Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The forest was humid, thick with shadows, the moon offering only gleam of light through the canopy above. Caitlyn eyes the moon seeing its crescent shape, almost wincing at the light. Her breath came in sharp bursts as she continued to sprint between the dense trees, the weight of the hunter’s presence pressing on her like a noose tightening with every step. Her dark riding cloak spreading behind her, catching on branches, but she refused to slow down, she can’t. The faint scent of silver lingered in the air—more of a warning as potent as any. Caitlyn is thankful enough that her, being a creature of the night, gives her the ability to run as fast as she could from any form of danger, but she hates the fact that it’s also the very reason that puts her in this situation. She starts to feel her legs burn with each stride she makes, but the insistence in her veins pushed her forward, the path ahead swallowed by the thick shadows. Caitlyn’s heart hammered in her chest, louder with each pulse and yet she couldn’t risk slowing. She needs to stay alive.

A sharp crack rang out, the unmistakable sound of a rifle discharging, and she ducked instinctively. The bullet hissed past her ear, embedding itself in the bark of a nearby tree with a dull thud. She takes a note on that, as her sharp eyes caught a glint of movement in the distance – her assailant, shrouded in black, moving with precision and purpose. This was no random act of violence. This was execution. Fear slowly creeped in her blood, but she shakes it off as she ran faster, her own shadows unable to reach her. The forest around her was alive with unseen eyes, but she only focused on the space before her, the patch of moonlight she aimed for—an escape, a hope.

Caitlyn twisted her body, her cerulean blue eyes now drowned in crimson. “Coward” she hissed under her breath, her voice sharp and full of venom. “How dare you use a gun against me?”

The hunter emerged briefly in view, rifle raised, aiming. Caitlyn’s instincts screamed at her, and she darted to the side, but it wasn’t enough. Pain exploded in her shoulder as a silver bullet tore through her flesh, the impact sending her stumbling into a nearby tree. She bit back a cry, her fangs exposed as agony surged through her like fire. Her breath caught, and for a brief moment, fear threatened to overwhelm her. No. Not yet.

She pushed off the tree, using it to steady herself, her fingers curling into claws. The inflicted wound already draining her strength; she felt the poison from the silver coursed through her veins, clouding her usually sharp reflexes. But Caitlyn Kiramman wasn’t raised to give in.

With a growl, she spun around, her other hand drawing a slender dagger from her belt. The silver blade gleamed faintly in the moonlight –an ironic twist, she thought, that the very weapon humans used to kill her kind was now her best chance at survival. The hunter eagerly fired again, the shot missing by mere inches as Caitlyn hurled the dagger with lethal precision. It struck the rifle, knocking it from the hunter’s grip. Her opponent cursed and drew a sword, but Caitlyn didn’t wait for him to recover. Summoning the last reserves of her strength, she launched herself at him, with a swift move, claws extended, fangs bared.

The two clashed in a violent flurry of strikes and dodges, her movements a mix of desperation and deadly elegance. Her injury slowed her unfortunately, but she still managed to land several brutal blows, forcing the hunter onto a defensive stance. She recognized his skill—he wasn’t just any hunter, but someone trained to take down her kind.

Another burst of pain radiated from her shoulder, weakening her grip. The hunter perceived this and exploited the opening, delivering a punishing blow to her abdomen that sent her sprawling to the forest floor. She gasped, clutching at her wound, her vision blurring. She took note of the hunter’s strength, definitely not human. It can’t be. But she chose not to dwell on the lingering suspicion.

The masked hunter loomed over her; sword raised for the killing strike. “You should’ve stayed in your gilded cage, Kiramman” he sneered.

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered to the ground; her hand reached for a jagged rock she spotted. Mustering every ounce of her willpower, she snatched it up and threw it at his face. He stumbled back with a cry of pain, giving her just enough time to roll away and scramble to her feet.

The hunter cursed behind her, but she didn’t look back. Every step sent waves of pain through her body, the poison in the silver bullet spreading faster than she could manage. With a burst of inhuman speed, she launched herself back into the trees, weaving through the dense foliage to evade the enemy.  She could feel her strength waning, her limbs heavier. But the thought of her family—of her mother’s steely gaze and her father’s calm assurance—drove her forward. She needs to get home.

As she ran, the air felt unmistakably familiar, and she realized she was nearing their estate. Her sharp senses picked up a faint rustle of leaves and the snap of branches ahead. Caitlyn slowed, her instinct sharpening. Then she saw it—a stag, standing in a moonlit clearing. Its wide eyes locked in her; it’s breath visible in the cold night air. It’s as if the stag itself was hypnotized, it stood firmly waiting for her approach.

“Forgive me”, she murmured, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

She lunged.

The stag was hopeless, it didn’t have time to flee. Caitlyn’s fangs pierced its neck with precision, and the warm rush of blood flooded her mouth. It wasn’t human blood—it would never provide the same strength—but it was enough to keep her alive. The wound on her shoulder pulsed with fire, but as the stag’s life drained away, she felt only a fraction of her power returning. Her shoulder still throbbed in protest, but there was no time to linger in agony. Caitlyn withdrew her fangs with deliberate care, allowing the creature’s body to crumple at her feet. She rolled her shoulders, drew in the frigid air, and lifted her head to soak in the moonlight, blood trickling from her lips. She was, beyond doubt, a creature of the night.

Her crimson eyes, returning to mesmerizing cerulean blue, almost calm but not quite. The cold ground beneath her was the first thing Caitlyn registered as consciousness returned in shuddering waves. The woods were eerily quiet now, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. She blinked, her vision swimming, the faint glow of lanterns from the estate walls just visible through the crowded woods. So close, yet impossibly far.

Pain still rippled from her shoulder where the silver bullet had torn through her flesh, the poison spreading rapidly. She knew her legs were giving up on her, and her senses are still dulled. She couldn’t move any further. Not like this.

Then she heard it—a faint crunch of footsteps on the forest floor. Caitlyn tensed, a low growl rumbling in her throat. Was it the hunter? Catching up on her and returning to finish the job? For the first time, in that very moment Caitlyn allowed fear to overcome her. She felt the poison even more as she laid on the ground. Caitlyn held her breath, despondent but when the figure came into view, it wasn’t her assailant.

Pink hair. That’s the first thing that registered. A woman, came in second. Tall and lean—the woman approached her cautiously through the trees. She froze when she saw Caitlyn in full view, her gaze dropping to the blood staining Caitlyn’s clothes, and pooling on the ground around her. The stag beside Caitlyn is kind of a give away too.

“You’re…” the woman started; her voice steady but tinged with concern. She stepped closer, crouching a safe distance away. “You’re hurt”.

Caitlyn hissed instinctively, baring her fangs, as she drew back from the figure. Yet her pain betrayed her, and she winced while blood continued to seep from her wounded shoulder. The woman was unbothered and didn’t recoil. Instead, her eyes widened slightly, recognition flickering across her face. “You’re not…human” she murmured, more to herself than Caitlyn. Of course, Caitlyn heard it. Caitlyn’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “And you should run.” Her voice was rasp, each word costing her. Her fangs slowly retracting, and it’s not helping; her feeble way to intimidate the human was disgraceful.

The woman didn’t move. Instead, she set down the bag she carried and pulled out a small knife. The woman’s eye’s hovered over her wound, with a glint of concern. “You’re bleeding, wait—let me help” Caitlyn examines the human who was now again busy looking for God knows what in her bag. The woman looking intently at her wound once again, brows knitting. “That’s silver, isn’t it” not a question.

“You know too much” Caitlyn answered.

“Enough to know you’re going to die if I don’t help” she said evenly.

“I don’t need your help!” Caitlyn growled but it came out less frightening.

“You’re clearly not in good shape miss, stop wasting time, let me see your wound” The woman was persistent.

Before Caitlyn could protest, the woman knelt beside her, her movements calculated but gentle. Caitlyn flinched when the stranger touched her shoulder, peeling away the blood-soaked fabric to inspect the wound. The silver bullet glowed bright under the moonlight, pooling dark veins around it. The silver bullet was definitely lodged deep, the skin around it blackened and oozing.

“This is bad,” the woman muttered. She glanced at Caitlyn, her expression determined. “I need to get the bullet out. You won’t heal until I do”

Caitlyn scoffed weakly; her piercing blue eyes locked on the stranger. “You’re either brave or a fool,” she remarked.

“Probably both,” the woman replied with a faint smile, meeting her gaze for the first time—shimmering gray eyes seeing deep ocean blues.

She worked quickly, heating the blade of her knife with the small match she got from her bag before pressing it to Caitlyn’s skin. Caitlyn hissed in pain, her claws digging into the dirt, but she didn’t resist. The stranger whispered something to Caitlyn—something she couldn’t fully focus on—then added, “Name’s Vi.” Catilyn’s vision was clouded but Vi’s attempt at distraction seemed to be working. Her hands were steady as she dug out the bullet, her movements precise despite the urgency. Finally, with a sickening squelch, the silver projectile came free.  

“There” the woman said softly, tossing the bullet aside. But the wound continued to bleed profusely now, the silver’s poison still encroaching. Vi looks back at Caitlyn who was now eyes closed, but still with ragged breathing. She hesitated for only a moment before she made her next decision.

“I’m going to regret this,” She muttered. Then, looking Catilyn in the eye, she added “You need blood to heal”. Caitlyn’s body froze. Her instinct screamed yes, but her mind rebelled.

“No!”, she rasped. “I don’t—Look I’ll be fine, just leave!” Caitlyn gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing with that same sharp, regal determination that had been there from the start. As she spoke, her vision blurred, she felt the venomous burn of silver in her veins, crawling towards her heart.

“I don’t know how you’re still able to refuse and talk, you need blood—human blood…It’s the only way.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered, and for the first time, she looked genuinely vulnerable. “I don’t drink blood from humans.” Her voice was firm but frail, and her lips trembled as if the very idea repulsed her. “It’s against everything my family believes. We’ve learned to adapt.”

Vi’s lips tightened. “So, you’re just gonna die on me then?” She shook her head, trying to clear the frustration clouding her mind. “You think I want to do this? I’m not offering my blood to save some vampire princess I just met.” 

Caitlyn’s gaze softened, and despite the sharpness in her features, there was a flicker of gratitude. But that quickly toughened again as she shook her head. “You don’t understand Vi. And it’s Caitlyn by the way. We’ve survived this long by not depending on humans. We don’t—” she felt the poison’s sting again.

“Well, you’re going to die Caitlyn if you don’t let me help you” Vi snapped, her voice louder now, raw with tension of their back-and-forth. She reached for the silver bullet wound again, but Caitlyn recoiled with a sharp gasp, the pain is consuming her. “I’m not asking, Caitlyn. If I don’t do this, you’ll bleed out here. I’m not leaving you to die in the woods. Not like this.”

Caitlyn’s chest rose and fell erratically as she fought against the weakening pull of the poison. For a brief moment, she considered fighting it. But the pain was excruciating, her body refusing to cooperate. And Vi, Vi was persistent.

She stared up at Vi, her voice strained but firm, “If you do this, there’s no turning back”

Vi leaned in, her face a breath away from Caitlyn’s, the weight of their words hanging in the air. “I know. But if it’s going to save your life… then you better drink” Vi pulled her blade once more, and sliced a shallow cut across her palm. Blood welled up instantly, rich and crimson. She held it out to Caitlyn, her expression unreadable. “Take it, you’ll die if you don’t” Caitlyn looked away, avoiding the temptation.

“Your code won’t mean much if you’re dead.”

Caitlyn hesitated, now searching Vi’s eyes for any sign of fear or hesitation, any trick. But she found none. She saw only determination and something else…something warm.

Caitlyn’s resistance wavered as the poison spread further, her body trembling with the effort of staying conscious. For a long moment, she thought about refusing, about the rules her family had instilled in her—how they had survived for centuries by maintaining their distance from humans. But none of that mattered now.

