, we hate, we tie ourselves in knots trying to control our future not realizing each choice leads to an infinite amount of outcomes. If the shade gave you advice, he's trying to change something, to undo or correct a choice already made. To what end? Who knows. Could be good. Could be bad. If you see him again, maybe you can ask. Though, if you do, then things might already be to an extreme.”

You just stared at her.

“I know, less than helpful, but it's the truth as best as I can give it. Live your life, that's all any of us can do.”

“I-”

“Shh, come here.” She pulled you back into one of the buildings.

“What?”

“Quiet.” She pointed outside and then you felt it, a shadow passing over the world, no, not over the world, over the painting. A presence, a person looking at it.

Your runes began to warm and the old woman put a hand on your arm to stop you. She shook her head.

After a few moments the shadow passed and the old woman relaxed.

“Who was that?”

“Someone attached to something powerful. I can only ever feel shadows of that darker magic, but it reminds me of Noxus. They’ve never reached out, and I am not interested in talking. One thing, at least, they’ve never messed with the painting. If they know what’s trapped here, they’ve never tried to release it.”

“They could?”

“Yeah, and given enough power it would devour your city.”

Ten minutes later you’re trotting quickly up the stairs. A warning came to you, movement incoming, so you slipped into the spirit realm just as Elora opened the door to the stairwell.

You held your breath, being as still as you could.

She stepped in, looked up and down, waited another moment, and then returned to the floor she was on.

Quickly and quietly you returned to the terrace and fell into one of the lounges. Its soft upholstery caught you as you caught your breath.

Another 30 minutes passed before the door finally opened and Mel walked in.

“Elora told me you've been waiting for hours. What is it? What's wrong?” She approached with a sense of urgency.

You stood and took a breath. “I think you might have magic.” Well at least you didn't outright call her a mage.

She took a step back. “What?”

“I've seen it, a glow around your tattoos, if they are tattoos. And I had a dream. It was you, but pure light, protected me, when the light retreated-”

“I was there.”

You nodded.

She drew her hands together in front of her. “I had the same dream.”

“Have you ever-”

“No, not that I can recall. But, since you came back,” she stared at her hands, “I've been feeling things. Sensations, almost emotions.”

“Anger at me in the cemetery.”

“Yes, but I didn't know why.”

“You had someone using magic near you, perhaps it saw me as a threat. And at the painting?”

“Yes, like the old woman was offering and some part of me accepted. She talked to us as if we were both a part of an order. I had assumed your magic had brought me in, but-”

You shook your head. “I really don't think it did.”

“But, why me? Why now?”

“The gold, have you always had it?”

Her hand went to her shoulder, “no, I got them when I was younger.”

“So they are tattoos.”

She nodded.

“Where did you get them? Was there anything unusual about the artist who gave them to you?”

“In Bel’zhun, on the northern coast of Shurima. He was a Rakkor.”

“From Targon, that could be something. Did you see any magic, was there a ritual?”

“He prayed over the ink while he prepared it, but,” she smiled weakly, “I mostly remember the pain.”

“How many sessions did it take?” You looked at her shoulders, her neck, her legs.

“One, but it felt like it took forever.”

“Shit Mel, that's a lot of work at once.”

Her smile widened. “It might have been, a little bit, in defiance of my mother. Or more, a desire for something that was mine. He was also an artist. I think you would have loved his work.”

“Do you have any?”

She shook her head, a sadness to her face. “No, I, left the only piece I had behind before coming here. And I haven't been able to find any others. I don't even know his name.” Water gathered in her eyes, "it was a...difficult time."

You reached for her hands, gave them a squeeze. "We'll add that to our list of mysteries to figure out. One artist in the entire world, how hard could that be?"

A small smile touched her lips. "If time permits, perhaps."

You took a purposefully larger breath and refocused on why you were there. “Okay, your magic, it could be the tattoos, or maybe they are reacting to something deeper. Though I didn't have any power before my runes.”

“That you know of,” she said.

You huffed, “true.”

“What about your parents, do either of them-”

“No, definitely not.”

“I'm sorry to be blunt about it.”

“No, I, thank you for the honesty.”

“Do you want to see if it's true, to test it?”

“How would we?”

“Well, for starters,” you placed her hand on your arm and the gold lit up under her fingers. “My arm doesn't do that for anyone else. I think this, which I believe is star or celestial based, is similar to what you have, though mine is much more limited.”

“Ok, what next?”

“Well, I think you need to get in tune with it. Properly ‘meet it’ as it were. Currently it's probably acting off emotions. It's time to get more familiar.”

She nodded, then paused, “have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Woken up someone else's magic? Nope. But I know how I learned to use mine. It's gotta be somewhat similar.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because it's also going to be fun.”

A bird flew by and the both of you looked out at the other buildings nearby and the very open terrace.

“We should go somewhere more private,” you said.

“I know a place, come on.” She led you to the lift and you took it almost to the bottom. The doors opened to a slightly dusty, partially lit storage space. “This is one of our long term storage locations. People rarely come here.”

“This should work. Maybe find an open space?”

“Here.” She walked through the crates, until she came to the end of them, the other half of the floor stood empty. “Now what.”

“Now we breathe.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“You look amazing-”

Her eyebrow lifted higher.

“-but you're taking shallow breaths to maintain how you want to look in that dress. You gotta breathe, let your belly out, let your lungs fill fully. Relax.”

You watched her try for several minutes.

“I'm not sure-”

“Take your shoes off.”

“What?”

“They're holding you in that posture. You need to get your feet flat on the ground. Feel it. Here, I'll do it too. We can have dirty feet together.” You bent down, working at your boots and she soon followed, taking off her heels.

“It's cold.”

“Good. Now close your eyes and breathe. The goal is to follow the air in and out, feel the expansion of your chest, feel your heartbeat. Don't try to control any of it, just be here, now.”

She nodded and did as you instructed.

After a minute you could see her relaxing. You opened yourself up and let power flow into your runes. Your eyes remained normal, but you saw so much more. The space around you was indeed quiet, calm. You looked at her and already could see the barest hint of a glow from her shoulders.

“Good. Do you feel warm anywhere? Or do you sense anything you're not used to?”

“My chest and my back, I think.”

“Ok, offer a sense of greeting. You can even say ‘hello’ to it, if you want.”

“You want me to talk to it?”

“If it seems right. This is about connecting with a part of you that has been sectioned off. It might not know you very well.”

“Alright.” She did not sound convinced. “Hello?”

The gold flared and she took in a breath. “I think it did something.”

“It's responding.”

“You can see it?”

“Yes, oh remember the dream. I think that was a more solid representation of it. Picture yourself in the dream and whatever you feel, let it flow.”

She closed her eyes again, her breath fuller, her heartbeat slower.

You knew the instant she'd done it. “Look at your hands.”

She opened her eyes. “Oh!” Her palms and her fingernails were glowing with gold light. “By The gods,” she said looking at them, moving her hands to inspect closer.

“By the stars more likely, but agreed.”

“Now what?”

“What feels like the next natural action?”

She brought her hands to her cheeks and light flared all around her, accompanied by a jolt knocking her off balance.

You were already stepping up, ready to offer an arm to lean on.

“That was, it felt like a greeting.”

You felt the tingle in your arm at the same time she said “look.”

Where her hand rested on your runes, gold sparks arced between her fingers and the gold in your skin, which began to glow brighter in response. It felt like static electricity leading to a building pressure.

“What's happening?” she asked. “It's doing something but I don't know-”

The arcs of gold increased suddenly and energy shot along your arm, lighting up all of your runes. Your vision flared and everything took on a clarity and complexity you rarely experienced. You could also see the golden glow shining steadily from all of her markings and it was looking at you.

Small flashes of green from your top rune reached out to her gold and her eyes flared.

Presence, awareness, emotions not your own.

“What is-”

“How did-”

Neither of you had spoken aloud.

She reached up to place a finger on your lips, to be sure they weren't moving.

“I can hear you in my mind.”

“I can hear you in my mind.”

“Ho! This is incredible.”

You could feel her excitement. And it fed yours, your smile widening to match her own.

“I can, I can see your runes! I mean properly see them. Is this what you see?”

You concentrated, closing your eyes, letting the energies flow and mingle, and there, a heat in your shoulders, a curiosity, a meeting of magics, a greeting, the beginning of an understanding.

“Yes, I think so. Alright, I would say the ‘hello’ was successful. I'm going to see what happens when I step back.”

She nodded and you moved, pulling your arms away. The energy slowly faded, like a passing storm. Both of your glowing faded, as did the extra complexity to your sight.

Mel waved her back-to-normal hand in front of her face. “I can't see it anymore. But,” she paused. Her gold flared briefly, “I can feel it now, like a warm blanket just lightly resting around me.” Then you watched her have some thought that put the present moment away, her formal posture returning. “I think I want to stop, for now.”

“We absolutely can.”

She looked over to you. “I don't know what to say.”

You went to shrug, but she pulled you into a hug. “Don't you dare act like this was nothing. I,” it took a moment to find her words, “I need time. I need to think. But-” she pulled back, “will you help me figure this out?”

“Yes. I'd love to. And I swear I won't tell anyone.”

She nodded. “Yes, we will have to keep this-” with the physical contact you knew the direction of her thoughts.

“That is up to you, if you want them to know. Do not feel obligated, though. This is yours. And both of them would understand if you choose discretion.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Thank you.”

“That's what friends do. We support each other.”

“I feel like helping someone discover a grand mystical secret about themselves falls a little above that.”

You shrugged again and it made her laugh, such a good sound.

She reached for her shoes. “Alright, I have to be getting back or Elora will come looking for me. I have,” she sighed, “a busy week, but maybe we can purposefully set up some time for more of this? If the dream was any indication, I should be able to do more.”

“I should have time. I'm going to be filling in here and there for a few professors, babysitting classes essentially, for the next few months, before going back to my own courses in the fall.”

You both stepped into the lift.

“Good. I'm really-, I'm, not sure what to say.”

“Mel Medarda at a loss for words? That's the biggest magic of the day.”

She laughed again and you felt a new sense of hope settle into your chest. You weren't alone.

“Someone is having a good day.” Viktor kissed your cheek as you walked into the lab.

“I am. And you?”

“Yes, it is coming along nicely. We should be ready for the investors meeting at the end of the week.”

Jayce gave you a wave. “Viktor is very optimistic.”

“It will work! We have proof of concept. Here look, I will show you. But,” he took your hand and walked you to the very far side of the lab, “unfortunately you will be watching from over here, just in case.” His brow furrowed, “I hope that is okay?”

You leaned in for a quick kiss. “It is, I understand. Now, show me, I want to see.”

He returned to the equipment. It looked similar to before, but the distance between the initial device, the rune plate with the catch net had tripled.

Jayce set the hexcrystal into the device and started it up. Similar to before, it began to rotate, drawing curved lines of blue energy to fill into a sphere. That same buzzing came to you, the build up resonating in your wrist. Once at a high pitch it solidified, collapsed in on the wooden ball, then it zipped off towards the runeplate. This time you paid more attention and as it left the initial device you saw a small wave of energy wash away from it. That leading edge of energy did connect with the distant runeplate, but is also pinged off your wrist, but louder, stronger, as if your wrist became the bigger “target.” At the same time the warning came to you. It turned in a graceful arc away from Viktor and raced in your direction.

You felt the energy coming and chose to reach out and accept it, angling your wrist so that it was aligned with your arm, rather than hitting it broadside. The energy seemed to dance through your brace, dive through the runes on your wrist, lighting them all up, flow, adaptation, shielding and then pour into the other three runes, setting them all ablaze. It also turned them all “on.” The complexity in your sight intensified, your breath grew deeper, you became more rooted in this space and time. But it was still too much, still hurt enough to make you grunt, but it didn't linger in your joints like the last time. You stood breathing, you arm out, stiff, waiting for the energy to fade and the pain to pass.

You heard a “damn it” from across the room a moment before Viktor reached your side.

“The sphere, look.”

You shifted your wrist to look at it and there, hovering just above your middle rune, rotating slowly, sat the wooden sphere.

Jayce stepped up and leaned in closer. “Why would it even do that? How?”

Viktor reached out and a small blue spark jumped to his finger from the sphere. “Your runes must be maintaining the energy field around it, are able to match the formula of the runes used without those runes being here.” He looked over your wrist. “Fascinating.” Then he sighed and plucked the sphere out of the air, “but it is not something we can pursue at the moment. I am sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry it’s affecting your work.”

“We’ve tried to recreate it. We've run multiple tests at the same time with similar rune plates and they've never reacted to each other. All we can think, for now, is that it must be the biological component.”

“You mean me.”

He nodded. “Are you alright? Did it hurt you?”

“It stings a little, but I'm okay.”

Viktor rubbed your wrist for a moment.

You let out a breath and put your hand over his, “I'll go.”

You could see Jayce’s posture drop “I’m sorry, really. You’ve helped us so much, I-”

“It’s a momentary setback,” Viktor assured him and you. “We will figure this out, but not this week. We have a deadline and it must go well.”

You grabbed your bag and walked with him to the door.

“I understand, I do. I'll see you back home later.”

“Oh, we will probably run late and start early. I was going to stay at my place, it’s closer.”

“Oh, okay. I'll see you later then. Just let me know, or come by, or I'll stop by if I'm in the area.”

“Sounds good.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek and you left.

You were swimming, somewhere deep based on the pressure. There was little light and no way to tell up from down. You didn’t feel the need to breathe yet, but that was not indefinite. The water stung your eyes, felt thicker than it should, but you picked a direction and swam.

Nothing changed. You drew on your runes and they barely glowed, seeming purple and muddy. Your sight barely came to you. You turned, looking, any direction. Movement shifted the water to your left, something big.

Fear pushed you to swim in the opposite direction, but whatever it was swam easily around you. There, your sight showed the barest outline. It was big, smooth, four limbs, a tail, large eyes looking at you, an indigo shape in twilight water.

You waited, watching it, your heart beating hard. Slowly it drifted closer, its body posture more curious than threatening. A small series of navy colored crests ran along its back. You could just start to make out its spirit, a swirl of blue and pink, again reflecting curiosity. You stretched your hand out and it drifted closer.

Just before touching, it startled and swam off, the water displacement swirling you around. Some sound, low and mechanical, pulsed through the water. In the opposite direction you could see a dim, pink light. You swam for it. As you grew closer the pink brightened, turning fuchsia, getting thicker. You swam until your hand hit something solid, a darker circle, glass. You pushed your hand against it but it didn’t budge. All around you the water began to warm, the pressure built. You pushed on the glass, then began to beat on it.

Movement, two figures walked up to it. One you recognized, though it made no sense, Silco. The other, a woman you’d never seen before, green chemtubes, black feathers. You beat on the glass again but they did not respond.

The heat of the water began to burn your skin, the need for air rising quickly. Panic, a reaction that would drown you, began to set in. You tried to kick the glass, then to swim, but something held you there. Burning. You screamed, exhausting your air, waiting for that suffocating gulp to follow.

Movement, a large smooth body wrapped around you and pulled you up, away from the pink, out of the depths, to somewhere cooler, calmer, peaceful. Your names passed to each other through the skin contact. Nila. The creature’s name was Nila. And you woke to a dark apartment, alone, the last of the series of bells chiming outside. A clock beside the bed read midnight.

Your runes sat quiet on your arm. You thought you sensed movement, but only the normal sounds filled the space. Though you did feel something, a sickly sweet taste at the back of your mouth.

Normal, clear liquid poured out of the faucet in your sink as you filled a glass. It helped, washing away that taste, grounding you more in the current moment. You had no idea what the dream meant or what that creature was.

You finished the water and found yourself pulling out pants, a shirt, vest, boots, your more functional expedition clothes. You took only what you needed. Keys, some cogs and washers, your dagger. You almost grabbed a jacket, but you could keep yourself warm and you wanted not to limit movement. And of course your bracers.

Locking your door you turned towards the stairs, but went up instead of down. After a few moments you stepped out onto the roof, not the highest in your section of town, but it would do. You moved your arms to warm up. It had been a little while since you’d done this, but it felt like exactly the right action and at the moment you were following impulse alone, letting whatever was leading you, to do so. Something lingered from the dream and you wanted to see where it led.

A part of finding the balance is being open to what is, instead of what you would like it to be.

“Okay,” your runes warmed and your sight filled in, the spirit realm settling into place. Piltover at night was a pretty sedate place and the spirit realm around it was no exception. A few lingering spirits drifted about, but the space held a rigidity to it as if its architecture extended up, precise geometric design locking everything in place. There was a certain beauty to it, but like that of a crystal, the beauty was unmoving and faceted.

Your eyes scanned the rooftops, judging the distances between and their construction materials. This wasn't so different from the cliffs by the village. “Okay, start slow,” you whispered. First goal, how high could you get.

Your runes warmed further, bringing a clarity that would give a warning before any major errors. That part was important.

A few more moments of searching and you found it, the start, what you thought determined what you saw. Slow steps towards the edge quickened, your boots softer, more flexible with a sole that would grip.

You stepped onto the edge and pushed off. It was a short distance to the next roof, and then the next. The line of apartment buildings stretched for a good quarter mile before you had your first big jump, to catch a higher edge and pull yourself up.

A good 15 minutes in and your heart beat hard, air moved in and out of your lungs, muscles finally loosened. You came to a stop on one of the rooftops in a more higher-end district, the jump to the next one broken by a large open square. “Fine,” you breathed and then turned around. “Whoa.” Most of Piltover lay spread out before you, the city expanding for miles. In the center, steam rose from the fissures, Zaun.

One look and you knew where you would go next.

Going down was much easier, gravity doing a lot of the work for you. Occasionally you'd have to jump to a balcony to get down to a lower level. Most of the lights were out, people fast asleep.

This felt good, moving, working up a sweat, being active. Maybe you should start up a routine. Not this though, you couldn't do this too often, but running the streets, exercising, that you could do during the day.

Your feet finally dropped down onto cobblestone and you slowed, as to not seem too much in a rush. You were dressed for Zaun, no need to disturb any Enforcers topside.

You came to a stop at the bridge, looking at the gateway, the path, calling to you. Slow steps now, enjoy it, be there in both of your cities. Halfway across you sensed a shift. Looking back at Piltover you saw some essence of it, wafting along the streets, drifting off the rooftops, like a mist, creeping along the streets towards Zaun. Not the Grey, but some ethereal precursor.

You finished crossing the bridge and watched that slow creeping energy pour off the edges of the Promenade to fall deeper, ever deeper. It held a slightly sour taste, making you shrink up your nose the way a Piltie looks down at a Zaunite, a subtle disgust. Dreams brought to the surface what many held deep behind walls of reason and “objectivity.” The sense of it made you spit to try to get the taste out of your mouth.

30 minutes after midnight on the Promenade and some business still moved about. You smiled, it'd be busier down below, more alive. For a moment anxiety pinged in your gut, but you could always step into spirit if you needed a break.

Even near the top of Zaun the spirit realm was more alive. It grew and crept and reached. Smaller spirit creatures crawled through the undergrowth.

“Okay, refocus.” You checked in on your runes, warm and steady, the energy an even hum at the back of your mind. You scanned the walkways, searching for the path, finding the route that was yours for the night. There, a set of stairs descending into shadow. Perfect. Slow steps took you to it and once you hit shadow you quickly picked up speed. Again, gravity itself invited you deeper. After a few curves of the canyon-like walls you diverted from the footpaths entirely, following pipes, ledges, and support beams.

You sped up, steps coming sure, chemlights passing like strobes. You caught a railing to pivot to a long pipe, to jump to a rooftop. A few more alleys and pass-throughs and you were there, staring at the exquisite mural Sevika showed you years ago. You paused, it had been years, hadn't it?

Thinking of her wanted to tug you towards the Drop, to see if she had the night off, to invite her out for a run like this. But, how would you explain your new ability to do this? Bringing her in brought Silco in. No, you weren't ready for that. Tonight was for you.

Somewhere else, you wanted to go somewhere you hadn't been. For a moment you remembered your dream. As you thought it something shifted in the spirit. A haze formed in the air, softly pink, leading lower. You accepted the invitation and followed.

You let your pace remain quick, invigorating, until you dropped below Entresol, down into the Lanes proper. The tone shifted further. You were right, the city was alive and active down here, more predatory. There was no denying it, neon lights, sharper shadows, the fluid style twisting into an excess of color and design. Whatever flowed in from Piltover turned the air denser, twisted it into a defensiveness towards that distaste, then an embrace of it. Blood- tattoos, piercings, unhealed injuries, body modification, punishments, some desired, some not - the spirit drank in that distaste and spit out its own curse back at topside. But, that anger, that defiance couldn't climb, didn't have the ability to rise back up. So it lingered, wanted to fester, fed the loop of effluent back on itself, only for it to sink deeper.

Was it like this by the Drop? Had you not wanted to see it? Without question this was out of balance. You had found the rune, you knew what Zaun could be. But, it was stalled, restrained, kept down. Most of the anger it engendered was turned on one another. What would happen if it could be focused higher? How much did it have to build before the pressure broke?

A smell, sweet, pungent, familiar caught your attention. A man walked past holding an effuser, a pink mist coming from his nose after use. In his spirit pings of pink electricity shot through, twisting, distorting, bringing a smile to his face. A drug?

You felt eyes on you and so picked up your pace, slipping your hands into pockets and keeping your head down. You walked, casual, eyes mostly down but also aware. There was danger here, but you had several ways out of any potential situations. At least, if you matched the energy, you should be okay.

That pink haze lingered faintly, leading further down the Lanes, so you continued to follow it. Chemlights grew more sparse, shadows spread further, often placing alleys in complete darkness.

A startled cry came from one you were just about to pass. You slowed, letting your sight show you what light could not. A woman crouched over a man, who huddled against the wall.

“No, please, that's my last.”

“If you can't keep what's yours, wasn't yours to begin with.” The woman held some sort of blade.

You paused too long and she turned towards you.

“You got a problem?”

You made a decision, breath inflowing, charging with intent. “Walk away.”

The words hit her, causing a release of breath and she stood and walked from the alley, not even looking at you.

“What?” The man asked, but you were already walking, keeping a hold of the intent until you were a ways away.

Something sat sour in your gut. Would that even do anything? Would she come back? Did that only buy him time? At least that was something, right? Time. No small thing. But what was the chance time would do anything for him other than drag him further down.

Businesses and dwellings thinned as the more industrial parts of Zaun lingered at the periphery of the expansive city. Miles wide and thousands of feet deep, just as inhabited as Piltover, but without the sun, without the rain, without fresh air.

Raw pipes and rough rockwork took over the landscape. You passed few others and could feel some extra pressure pushing down, the spirit realm growing quiet again. The pink haze continued and you came to a point where you considered turning back. It was possible to get lost, to wander for days. While there weren't any widely known predators this deep, that didn't mean they didn't exist.