She was dying. And Vi was offering her the only lifeline. The woman leaned closer; her voice softer than before. “You saved yourself with a stag earlier, didn’t you? But that’s not enough. Take my blood instead, please”

There was something in her voice—earnest, almost pleading—that broke through Caitlyn’s resolve. With a shaky exhale, she nodded. The woman held out her hand, and Caitlyn took it, her fangs growing and piercing Vi’s skin gently. The moment Caitlyn’s fangs broke the skin, the flood of warmth and vitality rushed into her, pushing back the cold, the poison, and the suffocating grip of silver. The taste of human blood was overwhelming, richer and more potent than anything she’d consumed in years. Strength began to flood back into her limbs almost instantly, the poison retreating as her body healed. Vi’s pulse raced, but she remained still, focused on Caitlyn’s need for her blood, feeling the soft pressure of Caitlyn’s bite as the vampire drank.  

For Vi, it was a different experience, she felt…strange. This wasn’t how she imagined being part of something like this. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny the connection between them as Caitlyn’s strength slowly returned, her breathing easing. Caitlyn pulled away after a moment, her lips stained with Vi’s blood, her face flushed with renewed Vitality. Her fangs now retracted, and her eyes softened in a mix of disbelief and gratitude. She wiped the blood on her mouth with the back of her hand, as she looked away.

“I..” Caitlyn’s voice was barely a whisper. “I didn’t think…I never thought I would do that.”

Vi’s gaze was steady, her voice calm yet serious. “You didn’t have a choice.” Vi tore a strip from her shirt and carefully wound it around her palm.

Caitlyn gazed at Vi’s palm, where spot of blood was slowly staining the white cloth. Caitlyn’s fingers gently brushed over it instinctively, feeling the warm. The guilt, the struggle, the pride—it all weighed on her heavily, but at that moment, none of it mattered. Vi had saved her. She would live.

“I’m sorry…for this.” Caitlyn shook her head, her hands still holding Vi’s. “I don’t know how to repay you” she continued, finally lifting her gaze to meet Vi’s.

Vi chuckled as she withdrew her hands free, rubbing her palms. “You don’t. But next time, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to get yourself killed in the woods.” Vi rose to her feet and offered a hand to Caitlyn. Caitlyn took it. She realized her limbs had returned to normal as she stood swiftly. “I’ll… try to avoid that.”

Vi offered a sly grin. “Good. Because I don’t plan on making this a habit.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn’s room echoed with the sharp, deliberate sound of footsteps resonating off the high ceilings. Each step was slow yet determined, a quiet intensity filling the air. The faint metallic tang of blood lingered, weaving through the vast expanse of the room, its presence distinctive. Caitlyn gracefully shrugged off her cloak, its heavy fabric whispering against her as she draped it carefully over the back of a chair near the grand window. She paused there, her eyes drawn to the world beyond. The moonlight had already vanished, swallowed by the approach of dawn. A pale glow edged the horizon, casting long, uncertain shadows across the room as the first fragile hints of morning began to seep into the night.

Caitlyn slowly undresses, clothes discarded on the floor. Her body aches even with the faintest actions. Exhaustion gradually spreads over her limbs but she shakes off the feeling of any form of weakness. The first few drops of water kissed her skin, sharp and biting, like fine needles piercing her delicate surface. A burning sensation spread across her flesh as the icy torrent cascaded over her, each droplet intensifying the fiery sting. Her body reacted instinctively to the pain—crimson began to bleed into her irises, consuming the cerulean blue, while her fangs slowly emerged, a primal response to the torment coursing through her.

The sound of water cascading filled the quiet of the bathroom, its rhythm steady and soothing against the tension coiled in Caitlyn’s muscles. Caitlyn stepped out of the shower for a moment, steadying herself as sudden flashes came over her. Steam rose, curling against the frosted edges of the vast mirror, blurring her reflection into something unrecognizable. She leaned against porcelain sink, her pale fingers gripping the edges tightly, the coolness grounding her in the present. The faint traces of blood still lingered beneath her fingernails, despite her efforts in scrubbing them clean. Not her blood—Vi’s. The memory flashed like lightning: warmth of it, the rush strength, and the unshakable connection that had come with it. Her crimson eyes stared back at her from the mirror, their usual sharpness dulled with exhaustion. Her shoulder, though visibly healed, still ached slightly, as if her body hadn’t fully forgiven her for allowing a silver bullet pierce it.

“Pull yourself together,” she muttered under her breath, her voice hoarse.

Another flash of light disrupts her mind, flashes of memories came afterwards. She tries to fight it off but she couldn’t. Not with the strange, invasive sensations continued to swirl in her mind. They weren’t hers—memories, emotions, fragments of another life clung into her like shadows. A fleeting image of a young, laughing girl, a lady with blue hair and bright blue eyes.

Vi’s sister.

The name came unbidden, rising from a deep, subconscious place. Caitlyn’s breath hitched as she stumbled back from the sink, her hands trembling. This wasn’t the first her abilities had surfaced, but it had never been this…intimate.

Her gaze dropped to her shoulder, where the hunter’s bullet had torn through her flesh just few hours ago. The bullet wound that had been a gaping, poisoned hole was now a faint scar, barely visible against her pale skin. The blood she’d taken from Vi had worked incredibly faster than she expected, it was more than she’d ever experienced—too fast actually.  She pressed her hand to her shoulder, feeling the taut, unblemished surface beneath her fingers. Normally, the healing would have taken hours, maybe even days, given the silver. But the blood...Vi’s blood.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched at the thought, her throat dry, the taste of it still lingering faintly on her tongue. It wasn’t just sustenance. It had been potent; unlike anything she’d experience before. The strength it had given her in the woods had been immediate, flooding her body and burning away the poison like fire.

The water still ran, and Caitlyn forced herself to turn away from the mirror, ignoring the lingering fragments of memory. She once again, stepped under the scalding spray, letting it cascade over her as if it could wash away the remnants of the night: the hunter’s taunts, the poison in her veins and Vi’s steady hands pulling her back from the edge. She’d rather drift her mind to someplace else, her own memories.

______________

She hadn’t made it far before her legs gave out. As much as Vi’s blood revitalized her, it’s not enough to give her the strength to bring her back to her usual condition. The forest floor was cold and damp beneath her, her vision swimming. She hears the steady beat of a heart and pulsing veins beside her. She’s wasn’t alone.

“Caitlyn, stay with me…we’re almost there” Vi’s voice had cut through the haze, firm yet gentle. Caitlyn had looked up to see the human crouched beside her, her expression a mix of concern and determination. Vi was clearly persistent and robust.

“You’re annoyingly persistent,” Caitlyn had rasped, her voice dry. Her throat still thirsty.

“And you’re ridiculously heavy for someone so regal- looking” Vi had shot back with a smirk to lighten up the mood, and to keep Caitlyn conscious.

Together, they had stumbled toward the estate gates, Vi supporting most of Caitlyn’s weight. The remnants of the poison still coursed through Caitlyn’s veins, a dull ache radiating with every step. Yet, she could sense its hold gradually loosening, the pain beginning to subside, though her strength remained fragile.

The guards at the gate reacted instantly, weapons drawn as their eyes locked on Vi.

“Step away from Lady Caitlyn!” one of them barked, his sword glinting in the moonlight. Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t release her hold on Caitlyn.

“Really nice welcoming bunch you’ve got here” she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Caitlyn felt Vi’s strong arm begin to loosen their hold, the steady support fading. For a fleeting moment, she almost missed the comforting pressure, the strength that had been holding her steady.

“Stand down” Caitlyn had managed, her voice weak but commanding still. “She’s…with me”

The guards hesitated but eventually obeyed, lowering their weapons. Vi’s gaze lingered on Caitlyn as the guards moved to help her inside.

“Looks like you’ve got a whole kingdom tucked away here” Vi had teased, glancing up at the towering walls and ornate gates. “Real princess vibes.”

Caitlyn had managed to let out a dry laugh, even as her vision blurred “You’re insufferable.”

___________

Caitlyn turned to her face into the stream of water, letting it drown out the entrancing echo of Vi’s voice. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the human. Not now.

But the sensation was far way stronger than her effort—the feeling of something more than gratitude. Something profound. Soulbind, it’s what her ancestors called it, it’s what her father taught her, and what her mother warned her about, the special ability tied to the long successful lineage of the Kirammans. Soulbind had tied her to Vi in a way she didn’t fully understand yet, and the thought terrified and intrigued her at the same time.

It wasn’t just strength that Vi’s blood had given her. There were fragments of something more—faint whispers that didn’t belong to her.

Her hands twitched involuntarily, mimicking a motion she didn’t recognize at first. A flick of the wrist, a turn of the blade. She opened her eyes and stared down at her hand, flexing her fingers. The motion felt natural. Familiar.

She blinked, and suddenly she was there—in Vi’s shoes. Her fist connected with a sickening thud against the skull of a man lunging toward her, the force of the blow rippled through her arm. It felt real. The raw strength, the precision of the strike.  Was this a memory—or had she momentarily borrowed a skill? —vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Caitlyn breathless. She opened her eyes, seeing the fine fracture splintering across the wall where her knuckles had struck.

She titled her head, catching faint sounds outside—the shuffle of boots on the gravel path below her window, the whisper of the wind brushing against the stone walls. Her senses sharper than before, heightened even beyond her usual vampire acuity. She could feel the pull of the world around her, the rhythm of life itself. Her body felt lighter, her reflexes faster—almost as if Vi’s resilience had merged with her own. She moved her arm experimentally, testing the shoulder where the bullet had pierced her. There was no pain, no stiffness. She swung it forward, mimicking the motion she’d seen in the memory, and the precision with which her muscles obeyed startled her.  It was as if her body now carried traces of Vi’s training, a faint imprint of her skill.

“What have you done to me?” Caitlyn murmured, half to herself and half to the phantom of Vi still persistent in her thoughts.

Caitlyn’s pulse quickened as emotions hit her next: a fierce protectiveness, an overwhelming sense of duty, and a tinge of guilt that Caitlyn couldn’t decipher.

The blood had worked its way into her very essence, leaving pieces of Vi behind—her skills, her memories, her emotions. It was disorienting and unsettling, but it also left Caitlyn curious.

As her skin began to adapt to the water now lukewarm against her skin, Caitlyn stepped out, wrapping herself in a thick towel. She wiped at the fogged mirror, her reflection slowly reappearing. This time, she met her own gaze, her ocean blue eyes back and renewed with determination. She stared into her reflection, seeing something deeper—uncertainty.

The effect of Vi’s blood wasn’t just physical. They were intimate, personal and dangerously close to breaching the walls Caitlyn had spent years building around herself.

She hated how much she owed this human. She hated that she had needed Vi’s help in the first place and yet… she couldn’t deny the strange comfort that had come with her presence. Vi had been more than resourceful; she had been brave, steady and selfless. Some traits most humans lack.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, breaking her own gaze. “It doesn’t mean anything… it will wear off” she told herself, though words rang hollow. Her thoughts drifted back to the woods—to the way Vi had stayed with her, despite the danger, despite the odds. A human, of all things, had been her savior. And now, a part of that human remained within her, threading its way through her blood, her body, her mind.

A knock at her door pulled Caitlyn from her thoughts. A servant’s voice called softly from the corridor. “Lady Caitlyn, your mother requests your presence.”

“Can’t it wait in the morning?” No response, only footsteps shuffling then fading.

Her hand brushed against her shoulder one last time, and she felt the faint hum of vitality beneath her skin—a gift she hadn’t asked for but couldn’t return.

As she dressed, the fragments of Vi’s memories flickered again, unbidden and persistent. The face of the auburn-haired girl, swing of a knife, the faint teasing lilt in Vi’s voice: “Real princess vibes.” Caitlyn shook her head, pushing her thoughts aside as she headed to her bed. But deep down she knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore them for long.

____________

Another faint knock at her door pulled Caitlyn from the depths of her thoughts. Bright light seeps into the giant curtains in her room.  Sleep eluded her, no matter how tightly she wrapped herself in the heavy blankets. The enormous bed, once a sanctuary she barely noticed, now felt impossibly vast and hollow. It hadn’t felt this empty in years—and yet the emptiness weighed on her like physical presence.

Thoughts haunt her the rest of the night, it had been intoxicating. Her body was healed, restored but it wasn’t just her body that was reacting. She let out a sharp exhale, her mind turning to the other kinds of blood she was accustomed to. Animal blood. Cured human blood. Substitutes. None of them had ever come close.

Caitlyn's remembered the stag. She had grown accustomed to drinking animal blood over the years, a routine born of necessity rather than indulgence. Her lips curled into a faint grimace at the memory. The metallic tang of deer or wild boar blood was always laced with an earthy, raw undertone—never pleasant, merely tolerable. It was survival, not satisfaction.

Shutting out the memories carried in the blood had always come easily to her. Animal thoughts were weak, and far too feeble to breach the strong barriers she had built in her mind. Yet she could let them in if she chose to. The memory of one such moment lingered—a rabbit, trembling and fragile, dying in her arms. She had consumed its blood, the warmth fading even as it coursed through her. That night, the flood of fear and helplessness from the creature's final moments haunted her, as she cried to sleep for days. She had been so young then, her innocence unscathed by the world’s harsher truths, and the weight of that moment had settled deeply in her chest. Even now, the memory of its tiny heartbeat fading against her hands lingered like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake.

Caitlyn licks at her lips, her thoughts drifting to cured blood. Hexvitalis. Her family’s cultivation of ‘cured’ blood. It was extracted from willing donors—humans who were compensated handsomely in secret—and then processed to remove the essence. This innovation was a creation of her family’s legacy and enhanced by the growing House Talis’ technology—Hexcore. The cured blood was safe, clean and entirely devoid of vitality. It satisfied only hunger—without the risk, without the guilt. But it was hollow. Caitlyn often likened it to drinking flavored water—a pale imitation of what real human blood could offer.

She had lived her entire life consuming cured blood, following her family code, and she had convinced herself it was enough. But now…

Her fingers curled lightly at the blanket, as she remembered the taste. Warm, rich alive. Vi’s blood had been like nothing she’d ever known. It wasn’t just the flavor—though that, too, had been more indescribably sweet and vibrant, it had carried the pulse of Vi’s life, her strength, her essence.

More than that, it had ignited something in Caitlyn. A rush of power, clarity, and connection that neither animal blood nor cured blood had ever come close to mimicking. She hated herself for craving it even now, for wondering if that rush would feel the same again, Was it always like this? Tasting human blood? Is it why some vampires go mad over it? Caitlyn shivered at the thought. She wouldn’t go down that path.

“Why is it always the forbidden things that taste the best?” she murmured, her voice tinged with bitter amusement. Caitlyn now fully understood why so many vampires rejected Hexvitalis. It was a shadow of the real thing. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to abandon her principles—not completely. The thought of feeding directly to humans, of becoming a predator, was abomination to everything her family stood for.

But Vi had offered it freely. Her blood hadn’t been taken—it had been given. That was different, wasn’t it?

The sweetness of it all came at a cost. Soulbind. The heirloom, the crown jewel of the Kiramman Lineage. Her family is one of the oldest and most revered pillar families in Piltover. Their influence spans over centuries, bolstered by their wealth, strategic alliance and mastery of their unique ability: Soulbind. It was both a gift and curse for the Kirammans and now Caitlyn had experienced it first hand—the touch of the curse.

While ordinary vampires can only access fleeting, recent memories from the blood they consume, Soulbind allows the Kirammans to delve far deeper into these memories, almost invasive. Emotions come with these memories and they can uncover decades-old memories, hidden emotions and even buried secrets.

The Kirammans is one of the four pillars in vampire aristocracy, one of the families that coexists with powerful human families defined by delicate balance of power and mutual benefit.

Soulbind has always been the Kirammans’ edge from other vampire houses, the ability to acquire a person’s skills or expertise is unparalleled. Whether it’s mastering a swordman’s technique, understanding an artist’s craft, or accessing a scholar’s knowledge, Soulbind makes the Kirammans uniquely adaptable. This ability served as the key and strong foundation to their legacy’s success. Only those born into the Kiramman bloodline can wield Soulbind, and even within the family, it manifests only in the strongest individuals. This exclusivity enhances their family’s power and reinforces their status as guardians of a unique legacy.

Caitlyn’s mother has taught her Soulbind is both a gift and a responsibility. They see their ability as a means of understanding and bridging the divide between vampires and humans. The Kirammans had never regarded humans as lesser beings compared to their kind and unlike other vampire families, The Kirammans value coexistence and have cultivated their cured human blood to minimize harm and uphold peace. This philosophy, however has drawn criticism and envy from the others, who see their family as overly idealistic or hypocritical. Some perceive this as weakness.

Caitlyn rose from the bed, leaving her tangled thoughts behind for now. She knew they would resurface later, but at this moment, her mother summons took precedence.  

_______

The door to Cassandra Kiramman’s study loomed ahead, its heavy oak surface carved with intricate patterns of the Kiramman family crest. Caitlyn hesitated, her hand hovering over the brass handle. She felt the weight of her mother’s expectation pressing down on her shoulders, a weigh that felt heavier than usual after the events of the previous night.

Pushing the door open, Caitlyn stepped inside, the familiar scent of aged books and polished wood filling the room, a deliberate blend meant to create an atmosphere of calm authority. Rows of meticulously arranged books lined the dark mahogany shelves, their spines embossed with gold lettering. A grand desk, polished to a mirror-like sheen, dominated the center of the room. Behind it sat Cassandra, poised and unreadable, her sharp gaze fixed on Caitlyn.

“Close the door,” Cassandra said, her tone trimmed but calm.

Caitlyn obeyed; her posture stiff as she faced her mother. Cassandra’s gaze swept over her, lingering briefly on her shoulder—the faint scar a subtle but undeniable reminder of the attack.

“You’ve been careless,” Cassandra started. Her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room.

“Careless?” Caitlyn takes it as an offense.

Cassandra turned slowly, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Caitlyn’s. She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice? The scent of human blood was on you before you even reached the gates.”

Caitlyn stiffened.  

Cassandra gestured toward the chair in front of her desk. “Sit.”

Caitlyn was restless. It was obvious in her demeanor. “I—”

Cassandra stepped closer, her voice softening but no less sharp. “Human blood. Fresh. And not just any—blood consumed directly. It clings to you, Caitlyn. Do you have any idea how far that scent carries?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “I had no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Cassandra snapped, her tone like a whip. “But you chose to drink. From a human.”

Cassandra arched an eyebrow. “Not to mention, you dragged this human in the estate, the guards saw everything, of course. A human holding you up, stumbling through the gates as if she owned the place.” She exhaled sharply. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“She wasn’t a threat.” Caitlyn said firmly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Cassandra snapped. “A human, Caitlyn? Bringing her here, to the estate? What were you thinking?” Cassandra repeats, hinting the ludicrousness of the idea.

Caitlyn straightened, her cerulean eyes narrowing. “I was thinking about staying alive.”

Cassandra arched an eyebrow, her expression sharp. “Go on.”

“She saved me,” Caitlyn admitted, the words bitter on her tongue. “I was shot, it was silver. I wouldn’t have made it back if it weren’t for her.”

“I can smell the silver too,” Cassandra interrupted, her nose wrinkling slightly. “But what I smell most is your weakness.” Caitlyn flinched at Cassandra’s words.

Cassandra’s lips pressed into a thin line. She walked to the window, staring out at the estate grounds.

“Do you realize the position you’ve put us in? if that human speaks of what she saw—”

“She won’t,” Caitlyn interrupted, standing.

Caitlyn stiffened. “Look, I didn’t allow for this to happen, Mother. The circumstances—”

Cassandra overpowering Caitlyn’s “The Kiramman name is built on restraint, Caitlyn. We are not like the others. We don’t feed on humans. That code is what keeps us above them.”

Caitlyn met her mother’s gaze, her voice quiet but resolute. “I didn’t have a choice. She was persistent to—”

“Spare me the excuses,” Cassandra interrupted, her tone icy. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “Do you have any idea what this means? You, a Kiramman, feeding on human blood? Do you realize how dangerous that is? How reckless?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. “I would have died if I hadn’t. She offered it willingly.”

Cassandra’s expression darkened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And you accepted. Soulbind doesn’t care about your intentions, Caitlyn. It is not so easily undone.”

Caitlyn’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“No,” Cassandra said coldly. “You didn’t. But now you’ve tied yourself to a human, and she to you. That is a bond you cannot ignore.”

“Have you at least thought of a plan to dispose the body? Or do you need my help to clean up your mess? Any traces left that would lead—"

“She’s not going to die mother; I only took enough.”

“This is even worse than I thought.  You fed on a human, something our family has spent centuries avoiding for a reason, and you, let her live? And if this word gets out, our family’s reputation—our very existence—could be jeopardized.”

Caitlyn finally met her mother’s gaze, her eyes blazing. “I made a choice to survive. Would you have preferred that I died, Mother?”

Cassandra’s face softened, but only slightly. “Of course not. But survival isn’t enough, Caitlyn. We have a responsibility—to this family, to our lineage, to the council, to the bigger picture. The Kirammans are not like other vampires. We don’t let instinct dictate our actions.”

Caitlyn felt exhaustion crawling back, the fight draining out of her. "You know how much I value our code, Mother. Just as you taught me, humans are not food, nor are they mere commodities to satisfy our primitive hunger. That’s why I chose not to kill her—and I wouldn’t, even if I had the chance. She saved me, Mother. She was so focused on keeping me alive that she even hurt herself in the process. Her only goal was to ensure my safety. So, no, I had no intention of killing her, and don’t even bring up the idea how I should’ve altered her memories, because my mind was too hazy to even fully comprehend the situation, I was in.” Caitlyn was breathless.

Cassandra studied her daughter for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “What’s her name?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then replied “Vi…Violet” Even speaking her name felt sweet on her tongue. The memories had given Caitlyn a glimpse into Vi’s life—revealing that her real name was Violet.

“Violet,” Cassandra repeated, testing the name. “What do you know about her?”

“Not much.” Lies. Caitlyn admitted, her voice measured. “She was in the woods, passing through.”

“What does she know about you?” Cassandra asked pointedly.

Caitlyn’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Enough.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Cassandra sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “For your sake, I hope you’re right about her. But let me make one thing clear, Caitlyn. If this Violet becomes a problem, I will deal with her myself.”

Caitlyn’s head snapped up, her jaw tightening. “She won’t.”

Cassandra gave a faint, humorless smile. “Let’s hope so.”

______

She walked briskly, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor of the Kiramman estate, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. The glow of the sunlight streaming through the tall windows painted her silhouette, but the beauty of her surroundings felt hollow.

The cool air of the corridor was a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the study. Caitlyn slowed her pace, her hand brushing against the smooth surface of the wall as she let out a shaky breath.

Her thoughts churned as she replayed the confrontation. Her mother’s accusations, her own defensiveness—it all swirled together in her mind, but one thought stood out above the rest: Vi.

Caitlyn closed her eyes, the memory of Vi’s voice and touch lingering in her mind. There had been something so undeniably human in that moment, something Caitlyn hadn’t felt in years. And despite everything, despite the rules and the risks, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Opening her eyes, she straightened her shoulders and began walking toward her chambers. There was no undoing what had happened, and no erasing what she felt. For better or worse, the connection she shared with Vi was now a part of her—and she would face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

The crisp morning air clung to the dewy grass of the Kiramman estate, the sun barely cresting the horizon. Caitlyn adjusted her stance, the rifle steady against her shoulder, her breath slow and measured. She let out a blow, a strand of her hair sways clearing her vision. The target—a small, coin-sized disc—hung nearly three hundred meters away, swaying gently in the breeze.

She exhaled softly, her enhanced senses sharpening the world around her. The faded crunch of leaves, the rhythmic pulse of her heart, and the subtle click of the wind as it swept across the range all melded into one cohesive moment.

With a single squeeze of the trigger, the rifle barked, the recoil barely a whisper in her hands. Bullet exploded from the barrel, propelled by a controlled burst of energy. It spiraled through the crisp air, spinning rapidly on its axis as rifling grooves carved into its surface guided its trajectory with precision. The disc shattered, its fragments glinting like shards of sunlight as they scattered through the air.