The pink. Silco by the window. You continued on. After another mile you followed a curve that led to a more populated area, some offshoot of the Lanes pushing towards a set of railway tracks. The mines used trains, as did some factories.

You kept your head down, doing your best to seem uninteresting. One of the buildings housed a bar, with a second level that overlooked the tracks. You angled towards it, shifted past people, finding the route that caused the least disturbance. You bought a beer and took a seat where you could watch.

The trail of pink definitely led there, but with no idea of how far or where it led, you had enough wits about you to not just boldly wander there.

You nursed the beer and casually watched the people around you. More of the pink caught your eye. Often as smoke leaving lungs, but occasionally droppered into the eye or injected. It coursed through the user's body, exciting, enhancing, twisting. Some immediately got into fights, others closed their eyes and let it take them wherever it wanted.

A warning came, movement, but too late to react without that action making things worse.

“What's this lads? A straggler on their lonesome, now that's just not acceptable.”

You froze, you knew that voice.

A man, tall, red hair, trimmed in copper and chem enhancements took a seat across from you. A chembaron. Ceimic.

Fuck.

He eyed you and you realized you had to say something, but fucking what? Good job. Got yourself into trouble. But your runes didn't give any major warnings yet. Breathe.

You glanced at him, then at his retinue. Five, all larger than you by a good deal, but none aggressive. At most you sensed amusement, even boredom.

Words came, but you had no idea from where. “Drinking by myself is better than poor conversation, alas, I often end up alone.”

That earned you a laugh from him. “Right you are. But, if I might offer my humble words as they come with a better drink?”

You glanced at your beer, then nodded. “It's an acceptable start.”

“Excellent!”

One of his crew headed towards the bar.

“Haven't seen you around here before.”

“Haven't been around here before. Decided to do some sightseeing, maybe find a vacation home.” Where was this bravado coming from?

He laughed again. His man set two rounded shifter glasses each almost half full of an amber liquid, whiskey, you guessed. And upon smelling, confirmed. This was going to be a challenge. You hadn't had much alcohol in over a year. You hoped your runes could compensate.

He brought his glass up, swirling the liquid and giving it a good smell before sipping. “Ah, yes. Don't let the bite fool ya, this is as good as anything they've got topside.”

You took a sip and felt the burn all the way down. It was both biting and warm.

He chuckled. “Don't drink this often, do you?”

“That obvious?”

“Eh, it's good to expand the palate every now and again. Oh,” he removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Please forgive me, I'm-”

“Ceimic, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh! Gents, my reputation precedes me. And you are?”

You gave your mother's name, as none here knew it.

“A lovely name.” He took another sip and so did you, the burn more manageable this time.

“So, what brings you out here, to my neck of the woods?” That caught your attention as this was far from the locations discussed by Sevika and Silco. Either his influence had shifted or he had expanded, a lot.

“Curiosity.”

“That's a dangerous thing.”

“So's this,” and you sipped the whiskey again, a warmth pooling in your stomach.

Sound, lights, movement from the tracks, you glanced over to see an engine with one open rail car attached. It was full of metal drums. That pink essence suffused the space. It traveled along the tracks and then angled towards the canyons, going out of sight.

A couple a table over snapped a cartridge carrying a pink liquid to a table top diffuser, each taking one of the ends of the pipes.

“What's the pink?” you asked as casually as you could.

Ceimic sat back. “You really aren’t from around here. It's called shimmer. But I've got better offerings, if that's the experience you're looking for. That,” he pointed at the couple, “sure it'll make ya fly, but then it'll drag you under for days, leave you needin’ more. You'll be selling your own mother out in a week's time for it. What I've got, fresh in from Bilgewater, the nectar of a sea beast that'll take you to heaven.”

“What's it made from?”

“The pink shite? That's a mystery I've been working on. Another lad around here, thinks himself important, made a bit of a mess with its debut a few years ago. But” he tapped his nose and pointed at the tracks. “I think we might be looking for the same thing. Renni, she's been in the game a while, poor thing just keeps picking bilgerats though. She's got a factory out there. Keeps it locked down real tight. Here watch,” he pointed to someone staggering down the tracks. They were clearly drunk and to your sight it was apparent in the haze around them. After about 60 feet you heard a gunshot and saw a white arrow fly into his chest.

You leaned forward, looking for the archer, but she was already gone.

“Dirty business, that. Makes one wonder what's worth all the security. What's she making in her factory?”

You sat back. “Why not track the barrels?”

He sighed, “too many tunnels. Silco knows the mines too well.”

His name drew your attention before you could stop yourself.

“Ah, there she is.” He sat forward, “what are you really doing here? Who are you with?”

“I'm a concerned citizen, just out on my own.” Was it wise to reveal you were alone?

He laughed but it held no mirth. “You came in from the canyons, not much sightseeing out there. You're not an enforcer, or I'd have already put a bullet in ya. First instinct is to call you Silco's but-”

“I'm not.” It was defensive, you couldn't keep the bite out of it.

Ceimic set his elbows on the table. “Now how is it that you get more interesting every time you talk?”

You took another sip, your whiskey halfway gone and a comfortable buzz in your mind. This was bad. You huffed, desperately drawing some of his confidence to yourself. “I've been out of town for a while. I come back and this shimmer is showing up. I,” you tried to slip the lie in the middle, “lost someone to something like that. I'm trying to get a feel for if it's a problem or a fad.” You set your elbows on the table to match him. You tugged on the spirit to bring yours even more in line with his. “I don't want to take action if I don't have to, but I got people I want to keep safe.”

He studied you and you studied him right back. Surety and confidence sat around him like a cloak. His spirit held both strength and violence. A hunger too, to prove himself. You realized he wasn't from Zaun.

You tilted your head. “What do you want for Zaun, or from it?”

“What everyone wants.”

“Which is?”

“To not be the one at the very bottom.”

“And Pilties?”

“Their money spends as good as anyone else's.”

You sat back.

He sat back to match your posture, still more curiosity than animosity coming from him. Helped that he had his crew and was in his own space. But you needed to get the hell out of there. A new anxiety twisted in your gut. What if he went to Silco? What if Silco found out you were here chatting up a rival? Shit.

You focused and pulled a little more power into your runes, sharpening your sight, trying to see all that was around you. There were too many to just slip into the spirit realm unnoticed, that would get them talking. Movement farther out caught your eye, barely perceptible in the shadows, a larger shape, smooth skin, the creature from your dream?

“What do you care?” he asked, snapping your focus back to the table.

“This city is home to me too. Figured it was a good thing, looking out for the ones who live beside me, you know, community and all.”

“Ehh, you're one of-” he made a sound of disgust, some new understanding, then anger, came to him. “Your lot’s going to get yourselves in trouble, you know that. You want to fuck with shimmer, go right ahead, you’d be doing me a favor. But come onto my land again, and I’ll hunt you down.” He stood and it was very clear it was a dismissal. Which you happily took as the opportunity to get the hell out of there. To his credit, his crew let you go.

At the first dark alley you slipped into it and leaned back against the building, your heart pounding, a tension in your head and an unsteadiness in your gut. Then the whiskey and the beer came back up. Fortunately there wasn't much in your stomach. You moved deeper in and let yourself sink down, still on your feet, but your knees tucked close. What the fuck were you doing? You could get people killed. Who the hell was he even talking about? Another chembaron?

Someone passed the alley and you knew it was time to get out of sight. Easily and blissfully you stepped into the spirit realm. The cooler space enveloped you, bringing a sense of calm. Movement and activity dulled in intensity. Buildings existed as structures with an essence to them, their history, that memory lingering in the spirit. People and the general hustle and bustle became hazier, more distant.

You stood, stretched, and walked back to the end of the alley. You didn’t see Ceimic, but at least he now would not be able to see you. Knowing it wasn’t the best idea, still you walked to the edge of the train tracks, looking at the long line of them extending on. In the spirit realm you could easily see the people, Renni’s? Patrolling farther on, waiting to pick off any who strayed too close.

Fluid movement again, the creature was watching you, eyes poking up above a rock ledge to your left. Slowly, keeping her in your periphery, you stepped closer. You got to about 50 feet away and called softly “Nila?”

Her head popped up as high as it could go, keen interest in her posture, her nasal slits breathing heavily.

“Were you in my dream?”

She tilted her head to the side.

“What do you want?”

It's not like you could actually see her think, but her spirit wavered, colors rippling along her skin. Then she dropped back down and scuttled towards the tracks and the factory. Even with your enhanced sight, you couldn't see where they led. It could be miles, in the dark, alone, and if you had to step out of the spirit realm there was a good chance you would get shot.

She looked over her shoulder and made a chortling sound.

“I'm sorry, I can't.”

She tilted her head.

“No, I'm going to go back.” You waited a beat and then walked back towards the buildings.

A shifting, you heard the chortle again, but when you turned around she was gone.

You stayed firmly in the spirit realm for a while, letting your feet just walk. As you did so you watched the people of Zaun flow around you. You were deep in the Lanes where a subtle menace or at least a challenge hung palpable in the air. Many had some kind of drug or other in their system. You found you could tell differences in how it warped or bent or agitated the spirit. The pink, the shimmer, was common. Exchanging hands, being fought over, being sold or stolen. It ran like lava in their veins, ironically ‘shimmering’ with its own iridescence.

A fight broke out and you stepped to the side to avoid it, even though you would not have been noticed. In the action several vials went skittering across the street. People dove for it and, it was so easy, you reached down, piercing only a tiny bit of the veil, and grabbed one of them. The pink glass and metal cylinder disappeared from sight.

A little farther on you stopped to inspect it. The pink was so intense it almost glowed, or maybe it did in the spirit. And then you realized it did because it was spirit, some part of it. Some essence of… something had been distilled, imbued, captured in the liquid. Some part of it came from something alive and that life still lingered however minutely. But how, there had to be thousands of vials, and then you were sure, the factory, she had been trying to lead you there. It was almost a form of magic, an alchemy, a use of the spirit, the abuse of it?

You hadn't realized you'd started walking again until you stepped into a busy street and a carriage almost ran you over. Well, you were still in the spirit world, so you probably would have just passed through it but- Shit.

The lights, the activity, across the street The Last Drop was in full swing. A line waited to get in and the music was audible from where you stood.

You should go home. You should drop this and go back to your life. But then you looked down at the small wisp of life in your hand. You'd promised to look after the balance.

Only a few steps back and you found a suitable alley. In darkness, you stepped into the real world. Smells and sounds accosted you. The lights were almost too bright, but you put your head down, let the rhythm of the street guide you to the doors, thank goodness your runes still sat warm on your arm, still offered calm and guidance. This was close to as long as you'd ever used them continuously.

Someone in the line yelled angrily as you passed them and approached the door. You threw on a smile, gave the doorman a wink, and he let you in without hesitation.

It was much too loud and fighting through the people was almost too much, but you made it to the base of the stairs, then to the top and had to catch your breath. Footsteps towards you, from down the hall, almost spooked you enough to just go back into the spirit realm.

“What are you doing here?” Sevika's hushed words were enough to be somewhat grounding.

“Is he in?”

“Yes, but he's in a meeting that cannot be interrupted and I have no idea how long it will last. Really, this is not a good night, no, it's a shit night. You should go home and I can let you know when it's a better time.”

Your hand gripped around the cylinder in your pocket. “I'll wait.”

“As your friend. Please, come back another night.”

You stood a little taller, let a calm come to you. “Sevika, I want a meeting.”

She studied you, taking a moment to truly assess you. Something shifted, she matched your formality. “Alright. When it's done, I'll see if he has time. He might not and I go by his word on it.”

“That is more than acceptable, thank you.”

She nodded, both to you and herself and walked back down the hallway, taking her place in front of the door.

You took a table on the upper level. Even with the floor being crowded, only a few ventured up along the top. Was it out of respect for his preferred table? Was it a desire to be around others that kept the people together below?

You took a seat and let yourself relax as much as you could. The music was still almost deafening, the beat resonating in your chest. Finally, someone put on a slightly more sedate song and you could breathe.

The inactivity, after so much walking and it being what, two almost three bells in the morning, began to turn into a tiredness. You were running on three hours of sleep, little food, alcohol, and runework. It could keep you going a little longer, but you were close to digging into reserves. That was alright. You didn't have to go all the way back to your apartment. You could sleep at Taita's. It's not like Viktor would be home to worry about you. You paused to correct the last thought, something about it not sitting right. Viktor was at his apartment, therefore you didn't have to worry about him waking and you not being there. Yes, that's what you meant.

A door opened and closed and you glanced towards the stairs. Three people walked out, the first one familiar in a way that pinged a warning in your mind. A woman, older, red hair, chemtubes, black feathers. The dream and Ceimic's words put a name to a face, Renni, a chembaron. The chembaron who owned the factory. The chembaron who was having anyone shot who got too close. She didn't even look your way, none of her crew did. They simply descended the stairs and flowed into the crowd.

Sevika appeared by the stairs and waved you over. “Alright, if you're still sure, he's got some time. You uh,” she huffed “want anything to drink?” It was clearly a rehearsed reaction, an offering made to guests.

“Water?”

That got her to laugh. “You really don't-, alright, water it is.”

She opened the door for you and closed it behind.

And then you were there, in his office, alone with him. He stood by the window, looking out. He wore an exquisite shirt, well folded tie, and form fitting vest, all of it properly buttoned and latched. Even his boots were polished, unlike yours which still held the dust from your travels.

“And what can I do for you, this evening.” He finally turned, a mask of formality on his face. It was almost enough to break you, almost enough to have you apologizing and leaving.

Instead you reached into your pocket and placed the pink cylinder on his desk. “What is shimmer?”

Whatever he had thought this would be, this was clearly the farthest thing from it. He stared at it then at you, then back. He drifted very carefully back to his desk. His fingers ever so gently picked it up, as if it were incendiary.

“Did you take any?” His question came with quick glances, your eyes, your lips, your throat, your hands, looking for something specific.

“No.”

His shoulders dropped just a little as he let out his breath.

“Why, what would happen?”

“It is,” he licked his lips. “An older, cruder version of it. The side effects can be, harsh.”

“It's a drug.”

It definitely took too long for him to answer. “That is one of its uses. Why,” he set it down, “are you asking about it? I did not think you partook of such things. There are many potentially unsavory substances on the streets of Zaun, it's an unfortunate-”

“But you make shimmer.”

He stilled completely, his pulse visible in his throat, his breath barely moving in and out.

He turned towards you and finally saw you, your clothes, your posture, the dirt and dust, the smudges and stains from your walk.

“Where have you been?” the question broke the silence, a heavy weight behind it.

Again you realized far too late that you'd fucked up.

His head dipped lower, his eyes narrowing as he rounded the desk and approached.

You still hadn't answered him.

He reached those long fingers to collect some of the grit, rub it between them. He leaned in close, smelling. He tapped your boots to see the way the dust fell from them.

After the methodical movements, his next were so quick you couldn't respond. He gripped your shoulders, eyes boring into yours. “Where were you tonight? I need you to tell me.”

His energy, almost panic, seeped into you with his touch.

He gripped harder, not to hurt, but with some need to hold on. “Tell me!”

“North and west, deep, past the water pipes. I followed the canyons, found train tracks.”

He looked you over again. “How far did you go?”

“Only to where it curved past the edge of the Lanes, no farther.”

Breath returned to him a little. He let you go, wiped a hand over his face. “Why?”

“Cause I'd get shot if I went any farther.”

Again you said something he was in no way expecting.

You continued, taking a step towards him. “Renni, that's her name right, the chembaron who was here tonight. Her factory is at the end of those tracks.” You remembered the dream. “A round window into a sea of pink.”

His hands settled gently on either side of your face. He was so close. “How could you possibly know that?”

You met his look of utter incomprehension with a sense of calm. Something in you asked, Is this what power feels like?

“What happened in Ionia? What happened to you?”

“Change,” was all you could offer.

Confusion turned to frustration, turned to anger. He reached for your bracer but you were already shifting out of the way.

“They changed too, you know? Ran.” His words held bite. “They're calmer, more confident, a much better fighter. I hadn't considered them much for leadership before, but now? And I told myself that was enough. That their loyalty to you was a sign that even if they or you never told me, it was worth it.”

He stood straighter. “You have to stop. Whatever this is. You cannot do it again. You think you know. That having one tiny insight makes your judgment of me correct-”

“I-

“Don't you dare tell me this isn't judgement.”

Finally. “How does selling drugs to the people of Zaun help them!”

“Precisely that,” he said, sneer on his face.

He shook his head. “I owe you no explanation, but why not. This,” he pointed at the cylinder, “is only one aspect of it. There are variations that heal, miraculous stuff really, and it is used for that. It is also out there for them. Others make people unbelievably strong. What do you think it's going to take to make Piltover listen, to see us as anything other than garbage under their feet? Thousands of us died in the mines. Their industry poisons our water, our air. You think a ‘pretty please’ will do anything?”

His anger truly built then. “And you think we haven't tried! Van…” he bit back something, the pain of it contorting his face. “We rallied the people, we crossed the bridge, we tried to take the fight to them and you know what happened? We died for it! We didn't have the weapons, we didn't have the armor, we just had our lives and we threw it at them and they shot us like dogs.”

Impulse, you followed it. It took everything you had left to avoid the initial desired action and simply pull him into a hug. Your arms wrapped tight. He immediately responded, his breath heavy, his voice ragged. “You don't know, you just don't know. Please.” The word tore at your heart. “Don't go back there. Tensions are rising. It isn’t safe. Ask me anything, anything. I'll tell you, just- it's too easy to die. This world takes and it takes, please.”

Everything in you wanted to kiss him. To hold him close and wipe his tears and let him fall asleep against someone warm and caring. His pain was so deep it threatened to pull you in. All you could do was hold him tighter, try to keep you both afloat.

“I'm sorry. I won't go back, I promise. I didn't know. I-” you decided to give him something. You pulled back to see his blue eye red with emotion.

He looked at you like you were the only thing that existed.

“I can see things, now. I get impulses, have dreams that are more than dreams. I saw the factory, saw you and Renni. I wandered and my feet took me there. I was trying to understand. I, I want to do more, for Zaun. It's so imbalanced. But you're right, I don't know Zaun well enough. I don't know what will help. It was foolish of me. Will you help me under-”

You were never more thankful of your runes than that moment. The warning came sharp, of him losing the battle you'd won earlier. He reached, drawing you closer, a singular focus sharpened to a point. But you got a hand up in time, over his mouth before his lips could touch yours. You held him inches away.

“I am so sorry. I can't. I just can't. I won't. I want to, believe me I want to. But I won't.”

His eyes darkened, his eyebrows drawing together in frustration.

You strengthened your connection and put just the tiniest bit of will into your next word. “Breathe.”

And he did, larger, slower breaths through his nose, the warm breeze of it fanned your hand.

“I will not cross this line. Do you understand?”

He nodded and you pulled your hand away. He breathed more freely through his mouth.

You both stood there for a moment, an uneasy silence in the room. For your part you didn't hide or shy away, you met his gaze. Thoughts moved in emotions across his face, but he didn’t voice any of them and he didn't reach for you again.

After another moment you stepped back. “I'm going to leave. I'm sorry for disturbing-”

“No, it is I who should apologize, for overstepping.” He took a larger breath, running his hand over his hair, “you,” he paused again, “life is unfair, such as it is.”

“Do you want me to come back?” You'd understand if he didn't.

A small smile touched his lips. “Jinx would-” he shook his head, “I would like that.”

Relief, your shoulders dropped.

“But, do you want to?” he asked.

“A friend recently told me that judgement can be too easily passed by those not present for the action. I would like to talk more about,” you huffed, “a lot of things, if you are willing to share.”

He nodded. “Yes, but not tonight.”

That brought a smile, “definitely not. But yes, I'll come back. Have a good night, Silco.”

“And you, as well.”

You opened the door to see Sevika standing there holding a glass of water. “What the fuck?”

“How long have you been out here?”

“Long enough to know that I should not interrupt. You okay?”

You took the glass and drank a bit. “Yeah.” Some relief came to you, the tension coiled so tightly in your gut began to ease. You tapped her arm, “the meeting went well.”

You heard the barest chuckle from behind you as the door closed. Then you walked to the top of the stairs and paused.

“No, really, that sounded intense.”

You nodded. “It was. But some things needed to be said. And they were.” You looked over the crowd, the lights, the movement. You remembered that feeling of power.

“I do have a-,” then the music got louder, so you backed down the other hallway.

Sevika followed, still holding a look of uncertainty.

“Is he a good man, Sevika?”

She huffed, scratched the back of her neck.

“No, but he's smart and he's cunning and he's willing to do what it takes to free Zaun. We've had good men before.” She let out a long breath. “Good men die.”

She put her right hand on your shoulder. “I know you haven't seen much of the rougher side of Zaun or what we've had to go through. Good men have tried. But, Zaun doesn't need us to die for it. Zaun needs those willing to fight and kill for it. Silco has a vision, the clearest I've seen. And it has a chance, but it's not going to be pretty. That's how change works.”

“You sound inspired.”

She shrugged. “He gives me hope. He has a plan. If either of those change, I can always re-evaluate. Why you asking, looking for a job?”

You shook your head. “No, just, trying to understand and figure out how I can help.”

That brought a smile. “You already do. Working with the kid, that helps. The taitas, they're a part of the community.”

“Yeah but-”

“Look, we got plenty of us down here, and two few up there. We're shoved into the fissures and sealed away; it's easy to forget we're even here. But you have a chance to be seen up there. You want to make a difference? Make a little trouble. Be obvious you're a Zaunite, talk about us, don't let them forget or ignore. Make ‘em uncomfortable.” She gestured to the bar, “getting into a scrap down here, that's easy. Getting into the position that you have, that's damn near impossible. You want to have meetings that matter?” she hooked a thumb towards the office, “let us know what's going on up there. It's hard to make good plans when you don't have all the info.”

You laughed. “How am I so bad at this?”

“Cause you haven't had to deal with it. Was your art perfect the first time you picked up a pencil?”

You shook your head.

“It's late and I've got more to do.” She glanced down. “If you're done with your water, ms. ‘I want a meeting’, it's time to go.”

You handed the empty glass back to her. “Thank you.”

She walked you back to the top of the stairs. “One step at a time.”

Chapter Text

“Ok, just a little bit more, bring the light this way.”

You sat at a table in the lab, your arm outstretched with Viktor and Jayce huddled over it. You'd taken off your brace so they could study your wrist more closely. They both wore sets of glasses with magnifying lenses on them.

“Look, and here, the rune held its shape, but a thin trail got pulled away with the skin,” Viktor said.