Caitlyn didn’t stop. She holstered the rifle in one fluid motion, pivoting on her heel to draw the pistol strapped to her side. Three quick shots followed, each one striking its intended mark—a series of moving targets she’d set up earlier.

Her speed was inhuman. She moved like water, her steps light but purposeful, her precision almost mechanical. But behind her focus lay a storm of thought. Each pull of the trigger felt like a tether to reality, grounding her in the face of the chaos swirling within her.

As Caitlyn holstered her pistol, the targets around the range bore the scars of her relentless precision—shattered discs, punctured boards, and fallen steel plates. She stood still for a moment, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, the weight of her thoughts lingering even after the silence settled.

Slipping her coat over her shoulders, she began her walk back to the mansion. The estate's manicured gardens stretched out before her, bathed in the golden glow of the morning sun. The rhythmic crunch of her boots against the gravel path was almost meditative—until a familiar voice broke the tranquility.

“Caitlyn,” Jayce called out, almost enthusiastically, stepping into view from the grand archway that led to the estate’s entrance. He was dressed sharply, as always, his posture casual but with an air of purpose.

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed slightly, her steps slowing. “Jayce? What are you doing here?”

He grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Your mother summoned me. She wants me at the meeting.”

“Meeting?”

“How are you, I heard what happened.” Jayce’s said with a tone of concern and was quick to catch another question from Caitlyn.

Before Caitlyn could respond, a maid approached from the doorway, bowing her head respectfully. “My lady, your mother requests your presence as well.” She stepped forward, gently taking Caitlyn’s coat and the weapons, she carried, her movements swift and practiced.

Jayce’s grin widened as he adjusted the cuffs of his jacket. “I guess we’re in this together then.”

Caitlyn sighed, casting a glance at him before looking toward the mansion doors. “Of course she’d pull you into this,” she muttered, her tone dry but not entirely unkind.

Jayce chuckled as they walked inside, his voice teasing. “Well, you know me—always happy to be of service to the Kirammans.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately, her mind already racing ahead to what awaited her in the meeting. Her mother’s summons was rarely casual, and with everything that had transpired in the forest, she could feel the weight of looming decisions pressing down on her.

As they ascended the grand staircase together, Jayce leaned closer, his tone dropping to something more serious. “What’s this about, Caitlyn? Is it as bad as it sounds?”

 “You know my mother,” Caitlyn shrugged with a teasing smile.

______

The heavy oak doors to her mother’s study creaked open, and a butler motioned for her to enter. Caitlyn squared her shoulders, air thick with authority and expectation. Caitlyn and Jayce entered the meeting room together, their footsteps echoing against the polished floors. Caitlyn’s coat had been taken by a maid earlier, and the absence of her weapons made her feel oddly exposed. Cassandra was already seated at the head of the table, her gaze sharp and calculating as she watched them approach. Tobias stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his usual air of calm observation contrasting with Cassandra’s commanding presence. These summons from her parents had always been curt and formal, as expected, but the addition of Jayce’s presence had surprised her.

“Ah, Caitlyn,” Cassandra greeted, her tone cool but measured.  “I trust your morning was productive”

“I had to ensure the estate’s security protocols were reviewed this morning, and I just finished my daily training—” Caitlyn replied evenly, her voice betraying none of the doubts beneath the surface. “After what happened, I thought it’s prudent.”

Cassandra nodded once, satisfied with the explanation. “Sit,” she ordered gesturing for both Jayce and Caitlyn. Both obeyed, though she could feel her father’s eyes on her as she moved.

“It’s nice of you to join us Jayce.” Cassandra greeted Jayce with smile for formality. Jayce grinned, leaning back in his chair with his usual relaxed demeanor, though his sharp eyes were anything but casual.

“What is this about?” Caitlyn asked, curious.

“I’ve asked your father to join us too.” Cassandra continued, “because I want him to examine your injuries. I need to ensure you’re fully recovered.”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine, Mother.”

“Humor me,” Tobias interjected, stepping forward with a faint smile. “You know I won’t take long.”

Caitlyn sighed but nodded, unbuttoning the cuff of her shirt and rolling it up to reveal the faint discoloration where she’d been grazed by a silver bullet. Tobias crouched beside her; his touch gentle as he examined the wound with a practiced hand.

“Clean healing,” he murmured, his tone clinical. “But silver does leave a lingering sting, although—curious…hmmm…have you been feeling any unusual side effects? Dizziness, fatigue, heightened sensitivity?”

“No, Father,” Caitlyn replied. “Just the usual ache.”

“Good.” Tobias straightened; his expression satisfied. “You’ll be fine, but I’ll leave a salve with the house staff to ease any lingering discomfort.”

Cassandra cleared her throat, drawing their attention back to her. “Now that we’ve established, you’ll live, I’d like to discuss the attack.” Her gaze sharpened, narrowing on Caitlyn. “I want details—every detail, Caitlyn. Leave nothing out.”

Caitlyn inhaled deeply, her fingers curling into her lap. “It was quick. Too quick. The attacker moved with precision—too fast for a human, perhaps a vampire, No…I’m not certain. Their movements felt… calculated, almost mechanical. They fired before I could react.”

“And the bullet?” Cassandra pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Did you bring it back?”

“No,” Caitlyn admitted, her tone stiff. “I didn’t have the strength to think clearly at the time. All I remember is the pain—searing, burning, as though the bullet carried some kind of poison. It didn’t kill me outright, but it weakened me enough that I couldn’t fight back.”

"Hmmm... Honey, silver has always been lethal for vampires. That’s why I’m curious—though mostly thankful, of course—how you managed to survive. I wonder why it didn’t kill you instantly. Perhaps it’s because the bullet only struck your arm. Are you sure you don’t have any other injuries? Or Is there anything else you’re not telling us?" Tobias asked. Caitlyn shook her head.

The words hung in the air, and Caitlyn hesitated, her mind slipping away from the study and back to the woods. She could still see the flashes of silver and hear the distant echo of gunshots. But it wasn’t the hunter who occupied her thoughts. It was her.

Vi.

Caitlyn’s chest tightened; the memory of Vi’s piercing powder-blue eyes vivid against the darkness of her mind. Those eyes had been the first thing she noticed in the woods, glowing faintly under the moonlight like an otherworldly beacon. There was a sharpness in them, a fierceness that dared the world to challenge her, but beneath that exterior was something deeper—something softer. Those eyes haunted Caitlyn every night, pulling her into a memory she couldn’t escape.

She could still feel Vi’s presence, the heat of her body as they stood close, too close, in the aftermath of the attack. Caitlyn’s gaze had lingered on the faint scar along Vi’s cheek, the defiance in the curve of her lips, and the way her auburn hair caught the faintest glimmer of moonlight. Every detail was etched into her memory, as though her mind had refused to let a single moment fade.

And then there was her blood.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly as the memory surfaced, unwanted but relentless. The taste of Vi’s blood still lingered on her tongue; unlike anything she had ever known. It wasn’t just blood—it was fire and life, raw and untamed. It burned in her veins even now, a constant reminder of the bond they had forged, the intimacy they had shared. It was intoxicating, and it terrified her.

“Caitlyn? Are you okay?” Tobias’s voice snapped her back to the present, his brow furrowed in concern.

Caitlyn cleared her throat. “I’m fine, Father.”

"Well, a few vampires have survived silver bullets due to their fast-healing abilities. However, silver bullets are usually straightforward—either they kill you instantly, or they don’t. It depends on where the bullet hits—if it strikes a vital organ, it’s usually fatal. If not, it will weaken you and suppress your regenerative abilities. They don’t typically act as poison." Tobias continued.

Jayce leaned forward at that; his usual light demeanor replaced with genuine concern. “You’re right, Sir. Silver bullets aren’t supposed to act like poison. They’re lethal to vampires because of their purity, not because they carry toxins.”

Tobias frowned, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. “If the bullet caused such a reaction, it wasn’t ordinary silver then. Something else must have been added to it.”

Cassandra’s gaze shifted to Jayce; her tone cool but commanding. “Explain.”

Jayce straightened in his chair; his expression serious. “As you may know, Talis Industries has been experimenting with next-generation silver bullets for a while now. They’re designed to be more effective against vampires, even those with regenerative abilities. The idea was to combine silver with other elements to disrupt their healing, prolonging the damage. But as far as I know, none of the prototypes have been tested or distributed yet.”

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed, the words sinking in. “You think the attacker used one of those prototypes?”

Jayce shook his head, hesitating. “It’s hard to say. If it was one of ours, then someone must have gotten their hands on it without authorization. The materials and methods aren’t exactly public knowledge. It still needs approval from the council, of course, and it’s far from being a finished product.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her fingers steepling under her chin. “I’ll need a full report on these bullets, Jayce. Every detail. The council must be informed of how far your research has progressed—you know how critical and sensitive topics like these are for certain members. I want to understand exactly how these bullets work—and, more importantly, how they could have ended up in the wrong hands.” Jayce nodded, his expression grim. “I’ll have it sent to you by the end of the day.”

Caitlyn shifted in her seat, her mind racing. “If these bullets are as dangerous as they sound, we’re not just dealing with a rogue attacker. This is calculated. Someone wanted me…our kind, dead—and they’re using weapons that were designed for a very specific purpose.”

____

The stables were quiet except for the faint crackle of hay and the occasional soft snort of a horse.

“You okay, Sal?” Vi gave the horse a reassuring pat before she leaned against a wooden post, staring at the dark horizon.

Her mind drifting to recollection of that night. She hadn’t planned to find herself around the Kiramman estate that night—her task in the forest had nothing to do with them. She’d been sent out by someone else, a routine errand that should have been quick and uneventful. Instead, it had led her straight into chaos.

Her instructions had been simple: retrieve a package left at a remote waypoint deeper in the woods. She hadn’t asked questions; she never did. The job was just another notch on the long list of tasks she’d taken to keep herself and her sister afloat. But this one had felt different from the moment she’d entered the forest.

The stillness had been unnatural. No rustling leaves, no chirping crickets—just silence. Her instincts had prickled, urging her to turn back, but Vi had pressed on. She wasn’t one to back down, no matter how unsettling things felt. And that’s when she’d heard it: the hum, irregular sound of labored breathing.

The memory still occupied her mind, vividly and unwavering. She remembered the way the moonlight filtered through the trees, catching on the blood that trickled into the earth around Caitlyn’s body. Her pale skin looked even paler in the glow, as if the life had been drained out of her. Vi had frozen for a moment, her breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t someone who hesitated often, but this was different.

Caitlyn had been slumped against a tree, her hand pressed weakly to her side where the blood poured out in dark streaks. Her lips were parted, her breaths shallow, and her eyes—those piercing cerulean-blue eyes—had flickered open just enough to meet Vi’s gaze. That moment had hit Vi harder than any fight she’d ever been in. There was something unspoken in Caitlyn’s gaze, something that struck a chord deep within her.

She hadn’t thought; she’d acted. Instinct took over as she dropped to her knees beside Caitlyn, her hands hovering uncertainly over the wound. She’d whispered something—a reassurance, maybe—but her voice had barely registered over the sound of Caitlyn’s labored breathing. Vi had felt panic clawing at the edges of her composure, something she wasn’t used to. And then Caitlyn had spoken her name, soft and strained, and everything had changed.

Even now, standing in the quiet stables, Vi could still hear the way Caitlyn’s voice had sounded in that moment—fragile yet resolute, as though even in her pain she refused to give in. It had made Vi’s chest tighten, her resolve harden. She couldn’t lose this woman, not here, not like this.

She remembered the feel of her own blade slicing into her palm, the warm rush of blood pooling in her hand as she pressed it to Caitlyn’s lips. “Just drink,” she’d said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. Caitlyn had hesitated, her brows furrowing faintly, but then she’d obeyed, her lips parting as she accepted the offering.

The connection had been instant. Vi had felt it the moment Caitlyn’s blood mingled with her own. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—like an electric current racing through her veins, awakening something that had been dormant for far too long. She hadn’t understood it then, but she did now. That moment had been the catalyst, the spark that lit a fire she couldn’t extinguish.

Since that night, nothing had been the same. Vi’s body felt... different. Stronger. Sharper. She could hear things she shouldn’t have been able to hear—the faint hum of insects outside, the whisper of the wind through the trees. Her reflexes were faster, her movements more precise. Even her senses felt heightened, as though the world had shifted into sharper focus.

She clenched her fists, staring down at her hands. The faint scar on her palm had almost healed, but the memory of Caitlyn’s lips against her skin lingered like a ghost. It wasn’t just the physical changes that unsettled her—it was the way Caitlyn haunted her thoughts. She could see her so clearly, those ocean-blue eyes piercing through her mind no matter how hard she tried to block them out. Caitlyn was like a storm, wild and unattainable, and yet Vi couldn’t stop herself from being drawn to her.

“What did you do to me?” Vi muttered, her voice low and strained.

She didn’t know what was happening to her, and that was what scared her most. She wasn’t like Claggor, who had trained himself to push past limits as a vampire hunter, or Mylo, whose fascination with technology made him seem almost superhuman at times with his inventions. And she wasn’t like Powder, a prodigy whose brilliance shone brighter than anyone else Vi had ever known.

Vi had always been strong—stronger than most—and she had used that strength to survive. It was part of why Claggor, never stopped trying to persuade her to join that business.

You’d be an asset, Vi,” Claggor would say, his tone half-serious, half-teasing. “You’re already tougher than half the people I know, and you don’t even have the training.”

But Vi had always turned him down. That side of the world wasn’t for her. Claggor was a hunter, someone who thrived on strategy and discipline. Vi? She was a fighter. Her strength came from raw grit, the kind of determination that couldn’t be taught. She didn’t want to hunt; she wanted to live on her own terms. And so, she’d stuck to what she knew—taking on odd jobs, running errands for people who needed someone capable and didn’t ask too many questions. Sometimes those errands were simple, like delivering packages or gathering supplies. Other times, they got messy. She wasn’t afraid of messy.

And then there were the fights.

Vi smirked faintly to herself, her lips tugging upward in a lopsided grin. The underground fight pits had always been her escape, a place where she could let loose and feel the rush of adrenaline that came with every punch, every block, every hard-earned victory. She fought for bets, for the thrill of it, and because it was one of the few places where she felt in control. No one cared about her past or her family or the scars she carried—they only cared about whether she could win. And she almost always did.

But now, everything was different. Since the night she’d found Caitlyn in the woods, her strength had grown, her reflexes sharper, her movements faster. She hadn’t even realized it at first, not until she’d caught herself lifting a barrel of feed one-handed without breaking a sweat. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t normal. And that terrified her.

Claggor would have a field day if he knew. He’d probably drag her to his group himself, claiming this was some sign she was meant to join. But Vi wasn’t ready to tell him. She wasn’t ready to tell any of them—not Claggor, not Mylo, not Powder. Not until she had answers.

Their small, weathered home at the edge of the district was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where the world’s chaos couldn’t touch them. Claggor kept it secure, his hunter instincts ensuring no threat went unnoticed. Mylo’s tinkering filled the space with half-finished gadgets and devices cluttered the living room into something resembling a workshop. And Powder—brilliant, stubborn Powder—had claimed a corner of the house for her own inventions, her dream of working for House Talis driving her every move.

She didn’t want to ruin that peace. All she knew was that she couldn’t let this consume her. Whatever this was—whatever she was becoming—she had to stay in control. Not just for herself, but for her family. For Caitlyn.

Vi pushed off the wooden post, her boots crunching against the hay-strewn floor as she started toward the stable doors. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let this break her. She had survived worse. She would survive this too.

_____

The town square was bustling with life, the midday sun casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Merchants called out their wares, the air filled with the scent of baked goods, fresh flowers, and the faint tang of metal from the blacksmith’s forge. Caitlyn moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her sharp gaze taking in everything around her. She wasn’t here for leisure; there was business to attend to, though the details barely occupied her mind. Something felt off. It had been days since the attack in the woods, but the unease lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t quite shake.

She adjusted the hem of her jacket, her gloved hands brushing against the pistol holstered discretely at her side. Ever since that night, she had been on edge, her instincts heightened in a way that made her question everything. Every sound, every flicker of movement in her peripheral vision set her nerves on edge. And today was no different.

She slowed her pace, her senses prickling with the distinct feeling of being watched. The crowds around her blurred as her focus narrowed. There it was again—a faint shadow trailing just out of view, lingering too long at every turn she made. Caitlyn’s grip on her composure tightened as she slipped into a side street, her movements deliberate yet seemingly casual.

Vi watched from a distance, her heart pounding against her ribs. She’d been trying to find the courage to approach Caitlyn for days, but every attempt had felt impossible. Even lurking near the Kiramman estate resulted nothing but frustration and guilt. And now, here Caitlyn was, walking through the square like a vision Vi couldn’t look away from. Her feet moved on instinct, following.

But Caitlyn was too sharp. By the time Vi realized the path had grown quieter, the echo of her own footsteps bouncing off the cobblestones, it was too late.

Caitlyn moved like lightning, grabbing Vi by the arm and twisting them into the wall with a sharp motion. Her pistol was drawn in an instant, the cold barrel pressed against her chest. “Why are you following me?” Caitlyn demanded, her voice cold but controlled, the edge of danger laced her words.

“Whoa, easy!” The familiar voice made Caitlyn freeze. Her eyes widened as the figure raised their hands in mock surrender, a crooked smirk tugging at their lips. “Is this how you greet everyone, or am I just special?”

“Vi?” The name left her lips, soft and uncertain, as if testing its weight.

Vi straightened, brushing off her jacket as if she hadn’t just been pinned to a wall. “Nice to see you too, Caitlyn,” she said, her tone light but her eyes sharp. “You’ve got good instincts; I’ll give you that.”

Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You were following me.”

“Yeah,” Vi admitted with a shrug, her smirk fading into something softer. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days. Figured this was my chance.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms, her icy blue eyes narrowing. “You’ve been lurking around the estate, haven’t you?”

Vi scratched the back of her neck, her gaze flicking away for a moment. “Maybe. But I didn’t want to scare you, so I stayed out of sight.”

“Scare me?” Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You have a strange way of going about things, Violet.”

“How did you—"

The sound of her full name on Caitlyn’s lips made something in Vi’s chest tighten, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Look, I just... I wanted to talk. After what happened in the woods—” Vi hesitated, her usual confidence faltering. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the space between them felt charged, the air thick with something unspoken. Her gaze skimmed over Vi, taking in the slight tension in her stance, the way her auburn hair caught the sunlight, the faint scar on top of her lip. She hated how easily Vi unsettled her, how her presence seemed to pull at something deep inside her.

“Vi—”

“Not like that!” Vi interjected, her voice rising slightly as she waved her hands. “I mean... I have, but that’s not—” She groaned, running a hand through her hair. “Forget I said that.”

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, a smile forming, showing her amusement. But Vi didn’t let her respond. Instead, she pressed on, her words coming faster, as if she needed to get them out before her courage failed.

“Look, it’s not just you,” Vi said, her voice quieter now. “It’s... everything. Ever since that night, I’ve been feeling... different. Stronger, faster, like I’m not even myself anymore.” She paused, glancing down at her hands as if they might hold the answers she was looking for. “And my senses—they’re sharper. I can hear things I shouldn’t be able to hear, smell things I shouldn’t be able to smell.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, but she stayed silent, letting Vi continue.

“I’ve been healing faster too,” Vi said, almost hesitantly. “And I’ve been having these dreams—about you. Or maybe about your blood, I don’t know.” She exhaled sharply, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the seriousness of her tone. “You didn’t, uh... you didn’t turn me, did you?”

Caitlyn blinked and almost scoffed at the idea, momentarily caught off guard by the question. “What? No. That’s not how that works.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Vi said with a faint chuckle, though the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. She shifted her weight, her gaze dropping to the ground. “But I don’t know what’s happening to me, Caitlyn. I’ve never felt like this before.”

The vulnerability in her voice was stark, and Caitlyn felt her chest tighten. “Vi...” she started, her voice softening.

Vi looked up, her powder-blue eyes filled with equal parts fear and determination. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not just for me, but for my family. If something’s wrong with me, what if I hurt them? What if I lose control?”

Caitlyn hesitated, the weight of Vi’s words settling heavily in the air. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“No, I have not, not even—”

“Powder,” Caitlyn said, interrupting her. The name rolled off her tongue softly, almost as if she’d said it a thousand times before.

Vi froze, her expression shifting from uncertainty to shock. Her brows furrowed, and she stepped forward, narrowing the space between them. “How do you know her name?”

Caitlyn hesitated, the tension in the air thickening. “I didn’t mean to—” she began, then sighed, running a gloved hand through her hair. "When I drank your blood... there were effects. Your memories, fragments of your emotions—they became a part of me, even if I didn’t want them to. This is something my family has endured for ages.”

Vi’s heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening as Caitlyn’s words sank in. “You saw her?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caitlyn nodded. “I didn’t see much. Just flashes. But I know she’s important to you. I felt it.”

Vi stepped back slightly, rubbing the back of her neck as her mind raced. “I didn’t even know that could happen,” she muttered, more to herself than to Caitlyn. “Is that normal?”

"Yes, for me, actually. But for you… I’m quite certain that being bitten doesn’t grant you, my abilities." Caitlyn answered.

“Soulbind—the connection that comes from feeding on someone’s blood—shouldn’t have this kind of effect on you.” She glanced down, her gaze settling on Vi’s hand. “But... there’s something different about your blood.”

Vi followed Caitlyn’s gaze, suddenly there were butterflies in her stomach, as she realized Caitlyn was staring at the faint scar on her palm—the one she’d sliced open to save Caitlyn’s life. The memory of that night flickered in her mind, unwelcome but clear: Caitlyn’s lips pressing against her hand, the way her blood had flowed into her, the bond they’d created in that moment.

Caitlyn reached out, hesitating for the briefest moment before her gloved fingers hovered just over Vi’s callous hand. “May I?” she asked softly.

Vi, mesmerized by Caitlyn’s voice, swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Caitlyn gently traced the edge of the scar, her touch featherlight. Her brows furrowed as she studied it, her expression a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. “This shouldn’t have happened,” she murmured, almost to herself. “You shouldn’t be experiencing these effects.”

Vi’s chest tightened as she looked at Caitlyn, the proximity between them amplifying the tension in the air. “But I am,” she said softly. “And it’s not just me, is it? This... connection. It’s affecting you too.”

Caitlyn’s hand stilled, her gaze flicking up to meet Vi’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke, their eyes locked in an unspoken conversation. The world around them seemed to fall away, leaving only the faint sound of their breaths and the charged silence between them.

“What does this mean, Caitlyn? For you... for me?” Vi muttered barely a whisper.

Caitlyn hesitated, her chest rising and falling as she took a slow breath. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “But whatever it is, it’s not something I can ignore. And neither can you.”

The weight of her words hung between them, thick with uncertainty and something neither of them wanted to name. Caitlyn’s hand lingered over Vi’s for a moment longer before she pulled it back, the loss of contact almost palpable.

Vi exhaled sharply, breaking the moment. “Well,” she said, forcing a faint smirk onto her lips, “at least now I know I’m not going crazy.”

Caitlyn gave her a faint, almost reluctant smile in return. “No,” she said softly. “You’re not crazy. But this... whatever it is, it’s not normal either.”

Vi’s smirk faded, and her expression grew serious. “Do you think it’s dangerous? For me... or for my family?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her gaze searching Vi’s face. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But I’ll do everything I can to find out. I promise.”

Their eyes met again, and the tension between them grew heavier, charged with unspoken emotions. For a moment, it felt as though the space between them might disappear entirely. A single movement- a step forward, a brief lapse of restraint—and their lips would meet. The thought made Caitlyn’s heart race, but neither of them moved, each caught in the gravity of the moment. Caitlyn felt the warmth radiating from Vi’s skin. Her resolve wavered as her gaze flickered to Vi’s lips the briefest of seconds—a mistake, or perhaps an inevitability, but the distant sound of voices from the square shattered the moment.