“It's the same with this one,” Jayce poked at your skin with a long set of tweezers. “It's like the energy pushed out from each during the melting, and again,” he glanced back at you, his eyes seeming abnormally large in the lenses. “No offense, but the heat needed to melt this should have taken your hand. Not even bone can survive that.”

You shrugged. “Heat vs magic, looks like the magic won.”

“I'd say it's unbelievable, except, I'm looking at it.”

“There's a pattern here, I know it,” Viktor said, shifting your wrist slightly. “The gold overlay crosses the distal lines of each rune at exactly 90 degrees, often having to curve, counter clockwise I might add, to reach the next rune.”

“It is incredible how much it matches the growth pattern of roots around stone. The runes themselves didn't change size or move at all from their positioning in relation to each other on the cuff,” Jayce tapped the diagram of the cuff as they'd designed it and then overlaid it with a current drawing of your wrist, that Jayce had done. He was a good artist, you’d realized. It made you smile.

“There is, look at this,” Viktor pointed to something and Jayce shifted closer. “Do you see, the edges of the runes, the crystalline-”

“Oh, it reformed. It's the same alignment structure of the hexcrystals, but-”

“-there's no feedback resonance, no vibrational reactivity-”

“It's stable,” they both said at the same time, then looked at you.

“What?” you looked between them, “what does that mean?”

“It means,” Viktor began, “you have active hexcrstal in your wrist that won't explode if something impacts it.”

Viktor grabbed a small mallet and tapped it. Jayce paid close attention. “Yeah, not a single spark or static discharge.”

“Was that too hard?” Viktor looked up.

You shook your head. “That part’s completely numb.”

“Could you make it glow again?”

You nodded to Viktor and focused on Zaun. A new warmth came to you when you thought of it. You were going to do better. You were going to help.

“Oh, I haven't seen you light it up so quickly.” Viktor pulled back a little, adjusted his glasses, and leaned in.

“You're getting good at that.” Jayce said, giving your arm a little pat. “Okay,” he too focused back on it. “The rune itself has a steady glow, but look here, the lines leading towards her fingers, you see that?”

“Yes, it's flowing, but to where? As far as I can see, the blue ends with the scarring.”

“I have an idea.” Jayce stood and went to the windows of the lab, taking the time to close each one. By the end you were mostly in darkness, your blue lighting up the space around you.

“Jayce.” The way Viktor said it also caught your attention.

He trotted back over, scooching in next to Viktor. “I see it. It went deeper. It's following the ligaments, the connective tissue. I bet-” Jayce slid your brace back on. “Will you, um, sing to it?”

You let out a series of notes and the metal shifted, securing itself into place.

“Ha! Did you see that!”

“Yes, it rose shallower as if directing the metal where to go. It's not a shadow underneath, but a base, almost like a magnetic lock, but hextech, a ‘hexnetic’ lock? Eh, we can work on the name.”

“Will you-”

But you were already bringing power into the rest of the runes. The green and then gold lit up.

“Oh my,” Viktor was staring further up your arm.

Jayce came around to run his fingers up your forearm to your elbow, then a little farther. He pulled the sketch of your arm to him and added a few notes.

“Were they this far before?”

“I don't know if we've looked with this little light, but, again, like roots, it's possible they are growing.”

“Hmm,” you rested your chin on your other hand. “I thought they were celestial, but they look and act more Runeterran.”

Viktor huffed, “I know one way we could test that.” He stood and walked to the far side of the lab, taking the time to rummage through a series of devices. “Here,” he held one up, “this should do it.”

He returned and set down the device with a series of wires wrapped around a circular metal loop. It also had a hand crank on it.

“Oh that's brilliant.”

Viktor smiled at Jayce, “thank you. Now,” he shifted it a little closer and then began to crank the handle. It made a small revving sound. Something internally was moving, but you weren't sure what. Then a small glow began form above your arm.

“There it is. Yes! I was right.” He sped up a little and a hazy green sheen, almost like small strips of sheer fabric, began to undulate just above your skin.

“Auroras,” Jayce said, transfixed by the dancing lights.

You too watched. Occasionally a small bit of pink or purple would shimmer through along the edges. “It’s beautiful.” You’d only seen it one other place, in the sky above Mount Targon.

“It’s what happens when charged particles interact with a magnetic field. Astrophysics. So yes, I'd say this is stellar in nature.” To which he huffed, “a little bit of the stars, right here, with you.” He squeezed your hand.

“Isn't everything?” you asked in return.

Viktor's smile was its own reward. “That it is.”

He stopped cranking and the colors faded. “So, the big question is, why are our experiments reacting to you?”

Jayce took off his glasses and sighed, rubbing his face. “Could be, however the hexcrystal reformed it has a higher resonance frequency. It answers the call just as loudly, or even louder, than our runeplates can?”

“Or the interaction with the gold, something gravitational?” Viktor also set aside his glasses. “Ugg, how would we even be able to test that at this scale?”

“And then there's the other runes, a matter of alignment? It’s what we needed before,” he tapped the rune shard set into leather on his wrist.

“But that one,” Viktor gestured to your arm, “isn't here.”

“It's still one of our guiding principles, necessary for the energy to flow through the system. So, a new crystalline structure with a specific order of placement is now adding that geometrically into a living system? It could act as a focus, or even a nexus. Alignment along a curve, fractals at a dynamic scale?”

“Now you are just throwing words at the wall to see if they stick.” Viktor thought for a moment longer, then sighed. “But I do not know either.”

You reached for his arm. “And you don't have to figure it all out now. I can limit my time here, I'm mostly a spectator anyway.”

“No, don't say-”

“Jayce.”

He sat on the stool by you.

“You both are wonderful and amazing. And brilliant. But I also get an active voice in how we respond to this.” You shook your wrist. “And I want to be clear. I am not an extension of hextech. I am not proprietary. I will share what I figure out about it, or if I find any more runes, with you, but I am not obligated to. You're right,” you patted Jayce's arm. “There is a new ‘complexity of a living system’,” you tapped your chest, “it's me. Okay?”

Jayce nodded.

You glanced at Viktor, but his face was unreadable for a moment. Then a smile came to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He slid his hand into yours. “Of course.”

“Do you have to do that?” Viktor asked while you were both sitting at your kitchen table.

You looked up, “do what?”

He pointed to the whetstone and the dagger in your hands. “That.”

“I,” you glanced at it, “need to keep it sharp. Even just going in and out of the sheath, it can dull. I only do it every other month. If I used it more, I'd have to do it more often-”

“Do you use it at all?”

You thought for a moment and then shook your head. “No, not really.”

“Then, maybe you don't need to wear it anymore?”

That made you pause, a small bit of anxiety curling in your chest.

He reached for your hands, forcing you to set the dagger and sharpening tools aside, which you did, accepting his touch.

“The danger has passed. Please. Your life is good. You are safe.”

Ceimic's face came to you, then the drunk wandering the train tracks, then Silco gripping your shoulders. None of which you'd told him.

You pulled your hands from his, put the sharpening tools back in their leather case, and resheathed the dagger. “The world has changed for me. I'm not there yet. But, I can do it less often, I don’t mean to cause you concern.”

“Do you really think you would use it again?”

You paused, knowing the answer immediately, but did everything to hide it. “I don't know. But,” you turned fully to him. “I spend part of my life in Zaun. I am doing my best not to be ignorant of the dangers there, and to understand it, to find ways to make it safer.”

“You, this is about the ‘balance’ right? It, you can't shoulder that alone.”

“I won't-”

“You will. I know how stubborn you are.”

“I've already had this lecture-”

He huffed.

You continued, “-by a dragon, then Sevika.”

“You cannot just mention a dragon as a way to get out of a conversation.”

“I don't know, it's worked pretty well so far.”

A small smile touched his lips, then it faded.

“I don't know how to keep up. Everything made sense before. Now, you,” he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing along it. “I'm worried you will go somewhere I cannot follow.”

You immediately reached for him, your hands on his face. “Viktor. I love you. I want you in my life. I want to see the magic you will create. I have a light show, a blip, compared to what you and Jayce are making. You are a part of my hope for a better future.”

He leaned forward for a kiss and you eagerly met him. Soft, warm, him; lips and tongue and love.

“If you have a few stairs in you, I'd like to show you something.”

He nodded and you both put your shoes on and grabbed a light coat. You started to reach, but stalled the action, leaving the dagger on the table.

A few minutes later, with Viktor wincing slightly, you made it to the roof.

“Do you want me to-?” You settled a hand on his lower back.

“No, no I'll be fine.” He pulled your hand away and kissed it. “Show me.”

A clear night sky spread out over Piltover. You looked around. “It is a beautiful city.”

“It is,” Viktor agreed, then lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Alright, you know how I've talked about the spirit realm?”

“A secondary plane of existence overlayed on our own, in which the less tangible are manifest and connections to the material are weaker?”

You chuckled. “Yeah. Do you want to go there?”

He stilled. “I did not know you could take others.”

“I've done it a decent number of times, but we can just step there for a few minutes. Make it a quick trip.”

“I,” he smiled, “Yes, let's.”

“Okay,” you stepped up to him. As you did you drew power into your runes. A green glow came from your arm. “Shit. My bracers.” You'd left them downstairs too.

“We don't have to-”

“No, I'll be quick. Give me your hand.”

Viktor did, though kept glancing nervously at your arm.

“Close your eyes and breathe normally. It can be jarring. When I say so, we're going to take two steps to my left, your right, okay?”

“Yes.”

You drew in a breath, felt for the connection to the spirit and loosened the veil.

“Now, just a few steps.”

You moved in tandem and the spirit realm wrapped around you.

Viktor shivered, “that feels odd. Cold, but not.”

“You can open your eyes.”

“Ho,” eyes wide he took in the scene around him. “This is incredible.”

Color, movement, sensation. The stars seemed to dance in a softly shifting twilight sky. The buildings gave off an ethereal green glow, their designs extending beyond normal boundaries as if to complete some grander geometric design. The gaslights on the street looked as if they were full of fireflies and occasionally one would drift between them. Small pink blobs, with a peach glow in their center and tendrils hanging down, floated by.

“Are those-”

“Spirits, yes. They only live here, are a part of this ecosystem. Very vew beings or things cross through, but the two places still ‘share’ a physical location.”

“And are we still, there?”

“Yes and no. Our feet are standing in the same place but we can't be seen and nothing from the other side can affect us.”

“Could you walk all of Runeterra like this?”

“Technically, I think. But just as there are dangers there, there are dangers here. Bigger spirits that eat smaller ones. Demons, tricksters, beings looking to influence. But also dragons and guardians. Souls can go here, when they die.”

A movement caught your eye, something large, smooth crawling out of the river.

“What do you see?”

Your hand drifted back and you realized you didn't have your dagger. Not that it was as useful here, but a small but if frustration drifted through you.

“I'm not sure, so we're gonna go back.”

“That is completely acceptable.”

You grabbed his hand again. “Just like before, but in reverse.”

He nodded and you focused, breaking the veil again and stepping back.

Viktor took a larger breath and then shifted closer, to help cover your runes that were still glowing. “That is, someplace you go often?”

“Not too much, not yet. I'm still learning what's safe and what's not.” It took a little more focus to get your runes to fully quiet and stop glowing. You'd felt an anticipation, a push to keep going, to explore. You closed your eyes and let your breath flow through you.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sometimes it's like, they have a desire, they want to stay active. Most times, with my bracers on, it doesn't matter.”

“You just feel them stay warm?”

“Yeah.”

“Without you prompting them?”

You looked more fully at him. “Yeah.”

“Does that-”

“I have no idea. Only time will give me a larger baseline.”

“Alright.”

Your top rune began to glow a soft green again. Viktor eyed it. “We should go back.”

“Okay.” And you felt a little sad to go. To not take long strides and leap to the next rooftop. To find a different way down to the streets and explore more of Piltover. To see if that creature was the one that's been following you.

Instead you offered an arm for balance back down the stairs, which were almost as rough as going up.

Back in the apartment, he laid down on the bed and you worked your hands over his back, his spine, his hip. Calming irritation, quieting nerves. His breaths lengthened until he fell asleep.

“Okay, now what?”

“I don't know, throw it at the box?”

“Throw it?” Mel stood several feet away with a small glowing ball of light in her hand. She motioned but it didn't move, seeming stuck hovering above her palm. “It doesn't want to go.”

“Hmm,” you stepped a little closer.

This was the third time in six weeks you’d both had enough time to meet and practice. So far she could get her gold to glow when prompted, could stretch lines of light between her fingers (that faded after more than a few inches long) and she could form small orbs of light. You were an hour into your session today, fatigue would set in soon.

“Picture in your mind what you want it to do. Give it an idea of the action to take.”

She steadied herself, took a breath and focused, this time on the box not the orb. “Strike the box” she whispered.

The orb didn't move.

“Fly from my hand and strike the box.”

The orb didn't move.

“Cross the distance between my hand and the box.”

The orb didn't move.

“Oh bloody obliterate the box!”

A flash, movement, the ball of light slammed into the corner of the box, shattering part of it and sending the rest spinning away.

“Ha!” She danced in place a little before regaining composure. “So, I have to curse at it.”

You chuckled. “I don't think that will be the final iteration, but emotion often induces change. However-”

“Yes, yes, I know this one from my mother. ‘Make sure you use it, or it will use you. Emotion is the fire that burns everything around it.’”

You shrugged. “She's not wrong.”

“Oh, I wish she were more often.”

You set up an empty crate in the middle of the open space of the storage room and placed the half broken one on top. It was still warm. “Go again? This time, finish off the top box, but don't hit the lower one.”

“But, I only just figured out how to hit it at all.”

“Life is a challenge!”

She chuckled but refocused. She brought her hands together, fingers towards each other as if holding a ball. Breathing, focus, a spark of light appeared in the middle. As it grew you could feel a slight vibration in your arm, then warmth as your gold responded.

The spark grew into a sphere roughly the size of a plum. Another beat and this time she moved her hand as if throwing it. She let out a “ha!” at full extension and the sphere flew from her hand to crash into the crate, shattering the rest of it. The bottom box skidded a little, but didn't break.

“I did it!”

“Excellent!”

She let out a breath and wiped the sweat from her eyes. She'd finally given up on any sense of formal clothing and wore a simple linen shirt and pants she could move in. Oh and sensible boots.

“Shall we do a little more and then call it for the day?” she asked.

“Sounds good to me. Want to keep with the boxes or try something else?”

“Could we-” She tapped her fingers together.

“Oh you want to try that thing where you pass your gold to me to see if I can use it? You know I passed out last time?”

“I was there, yes, but,” she let out a breath. “You need something more than your dagger.”

“I appreciate that, I really do. But this feels like trying to run a mile when we've just learned to walk. It's a good idea, I do think it's worth exploring, just-”

“How about seeing if you can make a sphere? Just that.”

“Alright, but if I pass out, dinner is on you.”

“I can agree to those terms.”

You nodded and she stepped closer. She held her hands just above your arm but waited for you to begin. OK, drawing power in, breath, sight, opening the connection. All three runes began to glow green, tendrils already reaching up to her. Her gold flashed and began to glow. She lowered her hands, letting them settle onto your skin. Sparks, a golden static jumped between and arced along your entire arm.

A pressure began to build, a humming at the back of your mind, that if not discharged would lead to you blacking out.

The gold in her questioned, offering, and you let the gold in you respond, eager, happy at the meeting. It felt like kinship, and like more power was present than what either of you two had individually.

“Steady,” you said, your skin warming further.

“I'm trying.”

Then you, the best you could describe is, opened yourself up, just a little, you'd learned from last time, and molten light poured in.

“Ah!”

“Sorry.”

“No, I've got it.” You fought to keep steady breaths. “Now,” you spoke to yourself, “sphere, make a sphere, come on, flow back out and make a sphere, please?”

The pressure built further. You felt her pulling back and it did slow some.

Power. You had it and it wanted to go somewhere. But the sensations made it hard to concentrate. You tried to think of a sphere again, but there was a static, a dissonance. Okay, not a sphere. What do you want?

“Are you talking to me?” Mel’s voice sounded at the back of your mind.

“Oh, sorry, no. Seeing if the magic has a preference.”

The pressure built further. “Come on.” Frustration, then tiredness, then acceptance. “Fine, whatever you want,” and you opened up your hand, your arm, yourself to the flow of that golden light.

Relief, cooling, heat gathering in your hand and something forming, feeling almost solid but still magic.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You looked at the shining dagger of light in your hand. “This is what it wants?” The dagger, you could feel the hilt, feel the weight and balance of it. Then a sense of detachment, Mel pulled her hands away and you moved it around for a few moments before the energy faded and the weapon dissipated. The pressure in your head eased.

“Well that's just not fair. You get cool orbs that you can throw and I get what I already have.”

“Do you like the dagger?”

You paused. It was strapped to your back right now. “You know what, I do.”

“Maybe you can elongate it over time, or even make it into something else. It's a start, isn't it?”

You sighed, “weapons.”

“It's important to look at the truth of things. And having them doesn't mean using them. It's better to know. And,” she put a hand on your shoulder, “more practically, it's possible that together, with practice, we could destroy the painting.”

“Now that is a goal I'm happy to work towards.”

You were precisely where you wanted to be. Sweat dripped down your back, your face. Leg muscles rocked you up and back. Arms braced your weight. You dipped down to meet his lips, needy, wanting, full of desire.

His cock, pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling, dragging pleasure with each movement, movement that was under your control. Your runes shone bright, keeping up your strength, pushing your speed, causing the man beneath you to pant and moan, his head back, eyes closed, enveloped with the feeling of you.

Is this what power feels like?

His heart beat so hard. You could feel it, not just against you, but your runes sank you deeper. His mouth tried to form words, but he was too lost to pleasure, to your pleasure. Again you lowered, lips nipping at his neck, drawing his eyebrows together as he tried to take in all of the sensory information.

You slowed, enough to give him a chance to catch his breath, but nowhere near stopping. A controlled rock up, a breath, then rock back, seating yourself, driving him deep.

Pleasure washed through you as well. It warmed your chest and sent tingles to your fingers, caused your toes to clench. At the slower pace he could rise to meet you, flexing up. His amber eyes could open to stare lazily at your face. He was present as you brought your lips to his, tasting, breathing, consuming, as he did the same to you.

It was so easy to fall into that desire. A desperate need pulling you both together as if you could join. You heard words, quietly, whispers in his language, but unspoken.

“Viktor?”

“Yes?”

You slowed further and brought a hand to his face, helping him focus. You purposefully kept your lips closed. “Can you hear me?”

He studied your face, “I can,” then, “how?”

And you felt a sense of hope. A sense of desired connection, the hint of him at the back of your mind just as he could now feel you, a hazy weight of consciousness becoming clearer.

“It,” you kept up your movement, keeping the pleasure going, “is limited. I can only do it when the connection is strong or,” you paused, catching yourself from talking about Mel. But you were connected, some sense of it slipped through.

“…or someone with magic.” His hands settled against your hips, stopping your movement completely. “There’s someone else,” he said aloud.

Fear, anger, “Viktor,” a warning.

But his mind was already turning, “There's someone else in the city with magic?” His question pressed, trying to bring it to the forefront, trying to see, to use that new connection to delve into your mind, past mere words. “Who?” His voice came louder in your mind.

“Viktor stop.”

His will pressed harder, the connection responding to his direction. He was learning the nature of your connection so quick, too quick. He was close to getting an answer.

You pulled up and off of him, shifting back, breaking skin contact and with it the bulk of the connection you'd built during sex. Your runes began to fade.

“That's enough.”

He reached for you, whether to sooth or something else you weren't sure, though your runes didn't warn of any ill intent, but still you slipped off the bed moving further back.

“Wait, wait,” his breath hitched with pain as he sat up and shifted to the edge of the bed. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I'm sorry. I just,” he sighed, “foolishly believed that a city built to avoid magic, had done so. But there is another.”

“I promised them I wouldn't tell and I will not break that trust.”

Questions came to him, but he fought them back. “You're…” but he didn't finish it. Finally he seemed to actually see you, watching him, defensive, on edge.

“Fuck, I am, no, I didn’t-” He closed his eyes and wiped his face with his hand. “No, I-”

He sat there another moment before reaching a hand out to you. “Please.”

Slowly you drifted closer, let your palm slip into his. He held it a moment before pulling slightly, an unspoken question for you to come closer.

You did, but were watching him, hesitant.

Once you were close enough he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Please accept my apology. I should not have pressed. I was caught off guard and reacted poorly.”

You reached a hand to cup his cheek. “I need you to trust me. And I need you to know I might make decisions you won't like.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “What could you do-”

“As much as I would like to be, I'm not the person I was before.”

He let out a breath. “I know.” There was a weight to his words that led you to lean in for a kiss. He accepted, lips soft, but it didn't linger.

Another moment passed in silence before Viktor shifted further, getting up and reaching for his clothes. “I should go to my apartment tonight.”

“You don't have to.” Though, in reality, you felt a small bit of relief.

He finished dressing then came back to you, his thumb traced your cheek. “I overstepped, I-” his brows furrowed, “for a moment you were afraid of me. I don't want you to ever feel that about me. I think I need a few days, but, let's do dinner at the end of the week?”

You smiled and kissed his palm. “I'd like that.”

“Good.”

He grabbed his cane and left.

Chapter Text

Near darkness. A twilight so heavy the horizon was only a thin line of indigo. Above you, nothing, an empty sky. You took a step and movement rippled away from your feet. Dark water below, you weren't sure how deep. Was it only a few inches or were you walking on an impossibly deep and impossibly still ocean? Quiet surrounded you, but it wasn't hollow or empty. This wasn't the Void, it held more a sense of waiting.

And so you waited. And waited. If time passed, you couldn't sense it.

Finally you grew tired of waiting. Footsteps caused ripples, caused the dim reflection of your image to waver and dance.

Drips and slops came from your feet as you walked in the water, but your footing remained sure, whatever you walked on remained solid.

You glanced up to see something form on the horizon, a pinpoint of golden light. Yes, anything was better than this nothingness. Eager steps quickened.

It was bright and hard to tell the form until you were only a few feet away.

“Oh come on.”

Suspended, blade pointed down, your dagger of golden light hung in the air about four feet off the ground. Its light illuminated your form. In your reflection you noticed you looked older, hair longer, more lines worn on your face, more gold on your skin.

The reflection of the dagger hung before her too.

You looked at yours, but purposefully did not reach to touch it.

“Is this what I am?” You called out. “Is this who I am to be?”

Your voice echoed away before silence returned.

“You know what? No,” and you turned and walked away, your steps purposeful. You didn't look back and just picked a point on the horizon and walked. Light grew dim again, time stretched on again. Your reflection grew dim, formless, a dark mannequin moving under another's will.

Light ahead of you, again.