Caitlyn straightened, her composure returning as she glanced toward the alley’s entrance. “We shouldn’t linger here,” she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. “It’s not safe.”

Vi nodded, though her gaze lingered on Caitlyn. “Right. I’ll... see you around, then?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then nodded once. “Soon,” she said softly, her voice carrying a promise.

Chapter Text

The grand hall was vast and imposing, located at the heart of Piltover. Its arched ceiling adorned with intricate carvings of Noctalis’ ancient history—of blood, unity, and the fragile truce that held it all together. Piltover, the human-governed capital of Noctalis, where progress, ingenuity and political power converge. It is the hub for technological advancements, commerce and diplomacy. Despite of its grandeur, the city is a testament to humanity’s determination to thrive in a world shared with vampires, balancing ambition with an undercurrent tension. The grand hall was an arena of tension, marred by the weight of unspoken grudges and quiet rivalries. Beneath the towering stained-glass windows, the leaders of Noctalis’ most powerful families gathered, their sharp gazes cutting through the heavy air.

Cassandra Kiramman entered the assembly room, her presence as commanding as the intricate scarlet gown she wore. She exuded authority, her gaze sweeping over the seated council members, lingering for a brief moment on Lord Veyrin Carravelle, the fearless leader of the region Capemoor, who sat near the head of the table. The vampire lord’s posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable air of superiority in the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the mahogany surface. His emerald green eyes flicked to Cassandra, narrowing slightly as if sizing up an opponent before a duel. Seated beside him was his brother, Alec, younger, whose demeanor was quieter but no less menacing. Alec’s role as a tactician for their house preceded him, and the cold, calculating gaze he directed at the human members of the council made the discomfort almost tangible.

At the opposite end of the table sat Mel Medarda, draped in golden finery that radiated wealth and confidence. A human aristocrat representing the Medarda family from the region Aurellia (human governed region), she was known for her sharp wit and an uncanny ability to match the vampiric members of the council in verbal sparring. The Medardas are known for their wealth and political sway, often walked a fine line between human and vampire interests. She offered Cassandra a faint, conspiratorial smile as the Kiramman matriarch took her seat. At the far end of the table, Elias Hartwell of the human Hartwell family adjusted his cufflinks, whose militaristic posture and sharp jawline gave him the appearance of a soldier rather than a politician. Elias is the Chancellor of Piltover, but during council meetings, all members are regarded as equals to preserve the council's neutrality. He nodded curtly to Cassandra but kept his gaze firmly on other members.

The Archibalds and Corvinus families were represented as well, though their presence was more subdued. The Archibald family’s representative—a sharp-eyed man named Gideon Archibald—seemed content to observe, while Seraphina Corvinus, the ruler of Cravenwell region, a vampire known for her aloof demeanor, remained expressionless, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

Once all were seated, Cassandra wasted no time. Rising from her chair, she began with a calm yet commanding tone, “Thank you all for attending this meeting. I regret that it must be under such grim circumstances. I have called for this council to address the recent attack on my daughter, Commander Caitlyn Kiramman, former head of one of Piltover’s elite taskforce, and head of security of the neutral zone Ashwynd, home to the Kiramman Estate.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, though Veyrin Carravelle’s expression remained neutral. He finally broke the silence with his deep, resonant voice. “An unfortunate incident, no doubt. But let us not act as if such dangers are unusual for those who… patrol the neutral zones.” His words were laced with condescension, and his gaze shifted pointedly toward Cassandra. “Perhaps the Kirammans are losing their edge.” Cassandra ignored the side comment but took note of the offense.

"Neutral zones are meant to foster peace and cooperation between our kind and humans. While tension is inevitable, it is strictly forbidden for vampires—and hunters, for that matter—to openly fight in these spaces." Cassandra reiterated.

“Where are you going with this Cassandra?” Lord Archibald questioned with a hint of concern.

"My daughter was on patrol when a hunter ambushed her without provocation, using silver bullets." Cassandra exhaled, fully aware that her next words would likely stir a range of emotions in the room.

“These silver bullets were not ordinary…it was designed not just to wound, but to linger in the bloodstream, weakening its victim over time” She glanced briefly at Evelyn and Jayce, who both represents House Talis and Talis Industries.

"Are you implying that this is the same ammunition proposed by the Talis’ House, a few years ago before this council? —an unfinished concept and mere idea?" Lady Corvinus interrupted.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s a prototype—a weapon still in research and not yet made public” Jayce calmly answered, the council’s full attention on him.

“Are you suggesting, Cassandra, that humans have created a weapon designed specifically to eradicate our kind, under our very noses? That they dare challenge the natural order?” His voice rose, carrying the weight of centuries of arrogance and dominance. “This is an affront to everything the council stands for.”

Cassandra’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not suggesting anything, Lord Veyrin. I’m presenting you with the facts. This bullet is a threat, not just to my family, but to every vampire seated at this table.”

He turned his gaze on Evelyn Talis, his sharp smile laced with accusation. “Lady Talis, would you care to explain why your family has been creating tools to destroy your allies?”

Jayce stiffened, his knuckles whitening against the table, but Evelyn remained poised. “Talis Industries has always prioritized defense—for humans and vampires alike,” she said smoothly. “The research is intended for countermeasures, not warfare. Clearly, the weapon was not wielded by my family but by someone who clearly seeks to destabilize this council.”

“Need I remind you, Lord Veyrin, that everything could potentially kill us humans?” Mel Medarda’s tone was smooth, but her sharp smile carried a dangerous edge. “Poison in a drink, a knife in the dark, even your very presence. Yet we don’t storm into these meetings proclaiming our own demise.”

A few faint smirks flickered across the faces of the human representatives, but the vampire side of the table bristled at her audacity. Veyrin’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “You overstep, Lady Medarda.”

“Convenient,” Alec Carravelle murmured, his tone a deliberate provocation. “How fortunate for Talis Industries to hold the keys to a weapon that could topple vampire supremacy.”

“You speak as though this is a trivial matter, Lady Medarda. Do you not see the danger in allowing such weapons to exist?” Rhiannon Ravensworth’s words were not imposing but rather composed, matriarch of the Vampire House Ravensworth of the region Ravensreach.

Mel raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “What I see is a council falling apart over assumptions. If you have a problem with Talis Industries, take it up with the facts, not your paranoia.”

Elias Hartwell leaned forward, his voice calm but cutting. “This isn’t paranoia, Lady Medarda. A weapon like this being crafted in secret raises questions—questions about where loyalty lies. And the reaction from Lord Caravelle is actually logical.”

"As Chancellor and head of Piltover's militia, I have not authorized any use of these so-called ammunitions. If these are prototypes, as you claim, Evelyn, how did they come into circulation? This council should have approved them first.  Elias continued.

“Talis Industries has worked tirelessly to provide solutions that protect both humans and vampires. If you’re looking for someone to blame, perhaps you should examine your own house. Bloodcraft has far more... destructive potential than anything we’ve created.” Lady Talis’ snapped as her frustration of the topic was evident.

Evelyn’s gaze shifted pointedly toward Veyrin, whose eyes darkened. “Careful, Talis! I will not be spoken to as though I’m some conspirator. The Carravelle name has defended vampire-kind for centuries while your family—”

“Has ensured that your kind doesn’t consume us,” Gideon Archibald interrupted, his voice icy.

“Do not mistake our tolerance for submission, Lord Carravelle. Perhaps this attack was the result of a vampire family seeking to regain the dominance they believe they’ve lost.” He continued.

Rhiannon Ravensworth smiled faintly, her tone dripping with mock amusement. “If we’re trading suspicions, Gideon, might I suggest examining your own house? After all, it wouldn’t be the first time humans acted out of fear rather than reason.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of raised voices, each family lobbing accusations across the table. The fragile alliances began to splinter under the weight of mistrust, their shared purpose dissolving into chaos.

Cassandra stood abruptly, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “Enough!” The chamber fell silent, all eyes turning toward her. “While you waste time blaming one another, the threat grows. Do you think whoever orchestrated this cares about your petty rivalries? They aim to destroy everything this council was built to protect. There is a reason the pact was made, spaces built and governed specifically for humans and vampires.” Cassandra said firmly.

“Regardless of where these weapons originated, our priority must be to prevent further incidents. We cannot allow this to escalate into a war.” Her last words, low with finality.

Veyrin’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. “War may be inevitable if humans continue to gain power over vampires. Perhaps it’s time for us to reconsider the terms of this so-called pact.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, with vampires and humans exchanging wary glances. “This is ridiculous. We cannot risk reverting to our old ways—there would be consequences none of us here are ready to face.” Lady Corvinus finally proclaimed.

“I agree. Lady Corvinus. This is why I propose a unified investigation regarding this matter, with a sole purpose to uncover the source of this weapon. If we fail to act, we risk not just our lives, but the delicate balance that hold Noctalis together.” Cassandra’s eyes swept over the council; her tone resolute.

_____

The council meeting adjourned with murmurs of dissent echoing through the chamber. As the members filed out, Cassandra lingered, her sharp gaze scanning the schematics Jayce had presented, lost in thought. She barely noticed the soft footsteps approaching until Veyrin Carravelle’s smooth, commanding voice broke the silence.

“You play a dangerous game, Cassandra.”

She straightened, her expression a mask of composure as she turned to face him. Veyrin stood a few feet away, his tall frame casting a shadow over the room. Despite his predatory air, Cassandra didn’t flinch. She’d faced him countless times before, and she knew better than to show weakness.

“This is no game, Veyrin,” she replied coolly, clasping her hands in front of her. “This is about maintaining the balance that has kept us all alive for decades. Or have you forgotten what’s at stake?”

Veyrin chuckled, the sound low and mirthless. “Balance? You speak as if that’s something humans and vampires can truly achieve. But you and I both know the truth—peace is a fleeting illusion. It’s only a matter of time before the scales tip.”

“Only if certain individuals insist on tipping them,” Cassandra shot back, her tone sharp as a blade. “Your family has always thrived on chaos, Veyrin. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were behind these silver bullets, stoking the fire to justify your crusade for domination.”

Veyrin’s eyes glinted dangerously, but his smirk remained firmly in place. “Careful, Cassandra. Baseless accusations could make you sound desperate. And desperation doesn’t suit you.”

“Nor does arrogance suit you,” Cassandra countered, stepping closer. “Let me remind you, Lord Carravelle, that your ambitions have been checked time and again by those of us who value more than just power. The Kirammans have built a legacy of restraint and diplomacy—qualities your family could never understand.”

Veyrin’s smile faded, replaced by a cold sneer. “Restraint and diplomacy?” he repeated mockingly. “You call it virtue; I call it cowardice. Your family’s refusal to fully embrace our potential has made you weak, Cassandra. You cling to your precious neutrality, but neutrality is a lie. Sooner or later, sides must be chosen.”

Cassandra’s jaw tightened, but her voice remained steady. “And what side would you have us take, Veyrin? The one that sees humans as nothing more than prey? The one that plunges us into an eternal war where no one survives? If that’s the future you envision, then I pity you.”

Veyrin took a step closer, invading her space, though Cassandra held her ground. “You pity me? No, Cassandra. I pity you. I pity your naïveté. Your belief that humans will honor the pact when it no longer benefits them. One day, they will turn on us—on you—and all your efforts to protect them will be for nothing.”

Cassandra’s eyes burned with defiance. “If that day comes, it will be because of vampires like you, who sow fear and division instead of seeking understanding. But until then, I will continue to fight for peace—for coexistence. And if that means standing against you, so be it.”

For a moment, the room seemed to hum with unspoken tension, the air between them charged. Then, Veyrin leaned back, a mocking laugh escaping his lips. “You truly are your father’s daughter, Cassandra. Stubborn, idealistic… and tragically blind to reality. But no matter. We’ll see whose vision for the future prevails.”

He turned to leave, his dark cloak billowing behind him. At the doorway, he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, and do give my regards to Caitlyn. I trust she’s… recovering well.”

The implication in his words sent a spike of fury through Cassandra, though she didn’t let it show. She met his gaze with icy resolve. “Stay away from my daughter, Veyrin.”

He smirked, inclining his head slightly. “As you wish, Lady Kiramman.”