This one you trotted to, excitement building until you were a few feet away again-

“Fuck you,” you yelled at the golden dagger, suspended in the air.

Your reflection looked even older. Grey to your hair, braided in an intricate pattern, a gold necklace, a red battle sash, runes danced in the air around your fingers. Your reflection smiled and reached for the blade hanging before her.

Was that it? Was that its purpose for your future? Was that all it could do?

Your dagger pulsed with light, with life, with connection.

Why hadn't you reached for it? It was your magic. It was magic. What were you waiting for?

Something, an idea, almost there.

Did you not want it?

And you realized you did, you wanted more than anything to reach for it.

So why were you hesitating?

Did accepting the dagger mean it had to be used as a weapon?

Is magic only ever one thing, locked into one form?

You stepped up to it, your hand inches away. “Do I want to change the world?” You wrapped your fingers around the hilt. It easily came free from whatever held it there and hummed warm and happy in your hand. But it wasn't only a dagger in that vision while in the spring. It was still, at its core, energy. In your hand you could feel its eagerness to be, to take whatever form you wanted.

You laughed, realizing that perhaps you had been arguing with yourself and not some grand cosmic consciousness dictating the path of your future. It was your will that shaped it, gave it direction. It was a dagger because something in you wanted it to be.

Your breath caught, your other runes beginning to glow, some understanding that you had already known but only now truly understood. Magic desired direction, alignment, the primal rune upon which Hextech was based. Even wild magics followed patterns and flow determined by the natural world. You may have used that idea to find runes before but it could also apply to your magic now. Growth was possible. Standing in that dim liminal space you realized just how much you did not know and how long and wide a path truly lay before you.

The energy in your hand, currently shaped like a dagger, pulsed with anticipation. What did you want in this moment? You were in magic now.

You shifted it to your other hand and then lined it up along your arm with the gold in your skin.

Thoughts focused down to an idea, as well formed as you could make it. “Understanding.” Your words echoed in the air around you. “How am I connected?”

Energy from within you reached up and the dagger reached back. You pulled your hand away as the gold melted and flowed into your arm. Heat radiated up to your shoulder and into your chest.

Suddenly your arm became heavy, impossibly heavy, it hung down, fingers reaching for the ground. Gold light bubbled back out from your skin, flowing down your forearm, over your wrist, past your fingers as roots eagerly reaching down, down, down. When it finally found purchase it split the rock at the base of all things. The gold extended further, literally rooting you to the spot. Then, from your shoulders, branches of gold sprouted reaching up. Golden bark flowed across your chest to cover your other arm and then down your legs as more roots. Branches grew from your other shoulder and everything went to golden light as it expanded to cover your whole body. But you could sense it growing more, trunk widening, roots going deeper, branches reaching into the sky. Water and air, roots and stone, branches and sky.

You couldn't move and yet felt no sense of danger or ill intent, the opposite, actually. You were warm and safe and if you turned your mind to it you could extend yourself down into the roots, follow their journey across Runeterra. Occasionally they would come across another bit of heat, of color, of magic and entwine around a small stone. Symbols carved into the stones glowed with contact. You gasped, as much as a tree could gasp, as you realized they were runes, some you knew, many you did not. But the roots grew on, across continents, connecting, grounding, protecting.

The branches reached up into the heavens. Buds formed among the leaves, and when they opened they held stars inside. Limbs and branches reached across the sky, filling it with light, connecting, freeing, protecting.

The growth slowed as an equilibrium began to settle into place. Small strings began to extend from the branches, golden gossamer silk with a bright spot at the end of each. If you were quiet enough you could almost hear them, minds, souls, millions, living and breathing, being born and dying, all connected.

Occasionally a string would break, the light falling into the water, sinking down, down, until it met root and the tree pulled it in, to join its golden system. In a short time another strand would extend down, a new light growing into being. The complexity of a living system.

And around it all, two great beasts swam, one circling in the tapestry above and one swimming in the depths below, their intentions unknown.

You woke to the sound of thunder, a storm moving over Piltover. Darkness lingered outside, the sun not yet up, though with the weather you probably wouldn't see it all day.

You sat up, but didn't leave your bed, instead pulling your legs together to cross them and sit with a straighter spine, hands resting on your knees. You pictured the dream, being in the tree, and the gold on your arm began to glow. Shifting your hand facing up, you let the energy flow. There, just above your palm, a small golden tree took shape. Canopy, trunk, roots created a balanced form before the roots met the branches and formed a solid sphere. Then the energy slid away and dissipated. You determined its shape and purpose. Magic never wanted to be locked into any one thing and you couldn't let yourself be either.

The storms continued into the next day and night. It seemed fitting as you walked to your bookshelf and pulled the well worn copy of one specific book from the rest. You flipped a few pages to run your fingers over the personalized message.

“To my Pirate Queen,
All my love, Perah”

Your couch welcomed you back and you flipped through the book almost absentmindedly. You'd read it so many times. Finally you settled on the bar scene where the characters first meet. It was criminally cliché, but that didn't mean it didn't hold some truths. The description perfectly matched a bar that did exist in Bilgewater and the owner was just as loyal a follower of their kraken god, their Mother Serpent, a bringer of storms and upheaval, a bringer of change.

You huffed, sounded like your life. A small ping of pain ached in your chest. If only you could have shared your runes, your magic with Perah. She would have marveled at it. She would have written at least another trilogy, this time with dragons and spirits and, you thought about it, how would Perah have written the Void? “Devil of the Great Hunger” or something like that. A thing with horns and scars, and too many limbs, too many faces, a devourer.

And how would she have painted her heroes, them as lovers, of course, maybe even continue the same characters from the first trilogy. Yes, you smiled, definitely the same characters. The beginning would start with Lady Sahira's redemption and escape from your watery grave, leaving the Drowned Mistress to hunt for you forever more.

Escaping in a storm, blown off track to crash on the wild shores of an unknown land (Ionia). Treasure lay buried deep in a secret spring, guarded, of course, by a dragon. Tama would be delighted to be included.

You held the book to your chest. What a grand adventure. But now one you had to walk alone.

No, that wasn't right. You weren't alone. But you looked around your apartment. Tomorrow, you'd have dinner with Viktor tomorrow, you'd talk it through, figure something out, set a few more ground rules. It would be okay. You truly were in uncharted waters, figuring out how to fit magic into your life, but you'd do it. And you’d work more with him and Jayce, put more time into figuring out your magic, maybe even expanding it. It was just a setback.

You reached for the book but your runes flared, not just hinting at a warning, but screaming one. You were on your feet just as someone pounded on your door.

Ran.

You opened the door to see them standing there, soaked, blood dripping from several injuries. A quick glance and you confirmed none of them were major.

“What is it?”

“Silco’s in trouble, it's-”

“Ceimic.”

They nodded. “he's making his move, fuck, made his move, and we're losing. We need you.”

You turned to grab your things, but your boots were already on, your dagger at your back, a jacket in hand for the rain. When had you put them on?

You turned to Ran to see them breathing hard. They must have sprinted to you.

“Want a boost?”

“Yes.”

Your runes flared and you placed a hand on their chest. Power flowed, their body replenishing, and they took a larger breath.

“We gotta go.”

You closed the door and you both ran.

It was a downpour, making the roads slick, so you took the lead, picking the surest footing.

“Where?”

“He's got a warehouse by the docks, where his shipments come in.”

“Show me.”

They slipped a hand into yours and your top rune flared, green catching in the rain. Your bracers, you'd forgotten your bracers. Fuck it.

It was reflex with Ran, you'd done this a dozen times or more, connecting, passing info. In a few seconds you knew exactly where to go. You put a little more power into to the connection to make a stable one, one that didn't require skin contact. Tama had helped you set up a more consistent connection, helping align Ran's spirit with yours. With practice, you both could make the adjustment and be in each other's heads in seconds. It wasn't exactly that Ran had magic, but with focus and breathing exercises, that they absolutely hated, one could make small shifts to oneself.

You had the passing thought that it would be dangerous to teach that to Viktor. A tightness wanted to curl in your stomach, but you shut that shit right down. One problem at a time.

One good thing about the rain was that it covered your movement. You could run a little faster, make riskier paths without onlookers questioning anything. The little boost you gave Ran, and your current stronger connection, allowed them to keep up. You'd missed training with them.

“I've missed you too, where the fuck have you been?”

“Figuring shit out, trying not to fuck up too bad.”

You jumped a railing and Ran followed as you raced through side streets, finding the quickest, most direct route.

“What's it gonna be like?”

“I'm not exactly sure, I got away early on and then tracked them. Once I knew where, I ran for you.”

“Is Silco still-” you couldn't bring yourself to say it.

“Yes, I think Ceimic wants to make a show of it. I saw a few of the other Barons’ crews among his. They might even show themselves.”

“That's bad.”

“I know you don't do this kind of thing, but-”

“You were right to get me. We will fix this.”

“This will be messy. You ready to-”

You felt within and found a calm resolve. “Without question.”

Another ten minutes and you both slowed on the street that led to the large building, one of many warehouses that lined the docks on the upper west side of the Pilt river. The rain made it hard to see details. It was a good thing you could see more than most.

To your sight you could pick out his crew where they were posted outside, though the weather kept them close to the building. You described it to Ran and they took the lead, helping you work your way closer.

As you approached the outer wall of the building, you began to hear voices from inside. Ceimic talking and then laughter. But a higher pitched cry stilled the both of you. It was a girl's voice, a cry of fear.

“They have Jinx.” Anger curled in your gut and you took Ran's hand. “Through spirit, we go in now.”

They nodded, took a breath, and as you walked along the metal wall towards an opening, you both vanished, stepping into the spirit realm. Movement, the storm flowed as constant activity above you. The walls stood as hazy grey structures, seeming barely there. You tested it, reaching a hand, and found you could pass through. So you did, shifting into the darkened shadows at the back of the warehouse. Stacked crates filled this section, they almost reached the ceiling.

Two people approached, walking the inner perimeter. You paused to let the pair pass and worked your way through the crates.

You heard another cry and picked up your pace. Finally you came to the edge. More people shifted about, but none saw you as you weren't really “there.”

In the spirit the people stood out by emotion more than clothing, their auras tinged by humor, anticipation, frustration, curiosity, hesitation, then fear, there.

“Fuck.”

Jinx was suspended over an open slip of water, a place for smaller ships to pull in from the large outer door open to the river. Chains hung from a suspension system that would normally be used to move heavy shipments from the ships to further back in the warehouse. She'd been bound by rope and hung on a chain a good 20 feet above the water. A slither of red caught your attention, you focused, a cut on her leg dripped blood down into the water. You followed it to see what swam below.

“Ran, there's something in the water, something big.”

A flash of warmth from your runes, a warning, but not for Jinx, further to the left. Your turn just in time to see Ceimic in motion, a flash of silver, a grunt of pain from the man he was standing in front of. He stepped back, knife tinged in red, to reveal Silco on his knees, hands bound behind his back and a fresh well of blood from his stomach. But, he didn't seem to care, his eyes were solely on Jinx.

“How bad is it?” Ran asked.

You had to take a few breaths before you could focus, fear welling in you. But you looked, you let your sight show you. Several small injuries, ankle, shoulder, gash on his arm, but two of true concern. “Two deep stab wounds to his abdomen. He's,” you swallowed, “he's not dying yet, but-”

The two men were on a raised platform, built above more storage. It held the controls for the suspension system that ran along the upper portion of the warehouse, and what currently dangled Jinx over the water. Stairs led up to the platform and then more led up to a catwalk that lined the whole perimeter of the warehouse.

Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled through the building.

“Okay, where are,” Ran scanned the space, “there.” They pointed to a large cage welded against the wall, made to better secure more valuable cargo, but at the moment it held Silco's crew. Sevika stood at the front, a rage palpable around her. You scanned her for injuries and aside from a good gash in her leg, and a bead of red on the side of her head, she seemed alright. Not all of the crew were in as good a condition.

“Ladies, gentlemen, friends, colleagues” Ceimic held his arms wide. Smaller conversations quieted as everyone turned to him. “Tonight we celebrate a realignment of strength and leadership for the Undercity. Tired, stagnant ways,” he gestured to Silco, “make way for a new, better direction.”

“Let the girl go, she's not a part-”

Ceimic's fist slammed into Silco's chest, knocking the wind from him and causing more blood to flow.

“She killed two of my crew. She's more than just a part of it, she's my gift to the Great Mother, who must always get her due. And once she has,” he glanced back at Silco, “everything that's yours will be mine.”

Ceimic turned to Jinx and you pushed off to run, knowing, feeling it coming.

“No wait-”

But you left Ran behind, both of you still in the spirit realm, and ran towards the water. Ceimic pulled the rope by him that released the clasps holding her bindings. Silco screamed, Jinx screamed and you, pushed by your runes, stepped to the edge of the wood and lept. For a brief moment of shifting sound, light, and air you broke through the veil to grab her and as you fell to the water, pulled you both back into the spirit.

Water, cold, disorienting. Something large and hungry swam towards you, but couldn't reach, as it was on the other side. Jinx thrashed and you fought both her and the water to try to get back to the surface. A hint of a green glow came from below and fear trickled into your gut, you weren't safe here either. But it was dark, and you felt like something pulled you deeper.

Through your runes you called out for help, for any spirit, for anything. You swam up, trying to drag Jinx with you, but made little progress.

Movement, a large form, smooth skin swam up from below, and right into you, pushing you both up, gaining momentum to break the surface. The creature pushed you both onto the wood and then climbed out herself, turning her back on you to growl at the water.

Hazy shapes moved about you as those in the room tried to figure out what happened. You turned to Jinx, pushing warmth into her, helping clear her lungs as she coughed up river water. You pulled your dagger and cut the rope from her. With her arms free she began to scream again, pushing at you, eyes wide.

“Jinx!”

But her breaths were too short, her eyes too unfocused, panic was setting in. “No, get away! Get off me!”

She glanced at the large salamander-like creature beside you and screamed again.

You took her face in your hands, and put will into your voice, “sleep.”

The magic took hold and she crumpled in your arms.

“I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck was that?” Ran crouched by your side, then realized there was something else there.

They reached for some kind of weapon but you grabbed their arm. “She's a friend, I think. She got us out of the water. I've seen her a few times.”

“Okay, okay, now what?”

“Help me carry her, there,” you nodded towards the cage.

Ran grabbed her legs and you walked along the wall and then, with a little more focus, you passed through the wooden part of the caging and settled against the back.

“I'll send you through, then I'll bring Jinx.”

Ran nodded and you concentrated on the space next to them. They shifted to the right and became hazy to your sight. The crew by them startled, but they hushed them. Quick conversation, then they tapped the floor. You took a breath and dragged Jinx back into the material plane.

Sevika, who'd shifted to the back while others moved to the front to make a better wall to hide your presence, crouched by you, not recognizing you for a moment. Her whispers fanned the side of your face. “Who are you, what the fuck is-”

You turned to her, your runes glowing underneath your waterlogged shirt.

She stared at you, eyes going over your face, trying to understand.

“I'm here to help. Jinx is okay, she's just sleeping. But Ceimic is going to kill Silco. We need to stop him.”

“You got a plan that isn't just ‘we start fighting’?” Ran whispered.

You tried to think it through. “I'll make a distraction and you get the doors to this open.” You indicated the cage. “And then…, I don't know after that, but if I have to, I can go into the spirit, get close enough to get Silco free? Something is,” you shook your head, a growing tension building in you. “Something is coming, a moment of- I don't know what, but,” you put a hand on Sevika's arm. “I will not let him die.”

She mirrored your movement, her hand coming to your arm. “You'll be an unknown, that'll make ‘em cautious. Their fear is a weapon. Use it. Be bold.”

Her words echoed through you. You stood and offered both of them a hand. “I can get you both on the outside, then my focus is Silco, understood?” They nodded, and took your hand.

The world began to crystalize around you, your runes growing warmer, brighter, energy filling you. You brought them out on the back side, then let them through into the real world and at the same time fully breaking your connection to Ran. You were going to need everything you had.

Ceimic was talking again, preparing, building up to his grand moment. You walked forward, through the crowd of hazy shapes that gave way, not knowing why, shifting away from something they couldn't see.

There, an opening, a space, dead center, in full view. The path laid out before you, your steps finding surety. Energy gathered around you further. Green, gold, and blue.

You took a breath and as you split the veil you enhanced a single shouted word. “Ceimic!” The name tore through the air, almost deafening. The storm paid homage. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled through.

Silence. All eyes turned. Those closest to you took a step back. You could imagine what they saw, an unknown woman, dripping wet, glowing with power.

They may have looked at you, but you only had eyes for one person, a man on his knees, bleeding on the platform above you. Eyes, one blue, one a flame in the dark, stared at you, his mouth open.

“You,” Ceimic said.

Your gaze shifted to the chembaron.

“You're not-” his eyes went to your arm. “What are you?”

Focus, be who Silco needed you to be. No, a calm settled into you. Be what Zaun needed you to be. Let it flow.

“I'm disappointed.” You spread your hands, “I didn't want to take action, but here we are. I had hoped you were smarter than this.”

He looked you over, “that's a lot of bluster for someone on their lonesome, again.”

“Let Silco go. This doesn't have to end in death.”

“You are his,” he sneered.

A large breath moved through you. “I'm whatever I need to be to stop this.”

You pulled on your gold, knowing now you could at least get it to respond. The glow brightened, warmth slid down your arm and a small flicker of gold sparked in your palm. It was still a bluff. You knew it would dissipate soon, but you needed a show of power. Maybe you could still get him to back down.

You took a step forward, the spark growing larger, but also more unstable. “Let's be re-” but you'd pushed too far.

He was quick, you would give him that. He pulled one of his pistols and fired, which you saw coming and stepped to the side with an uncanny speed. Whispers behind you.

Ceimic pulled another pistol, single shot, how buccaneer of him, and fired again. And again you sidestepped it, but your gold fizzled out and dissipated.

“What are you waiting for, kill her!” He shouted to his crew, to whom you turned and stared down. Several were considering it. You changed tactics and picked the four biggest. Intent, you focused on them, took in a breath, and yelled, “Kneel!”

All four dropped to one knee, a look of astonishment on their faces. Any near you took a few more steps back.

Then someone found the courage to lunge for you.

You knew it was coming and stepped into the spirit realm, slipping away from them. But, with your hold on the four broken, they shakily got back to their feet.

“Where are you, witch?” Ceimic called out.

You slipped past a few more people making your way closer to the stairs. You had to get up there.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Ceimic taunted from his place on high.

A sharp warning came without any ability to do anything. Too far, too far, you were too far away. A gasp, ragged, you looked up to see Ceimic with his knife in Silco's chest, right side, piercing a lung. You were out of time.

You stepped back into reality.

“Oh, did that get your attention? Now watch him die.”

“Go!” Sevika's voice shouted from the back. The crowd behind you erupted into activity, as Silco's crew poured out of the now open door to the storage cage.

You raced for the stairs and Ceimic smiled, bringing his knife to Silco's throat.

“Stop!” The word held more power than any word you'd ever uttered. His arm came to a stop with the point inches from his throat. You were fast, you could make it, you had to. One of his crew managed to block the stairs but a shot from behind you, to his chest, dropped him. You jumped over and took the stairs two at a time, all of your concentration on Ceimic, on keeping him still. But he was fighting it, his whole will going into the desire to kill.

A warning, but you didn't heed it, didn't let it take any of your focus away. Your left calf erupted in pain as a bullet passed through. You drew on your runes and pushed faster.

You reached the last stretch, were 10 feet away when Ceimic made a choice. He dropped the knife, abandoning the action, breaking your hold, and reached for his final pistol.

Your hand went back, fingers wrapping around the hilt, and you drew your dagger.

“There she is,” he said, smile on his face, and he fired.

Certainty. Anger. Purpose. Your magic wasn't just a part of you. It was you and you were it, energy, intent, thought made real, the miraculous manifest. A blue glow erupted from your wrist, speeding you further, the runes helping you alter course, while also deflecting the bullet just enough. You dipped, sliding out of the way, then reached the top. His arms came up, but you spun and landed a kick to his knee. He cried out in pain and dropped to it, giving you time for your fingers to settle on his arm. With skin contact there was no way he could fight you. “Be still,” you whispered. His hands, almost to you, paused and then went limp at his sides. He breathed evenly, down on one knee, facing the crowd below, with you at his back.

You took in a breath and shouted, a sound coming from deep in your chest and enhanced by your magic, “Enough!”

Motion slowed and then stopped. All eyes turned up to you.

“This is over.” The words echoed through you as you made a decision, a choice and you knew, it was going to change you. There was no turning back from what you were about to do. Some small part of you already mourned it, but another part rose eager to embrace it. Change. Let it come.

In a moment of clarity you finally saw her, at the far side of the warehouse, white form with a dark shadow. She looked across to you, though didn't raise her bow. Instead she pointed and nodded, but not to you. The dark shadow at her side lunged forward.

And you could feel it. Ceimic might be physically still before you, but his spirit screamed, fear lancing through him, he fought your hold uselessly.

With that dark form racing towards you, you reached down and brought your dagger across Ceimic's throat, cutting deep, slicing almost halfway through. The creature, the darkness with glowing eyes and hungry mouth, the Wolf -it could be no other thing- tore into him and washed through you. Your teeth ground together as a growl curled at the back of your throat. Hunt. Rip. Kill. Feast. Your hand gripped the dagger tighter, the Wolf wanted you to continue the hunt, always, forever. It took will to draw in a breath, to remain where you were.

The body you held, Ceimic, that was his name, you pushed and he fell from the platform to land with a sickening crunch on the floor below, body limp, already gone.

You stood there another moment, breathing heavily, feeling the weight of the dagger in your hand, the smell of the blood and gunpowder heavy in your throat, the brush of fur at your side. Is this what power feels like?

A gurgled breath to your left dragged you back to the moment. You dropped to Silco's side and cut the ropes, freeing his hands to take the stress off his chest. Then you tossed aside the dagger to work at his vest, fighting buckles and fabric. A panic wanted to rise, but you tore enough of it free to place both hands on his chest.

You pulled on your runes, needing more power, letting your sight clarify your vision further and filling your eyes with light. You were met with so much red, not just his blood on your hands, but his lungs, already filling up. Fluids that were never meant to mingle leaked from his gut. His diaphragm hurt, stilted in motion. Were you too late? Anger, then rage, No, focus.

You pushed power into him. It was fast, probably too much and he cried out in pain, his body trying to heal faster than it was ever meant to. You guided and worked the energy, trying to get ahead of systems that were starting to fail. White. You looked up, she was still there. Her bow materialized out of thin air into her hands.

“You cannot have him!” you practically snarled at her, then softer, “not yet, please not yet.”

Her bow began to rise.