With that, he disappeared into the corridor, leaving Cassandra alone in the chamber. Her fists clenched at her sides, but she forced herself to take a deep breath.

Chapter Text

As the council members filtered out of the chamber, the air outside the room buzzed with murmured conversations. Jayce Talis leaned against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he replayed the tense exchanges in his mind. Beside him stood Viktor, his longtime partner at Talis Industries and a fellow innovator, whose calm demeanor contrasted sharply with Jayce’s restless energy.

“Well,” Viktor began, his accent soft but precise, “judging by your expression, I assume the meeting didn’t go as smoothly as you hoped?” Jayce gave him a wary look.

Jayce exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s putting it lightly. Lord Veyrin doesn’t waste a second reminding everyone why he’s the biggest pain in Noctalis.”

Viktor gave a faint, knowing smile. “Yes, but it is precisely those pains that often force innovation. Conflict, unfortunately, seems to be the catalyst for progress.” He glanced at Jayce’s hand, still clutching the schematics he had presented. “What did they say about the bullets?”

Jayce frowned. “Suspicion everywhere. It’s not a very pleasant image for my House, that’s for sure. Veyrin practically accused humans of intentionally creating them to threaten vampires. Lady Cassandra did her best to keep things civil, but it’s like walking on glass with those people.”

Viktor tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You knew what you were walking into, Jayce. The council was never going to welcome technology like this without a fight, and well Caitlyn is your friend, obviously you had nothing to do with that.”

“Of course not! I—”

Before Jayce could finish his sentence, a melodic voice interrupted. “Jayce Talis, isn’t it?”

Both men turned to see Mel Medarda approaching, her golden gown catching the sunlight that filtered through the tall windows. She carried herself with the confidence of someone used to commanding attention, her dark eyes gleaming with curiosity as she regarded Jayce.

Jayce straightened, caught slightly off guard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, offering a polite nod. “Lady Medarda”

“Please, just call me Mel,” she introduced herself smoothly, extending a hand. “As you may know, I represent the Medarda family on the council. I must say, it’s a rare sight to see someone like you so invested in our little meetings.”

Jayce took her hand briefly, his brow lifting in surprise at her directness. “I wouldn’t exactly call it little, Lady Medarda—Mel. What’s happening here affects everyone.”

Mel’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Spoken like a true visionary. Though I couldn’t help but notice, you seemed… unusually engaged for someone who rarely attends these gatherings. Though, we have the silver bullets to thank for that?”

Jayce hesitated, sensing the subtle challenge in her tone. “The bullets are just part of it. My work with Hextech, at Talis Industries is about more than just innovation—it’s about protecting people, human and vampire alike. If that means stepping into council politics, so be it.”

Mel tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “A noble sentiment. But politics is a dangerous game, Mr. Talis. I hope you’re prepared for the consequences of getting involved.”

Jayce squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze evenly. “If the alternative is doing nothing, I’ll take my chances.”

Mel’s smile widened, a glimmer of approval in her eyes. “Good. I look forward to seeing how far your resolve takes you. Piltover needs minds like yours.” She cast a glance at Viktor, nodding politely before turning her attention back to Jayce. “Perhaps we’ll speak again soon.”

With that, she swept past them, leaving the faint scent of jasmine in her wake. Jayce watched her go, his thoughts spinning.

Viktor broke the silence with a quiet chuckle. “She has a point, you know. Politics can be just as treacherous as innovation. Perhaps more so.”

Jayce sighed. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

“Then it seems we have much to prepare for,” Viktor said, his tone light but purposeful. “Come. There’s work to be done.”

As the two men walked away, the weight of the meeting lingered in Jayce’s mind. The path ahead was growing more complicated by the minute.

_____

The streets of Zaun is bathed by the fading sunlight, a warm orange glow, its rays struggling to reach the lower alleys where life buzzed with a chaotic energy. Vi walked beside Powder, who was balancing a bag of tools precariously on one shoulder, her other hand fiddling with a small gadget she had just purchased.

“Careful, Pow,” Vi warned, eyeing the swaying bag. “Don’t wanna drop that and have it blow up on us.”

Powder rolled her eyes. “It’s not going to blow up. Besides, if it did, it’d be your fault for distracting me.”

Vi smirked, ruffling her sister’s hair. “Yeah, sure. Blame me for everything.”

“You sure you needed all of that?” Vi teased. “These aren’t just tools, Vi. They’re investments. If you want me to fix that busted communicator of yours, you better start appreciating my work.”

As they turned a corner into the bustling market square, the hum of conversation and clinking of tools filled the air. Powder’s attention drifted to a nearby stall, her fascination with gadgets pulling her toward a cluttered table of mechanical parts.

“It’ll just be a minute; you can meet me at the bar if you’re in a hurry” Powder said with pleading eyes.

“Go on. I’ll wait here,” Vi said with a nod, leaning against a nearby post. “Just don’t spend all our coin on junk.”

While Powder happily browsed, Vi’s sharp ears caught fragments of a hushed conversation, as her senses had improved these past few days, she heard talking from a small group gathered near a vendor’s stall. Their cloaked figures and furtive glances screamed secrecy, and Vi’s instincts kicked in immediately. Vi focused on the words, while she ignored the bustling sounds of the streets, her mind locking onto the conversation.

“…new ammunition, that’s what I’m telling you,” One of them said, his voice low and urgent.

“Yeah, but it’s not just any ammo,” another replied. “It’s designed to pierce through anything. Armor, barriers, even—”

“—even you know,” the first cut in, his tone dropping to a whisper.

Vi tensed, her fingers curling into fists as she strained to hear more.

“Yeah, but where’d it come from?” another voice asked.

“Who cares? All that matters is that it works. You saw what it did, right? Cut straight through…” The voice trailed off as one of them noticed Vi glancing in their direction.

She turned her head quickly, pretending to examine a rack of worn-out equipment. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to keep a calm demeanor.

“You sure it’s safe?” a third voice asked, barely above a whisper.

“As safe as anything that lethal can be,” the first replied. “It’s being moved through the black market” the second voice continued. “Zaun’s streets are crawling with it right now. You didn’t hear it from me, but if you’re looking, check the warehouses by the old docks.”

Vi’s heart pounded. A lead.

The words echoed in her head, a flood of questions rising. Could this be connected to the attack?

She took a step closer, pretending to adjust her gloves as the group’s voices grew quieter.

“Vi?” Powder’s voice snapped her back to reality. She turned to see her sister standing nearby, a curious look on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Vi said quickly, forcing a casual tone. “Just stretching my legs.”

Powder raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Well, I’m done here. Let’s go.”

Vi nodded, her thoughts already spiraling as they walked away. The group behind her had dispersed, but their words lingered. Experimental ammunition moving through Zaun’s underground could mean only one thing: trouble.

As they headed toward home, Vi glanced at Powder, her sister happily tinkering with her latest find. Vi clenched her jaw. Whatever this ammunition was, it had the potential to threaten not just Caitlyn but everyone caught in its path.

She would have to follow up on this lead—quietly, for now. No way was she dragging Powder into this mess.

____

Caitlyn flipped through reports from the latest patrols in Ashwynd, her mind preoccupied with the weight of recent events. A faint knock at her door broke her focus. She barely looked up before the door swung open, revealing a familiar figure.

“Mel,” Caitlyn said, leaning back in her chair with a genuine smile. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Mel Medarda stepped in, exuding her usual air of confidence. Her shimmering attire caught the light, a deliberate contrast to the muted tones of the Kiramman estate. “Caitlyn, darling, when did you last see the sun?” she teased, her voice laced with sarcasm. “I thought I’d stop by while I’m in Ashwynd. It’s been a while.”

Caitlyn gestured to a chair across from her. “By all means, make yourself comfortable.”

Mel settled into the chair gracefully, her gaze never leaving Caitlyn. “Vampires hate the sun, remember?” Caitlyn teased, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Ah, yes, a tale as old as time,” Mel rolled her eyes and replied with a touch of playfulness, her fingers idly grazing the hem of her dress as amusement glinted in her eyes.

Her expression softened slightly as she leaned forward. “So, I heard what happened. I had to see for myself that you’re okay.”

Caitlyn hesitated, caught off guard by the genuine concern in Mel’s voice. “I’m fine,” she said finally, her tone gentler. “Really, Mel. You didn’t need to come all the way to Ashwynd for this.”

Mel arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Didn’t I? You can’t blame me for worrying. You’ve always had a knack for throwing yourself into trouble.” Her gaze swept over Caitlyn, as if confirming there were no visible injuries. “But you look… well, surprisingly.”

Caitlyn hummed. “Surprisingly?”

Mel allowed herself a small laugh, settling back in the chair. “You’ve grown, Caitlyn. It’s remarkable, really.”

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her expression. “We’re about the same age, Mel.”

Mel’s smile widened; her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Hmm... not in a few years.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone dropping to a mock-conspiratorial whisper. “So, when does the aging stop? I’d like to know how long I’ll have to deal with you looking this sickeningly perfect.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly. “This is me for the next few decades, I’m afraid.”

Mel waved a hand dramatically. “Of course it is. How wonderfully inconvenient for the rest of us.” Her playful tone shifted, her voice turning smoother. “It seems Piltover has more than one stunner to offer these days. I’ve found someone... interesting.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, already knowing the answer. “You’ve met Jayce.” Her lips quirked into a knowing smile. “He told me.”

Mel raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “Of course he did, and here I thought I was being subtle.”

“Not subtle enough, apparently,” Caitlyn replied dryly. “Jayce tends to overshare when he’s nervous.”

Mel laughed, her rich, confident voice filling the room. “Well, he should be nervous. He’s lucky I’m entertained.”

Caitlyn leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Is that so? I’ll let him know you’re humoring him.”

The two fell into an easy rhythm, their banter light and familiar. Mel tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “You know, you’re not as uptight as you used to be. It’s nice.”

Caitlyn smirked. “And you’re as dramatic as ever.”

“Guilty,” Mel replied with a grin. “Now, when are you free for dinner? I’ll be in Piltover for a while, and I could use the company. Perhaps, bring Jayce? —I hope he survives another conversation with me”

Caitlyn chuckled. “I’ll have to check my schedule, but I suppose I can make time for you… and Jayce.”

Mel flashed an impish smile. “Well, you should, and don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten how charming you used to be—or how much I enjoyed Piltover’s finest commander.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Used to be?”

Mel stood, smoothing her dress, and leaned slightly toward Caitlyn. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said with a wink, “you’re still my favorite.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks as Mel swept out of the room, leaving her with a small smile she didn’t bother to hide.

_______

The dim glow of the desk lamp illuminated Caitlyn’s study, casting long shadows over the piles of books and loose papers covering the desk. She had been here for hours—days, really—combing through every text and fragment she could find about Soulbind, but nothing offered the answers she needed. Her sharp blue eyes scanned yet another passage, but frustration welled up as the words blurred together.

“Nothing,” she muttered under her breath, slamming the book shut with a heavy thud.

Her gaze wandered to a nearby stack of tomes, where a single leather-bound volume caught her attention. It was a genealogy of the great vampire families, a cornerstone of the Kiramman library. Caitlyn hesitated before pulling it closer, flipping through its brittle pages.

The book was ancient, detailed the Noctalis Four Pillar Families, the foundation of vampiric society. The Kirammans were one of them, though their values often set them apart. She skimmed through the familiar sections, her mind distracted but appreciative of the structure her ancestors had fought to build.

• The Kirammans: Renowned for their unique ability, Soulbind, which allowed them to connect deeply with the blood they consumed, gaining not only memories but, in rare cases, emotions and skills.
• The Carravelles: Masters of Bloodcraft, a deadly art that enabled them to manipulate blood into weapons, barriers, or enhancements.
• The Ravensworths: the weilder of Shadowmancy. Giving them control over shadows for manipulation and misdirection. Their powers rooted in stealth and manipulation of darkness itself. They thrived on strategy and espionage, preferring to control events from the shadows rather than overtly asserting power.
• The Corvinus Family: tied to the essence of life and death, granting them the ability of Soulflux, which focuses on the manipulation of vitality and balance. Their power is eerie but subtle, grounded in control over life energy.