You closed your eyes and let go, let the power flow, pouring in not just power, but your connection, tying his life to yours. You wove quickly, giving that damage and pain a place to go, something to latch on to.

Your own breath caught, pain slicing into your chest, pulling, dragging, but keeping him breathing, while it began to threaten yours.

You reached for more power, but only felt a tiredness respond, you were close to your limits.

He gasped in your arms, trying to breathe. Your breath grew shallow, trying to keep a dying man afloat.

She leveled her bow, aiming.

A hint of blue at your wrist caught your attention. The middle rune glowed steadily. A rune he helped you find. His window, the first time you met, drawing with Jinx, drunken ramblings, a hug, holding him close, desire. You poured every last bit of will you had into your rune, his rune, Zaun's rune.

Sparks of blue began to form in the air. Some drifted out of people, others from the ground, from the water, from the storm. In the spirit realm a large amphibious creature wrapped around you both. The motes brightened and then streaked in lines towards your wrist, encircling it in a swirl of power that funneled down your hand and into him.

A cool wind touched your face. Power, more than enough, pulled blood from his lungs, began to put organs back into place. The cut to his diaphragm healed just enough.

She lowered her bow and vanished.

A voice came, soft in your mind though he tried to form the words. “Jinx?” The question was so faint.

“Alive and safe.”

Relief, palpable to you with this close of a connection.

Footsteps, hands on your shoulder. Ran talking. “Hey, what do you need?”

“I'm running low.” Your own voice sounded strained, breathing still difficult. “I tied myself to him.”

They settled one hand on your arm, though the other was roughly bandaged.

“You're,” a breath, it was getting hard to think, “hurt.”

“Nothing fatal. Now come on, you need to stay conscious.”

You nodded and felt their hand cover over your top rune. You asked and they answered and you felt a new flow of power. It calmed you, brought you a little more awake.

“Sevika,” they called out and in the next moment she was there.

“I don't even know what-”

“She's keeping him alive. I'll explain it all later. It takes a lot out of her, but we can help. Put your hand here and when you feel a tug, give in to it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ran's hand left and Sevika's settled into place. Your magic asked and she answered.

She gasped at the sensation.

“Hi,” you said, your voice weak, “um, surprise?”

To that she shook her head and started to laugh. “Of fucking course,” then she actually looked you over. “Oh shit, you're bleeding.”

Blood dripped from your calf but “-I can barely feel it. I'll be fine.”

Sevika called and another of the crew came over and, careful of the edge with a 15 foot drop and no railing, roughly bandaged it.

Sevika leaned forward so you could rest your weight against her.

“You did good. You did really good.”

“How many did we lose?”

“We?”

You huffed, “how many?”

“Twelve, but he lost more and I think we'll get a decent number of his over to our side.”

“The other Barons?”

“Their people scattered, but not before you-” a heavier breath moved through her. “They're going to talk. This will change things.”

“I know. I just didn't-” your breath hitched, emotion rising.

“Hey, no, I said you did good. It's just, fuck, you have magic. Fuck. That's badass.”

You chuckled.

“Silco?” Movement, a body pushing toward him.

“Sevika, don't let her-” but she was already on it, catching Jinx from falling directly against him.

Her voice came quieter, “dad?”

“He's going to be okay,” you said.

“There's so much blood and he looks-”

“Jinx.”

She finally looked up at you, her eyes wide, taking in what must be quite a sight- your arm and eyes glowing as well as your hands on him.

“Yes, he is hurt, but I swear to you he will live. You can sit close, but don't move him too much.”

“Jinx” his voice was weak, but he lifted a hand and she eagerly took it.

Pain. Tiredness. Time began to jump and skip. A stretcher, a carriage ride, you next to him. Descending. The Last Drop, but quiet, the lights low. So many filled into the space, eyes on you. Whispers. They parted for you as you walked beside his stretcher. You barely had any glow left.

His room. His bed. Your window.

“I need to keep contact.”

Ran nodded, “I know. You've got him and I've got you.”

They pulled up a chair to the bed and you sat, hand on his arm to keep contact. You drifted in and out of sleep. Then more movement. Ran pulled you away, your connection diminishing.

“No, wait.”

“It's alright, Doc's gonna help him, then you can go right back. I didn't think it would be a good idea to keep you connected, though.”

And you were mostly not, but that didn't keep a jolt of something, a frenetic energy- searching, fixing, healing, mending! - from shooting through you, your runes flashing in response. “Shimmer, he's using shimmer.”

“Yeah, doc's got the good stuff. Should fully stabilize him, take a little of the load off you.” They helped you lean against the wall. “You know, this is what Dorima warned you about.”

All you could do was shrug. “No other options.”

More time, movement, you were brought back in and a man you'd never seen before was there, his face obscured, something off. But sleep was coming and you couldn't fight it.

Ran's voice, “no shimmer, doc.”

“Alright.” His voice was raspy. “It appears a simple enough wound.”

Pain in your calf brought you awake enough to know the gunshot wound was being cleaned by rough hands. The antiseptic hit your nose sharply, then your wound even sharper. It was followed by something cooling and bandages.

That raspy voice came again, a hand settled on your arm, above your runes. “They said you helped him. I've seen his injuries, can you tell me what you did?”

You took a breath, everything still felt distant. “Puncture to the lung, pulled the blood out, kept it out, sealed it, maybe too quick. Wound to the abdomen, set organs closed, encouraged fluids that would fester to flush out. Cut to diaphragm secured enough to not hinder breathing. But delicate, it's all so delicate. I can heal it further, just need time.”

He patted your arm. “That is exceptional.”

He stepped away, his voice more distant. “He should be able to heal here, with rest and time. You can give another dose of shimmer tomorrow.”

The conversation moved further away and after a moment Sevika and Ran returned to you.

“Alright,” Sevika's voice, “you're not sleeping like that.” She and Ran helped you strip, cleaned what they could. You giggled when they ran a wet cloth over your sides.

“It's like she's drunk,” Sevika said.

“She kind of is?” Ran responded. “She,” they sighed, “she went deeper than she should have. Wasn't just healing him, but tied her life to his, to keep him alive. It's disorienting and while it will fade as he heals, she's probably feeling a little of what doc gave him.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

They helped you into fresh, soft clothes.

You walked shakily towards the chair, but Sevika redirected you. “Just take the fucking bed. It's big enough and Ran says you have to be close. One of us will be here the whole time, Bandlescout’s honor.”

A soft bed. A body still in need of healing. You settled in and finally let sleep take you.

Chapter Text

You're warm. You're safe. You're on your side, arms around a smaller form pressed up against you. You smelled one of your taita's shampoos in her hair and pulled Jinx a little closer. She happily nestled further into the embrace.

You were facing him and reached one hand for his arm, checking in. What you felt brought relief. The injuries remained, yes, but his breaths were even, his pain level low, assisted by some medicine you could feel dulling and smoothing. His system was far more on the mend that you expected.

He took a larger breath and his eye drifted open. The chemlights coming through the window casted everything in soft shades of green.

He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before turning his head to look at you. Thoughts, you could almost sense them, but pulled back enough to not. He deserved his privacy.

His eyes grew tired again and he drifted off, then so did you.

Warmth. You were on your side, your arm draped over a bandaged body, a blanked spread over you both. Your head rested against his chest and you could hear his heartbeat. It picked up speed as he took in a larger breath.

“Thank you,” the words were soft.

You didn't know what to say, so your hand found his and gave it a squeeze.

“I've had many try to take my life,” a breath, “and very few who’ve saved it. Why? Why risk your life for mine?”

“Because I care about you. Because others believe in you. I believe in you. Because Jinx deserves to have a father.” And the truth of it was, “I didn't want to lose you.”

His eye softened, his lips lifting into the faintest smile. “You never cease to surprise me.”

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my magic.”

He took a larger breath. “It was your decision and I'm sorry I pulled away because of it. I will,” he swallowed, “trust you more in the future. I didn't know, I, you,” he finally turned his head towards you and shifted his hand to cup your face, “you were spectacular.”

Your gaze drifted away. “I killed him.”

“Darling, you executed him.”

You shut your eyes, trying not to remember it, but the smell of the blood, the feel of the Wolf's fur lingered.

“Look at me.”

And you did.

“It was a terrible thing to do and the right thing to do. He set that situation up himself. He desired a spectacle and,” he chuckled and then winced, “you gave it to him.”

“I don't ever want to do that again.”

“None of us ever do.”

He breathed for a moment, just staring at you. “I need you to understand, I don't delight in violence, I avoid it when I can. But,” a sadness came to his eye, “it is often the only thing that can make others listen, that can get them to notice you at all. There's an ugliness in this world that I had hoped to shield you from. Not to deceive, but because your smile means so much to me.”

You, gently, pulled yourself a little closer and he wrapped his arms around you. It was peaceful, quiet. You had done it. You had saved him. The thought warmed your heart and led you into a peaceful slumber.

Time passed, Sevika brought meals for you. You limped to the bathroom when you needed to. As Silco healed you slowly pulled back your deeper connection, letting his body take the full weight of his injuries, with you offering your normal, if still elevated amount of, healing.

More time passed, but you were unable to judge how much.

You woke up alone, Silco no longer in the room, but, a sound, familiar, a clicking, brought you more fully awake. A form settled into the chair by the bed.

“Viktor? What are you-”

“It's been three days since we were supposed to have dinner. I was worried.” His eyes looked at the bed, but not directly at you. “Mel hadn't seen you, nor Jayce. You haven't been to your apartment. When your grandmother didn't know, I-” he finally made eye contact, “could only think of one other place. So I came here.”

You shifted in the bed to sit up and hissed as pain shot through your calf.

His eyebrows came together, “you are injured.”

“Yes, but,” you hesitated, “I'll be fine. I will heal.”

You finally got yourself upright, and settled your hands in your lap.

Viktor glanced at your arm, fully exposed, wearing only the brace. “What happened?”

His tone sped your heart. He didn't ask it seeking information, he asked it seeking answers.

“I,” you licked your lips, “had to help a friend.”

“Hmm,” he nodded to himself. “I had to wait, a little bit, before they would let me see you. I could hear many conversations. They are saying a witch appeared out of nowhere. That she challenged a chembaron. That she killed him by,” he had to pause, emotion trying to rise, but he forced it back, “cutting his throat for all to see.” His breath hitched, “is this true?”

“It's not as simple as that, the situation-”

Anger began to seep into his voice. “Did you do it?”

You met his gaze evenly.

“I did.”

“Why? Why get involved?” He stood, took a few steps, “what could you possibly have been thinking?”

“My friends were in trouble. He would have killed Jinx, Sevika, Ran. He had already stabbed Silco. What was I supposed to do, nothing? When I had the power to-”

He turned to you, “this is what you are going to use it for? Getting involved in a gang war? Do you work for him now or do you see yourself more of a vigilante?”

“Viktor, that is not fair.” You swung your legs out from the covers and stood, fighting the pain in your leg, but you were determined to meet him on his level. If he wanted to have this conversation, so be it. “I had to make a decision and I made one. And-”

“Don’t.”

“-if I have to make this decision again to save the people I care about, I will.”

“Is killing so easy for you now?”

You shook your head. How could he not understand?

“I tried! I tried to talk him down.”

“Well, you failed. And you exposed your magic to everyone. They are all talking about it. Word will spread! How, what will you do? Were you even thinking? Or did you enjoy it?”

“You think I wanted to do this? It was a shit situation and I had shit choices. I fucking hated it,” did you? “but my magic is mine to do with it as I please.” Then a question came to you. One that, if asked, would likely burn your relationship to the ground. But you gave him a chance, held it back.

“Yes, yours to do with-” he laughed, but it held no mirth. “This, of course, only affects you, I-”

Fuck it. “What have you done with yours?” You asked it softly, like lobbing the gentlest grenade at him.

“What?”

“I stopped a sadistic bastard from taking more control of a city I love. You've had access to magic longer than I have. What have you done with it? Have you helped your friends? Have you done anything for Zaun?”

“I” he backed up a step, “hextech,” then his voice grew stronger, “what we're building, the Hexgates-”

“’-will put Piltover on the map,’” you threw the quote at him, “but is there anything in those investor contracts that assures Zaun benefits in any tangible way?”

“What, no, that is beyond-”

You took a step towards him. “You're creating it! And they can't keep building it without your help. So stop working on it. Demand that Zaun be considered.”

“That is not possible.”

“Bullshit. You don't want to stop. In your safe little lab, with Jayce, dreaming about being heroes. How is that different than me? How is it better! Ideas are easy, taking action is hard.”

“And that's what you did, is it? Take action. Do you wish to be one of these Barons?”

“I saved lives!”

“You took lives! And they are praising you for it! They whisper your name with reverence.”

The venom in his words made you pause. A realization came to you.

“I'm not your special little secret anymore.”

“What?”

“You've hidden hextech away under proprietary clauses and NDAs. You assumed I'd treat my magic the same, that I would weigh having a hidden advantage as greater importance than risk overt use and judgement.”

“I thought you would at least consider me.”

“Your comfort doesn't come before other's lives. It never will.”

“And our life?” he gestured between you and him, “what about that? Where does that fall in your judgement?”

“I-” but you didn't have an answer.

“We were engaged, or had you forgotten?”

“No, I hadn't-”

“But?”

“I changed. I have to figure myself out again. I didn't want to rush-”

“You had to see if I still fit into this new life of yours. Well, do I?”

You paused, a quiet war raging within. “I thought you did.”

“But you hesitated to tell me your wound is from a gunshot. That you risked your life, through magic, to save the owner of this,” he glanced at the window you'd designed for Silco, “establishment. And how much would you have told me about this incident, if I hadn't already heard?” He stepped closer. “You know my mind. You know me. But I don't think I know you anymore.”

“I just,” you sighed.

“Sometimes two things can be true at the same time and sometimes not.” He turned away. “I loved you, but this,” he gestured to you, to the room, “it is too much. I don't have room in my life for this. I am sorry.”

He made his way to the door. “I will not inform the Enforcers, but I cannot guarantee no one will.”

“Viktor, this is all fresh, emotions are high. I love you. We can find a way through this. We just need a little time.”

He gave you one last glance. “You murdered that man. You are a murderer. There is no ‘we.’ I will go back to my little lab and I'll show you the difference I can make.”

He opened the door to a blocked hallway and exceptionally unfriendly faces.

“Let him leave,” you called out.

He laughed, but it sounded so bitter, and made his way through.

You just stood there, leaning against the chair. All eyes stared at you, but you didn't know what to do. You didn't know what just happened.

Sevika made it to you first. She didn't say anything, just put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a hug. Finally tears came. You were still so tired and found you didn't have any more words in you. So you cried until sobs racked your body. It was Sevika's strength alone that kept you standing.

She finally spoke. “I'm sorry. Some people can't” she paused, “what you did was brave, so fucking brave. And I, I'm just so sorry.”

She held you for a moment longer and then your runes began to glow faintly. Something in the air changed and those in the hallway made room for someone to enter. Sevika gave him a nod, pulled you close for one more squeeze, and then stepped back. “We've got you, you are safe here.”

She walked to the door and closed it behind her.

Silco walked carefully, mindful of his injuries. Bandages wrapped his chest, with a loose robe thrown on over it. On instinct you Looked, your bottom rune glowing brighter. Red still streaked through him, but much less than before. Other, smaller wounds had been bandaged as well. You wiped at your tears and met him at the foot of the bed.

“Your injuries look good.” Your hand came up to fiddle with a loose piece of gauze, to tuck it back in. “We can keep working on them, but you should be close to full activity in-”

“Stop.” He took your hand in his, “stop tending to me.”

You kept your eyes on his chest, not looking up. “You heard?”

“Yes, most did, which, seeing as to how many are hanging around here for you, is a good number.”

“I didn't-”

“I know.”

“I had to-”

He pulled your chin up to look at him. “I know. Though perhaps I hadn't fully understood that you didn't just risk your life for me, you risked a part of your future. I truly am sorry.”

Tears welled up again, pain lanced through you. “I don't understand how he can't understand. Would he not have done the same? Wouldn't anyone?”

He pulled you against him, his arms wrapping as tightly as he could with his injuries. “You are kind and brave. No, there are many who would not.”

“I just, there was room. There is room in my life for-”

“He gets a say in that as well.”

“We were good together.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“What do I do?”

He took a larger breath. “For now, more rest, if you wish it. Then, you will go talk with him again.”

“What?”

“See where he stands when his anger has cooled. Be sure it is over. I don't want you to question,” his words ended, but you could feel the intent. He was doing his best to hold it back, to not let it come to the forefront.

“Okay.” You were still so tired and hollow, scooped out. “I think I need more sleep.”

“Alright.” His warm lips gently pressed against your forehead. “Jinx is getting ready for bed and asked if she could see you?”

You smiled and nodded, “yeah, that would be nice.”

You pulled back and limped to the side of the bed. He left and a moment later a particular blue-haired teen crawled into the bed.

“Are you alright? People are saying someone was mean to you.”

“I'm okay. Some of the things I did upset him.”

“But you saved us.”

“I know, and I'm very happy I did.”

You pulled her closer and she happily snuggled into your arms.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, I'm good. How is your leg? They say you got shot.”

“I did, and it hurts. But it will heal.”

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?”

“Certainly.”

“Yes!”

She hummed happily in your arms for a few moments more before yawning. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Me too.”

Uncertainty sat heavy in your gut, but the snuggly girl in your arms helped. It took a while, but you eventually fell asleep.

You woke alone, to the sound of knocking.

“Yes? I'm awake.” You glanced towards the window, but this deep in the Lanes, it was all chemlight anyway, making it hard to tell the time.

“Good.” Silco entered with an armful of clothes. Sevika came in behind and set a pair of boots by the bed.

“What is this?”

“Proper clothes, in case you wish to leave this room.”

He set them down by you and you inspected the shirt and pants.

“These aren't mine.”

“Yours,” Sevika said, “were soaked with blood, or don't you remember?”

“They might not be salvageable, so we wanted to provide you with replacements.” Silco watched you inspect them.

“Thank you, I-” your hand fell on a bespoke vest. It was a rich green patina fabric with deep blue accents and gold trim and hardware. A floral design overlaid the fabric on its right side, flowing down from the shoulder. It was a close match to the gold design in your skin.

“How did you make this so fast?”

“I have an excellent tailor.”

“And I showed them the railing,” Sevika added.

“It is beautiful.” Your fingers traced over the fabric and you felt the air stall in your lungs, as you recognized it. “This is made from Ceimic's coat.”

Silco nodded.

You pulled away from the fabric as if it had grown too hot to touch. “Why would you do that?”

“One, it's a shame to let good fabric go to waste. And two, you earned it. No one topside will know, but,” he sat and reached for your hand, moving it to settle back on the vest. “You do not have to hide who you are. When you had me pick the symbol for Zaun, your words described the person I saw call out a chembaron in his own house. Please, at least put it on. Look at yourself as you could be, or, more accurately, as you already are.”

He withdrew his hand. “But it is your choice and other clothes are available.”

You looked through the clothes again and more closely inspected the vest.

“There's a little extra room in the back, if you wish to continue to wear your dagger there.”

“Which is right here.” Sevika set it next to the clothes on the bed.

It immediately drew your attention. You pulled it from its sheath. It was clean and felt good to hold.

“We will leave you to dress. There is food downstairs. You are welcome to join us.”

They began to leave but you tapped the boots. “Were my boots ruined too?”

Sevika huffed, “no, but these are lower and won't aggravate your leg as much.”

Then you were alone again. You looked around the room and saw a full length mirror at the far side. Slowly you pulled off your shirt and slipped out of your pants. One thing at a time. Socks first. Then pants, they fit you close to perfect, were sturdy and allowed for good movement. Next the boots, to which Sevika had been right, these wouldn’t rub against your bandages.

Then the shirt. A fine white cotton, gold accents with buttons to roll up the sleeves, if desired. Your back harness for the dagger came next. It brought a familiar comfort among new clothes.

Finally. You picked up the vest and walked over to the mirror. Your arms came up and it slid down. You adjusted the shirt and then brought the one side across the other, taking your time with the latches and buckles. It was snug and supportive in a way that was comforting.

You tugged it down a little and then looked up. Someone new stood before you and they were beautiful. The cut, the style, it complemented the lines and curves of your body. You reached for the sleeve and folded it carefully up, revealing your brace and then your runes, buttoning it up at the elbow. The gold design on the vest seemed to flow down into the gold on your skin.

Last, your dagger, you secured it at your back and let out a breath. It was time to leave this room.

You walked the dim hallway and turned, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. Bodies moved, chairs slid. Any still seated below stood and everyone turned to face you. A song far softer than you thought the jukebox contained drifted from it.

Some faces you recognized, from Silco's crew. They all seemed happy to see you. Others made you pause, seeing two of the four you made kneel. They took off hats and offered you a bow. Curiosity, awe, deference, but most of all, respect, acceptance. A room full of people looked at you as an equal. You descended the stairs, using the railing to help with your leg. Silco met you at the bottom, offering you a hand.

You took it and as you finished stepping down he brought your fingers to his lips to kiss them. But, it wasn't out of affection, or at least not primarily. No, some tension in the room eased as you accepted the action. You were missing something.

He leaned close, “I will explain later, but for now, eat and accept the comradery.”

You eyed those from Ceimic's crew.

“None here mean you harm, you are safe,” Silco added.

A large spread of food lined the bar and your stomach grumbled. Sevika made space for you, in the process she looked you over. “Fuck, that fits you good.”

You elbowed her. She laughed and helped you onto a stool. Silco took the one next to you.

Conversation picked up again as you filled a plate. You were hungrier than you thought. Still, something else bugged you, needled at your awareness. You looked around again and realized who was missing.

“Where's Ran?”

Sevika hesitated and you gave a more serious look.

“Is-”

“They're fine, they're getting fitted for a prosthetic.”

“What?” then you remembered, though it was hazy. “Their hand?”

Sevika nodded. “They tried to catch a couple of bullets and succeeded. We saved what we could, but most of their hand has to be replaced. But don't worry,” she used her left hand to pick out a few items, delicately selecting them, “we can work wonders down here.”

Okay, this was okay. You let yourself settle in and enjoy the food and the company. A soft, pleasant chatter drifted through the room. It was something you hadn't seen before here, them just as people. The normal posturing, the attitude, it was like there was no one to show off to, no one to vie position against. Yes, a certain deference was being paid to Silco, and yourself too, though you didn't want to look directly at that quite yet, but it felt more of a social gathering than any kind of organized syndicate.

The food dwindled, though no one seemed to be in a rush to go anywhere.

“What time is it?”

“A little after 2nd bell. Are you ready to leave?” Silco asked.

“I should, but I have to go topside. Is it safe? The enforcers, I killed someone, I-”

“Shh,” he took your hand in his. “You have nothing to be concerned about. Firstly, none of my people will speak a word about you, I can assure you. Secondly," he offered a small smile, "the enforcers won't investigate. They rarely come down into Zaun, and don't particularly care if we go at each other, only if we cross into their precious Piltover. You are safe, I swear it."

You nodded and slid off the stool, forgetting your wound and pain lanced through it, which brought a hiss from you. Several people stood to offer assistance, but Silco was there, his arm out to steady you.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, your runes beginning to glow. While you couldn't just heal it all in one setting, perhaps you could put more energy to it. Deep, even breaths and you focused on the wound, helping knit it more together and dulling the pain. If you walked slow and were smart about it, you should be able to make it topside.

There, an easing, that could be bearable. You opened your eyes to see everyone staring at you. Slowly your runes dulled down to nothing.

Silco cleared his throat and people quickly returned to their conversations. You glanced at the door and then at your arm. Uncertainty, were you ready for this?

“If I may, I have an idea.” Silco gestured to the barman who trotted into another room, then came back with a small box. Silco sorted through, then pulled out a deep blue strip of soft fabric. “I set this aside in case you wanted to wear a tie with your vest but, we could also do this.” He tapped your brace, “over or under?”

You leaned close, singing the notes so you could then slide it off. You offered your arm to Silco and he gently began to wrap it around your wrist.

“Hold here.”

And you did, so he could wrap once around your thumb and then continue, back to wrist and then slowly up your arm. It was only tight enough to stay in place, with no intent for compression as one would wrap for a fight. Once he was past where the brace covered he had you put it back on, securing it and the fabric in place. Then he continued up, as long as the fabric would reach, which was just past your elbow. He pulled it a little tighter there and secured it with a couple of pins.

“This should hold and block any light coming from them, but we can come up with a more permanent solution if you wish to keep them covered, even the bracers, if you wished. Will this work for now?”

You looked at it, the blue matched the trim and made the design of the brace stand out.

“Yes, it will. Thank you.”

His hand reached for you, but paused and settled back in his lap. “Go, see to what business you need to, but it is important that you return.”

You began to move to the door, but a group of five, Ceimic's people by the dress of them, angled to meet you. One held a ledger and a few notebooks. She was taller than you, purple hair full of curls, tan skin, dark eyes.

“Ms.-”

“The mourning period is still in effect.” Silco cut her off, a few of his crew drifting in behind him.

She took her eyes off you to give Silco a less than friendly look, but she let him continue.

“Formal discussions will be had at the meeting. You are, of course, welcome here, but there is business that needs to be seen to before then.”

“If you are going to conduct business, then we are permitted the same. Just because-” she caught herself and flashed an unamused smile. “We have a right and we claim it. Do you formally deny us?”

Silco's lips pressed together, you could feel the frustration through your lingering connection.

“I,” he ran a hand over his hair, “I do not. But I will insist that now is not the time. You will have a chance to speak and it will be before the meeting. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, thank you,” she offered an overly formal nod to him, then her attention focused back on you, to whom she offered a less formal but more courteous nod. “Do you wish an escort?”

“I-” what the fuck were you missing? Why would his people care? After what you'd done, this was the last thing you'd expect from them. But, it was a kind thing to offer. “Thank you. The offer is appreciated. But at the moment, no, I'm headed topside.” You gave a nod in return.

“Of course, mum, please let us know if you need anything.”

They stepped back and the building tension in the room eased, people returned to their conversations.

With the path to the door clear you made your way to it. The desire to rush, to get outside of whatever was happening in the room was dampened by the pain that pinged in your leg. But soon enough, you were back into the open air of the Lanes. It was still early afternoon, not too busy yet, so you made your way up.

The new clothes felt both odd and good. They fit well, moved with you and you definitely caught some looks. But you kept your head down and made it to the Howl, and then to Entresol.

The bell jingled as you entered your taita's shop and those that glanced up looked you over a moment before resuming shopping. Again, it was pleasantly busy for the time of day.

“Ah, you're okay? Viktor came here looking for you.” Your taita guided you towards the back so you could talk.

“Yes, I am fine.”

“Did he find you? He was so worried.”

You did everything you could to hide the lance of pain that shot through you. “Yes. He did.”

She paused. “Something is wrong.”

“We‐”

“You had a fight.”

“Yes, taita-tii, a bad one.” You sank into a chair in the back storeroom.

“Ohh.” She sat on a stool next to you. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm going to try to talk to him again, but I wanted to make sure you knew I was okay.”

She patted your arm. “Thank you, my love.”

“I'm sorry I missed my day at the shop this week. I'll be back next week, I promise.”

“And we can use you, you see how busy we are!”

“I'm glad.”

You both sat in silence a moment. “Do you think you can mend it?” she finally asked.

It took you a few seconds to answer. “I don't know. I, the things that happened on the expedition, they changed me. I'm trying to figure out the life I want now.”

“Ah, binti, every time,” she put her hand on your arm. “Every time you go away, see someplace new, you come back different. You are a sponge. You breathe in all of these people and places and foods and experiences and they change you.”

“Taita, I-”

“No,” she put her hands on either side of your face, “I used to think it was a bad thing. That I was losing pieces of you each time. And that if I just held on tight enough, I could keep you as you are. But,” she spread her hands. “Look at you. You are beautiful and confident,” she took your arm, “and hiding an injury from me because you're worried of what I will think.” Her fingers tapped your brace. “I've provided enough ointments to people to know what this is for, but, it has taken me far longer than it should have to learn you cannot fight against change, you just have to figure out what current you want to be in the river.”

You pulled her into a hug, which she happily accepted. Tears came to your eyes. “So much happened, taita.”

“And I will love you, no matter what. Do you understand? If you became a, a dragon, I'd make sure your scales were shiny and your belly full.”

You laughed, though the tears still came.

“Will you show me, so I can help you with it?”

“Yes, but I have to go up top, I have to try to talk with him again. He's not happy with how I changed. I don't know if I can fix it, but I have to try and I have to do it while I still have the courage.”

You finally pulled back and wiped at your eyes. “But I promise I'll tell you all about it. I'm just not ready to have it visible yet.”

“Alright, that is alright.” She shifted around and pulled a few items from the shelves and put them in a bag. “Here, this is the good tea that he likes. Maybe it will help.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course my desert beetle. Now go talk some sense into that scientist.”

“I'll do my best.”

She walked you back to the front, gave you a hug at the door. “If you two do end up parting ways, then he is a fool and you can tell him I said so. He is still welcome in the shop, but, no more discounts!”

That made you chuckle and you made your way back to the Howl to go even higher. You'd done your best not to limp in front of your grandmother, but it was getting harder to avoid it. So you slowed your pace.

Finally you made it to the bridge. Afternoon was about to begin to turn towards evening, so you focused on your breathing, using a little more energy to dull the pain. You could feel the warmth in your runes, but so far the fabric covered any glow coming from them.

You were three blocks into Piltover when you got the slightest hint of a warning from your runes. It wasn't anything specific other than potentials. You turned to see an enforcer watching you in a way you weren't used to. Their eyes followed you as you walked down the street.

After another few blocks, with it happening again with a different enforcer, you realized you weren't dressed like a Piltie and you weren't walking like one either.

When it happened a third time you ducked down a side street and stepped into the spirit realm before they made it to the corner to check for you. They stared up and down the road before returning to what they had been doing before.

You glanced around, making sure there were no spirits to be worried about and then continued on from there. This was fine and might make it easier to get into the lab. You didn't know what you would say yet, but you had to get there first.

Fifteen more minutes and with a solid ache in your calf, you made it to the hallway that led to the lab. You were still in the spirit realm and stayed in it long enough to reach the door. Then you could look, but only one person was inside.

You doubled checked the hallway was empty and returned to the material. Then you knocked on the door and braced yourself.

“Hi!” Then Jayce's face fell and he pulled back, becoming more formal. “Hello.”

You had a hard time meeting his eyes. “Is he in?”

“No. And,” a breath, “I don't think he wants to talk to you.”

It hurt. This whole thing fucking hurt. “Jayce, I-”

“I don't think you should be here.”

Then you did look up. “Look, I'm not happy with what I did either, but I was trying to protect my friends.”

“You, you killed someone.” He looked over your face. “How could you do something like that?”

“He was hurting people, would have hurt more. I refused to let him keep doing that.”

“You,” he lowered his voice, “used your magic.”

“I did.”

“Out in the open.”

“Yes.”

He stood a little taller, “you shouldn't come back to the lab.”

“I-”

“No, I'm sorry, but no. Those things you said to Viktor, do you really think we're just daydreaming in here? That it doesn't matter?”

Fuck. “That is not what I said. I was questioning if the people who would benefit-”

“Stop. I,” he put a hand on your shoulder and you weren't sure if it made things worse or better. “I don't want to argue or debate. I'm not going to.”

You desperately wanted to try to get him to understand you, but you also didn't want that hand to leave. Some part of him was reaching out. How could you hold onto that?

You glanced past him, at the oh so familiar space, the table, the chalkboards. You paused at seeing a white smudge running down the entire right side of one, something messily erased. Pain cut into you, knowing what was gone. You let the words you wanted to say go and simply agreed. “Okay.” You weren’t sure it would make a difference, but you added, “I truly am sorry.”

He glanced down the hallway then quickly pulled you into a hug. “I'm sorry too.” And too soon it was over, he pulled back.

Yeah, it was time for you to go. You handed him the bag you were holding. “This is for Viktor from my grandmother. Is that okay?”

He nodded, taking the bag and then finally seemed to look at you, not just at the place you were standing.

“You look different.”

“I am different. Goodbye, Jayce.”

“Goodbye.” The door closed and you took a few steps before leaning against the wall. You weren't sure what to feel. Hurt, tired, should you search for him? Would that just make him angrier? He’d already erased the counting. Could anything you said come back from all of this?

You turned to walk back down the hallway when you heard it, the clicking. For the first time you felt fear from that sound. Your first instinct was to slip away, hide in the spirit until you were far from here, instead you stood where you were, waited for him to turn the corner, your heartbeat in your throat.

It took him a moment to look up, his mind lost in thought as it so often was. When he did he paused and you waited, quiet, hoping not to spook him.

Finally he sighed and continued towards you.

“Why are you here?”

You decided to try. “I was hoping we could talk.”

He more fully looked at you, his eyes going over your outfit, lingering on the vest. “Who gave you your new clothes?” His hand reached, almost touched the gold design. “Who made this?”

“What does that–”

He stepped closer. “Already they are pulling you in, rewarding your actions.”

You wanted that closeness, but the energy around him was frenetic, angry, you could feel it.

“You saved the life of a person with power, yes? You showed them you have power, yes?” He tilted his head. “Do you think they will let you go? Do you think you can just walk away from their world, even if you wanted to?”

“They’re my friends.”

“You cannot possibly be this naïve.”

“I’m hopeful. I want-”

”Yes, I know, and you are putting yourself and those around you in danger. Your clothes are an invitation, an expectation. They are going to fold you in and when you are tucked tight, when you are in luxury there, I want you to see if it is any different than the ‘great’ Houses you see up here.” He shook his head, “you threw pretty words at me before, stood on your high ground, but you are already changing for them. I have no interest in being a part of that or being with someone who is. That is my choice.”

He walked to the door and paused. “Is that enough words for you? Did this talking satisfy the compulsion to see me again?”

You tried to come up with something to say, but you didn't have anything.

“As I thought.” He gave you a curt nod. “Have a good day, Baron,” and walked into the lab.

You stood there for a long moment, then vanished from the hallway.

Chapter Text

You didn't really remember the walk back to the bridge. If your leg hurt, that also didn't register, or maybe it felt good, felt real, felt a little like you deserved it. A part of you wanted to fight that logic, but you were too tired. Then you were standing there, at that line. Ghosts of people walked past. You pushed a little more on your runes, sank a little deeper, and their presence dimmed until it was just architecture and river and a swirling night sky above you. You sat, watching the flow of the water.

You could throw your dagger in that water, go back to your apartment, take off your clothes, and put on what you knew. You could give him time- you could- you laughed. Who were you kidding? You knew who he was when he made up his mind. And some of his words were true. You had hid parts of yourself. You knew him and you didn't let him see the parts he wouldn't like. You knew, you- tears came again. What the fuck were you supposed to do?

For a while you just sat there, in pain, just feeling it, breathing, staring at the patterns in the too-green water of the spirit realm. It was a marvel to look at. You flexed your hand, feeling the desire to draw it come to you. But you didn't have any tools. They were at your apartment.

But if you went there, you'd stay there, you'd see so many things that were reminders of him. It would hurt even more, drag you further into indecision.

If you went to Silco you knew where the sadness, the anger, and the loneliness would take you. The opposite of pain, but you weren't ready for that yet. That would change you even further.

You-

You noticed the footsteps far later than you should have. On the Zaun side of the bridge, the large smooth salamander-like creature stood about 10 feet away, watching you. She was easily 15 to 20 feet long, had indigo and plum mottling to her skin that seemed to shift with her emotions. Two rows of darker, navy colored frills ran along her head and back. Small motes of that navy drifted off her frills with her movements. You had no doubt she was a creature of spirit.

Your runes gave you no warning of immediate danger, so you just stayed where you were.

“Hello,” you said.

She sniffed the air and took a step closer.

“Nila, right?” You held out your hand.

She took a few more steps, just enough to sniff your hand.

“It's okay.”

Finally she inched close enough to touch your fingers with her nose. It was wet and cold and her skin glowed a soft teal where you made contact. You also felt a warm buzz at the back of your mind. It wasn't exactly words, but you felt a greeting returned to you through some connection enhanced with skin contact.

“You saved me and the girl the other night, right?”

“Yes.” Again, it wasn't the word exactly, but the idea of it, like your brain was translating from another language.

“Thank you.”

She lifted her head and walked closer, so she could sit by you.

“You. Alone?” she asked.

You chuckled. “That's the question of the day.”

She tilted her head, not quite understanding.

“Sometimes. Are you alone?”

“No.”

You looked around, not seeing any others.

She glanced towards the fissures, “we live deep.”

“Why did you come up here?”

“You! You are here, on my side!”

“Ah, I am, aren't I? Do you like that?”

“Yes. Friend?"

“I would like that.”

“Good.”

She scooched even closer, to the point where you could rest your arm on her, which she seemed to be encouraging. You did so, letting more of your skin come into contact and the runes began to light up. She shivered a moment and then set her massive head in your lap. You could feel a contentment in her. The motes of navy drifted off of her and brightened when they made contact with your runes.

“You are spirit?” she asked.

“In part. You are spirit?”

”Yes, yes, my home.” She sniffed your arm. “Stars in your skin?”

You nodded, the intent of the action passing to her.

“And sad, you are sad.”

You huffed. “Yes, I am.”

”Why?”

”A friend left me.”

”Oh. Their spirit moved on?”

”No, just, no longer a friend.”

“I’m sorry.”

You patted her head, which she seemed to like.

“I lost a friend, on your side,” she continued, “like me, but your side. She was sick. I tried to help. But I lost her.”

“You can come over to my side?” Wouldn’t that be something?

“Yes, when moon is full, the wall between is thinner. But, your side is dangerous, we don’t go often. I’m glad you came to my side.”

“Are there no dangers here?”

“Not many, mostly out in the deeper water or in the dry rock tunnels.”

“What about in the warehouse, in the water, the green glow?”

Nila didn’t have any hair to bristle, but some shiver ran along her skin. “Someone called to Her. Her home is the deep deep of the salt water. A spirit was offered and her many arms are always open, always reaching. Me and you saved the girl, then you gave her the man. I felt her smile and leave. We are safe now.”

You thought of the kraken god whose following centered in Bilgewater, of the brief glimpses of the religious fever you’d seen.

Nila looked up at you. “Shh, think of something else.”

Your eyes fell on the river again and you thought through how you would paint it, what techniques you’d use now. Then your mind began to drift like the currents and you both fell into a silence, you sitting there and this giant salamander leaning against you, her head filling your lap. Maybe this is what Zaun had for a dragon. It was oddly comforting. You could feel her spirit, could get a sense that she was far older than you and connected to this place in a generation upon generation kind of way. Her soft presence kept your runes glowing, seemingly with just proximity. The Zaun rune glowed particularly bright.

After a while she lifted her head and tilted it to the side, as if listening to something, but you couldn't hear anything. Then she stood and sniffed the air.

“I go home. You,” she bumped your arm, “go too, back to other side.”

“Why?”

“Storm.”

Then you heard the rumble in the distance. A flash of lightning cut across the sky. How long had you been sitting there?

“Okay, that's a good enough reason.” You gave her one last pat, which she leaned into. “Will I see you again?”

“Yes. We talk more.” She gave one final huff and scuttled back into Zaun, quickly vanishing out of sight.

A couple of raindrops fell, on both sides, and you slipped back into the real world, almost bumping into someone.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you called and walked the other way, towards the undercity. You made your way to the Howl, not wanting to take that many stairs as the ache in your calf had well and truly set in.

You almost took it lower, almost gave in and went to him, but stepped off that large lift before the Lanes and made your way to the shop.

Your taita looked at you hopefully, but you shook your head.

You curled up in one of her old comfy chairs in the apartment above the shop. She busied herself with making tea. You could hear conversation drifting up from below.

“I thought you closed the shop for the day?”

“Oh, we have a weekly potluck with some of the other shopkeepers and such. It is nice.”

“I don't mean to keep you up here.”

She waved her hands at you, “It is not a worry. I will join them later. I want to make sure you are okay.” She patted your leg, “as you have another injury you hid from me.”

You sighed, “it will heal. It's well wrapped right now, so we,” you made sure to make eye contact, “are going to leave it alone.”

“Fine, fine, but your wrist, may I see that at least?”

You were too tired to argue so you brought it close, sang the notes and watched your grandmother's face as the metal shifted on its own so you could take it off.

“I have never seen such a thing.”

Her delight made you smile.

You unpinned the end of the fabric wrapping your arm and slowly unwound it, then set the fabric aside.

She set a stool by you and you let her take your arm. “By the stars, I have never-” she traced over the skin of your wrist. “The heat to do this,” she looked up, “was this the dragon?”

“No, it wasn't the dragon, she is a friend. I had a metal cuff that melted. Magic was involved.”

“Ho, I see why you wear the brace. I bet you-” She paused again to look up, “binti, your art! This is your drawing hand.” She brought your wrist up to kiss it, “I am so sorry, I did not know.”

“It,” you had to clear your throat, emotion rising with her care, “It's been hard. I've been relearning it. I'm not certain I'm ready to teach again, yet.”

“But you have exercises to do, yes? And you know how to stretch and keep the brace from rubbing raw spots?”

“I do. I do.”

“Well, I will get you ointments to help with the skin and joints. And,” her eyes trailed up your arm, “a balm to keep your new tattoos hydrated and healthy.” The last part was said with slightly forced politeness. She stood but you caught her arm.

“They’re not tattoos, taita.”

To that she paused, looking them over more closely.

It didn’t take much, you were in a room with someone you loved, the energy you needed was already there. A soft green and gold glow began to fill them.

“This is a wonder, but,” she worked the ointment into your skin. “It is a part of why he is gone?”

You nodded. “I used it in a way he didn't like,” you eyed her, “in a way you might not like.”

“There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

“I killed someone.”

She paused, her fingers resting on your skin.

“On purpose. He was hurting my friends and so I made him stop.”

Her gaze drifted to the side. “When ‘Vika wandered in here, bleeding, hurt so deep from the bridge… when the stories came in of the others.” Her grip tightened. “If I had been able, there would be a few less Enforcers up there.” She made eye contact with an intensity that surprised you. “There is evil in this world. We must do what we can to stand in its way. In the times before I was your taita, before your mother… well, I live down here and not there,” she nodded upwards, “because I know the anger these people feel. Zaun is my home, is your home.” She rubbed her thumb over the middle rune on your wrist, which had begun to glow blue. “It deserves all the power and protection it can get.”

Louder chatter and laughter drifted up from below again and she softened, her smile returning, that hardness sliding back below the surface.

“You know what, come, let's join them. I think it would do us both some good.”

You put your brace back on and rolled your sleeve down to cover it all. She made no comment on your desire to keep them hidden.

You followed her to one of the larger storerooms off the main shop. They all greeted her as she entered but the chatter dwindled as you appeared at the door.

“Ah, good, I was hoping you would be able to join us!” Fara got up from her stool and walked to you, pulling you into a hug.

Her greeting seemed to put the room at ease, though why it would have turned a little tense you were unsure.

“This is her binti by blood,” she motioned to your grandmother, “and mine by love. She designed all of the labels and is an artist. She just got back from a long trip, so I'm glad she could join us.” She gestured to the group. “These are friends, shopkeeps and such, and we look out for each other.”

“I am glad, taita.” You kissed her temple and let her lead you to a stool next to hers. Your taita wandered over to the food to make sure everything was in order.

“Hey, you were on that expedition, right, to, uh, Ionia?” One of the people in the room asked, younger, age similar to Jinx, must be the son of one of the shopkeepers.

“I was.”

“What was that like?”

A smile came to your face at the earnest interest and so you let the tale of it flow out, adding embellishments you thought would delight and dancing around the darker parts. Only a short time into the retelling, your taita came to sit by you. She seemed just as eager to hear the story again.

When you mentioned the railing in Zaun and how things can be more connected than people realize, the group in the room came even more alive. The conversation turned to Zaun, the good parts, the frustrating parts, the art and beauty, the different levels, the struggles they went through and what people were doing to make it better.

It brought warmth to your chest, and hope. You weren't thinking, it was close to instinct at this point, and from one blink to the next you could see the lines and connections between everyone in the room. The conversations were building a lattice work, something that would hold people together, increase understanding and trust.

Then your runes offered the slightest of warnings. The young man from before was staring at you, his head slightly tilted. You glanced down, your breath catching- your runes. A soft blue glow came from your wrist and green from just above it. Fuck. You shifted your arm lower, tucking it into your lap.

To the one watching you, you met that stare honestly, your concern there on your face. You shook your head slightly and returned to the conversation. To his credit, he didn't call you out and didn't ask about it.

“Oh! Have you heard? The Barons had a big dust up the other night!” One of the other shopkeepers, an older gentleman, rubbed his hands together, excited to share the gossip.

Fara sat forward, “Then tell up Mikos, don’t keep us waiting!”

“It was at the docks, between Silco and that other man, the tall one with the chemtubes-“

”Ceimic?” Fara offered.

Yes? I think,” he waved his hands at her, “I don't know all their names, anyway, they are saying a witch got involved! Can you believe it? They say she brought that storm into town and then drowned that Baron, Ceimic, in the river.”

Excited chatter filtered through the room, while you stilled and worked to keep your head down. Anxiety curled in your gut.

“That's quite a story,” Fara said, “but it is hard to believe. Who did you hear this from?”

He scoffed, “I’ll have you know I heard it from Teram, who heard it from Gomaz, who’s sister-in-law works for Madame Margot, and she said she heard from someone that was there. This witch, tall as seven stacked crates and surrounded by magic, green as a wild sea, appeared out of nowhere, seduced half the crew with her voice and then dragged that big man into the depths at his own dock!”

One of the other shopkeepers laughed. “Maybe she'll take out a few more.”

“Habah!” another one scolded her.

Your grandmother just slipped an arm into yours and gave it a squeeze, an odd smile on her face.

“It's not like they do any good,” another shopkeep said.

Fara put up a hand,” I will say that Silco has been good about bringing his daughter by-“

A series of boos sounded around the room along with more laughter.

“All I’m saying is, there’s one less Baron about,” Mikos said.

”What about the witch?”

He shrugged. “Maybe she was a servant of the kraken and dragged his soul back to Bilgewater!”

“Oh, don’t start with your kraken nonsense again!” someone else called out.

”I know what I saw!”

“Baaah, one bad storm doesn’t mean-“

“There was an unnatural green glow below us, as I have eyes in my head. The captain called for a volunteer, that someone sacrifice themselves, and you know what happened? One of his crew jumped right overboard, never to be seen again. Then that green retreated and the storm ended.”

A memory came, green below while you were in the water with Jinx. Nila growling at something in the water. And then her warning about it earlier. You sighed. You had traveled the world and it still was such a large place, had so much you didn’t understand. At least it had retreated, whatever the reason. And Ceimic was gone, so he couldn’t call for it again.

”You think she’s real?” The young man from earlier had shifted to stand beside you.

“Eh, I’ve been a lot of places. I’ve seen a lot of things. I think it’s entirely possible. You?”

”It’s a bit of a tall tale. We rarely get wins like that without it costing us more.”

His eyes were already so haunted and sad for someone his age. But you could see it in the faces of many. Pain was such a strong undercurrent to the spirit of those here.

“We can’t count on an outside force, it’s up to us,” he tapped your shoulder, “to help each other.”

“On that I agree.”

“Good.”

You huffed at his bravado. “I don’t think I caught your name earlier.”

He shook his head, “no, you didn’t.”

”Alright, alright, mister rough and tumble. But, you’re not ready for the power I have at my disposal.”

”Oh yeah?” He puffed up and glanced at your arm.

You tapped your taita on the shoulder, “Taita, are you not feeding this boy? He is skin and bones! Is there more food? He must still be hungry.”

”Ah, my desert beetle, you are right! Come,” she put a hand on his shoulder, “we must get you another plate of food,” and began to lead him back towards the large spread of pots and dishes and pans still healthily loaded.

That got him to smile, to laugh even, as he let your taita herd him away.

He offered a little salute to you and you responded with a small bow.

For a brief moment, you felt okay, not great, but not sad, just, pleasantly existing in a room with other people seeking conversation, commiseration.

Fara put a hand on your shoulder. “It is good to have you back.”

”It is good to be back.”

“Will you come to more of these?”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

”Good. That will be good.”

Tiredness from the day caught you in a large yawn and you excused yourself for the night. The question that followed you, that was growing louder, was whether it was worth it trying to hide, not just the runes, but who you were now. The people still talking below wanted a better Zaun. Could you help with that while holding some part of yourself back?

You got up early and helped your taita make breakfast. It was something you hadn’t taken the time to do in a good while. Fara joined you both. Taita made the flat bread, you tended the eggs, and Fara had already been cooking the beans. When she made them, she always got up early so they would have the proper time to simmer. The two older women conversed in Shuriman and you were happy to be included, as you rarely got to use it. The lilt and flow of it brought a smile to your face.

The smells, the chatter, the laughs and the three of you moving about the kitchen made for a wonderful morning. Then you dressed, back into the green, blue and gold vest. You looked at it again, enjoying the lines, and fit. You liked the person you saw.

You helped the two women prep the shop for the day and then headed topside.

After a quick stop at your apartment, doing your best to linger only as long as it took to gather what you wanted to grab, you left with your basic set of tools for your art and any notebooks about the runes.

Next stop, for which you steeled yourself, the lab. You stepped into the spirit choosing the quieter path to them. The sky was clear, the day bright, and the other spirits moved about as normal.

Finally there, a place you had loved with people to match, you stepped out of the spirit long enough to leave the stack of notebooks by the door, press a hand to it for a moment, and then knock, but you were gone again by the time anyone made it to the door. You even used the runes to give you a little extra speed so that you couldn’t hear or see who came to the door, even if it made your calf more sore.

Back outside you took a few larger breaths. OK, that was done. Now you had a choice. It was still early in the day and you glanced towards Zaun. A nervousness curled in your gut so you headed deeper into Piltover. Were you avoiding going back? Maybe, a little, but you had one more person who you needed to talk to.

“What happened?” Mel stepped up to you and took your hands in hers. An added warmth came from them to which your runes warmed in response, an external greeting and an internal one. “Are you okay?”

“Yes and no. Have you spoken with Viktor or Jayce?”

She pulled her hands back. “I have, but I know heightened emotions are involved and the truth will be somewhere in the middle. I’m glad you came to talk to me.”

You stepped up to the edge of the terrace. It really was a beautiful view. “I got involved in a conflict in Zaun. The friends I’ve made there needed my help. So I went, and I used my magic, openly, to save their lives. To do so I took a life in,” you looked at your hands, “a very visceral way. I did not want to, I just couldn’t see-“ you paused, knowing the truth of it, “in the brief moment I had, I chose death. I did save lives, but I am uncertain of the broader consequences.”

Mel stepped up beside you, but remained quiet.

“Many know of my magic now and that knowledge will spread. The life I saved using that magic is one of the leaders there, an industrialist. It took time to heal him. When Viktor finally found me, I was at his place, recovering, gods” you wiped your face, “what it must have looked like. He was already so angry. And I, I hesitated to share all of it. I just, I didn’t know how to fit it all together. I thought I could, but I was still tired, and I’d been shot, I-“

”You were shot!” She immediately turned towards you.

“Yes, in the leg, I’m okay. I’ll heal.” It still twinged with pain, though much less than yesterday. “But I couldn’t understand why he didn’t understand. I got angry, I said things that were mean. He, it was too much for him. I've changed, and the person I’m becoming is not one he’s interested in. That’s,” you forced a large breath through you, “his choice.”

”Jayce was hurt by your words.”

Anger curled in your stomach, ”Viktor didn’t relay what I actually said, he-”

“-heard what he wanted to hear, to be able to end it?”

You sighed and nodded. “I said they were dreamers and that they want to be heroes. But, can I ask you something?”

She nodded.

“If Piltover gets ‘put on the map’, what does that mean for the people of the undercity? That’s what I was trying to ask. He was angry at me for using my magic and so I challenged what he was doing with his. I know he’s from Zaun, I wasn’t trying to-”

”Not a single person has asked that.”

You looked at her, “what?”

Her gaze was on the horizon. “We’ve had dozens of meetings, if not more, big and small. Not a single person has thought to ask that.” She looked to you.

”Was a single person from the undercity there or had interests there? Could anyone from Zaun even have the resources to be considered for a meeting?”

Her brows drew together in frustration. ”This is business, this is innovation, progress.”

”I know, I know. Believe me Mel, I do not have any answers, I barely have the questions to ask. And it’s uncomfortable, it challenges things. And I know,” you took her hands, “I know Jayce and Viktor are going to do wonderous things, but they’ll do it for those that can pay for their tools and lab. They can’t do it on their own. They, gods, I love them both, are brilliant and driven and-“

"Naïve.”

“Yes. I am so glad that they have you. That you were the one to believe in them. If you don’t want to be my friend any more, I understand, but please watch over them, help protect that dream. Fuck, what did I do?” Tears came to your eyes and you tried to pull away, but she held on.

”Do you regret it, the actions you took?”

You took the time to think about it, to really go back over it. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused Viktor and Jayce. I could have handled myself better. But no, that night on the docks?” you met her gaze, “not one second of it. It was a terrible thing, but I will protect those I care about. And,” your focus shifted past her, “I know what I am capable of. My path must be forward.”

Something warmed in her touch, her magic assessing, communicating with yours in a way you couldn't quite put into words. You heard a chuckle.

You looked back at Mel, who had a smile on her face. “What?”

”You do realize you are just as dramatic as they are, right?” She took a larger breath. “None of this is easy. It’s taken me over a decade to learn this political landscape and how to navigate it.”

She met your eyes and offered care and understanding. “Come on, I have a meeting soon, but I would like to spend a few more minutes with my friend.”

”I would like that too.”

“To be clear, I am not absolving you of your actions and I do not want details, but I’ve interacted with all of the other House leaders and very few of them care as much as you do, about anything other than their own wealth or status. The passion I see in you is, it helps me. I live my life up here,” she gestured to Piltover, “perhaps it's time I learn more myself. Will you share with me what it is like in the undercity? I want to know.’

“I would love to, truly.”

“And training?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached to hug you and you happily accepted.

“I’m sorry your relationship is over.”

“Me too.”

“What will you do next?”

“Go see how much trouble I got myself into with the Barons.”

Chapter Text

You stood outside of the Drop, watching people come and go. It was early evening, activity just picking up. You had your art supplies in the bag over your shoulder and your sleeve rolled up to reveal your brace and arm, with no other coverings.

You took three steadying breaths and approached. The door opened to more activity than last time. The music and conversation was louder, the atmosphere rowdier, and still you could tell the moment you were recognized as people slowed, conversation dimmed, there was a collective curiosity, which was broken by a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, I knew that would look good on you.”

“Ran!” You offered a hug, to which they hesitated at first, but then smiled and accepted it. “How is your hand?”

They held up a fully bandaged right hand.

“Oh gods, I'm sorry, if I had-”

“No, you don't get to feel bad, your healing was exactly where it should have been. Though if you've got some energy in you later, I wouldn't say no to some, it itches like a mother.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Come on, he's been waiting for you.” They led you towards the stairs. "There's something that needs resolving before the meeting.”

When you got to the door Ran knocked and cracked it, “she's back.”

Whatever they heard, they opened the door, let you enter and followed after.

Silco sat at his desk, his shirt on, but no vest. Sevika stood to his right. Both of their demeanor seemed more neutral than you expected. Then you realized Ran was a step back and to your right.

“What's going on?”

“There is a meeting of the Chembarons in two days. You will be expected to accompany me so that you may affirm you actions at Ceimic's warehouse. We are speaking now in an official internal capacity to determine what you wish to say.” He motioned to Ran, “Ran has agreed to be your second should you have a dispute with me.”

“What? Why would I-”

Ran put their left hand on your shoulder. “It's alright. This is just a conversation. Though, when in the larger meeting, do not cut off a Baron if they are speaking.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Please continue,” you said to Silco.

“Several nights ago the Chembaron Ceimic initiated hostilities with me. One of mine, Ran, sought out your help, to which you agreed, yes?”

“Yes”

“And when you arrived, you took actions to save the life of my daughter Jinx.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“You also facilitated the release of those under my employ.”

“Yes.”

“You then chose, of your own volition, to challenge Ceimic for a cessation of hostilities, including my release.”

“Yes.”

“When he asked if you were mine, what did you say?”

You thought back, much of that night was hazy from adrenaline and stress. “I think, something like, ‘I'm whatever I have to be to stop it.’”

Silco sat back, releasing some of the formality. “This is the crux of it. You, very clearly, were responsible for the final direction and conclusion of events. You killed Ceimic in a way that claimed responsibility. Your statement, while dramatic, leaves his question unanswered. Had you affirmed that you were mine-” he held up a hand, “in the way of choosing to act as a part of my organization to support me, then his holdings and assets would fall to me. This becomes a conflict between the two of us with myself as the victor.

However, if you are a third party, not connected to me, then Ceimic's assets fall, by initial right, to you and you could attempt to claim his place at the table.”

“What! I, no, I didn't mean for-”

Silco stood and came around the desk. He leaned back against it and held out his hand.

You slowly extended yours so he could hold it.

“I know you didn't mean for any of this. I know that, somehow, with no expected gain but continued friendship and with your own life to lose, you swung the tide of a conflict and took action so bold that there exists the possibility of one person, acting on her own, to claim a seat of power among the most powerful of Zaun. You do not have to take it, but I want to make sure you are aware and consider it.” He huffed, “a decent number of his would actually prefer it.”

“The woman with the purple hair.”

He nodded.

“I wouldn't even know where to start, wait,” you looked to Ran. “Why are you-”

They shrugged, “You weren't the only one to change in Ionia. No offense boss,” they nodded at Silco, who nodded in return, “but if you strike out on your own, I want to be your second.”

“I really don't have that much power. So much of that was bluff. I was scared shitless.”

Silco huffed. “I think you will find that a surprisingly common experience.”

“So I will be expected to clarify the intent of my actions to the other Barons so everyone can figure out what to do with Ceimic's holdings and people?”

Silco nodded. “Normally a single claimant with no one to back them would be quietly dealt with, but you pose a unique challenge.” He gestured to your arm.

“They're afraid of my magic.”

“Yes. The story is spreading and it grows with each telling. They will seek to befriend and manipulate, as a first option.”

“Otherwise, I can just say ‘I am yours’?” You felt the slightest heat hit your cheeks.

“You need not phrase it like that. ‘Acting on my behalf’ would suffice.”

You tried to think about it, but it all felt like too much. A Baron? Then you laughed, though it had a bitter aftertaste. Viktor had been right yet again. No. You tried to turn away from that anger and the pain that rose up to follow.

“Hey.” It was possibly the softest you'd ever heard him speak. “I know it has been an eventful series of days. You do not have to decide tonight.”

“Eventful,” you chuckled, but with true mirth this time, “says the man with stab wounds in his chest.”

“True.”

After another few breaths, you finally looked back up. “What did he want? I mean,” you gestured to Silco's chest, “besides the obvious?”

“Ceimic? A land grab, I suspect. Getting what I control would connect his disparate, if still substantial, holdings. Shimmer, too, it's out competing his own, substances.”

“It's a drug, you don't have to dance around it. In fact…” An idea came to you. You squeezed his hand and stepped back, taking a more formal posture. A glance at Ran and they retook their place at your side.

“Alright then, Silco.” You nodded to him and he stood straighter, eyeing you with uncertainty.

“Explain it to me, fully. What is your dream for Zaun? And if I were to hand over Ceimic's assets, how would they fit into that dream?” You crossed your arms. “Convince me.”

Silco's mouth dropped slightly open for a second before closing. His lips turned up into a grin. “I would love nothing more.”

He started slowly, almost stilted, as he worked to put his ideas into a cohesive presentation. It was clear he was used to these words tumbling around in his own mind, but rarely given breath, given life as something that had to stand on its own. It was built on so much anger and so much pain and into that darkness he poured his passion, his love, his need for something better, even if that required the violence so often accompanying the birth of something new.

And he could see it so clearly, the long tumble of steps that climbed upward, that brought his people into the light. The pitfalls of the past sat as both deep scars and open wounds to be explored, the anatomy of failure, the age-lines of success.

You watched this man pour his heart and future out at your feet. Perhaps for the first 30 minutes, maybe as much as an hour, he held his composure, treated you as an equal, met your stated farce of withholding Ceimic's land. But as time passed, he wove you closer. He wanted you to hear it all, everything he wanted for Zaun, for its sons and daughters, for Jinx, for the taitas, for you.

He never shied away from the blood already on his hands, or what was to come. He'd be both butcher and midwife if it would lead to freedom.

Only then did he speak of foundations, of the stone under your feet and what lined the fissure walls, how he knew which buildings in Piltover would last and which would crumble in only a few decades, because he knew whose lives went into carving out that rock and stone. He shared what he knew of generations past, of his parents and theirs, of the ebb and flow of the people in and out, though, always more in, always more in. It was harder to climb out. Gravity claimed lives in moments and over decades.

He brought out maps, some decades old that had been drawn and redrawn, with hundreds of notes in a dozen different handwritings. For brief moments you caught him lingering over a few, his finger tracing a word as if he were tracing the skin of its writer.

You could see it in Sevika's smile, that this was the man she followed, regardless of what he paid her. Less so in Ran, they watched you, saw to what you needed, though you were still confused as to why. What did you have to offer compared to the man planning a revolution?

And yet.

After two hours the both of them stepped out and returned with a meal for the five of you, as they also returned with a blue-haired teen who was happy to join the group.

That interest lasted twenty minutes into Silco's continuation of his ideas before she wandered off.

Finally fatigue, Silco's speech got just a tad slower, his hands went to his chest more, he gave up leaning against the desk to sit on the corner of it. You didn't need the sight to know he had worn himself out, for you.

His fingers rose again to the higher spot on the right side of his chest and you stepped closer, just at the edge of his personal space.

You lifted your hand, “may I?”

He let his own hand fall away and nodded.

You shifted a step closer and gently slipped a hand under the fabric of his shirt so you could touch skin to skin. Your runes began to glow as you pulled power into them. He was healing well, but still had a little bit to go, and more than that, trauma lingered for longer in the body. Dorima had taught you it hid in many places, because the body thought it still needed to retain the knowledge of the danger. It didn't want to repeat it so it asked the muscles to remember, it asked the skin to remember, it asked bone to hold the memory, a tightened jaw, a twist of the gut, narrowing of breath, remember.

You could heal the wounds, physical damage was clear to see, insistent, visible. It was harder to reach the echoes that wandered the body like ghosts, haunting.

You eased the pain, you returned more of his body to what it was before the knife struck. He sat a little straighter. Eyes relaxed as the pain eased.

You let your hand linger when you were done.

“Thank you, that is,” he breathed more deeply, “helpful.”

It was then you realized you two were alone, Sevika and Ran having left, though, you huffed, you could see their spirits in the hallway. They were far enough not to overhear but close enough to assure your privacy.

“Ran would make a good second, if you did wish to pursue it. Though, the Barons are a ruthless lot. To rise to that position here, you have to be.” He looked you over. “I'm uncertain you-”

“I know.” You kept your hand on him, stayed close. “I-, I'm not even sure what to say. Other than thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

His hand shifted ever so gently to rest on your hip. “There are few who ask. What do you think?”

“I think it will take me a while to fully understand. And,” you would always try for honesty with him, “as long as they understand the risks, I would support those who follow you. It's a difficult thing to consider, but the action must be something Piltover cannot ignore.”

“Ceimic's resources will help.”

You laughed, which made him smile.

His gaze drifted to your arm. “Will you tell me about your magic?”

“Yes, but-”

“But?”

“I hope you don't mind a small delay.” You found it hard to meet his stare as heat began to fill your cheeks.

“That depends on the delay,” his tone held curiosity.

You glanced up, your gaze drifted past his lips, then to eyes growing hungry as he began to suspect your intent.

“Viktor is not a part of my life anymore.” Saying it brought the pain back to the surface. Your runes dimmed, lost their glow, but you pushed through. “My future is mine alone.”

His other hand came up to cup your cheek. “You don't have to be alone tonight.”

The middle rune on your wrist began to glow blue and you brought your hand up, traced along his cheek. The moment you gave even the faintest tug he leaned forward, eager, his lips meeting yours. The kiss was soft at first, a celebration of touch, of mutually met desire.

His grip tightened as he pulled you closer. The kiss deepened, his tongue pushing in, greedy, as if he could feast on your touch and smell. And you met that desire. Something you'd held back for so long raced to the surface to rake your nails along his scalp and nip at his lip.

He breathed a moan into your mouth and you drank it up and wanted more.

You wanted this man to be feverish for you, to make him call out your name and pant and beg for your touch. You shifted your kisses to line his jaw, worked towards his ear. You pulled that soft flesh into your mouth and he shivered, his grip tightening. Then you kissed lower, along his neck, to where it met his shoulder and you bit down. He almost buckled, having to lean further on the desk.

Pulling back, catching your breath, you reached back up to take his face gently, stare into those eyes, enjoy the way he looked at you as if you were a flame and he a light-drunk moth.

You offered the softest smile and said, “I want to fuck you, Silco.”

He pulled you to him, desperate, kiss frenetic and gasping. “Where, how? Tell me.”

“Couch.” What thought you retained chose an option that you hoped wouldn't stress his wounds too much.

He pushed off the desk into you for a moment, stealing another kiss before leading you to it.

“Sit” you said as you worked off your vest, your boots, your pants. Then underwear. You knew your shirt was long enough he couldn't quite see anything. You set a knee to one side of him, intent on working at the buttons of his pants, but his hands found you, tracing up the inside of your thigh, finding the place of your second heartbeat and pushing a finger in.

The unexpected feel of his finger inside you stalled your movement and drew out a gasp. For a few moments you were distracted by those fingers. He added a second and then curled them, searching. A flash of pleasure pulled a moan and he chuckled.

You tried to get your brain moving again, reaching for his pants. He let you settle your knee on the other side of him, but that only brought him closer, gave more strength to his hands, gods his hands. You almost gave in, almost settled your head on his shoulders and let his fingers have their way.

But. A breath. You drew power into your runes, the green and gold joining the blue. A small shift, your hands taking his jaw, your lips finding his, kissing gently, softly, then growing bolder. He almost had you panting but you just poured that desire back into him, down his throat with each moan and kiss.

His hands slowed and you could breathe, could shift your hands down, find the buttons, pull the fabric back and wrap your hand around his cock, so hard, so ready, tip dripping. Your grip tightened and his hands paused completely, his own breath catching.

“Yes. Please.”

The pre-cum, slick, you ran it over the head, drawing large circles over and around that oh so warm part of him. You relished it, your hands feeling him, pushing, pulling, making his breath catch, speeding his heartbeat.

You settled in, finding the right angle, lowering yourself enough to rub the head of him along that line of you that was already so wet. You stayed in that moment, feeling his cock push against but not quite in. This, this is what you wanted.

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek. He stared up at you, watching, a softness to his gaze, a smile on his lips. He brought a hand up to mirror yours, his fingers light against your skin.

Slowly, you lowered, keeping eye contact with that sea blue eye. Your weight pushed him into you, inch by inch. Occasionally you'd lift up, to then lower more, sinking, sinking into pleasure, bringing him into you until, body humming with pleasure, he was as deep as possible, almost too much, but you seated yourself anyway.

He watched you from a half lidded eye, mouth open, drawing in heavy breaths, hands gripping your waist, trembling.

“I want you,” you said.

“You have me,” he said.

You kissed each other, something full of longing and grasping and need. You didn't want to be anything other than you, right there, enveloped in the smell and taste and feel of him.

And then you moved, drew the long line of him almost all the way out to then sink back down and that quiet moment cracked down the center and a molten desire poured out of the both of you. He whined, desperate, wrapping his arms tight and flexing up as much as he could to meet your motion on and around him.

You sped, driven by pleasure, and maybe a little pain, if you let yourself see that out of the corner of your eye. Pain and anger and frustration and grief, burn it away, let the pleasure clean it out of you. Let the man before you so full of passion and fire and vision, with his own pain and his own grief, dance in that flame with you.

Your gold flashed brighter, small lines of it arcing away. You could feel an energy cycling through, like breath, feeding off of the pleasure where your bodies met and then flowing around you. Blue motes blinked in and out of existence, your hextech runes a blaze of cobalt glow at your wrist.

You and he sped further, want and pleasure and power driving you. He panted. You panted. Spikes of pleasure washed through you with every rise up and every drop back down. And he met your every drop with a push up of his hips, driving him as deep as you were able to take him.

This.

Him.

Yes.

Fuck yes.

Him.

This.

“Silco.”

“I'm right here. I'm right here.”

You could see the cliff on the horizon. Coming. You reached a hand down, but he stalled you, taking that hand and bringing it up to kiss it.

“Hold on, more.”

You pushed yourself, legs starting to shake, but you held on. He used more of his hips, held you in that moment of building pleasure.

You tried to pull your hand from him, but he gripped tighter. “Hold on. More.”

It was there, it was so close. You let out a yell, but kept going. The world seemed to rise higher around you. Pleasure, power, breath, your heart pounded in your chest.

He set your hand on his shoulder and reached his own fingers down, taking a little of your wetness to then circle your clit, but slow, too slow, so close. You panted, trying to angle more into it.

“Look at me.”

And you did. And his fingers sped, and the world crashed down around you. You let out another yell and tensed, leaning back, your orgasm an electric overload through your body. And he fucked you though every second, holding on just long enough to push towards too much. But his own yell came as he did, stuttering, holding you tight to him.

You laid there, your head nestled into the crook of his neck and his into yours, both breathing heavily, hearts a drumbeat in your chests. Your mind drifted blissfully silent, your body a pleasant static of afterglow, the soft pinks at the end of a sunset.

He brought his arms up to hold you and you slipped yours around him to do the same. And in that delicate moment, you let yourself be happy.

Chapter Text

Lips against your skin, a kiss placed just above your shirt collar where it hung loosely on your shoulders. Silco wrapped his arms around you from behind as you both stood in his bedroom, staring at his window.

You'd both cleaned up enough in his office to not have your actions immediately recognizable, but Sevika and Ran clocked you both anyway, sly smiles on their faces.

You'd been able to properly clean up and shower and followed him to his bedroom. The sounds of the bar were dimmed by distance, but still there, a white noise of activity you could make out if you focused on it.

“It was almost beyond my hope that I would be able to hold you like this.” He kissed a little higher on your neck.

You happily leaned into his touch.

After a moment you turned to face him, reaching to hold his cheek. You saw the slightest hesitation as you looked him over. He'd cleaned up too, and had washed his face, revealing the amount of make-up he wore to conceal the extent of the scarring around his eye.

You took the time to appraise it, letting your sight show you the injury. A deep seeded well of red infused the eye and was trying to flow both deeper and further out. It was no doubt painful most of the time. The eyelid was gone and the outer layer over the eye had hardened. It was an old wound, set in and wanting to fester.

“You use shimmer, that's what's in the injection?”

“Yes. It eases the pressure and the pain, keeps it from spreading.”

You shifted your hand to sit just outside the scarring and let your runes fill with power. “May I see if I can help?”

“You think you can?”

“I don't know. It is decades old, but maybe.”

He nodded.

Slowly, carefully, you let your power seep into his skin, you tried to see what the body remembered, to peel back time. But you met a wall of hate and rage and fear woven through and buried deep. So instead you looked more to the edges, to where the scarring met smoother skin. There, it wasn't a lot, but you could ease the tension and peripheral pain, at least. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “yes, that-” his other eye closed and he took fuller breaths, “that is good.”

“I'm sorry I can't do more.”

He chuckled, “says the woman who saved my life,” he opened his eye to look at you, “who saved my dream.”

With your runes active you could feel the depths of his emotion. It almost scared you, but you pulled him to you, meeting his lips in a kiss. It inspired you to be bolder.

The kiss lingered, a certain longing in it. When it ended he remained close.

“Thank you,” he said.

“I'm here because I want to be. I can't say there isn't a mix of feelings, but you're not a second prize or a fill-in for what I lost. I do and have cared for you. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

He kissed your cheek. “I know.”

“And I'm still figuring things out. I have to find a new rhythm to my life. I'm not committing to being here all the time.”

He kissed your other cheek. “I know.”

You chuckled.

“Yes?” he asked at your amusement.

“I'm overthinking.”

“It's what you do when you're nervous. Next you'll apologize for something, and then, my favorite part, you'll smile and offer a kindness to try to smooth over a perceived misstep.”

A large if somewhat bashful smile spread across your face.

“Ah, there it is. Only this time, when I see it, I can do this.” He pulled you to him, your body against his and your lips to his, in a kiss that quickly deepened. The heat of his mouth, his tongue, his breath warmed your core. Whatever pressure you'd let off before, was beginning to build again.

His desire drew a soft moan from you, which caused his fingers to tighten against your skin. But he broke the kiss to just breathe against you, some restraint cooling the moment.

He pulled back enough to work at the buttons of your shirt, which hung loose over your pants. Once done he slid his fingers under, pushed it back and you let it fall, then your bra.

Eager hands traced over your skin. They lingered on your scars as he inspected each one. “These are punctures, not from a projectile, but something pushed through, an irregular edge. Ionia? How did you survive?”

You realized he didn't know about the Void.

“Yes and magic. There,” you tried to put it all together. “Dominic Brighton, the head of the expedition, he-” you shook your head, “before that, have you ever heard of Icathia?”

“No.”

You led him to the bed so you both could sit down.

“3000 years ago…”

You shared everything you knew. The ancient city of mage kings, how they were subjected by the Shuriman Emperor, how they reached for an unknown power for their freedom, how that power betrayed them and tried to devour everything, did devour everything, that that power, that Void, still existed, was still hungry. That Brighton found a piece, his hatred of Noxus, his plans for the expedition.

Where Silco had laid out Zaun's past and his plans for it, you spoke of your numerous expeditions and Ionia, what Brighton wanted to do and how you stopped him and how that led to the injuries you had, as well as the magic now in you. You told him about magic, your understanding of it, and how your runes worked. At no point did you mention Mel or give too much depth into hextech.

“I'm a part of it now. I understand, to an extent, how the spirit and material realms interact and that places of imbalance will lead to conflict, suffering, and death. I made a promise to remember Ionia and to protect the balance wherever I am. I can see it, Silco, see what drips from Piltover when it sleeps and what falls to fester in Zaun.” You paused, deciding if you should talk about the painting.

“There's something more?” he asked.

“There is another danger, a more tangible one. A piece of the Void is in Piltover, trapped in a painting. I'm working on a way to destroy it. We have some time, but it is something that must be dealt with. If it got a hold of enough power it could tear apart and devour both cities. Fortunately, there's not much magic here, so it stays dormant,” you looked back up at him. “Does any of that make sense?”

He took your face in his hands. “Yes, I think so. You are a mage, you are powerful. You would risk death and will kill to protect that which is important to you. This path will eventually lead you away from here, as your power grows. So I will relish any moments you give to me.”

“I-”

“You've eagerly traveled the globe just to see something new. Don't tell me you won't go when you are actually needed elsewhere. I am not so foolish as to believe I am the last life you will save.”

“No, I-”

He kissed you.

“Life isn't fair, but you are one of few people I've ever met who is willing to fight to make it more so. I do not want that to change, do you hear me? This, who you're becoming, embrace it, dive into it. If there is some way I can help, just say the word.”

This time you reached for him, initiating the kiss and quickly deepening it. He eagerly rose to meet your enthusiasm. Hands worked at clothes, fighting buttons and buckles, until you were both, finally, deliciously, naked. You kept enough thought to not remove his bandages, though you desperately wanted to feel all of his skin against yours.

You climbed back onto the bed and he followed, settling in on top, letting his weight rest down, pushing you into the bed. It was wonderful, the feeling of him, lean muscle on a lithe frame. He had more scars than you, you could feel them as you ran your hands along his arms and his back.

He kissed your cheek, along your jaw, down your neck where he stopped to bite and suck and draw blood to the surface so it would leave a mark. He kissed your chest and then found a nipple. There he spent a considerable amount of time. Kissing gently, sucking, taking the tip between his teeth once he'd given enough pleasure to drive it into a little peak. It sent sparks of pleasure through you, occasionally catching your breath. Then he moved over to the other. That attention pushed your pulse lower, caused you to clench your core in anticipation.

Finally he moved onto your stomach, then lower. He sucked a hickey into the inside of your thigh before settling in between your legs. He studied you, licking and nipping and using his nose to rub into you.

You let your head fall back and simply enjoyed the attention. He pushed his fingers into you again and began to figure out what brought the most pleasure. Three fingers made you moan the loudest. He delayed any attention to your clit until you were already twitching from his fingers buried deep. But then he did and you called out his name and that stirred something in him.

His attention intensified, driving you to your orgasm, pleasure spilling up and out of you. He climbed back up quickly, greedily, nuzzling you while teasing his cock at the inner line of you.

“Say my name again.”

“Silco.”

He pushed in, insistent, hungry, diving into you already so wet. The push along the sides, the depth he could reach, he moaned wantonly into your mouth as he kissed you.

His heart beat against your chest, his breath fanned your face and your body responded eagerly, squeezing around him as you said his name again.

He practically growled as he pulled out and pushed his cock back in again, and again, and again. He stayed close, touching as much skin as he could in order to lose himself in the feel of you.

Your hand went to his face and you felt him let go of, something. Some uncertainty, some hurt, something deep he'd been clinging to. The pleasure of you, the realness and solid presence, he poured himself out. Lips and teeth and tongue, he kissed and bit and tasted the sweat on your skin.

You let yourself relish in it. It almost felt like worship, like your body was a temple into which a devout follower tried to give you everything you wanted. Is this what power feels like?

He slowed, as if he'd heard those words. A gaze gone soft to pleasure refocused on you, met your eyes.

“You like this.”

“Yes, of course.”

“No, I mean, you like me like this.” His thrusts became sharp, insistent. “Needy, impatient. You like that you're the cause of my moans, of my pleasure.” He bit and sucked again on your neck, leaving another mark.

You smiled. “I do.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “Good.”

You closed your eyes and the feel of him consumed your awareness. Pleasure pulsed each time he hit deep, and echoed when he'd pull out just enough to have to fully push back in. He sped, his breath growing ragged, so you slipped a hand in between you. He did not stop you this time, instead leaning close so he could feel and hear your reaction as you brought your orgasm up and over. Then he sped further and his own sparked through him.

You both lay there, breathing heavy, hearts pounding.

He nuzzled you one more time before pushing himself up and off to lay beside you. Green light from the window shone on both your bodies.

Peace, you felt at peace and desired and your runes began to glow as your connection to the world around you grew stronger. You could feel him, of course, but also Sevika, Ran, others you recognized below in the bar and many you didn't. If you let yourself fall more into it you could get a sense for those passing by in the street outside.

Silco leaned in to kiss your shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“The people in the bar, I could tell you who's down there,” your voice came a little breathy.

“Could you do that before?”

“Somewhat, but not as clearly, not without having to look.”

“See,” he kissed your neck, “you will get more powerful.” He shifted closer and kissed your cheek.

“And if our recent activities affect it, I am more than happy to see that it is a regular occurrence.” He ran a hand over your stomach and then shifted it lower.

“How could you possibly have the energy to go again?”

“Perhaps you inspire me.”

“Or?”

He chuckled, “or I'm bluffing and desperately hoping you won't call me on it. Who knows.” His lips met yours softly, an enjoyment of warmth and presence. After a moment he pulled back.

You shifted closer and he wrapped an arm around you.

“What do I do next?” you asked but more to express the question than seek an answer.

“That's up to you to decide. I just hope it includes sleeping next to me tonight.”

“Yes, I think it does.”

“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me,” the purple haired woman sat across from you at a Cafe on the Promenade level. Sunlight bathed everyone in the street and only the covering over the outside patio kept it from making you have to squint.

Several of Ceimic's crew stood around, but at a respectable distance that allowed you to talk.

“I'm sorry I didn't catch your name earlier.”

“Ruwan, I was Ceimic's bookkeeper.”

You studied her just as much as she studied you. Tea sat steaming in front of you both.

“Why meet up here?”

“I preferred some place more neutral than the bar owned by the possibly soon-to-be largest landholder of the undercity.” Her eyes shifted to the side beyond your shoulder. “And I like to be able to see the river.”

Her focus settled back on you. It held an intensity that made you sit up straighter. “Silco has explained the situation?”

You nodded. “That my actions have opened the possibility that I could take Ceimic's place as a Chembaron, managing his assets as my own.”

“And did he try to sway you in that decision?”

“No. He offered his opinions, but has made it clear the choice is mine. Though, do you want me to be? Is that what this meeting is about?”

“We want you to be fully informed to be able to make the decision for yourself.”

You sat back, and finally took a sip of your tea. It was decent, but your taita made better.

“Look. Just speak plainly, please. All of this posturing is exhausting. I am Silco's friend and am friends with several of his crew. One of them asked for my help that night and I gave it. I had no plans for anything other than keeping the people I care about safe. I'm sorry my actions have caused this much upheaval.”

She leaned forward. “Well I'm not. Ceimic was,” she considered her words, “caustic, full of himself, ambitious but growing stagnant,” she said the last word as if it was the greatest offense. “You've been to Bilgewater, yes?”

“I have.”

“Then you have some understanding.”

You eyed her, “I'm not sure I do.”

She reached forward and placed a bronze pendant with a green leather cord on the table. It was shaped like some sort of octopus.

“Do you know what this is?”

Oh yeah, you definitely did. You did not reach to touch it. “You're a servant of hers?”

The woman nodded. “If you are to take his place, then we have much to discuss. If you are not, then I have a simple request. But regardless,” she gestured and one of the others placed a canvas duffel bag beside you.

“You are the one who decided the night, you killed him. So, by our rules, not some Baron's in a foreign city, certain items are yours.”

You took a moment to adjust your vest. “And this? I did not ask Silco to do this.”

“In that, his traditions aligned with our own. It fits you well. But as to other items of Ceimic's, we did not wish to leave that up the the Barons’ discretion.” She motioned to the bag.

You loosened the draw string. Inside were his guns, a sword of some sort, a few journals and several bundles of cloth. Oh! You pulled them apart a little and realized one of them was a flag.

“He has a standard?”

She nodded. “One that allows safe passage to Bilgewater and a docking slip.”

You eyed her, “does he have a ship?”

She chuckled, “I knew it was right to speak with you. Sadly no, he sold it to start his venture here. But he spoke of owning one again. Though,” her eyes took on a sadness, “I watched him set roots, become landbound. His devotion to the Great Mother waned and so she sent you to bring her lost son back to her.”

Belief was powerful and could be dangerous. Those that served the Great Kraken were fervent.

“You see me as having done her work.”

“Tell me you are not a wanderer, a traveler, that the world beyond does not beckon. Tell me change isn't an ever present force in your life and that you seem to embrace it every time you have the chance.” She slid the pendant towards you. “You see more in the stars than others do, hear more on the wind, feel more in the rolling of a deck beneath your feet.”

“But,” you consider your words carefully, “I'm not a follower.”

“She doesn't ask for belief or worship, she asks for you to be doing what you already are, taking the path that leads you forward. You need not ever display or show it, but it is her gift to you, like calm seas with a light but steady wind. Stormy seas are also hers, when she seeks to challenge, we all experience them both. You may carry it without fear.”

She reached to take your hand. The moment her skin touched yours you distinctly began to smell the salt rich air of a wild sea when you were far beyond any sight of land. “Silco is entrenched here. He is,” she turned your wrist and traced a finger over the rune for Zaun, “as bound to this land as this rune is to you. His spirit is tied to it, blossoms under it. Some people are suited to such things. I'm sure he will be adequate in managing what Ceimic had. But you could take it and do… anything.”

A larger breath moved through you. “Or it could tie me down as much as him. I'm not a leader, I just do what I can, but there are other things I need to do.”

She offered a small smile and pulled back, taking that sense of freedom of the open sea with her.

“Yes. I see that now. You're not there yet. There is still much pain to go.” She sighed, “it was worth asking.”

“I am sorry.”

She waved a hand. “Choosing your own path is the point. What's in that bag are just potentials, follow as you will.”

You thought over the last few days. “You are right, Silco is a part of Zaun, but he does have a dream for it. He wants to move it forward. He wants change. I do think it would be worth it to ask him about it. Forests and canyons and prairies and mountains hold their own beauty, have a heartbeat like the sea. He might be worth your time.”

A large smile spread across her face, accompanied by a look of satisfaction.

“You care for him.” She pointed towards a hickey on your neck.

Your hand came up to rub at it. “I do.”

“He is exceptionally lucky.”

You cleared your throat. “You said you had a request?”

She leaned forward, her interest becoming keen, almost predatory. She tapped the lowest green rune on your arm. “Look at me.”

“How do you know-”

“Look, and you'll understand.”

You realized you hadn't even thought to look before that point. So you did, a glow coming to the rune and richer colors coming to your sight and the woman before you was covered in deep green markings only visible to the spirit. They looked like glowing tattoos of seaweed and tentacles and creatures that swam in the deep. Her eyes were almost black.

Your heartbeat picked up. “What are-”

“As I said, a servant, lured by promises of riches and adventure, and then soul-tied to this fucking ledger.”

She placed it on the table and you could see a black and red thread made of spirit, woven around the book and then those threads led to her chest to be sewn into her flesh. “I am bound to follow the owner of the ledger. I understand it as a challenge from My Lady, and I merely ask for your assistance. In this liminal time before the meeting, this belongs to you. So I ask that you free me, so that I may make my own choices for my future.”

The implications of it. Someone could be bound to a thing, to a person? Magic could exert that level of control. You paled, probably more.

“What do I need to do?”

“Simply hold the pendant and break the thread. You will be recognized and obeyed.”

Your hand drifted towards the pendant and ever so gently you picked it up. The roll of an angry surf on a distant shore rumbled in your ears. Waves marched across endless miles, storms raged, animals of immense proportions swam in the deep and a large beast circled at the base of a golden tree. You had to fight for breath while your runes warmed in response.

You looked to the ledger and it, in some way, looked to you, a holder of more than writing. Your other hand reached and as it did you grew a phantom claw from your finger, pointed and sharp. The thread hummed with power, oh the things you could do with this level of control over another.

The moment that thought hit, you raked that claw down the ledger, drawing a jagged line in its surface and breaking the thread. The wind around you picked up, the smell of the sea returned and suffused the space enough that others at the cafe looked around.

The woman in front of you sighed, relaxing back, and something larger unfurled around her, some essence, some power. It flexed and reached, like a cat stretching, before tucking itself neatly away. In another moment the woman looked to your sight like any other, a still surface hiding its mysteries.

You set the pendant down and your runes went quiet.

Ruwan breathed deeply. “My future is mine.”

“Are,” you swallowed, your throat dry, “are there any others?”

She smiled at your question. “None so deeply bound. But thank you for asking.”

“What will you do now?”

She pondered it. “My first thought is run naked through the streets, but I'll see what Silco has to say and will make sure the transition goes smoothly. Eventually,” she looked at the river, “I'll return to the sea. Some will come with me. Many will stay. There were only a few true believers left.” She looked back to you. “If you ever want to go on an adventure, find me, I'll happily come along.”

“Okay.” Cause what else did you say to some kind of sea witch you may or may not have freed from some kind of bondage to go on and do who knows what. This was not how you thought this conversation was going to go.

One thing you did notice, the scrape across the front of the ledger was real. A thin jagged line now ran down through the leather. You traced a finger over it.

“Thank you.” She reached again to take your hand and this time it was just a hand, just a fellow human making contact. “I do think you would have done well. Not that you would have fit in with them, but maybe, in the future, you can start something new? They won't reign forever, no one ever does.”

“Why did he care if you killed the Baron?” Jinx sat on the edge of a railing facing a particularly long stretch of the Lanes. She had her crayons and paper and you had the same, though a larger pad of paper. You were both doing your best to draw what you saw before you, or at least your interpretations of it.

“Well, taking someone's life is a serious thing. Some swear to never do it and most are never in a position where it is a decision they'd have to make. Some people feel that it is wrong, an evil that should never be done.” You sighed, “I think life is too complicated to draw lines like that.”

“But he was a scumbag and he deserved it.”

“I do think Ceimic set into motion the events that led to it. But ‘deserve’ is a powerful judgement. Maybe it is more, he walked the path to it. But even those we would call evil probably have someone who cares for them, someone who doesn't see them that way.”

“Does Viktor see you as evil now?”

You paused, green pastel coloring the hand that held it. “I don't know, he might.”

“Does that hurt?”

“Yeah, it does. It hurts to lose the ones we love.”

Her own drawing slowed. “Yeah, it does.”

You put a hand on her shoulder, “but I'm glad we're friends, and I don't regret what I did, not for a second.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Have you lost anyone else?”

You nodded. “My parents, years ago. I was a little younger than you. A bad storm hit our village in Shurima. It destroyed most of the homes and killed many. I still remember them, but it's hazy. My taita then brought me here, to Zaun.”

“I like her shop.”

“Me too. Has Fara done your hair for you recently?”

“She keeps asking. I might do two braids next time.”

You held back a chuckle knowing that Fara would want to do much more than that. The wonders she could work with hair, of which, yours was getting a little longer, maybe you'd ask her for something more elaborate next time she was available.

“I had a family.” Her drawing pad sat in her lap where she'd flipped to a new page. She drew repetitive circles, in blue. The motion seemed a reflection of her thoughts.

“They,” she took a breath, “they died on the bridge.”

“I'm so sorry.” Silco wasn't her father? Well, no, he was her father, you corrected yourself, but she’d had another family?

“I don't remember much. They were miners. Everyone was a miner, I think. My sister-”

She froze, the circles stopped. Her eyes looked down, but didn't seem to be focusing on anything.

She crossed an “x” through one of the circles. “Do you have a brother or sister?”

“No, it's just me. But you had-” shit, she hadn't talked about a sister before, you'd never seen anyone else around. Fuck, was she dead or- what do you say-

“I,” she crossed out another one of the blue circles. “I had a sister. She's dead.”

“I'm so sorry.” You scooched a little closer, offered to put an arm around her and she eagerly moved to take the space you offered, pressing along your side, leaning in under the weight of your arm. She kept the pad in her lap, began to fill in the remaining blue circles.