Caitlyn’s eyes lingered on the passage about her own family, her thoughts drifting. The Kirammans were different. They had always been different—striving for balance, refusing to fully indulge in the overwhelming power of Soulbind. Her mother had drilled that philosophy into her since she was a child, and Caitlyn had always understood it. But now…

She closed the book with a sigh, her fingers tracing the embossed insignia on the cover. The other families viewed the Kirammans’ restraint as a weakness, especially the Carravelles. She couldn’t help but wonder if her family’s moral code had left them vulnerable.

The door creaked open, breaking her thoughts.

“Caitlyn,” her mother, Cassandra Kiramman, said, her voice carrying a mixture of authority and concern.

“Mother, I’m busy,” Caitlyn replied, not bothering to look up.

“I can see that,” Cassandra said, stepping into the room. Her sharp eyes scanned the mess of books and notes. “But the question is, why? You’ve been buried in here for days. Even the staff are concerned.”

“I’ve been researching,” Caitlyn replied curtly, closing the book in front of her.

“Researching what?” Cassandra asked, stepping closer.

“Nothing important,” Caitlyn said quickly, not wanting to delve into details.

Cassandra’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained firm. “Whatever it is, it’s clearly consuming you. Meanwhile, the world outside these walls continues to grow more dangerous. The council—”

“I know,” Caitlyn cut in, her voice tight. “But this is something I need to do.”

Cassandra frowned but didn’t press further. “I came to check on you—and to tell you about the council meeting.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“It went about as well as expected,” Cassandra said dryly. “The families are on edge, tensions are high, and Lord Veyrin managed to insult half the room. These silver bullets are causing a rift, and the alliances we’ve worked so hard to maintain are beginning to crack.”

Caitlyn frowned. “No surprise there.”

“No, but it’s dangerous,” Cassandra said, her voice dropping slightly. “And that’s why I’ve made a decision.”

Caitlyn straightened slightly; her curiosity replaced with suspicion. “What decision?”

“You need a companion,” Cassandra said simply.

Caitlyn blinked, then scoffed. “A companion? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” Cassandra replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. “The attack on you was a wake-up call. The council agrees—it’s too dangerous for you to continue on your own.”

“This is absurd,” Caitlyn snapped, standing from her chair. “I’m completely capable, I am the head of the task force. I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“This isn’t up for debate, Caitlyn,” Cassandra said firmly. “You may think you’re invincible, but you’re not. I refuse to risk losing you.”

Before Caitlyn could retort, the door opened again, and Vi stepped inside. Her posture was casual, but her expression betrayed a flicker of discomfort as she glanced between Caitlyn and Cassandra.

Caitlyn’s disbelief deepened as she looked at Vi. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Cassandra said. “It is unfortunate really, but Vi saved your life. That alone makes her more than qualified.”

“She’s human,” Caitlyn said sharply, turning to her mother. “We’ve talked about this before. You specifically said, you didn’t want Vi—or any human—involved in our affairs. Or have you changed your mind now that it’s convenient?”

Cassandra’s expression didn’t waver. “I haven’t forgotten our previous discussions. But circumstances have changed, Caitlyn. Vi knows the risks, and she’s agreed to this arrangement. And just like you said, she’s been quite…persistent”

Caitlyn turned to Vi, her voice dropping. “You don’t have to do this.”

Vi shrugged, her voice steady. “Maybe not. But I’m here anyway.”

Cassandra stepped forward; her tone final. “It’s done, Caitlyn. Vi is your companion now. You’ll just have to accept it.”

With that, Cassandra turned and left, leaving Caitlyn and Vi alone in the tense silence of the study.

“This is ridiculous,” Caitlyn muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Vi smirked faintly. “Yeah, probably. But here I am.”

______

The silence in Caitlyn’s study was heavy after Cassandra’s departure. Caitlyn stood by the desk, arms crossed, watching Vi, who leaned casually against the doorframe, her hands in her jacket pockets. The tension in the room hung like an unspoken challenge between them.

“So,” Vi started, breaking the silence, “guess we’re stuck with each other now, huh?”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching faintly. “Seems that way. Though, I can’t imagine you’re particularly thrilled about it.”

Vi smirked. “Thrilled? Nah. But I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for days, so I guess this works out.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, intrigued. “Trying to get a hold of me? Why?”

Vi shifted on her feet, suddenly looking a little less confident. “I, uh… I needed answers. About… you know, what happened. The changes.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened slightly. “I told you I’d contact you.”

“Yeah, you did,” Vi said, scratching the back of her neck. “But you didn’t. And I…” She hesitated, her eyes darting away for a moment before muttering, “I guess I just… kept thinking about you.”

Caitlyn’s eyebrows shot up, and a small, amused smile tugged at her lips. “Thinking about me?”

Vi blinked, realizing what she had said. “No, I mean—I wasn’t thinking about you. I mean, not like that. I just…” She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Forget it.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly, leaning against the edge of her desk. “Oh, no. Please, do continue. This is… entertaining.”

Vi glared at her playfully. “Glad I could amuse you, princess.”

Caitlyn’s smile lingered as she regarded Vi more closely. “Alright, Violet. You have my attention. What did you want to talk about?”

Vi’s teasing demeanor faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. “I heard something. When I was in Zaun.”

Caitlyn straightened; her curiosity piqued. “Go on.”

“There were these people, talking in the market,” Vi began, her voice lowering. “They mentioned something about new ammunition. Stuff that’s apparently spreading around the black market. It sounded… dangerous. Like, worse than your standard weapons. They said it could cut through anything.”

Caitlyn frowned; her amusement replaced by concern. “New ammunition? Did they say where it’s coming from?”

“Not really. Just vague stuff about the docks and warehouses,” Vi said, her brows furrowing. “But the way they were talking… it sounded big. Like it’s tied to something more.”

Caitlyn’s mind raced. The mention of new ammunition tied uncomfortably with what little she knew about the attack and the silver bullets. If what Vi overheard was true, this could be part of a much larger threat.

“And you’re sure about what you heard?” Caitlyn asked.

Vi nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t some drunk rambling. These people knew what they were talking about, and they were scared.”

Caitlyn pressed her lips into a thin line, her gaze falling to the scattered papers on her desk. “This could be connected to the attack. If there’s new ammunition being distributed, it’s not a coincidence.”

“Thought you might say that,” Vi said, crossing her arms. “So… what’s the plan?”

Caitlyn glanced up at her, surprised. “You’re ready to jump into this already?”

Vi shrugged. “Why not? Your mother seems to think I’m your companion now. Might as well earn the title. She’s a little scary.”

Caitlyn shook her head, a faint smile returning to her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, well,” Vi said with a grin, “you’ll get used to it.”

Despite the gravity of the conversation, Caitlyn found herself relaxing slightly in Vi’s presence. She wasn’t sure what to make of this human—this strange, stubborn, and occasionally charming woman who had suddenly been thrust into her life. But for now, she decided, they might as well make the best of it.

“Alright,” Caitlyn said finally. “We’ll start with the docks. But if this gets dangerous, we’re pulling back. But first, we need a solid plan.”

“Dangerous?” Vi said with mock incredulity. “Have you met me?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her faint smile lingered. “I’m starting to get the picture.”

Chapter Text

The dull thud of fists against wood and leather filled the Kiramman estate’s private training grounds. Vi’s movements were sharp and precise, her body weaving effortlessly between strikes and counters. Her footwork was impossibly fast, the kind of agility that spoke of instinct more than training. The heavy training dummy she worked on groaned under the force of her punches and kicks, the reinforced frame barely holding steady.

Caitlyn arrived just as Vi delivered a spinning kick that sent the dummy reeling, the chains keeping it anchored rattling ominously, her gaze immediately drawn to Vi. She meant to call her for a briefing, but the sight before her stole her words. She paused at the edge of the grounds, her breath catching as she watched Vi shift seamlessly into her next set of movements—fluid, powerful, and… unnatural. Every strike and dodge carried a weight and speed that went beyond human limitations.

For a moment, Caitlyn forgot why she had come. She studied the way Vi’s muscles tensed and released with perfect coordination, her body radiating raw strength. There was something feral yet controlled about her—something that made Caitlyn’s heart skip a beat.

Vi slowed, finally noticing Caitlyn’s presence. She turned, wiping sweat from her brow, her gaze locking onto Caitlyn’s. For a moment, she froze. Caitlyn stood there, framed by the soft golden light streaming through the estate’s windows, her polished uniform pristine despite the chaos of the day. Her dark blue hair was perfectly styled, her posture poised as always, but it was her face—those sharp, aristocratic features, her piercing blue eyes—that made Vi’s chest tighten. Caitlyn was beautiful in a way that stole the air from her lungs, a beauty that wasn’t just in her appearance but in the strength and grace she carried effortlessly.

Vi swallowed hard, an unfamiliar warmth pooling in her chest. She wasn’t used to this—this strange, magnetic pull that Caitlyn seemed to have over her. It made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way no opponent ever had.

“You’re staring again,” Vi said, her voice tinged with curiosity rather than teasing. She grabbed a towel and slung it over her shoulder. “What’s on your mind, Princess?”

Caitlyn stepped forward, “I could say the same thing for you.” Caitlyn countered but still trying to reconcile what she had just witnessed. “Your movements… they’re—" She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Almost inhuman. Is this… is this part of the effects?”

Vi raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she considered the question. “Maybe. Hard to say. I don’t remember feeling this strong before. But you tell me—are you still getting flashes of my memories?”

Caitlyn stiffened at the question, her gaze dropping for a moment. “Sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “They come and go, uninvited.” She hesitated before adding, “It’s strange. Like you’re still with me, even when you’re not.”

Vi let out a soft hum, her expression unreadable as she regarded Caitlyn. “Guess we’re stuck with each other in more ways than one,” she said, her voice low but not unkind. Caitlyn cleared her throat, breaking the moment.

“I have the details for our first mission together,” Caitlyn said, her tone clipped and professional. “Tonight, at the docks, at Zaun.”

“Cool.” Vi leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. A sly grin spread across her face. “You have my full attention, Commander,” she added, her voice dripping with respect but carrying that unmistakable tinge of mischief.

Caitlyn shot her a pointed look, her brows narrowing. “I’m serious, Violet. This isn’t some unserious matter. Zaun may be considered a neutral zone, but it’s crawling with opportunists—smugglers, rogue hunters. We’ll need precision and restraint.”

Vi pushed off the wall, her grin never fading. “Woah, relax, Princess. You make it sound like Zaun’s some dark abyss. I’m basically from Zaun, remember?” She gestured casually toward herself, her confidence practically radiating off her.

Caitlyn paused, the edge in her expression faltering for a brief moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vi cut in with a wave of her hand, her grin widening. “Zaun’s a little rough around the edges, sure. Might not smell like your fancy estate, but you’ll survive. And who knows?” Her tone turned teasing, the grin becoming a smirk. “You might even warm up to it.”

Caitlyn exhaled softly, “That’s not the point, Vi. This mission—”

“I know, I know,” Vi interrupted again, her voice dipping into something more sincere. “I get it, Cait. It’s serious. But you don’t have to walk on eggshells with me every time Zaun comes up.” Her eyes softened, the playful edge fading just slightly. “It’s my home. Messy? Yeah. Dangerous? Sure. But it’s not just crawling with opportunists, okay? It’s got good people too.”

Caitlyn regarded her for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I know, and I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it that way. If I’m being honest, it feels like trouble has been following me everywhere lately.” She paused, her voice softening. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” Her gaze lingered for a moment before she straightened. “That’s why I’m not taking any chances—especially not with everything that’s been happening.”

Vi raised a brow, the grin creeping back onto her face. “What, worried about me already, Commander?”

“I’m worried about the mission,” Caitlyn shot back, her tone sharp, though a faint smile betrayed her amusement. “And keeping both of us alive.”

Vi chuckled, stepping forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll play nice. I’ll even try to keep you from getting your boots too dirty.”

Caitlyn shook her head, a small sigh escaping her. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Vi quipped, her smirk unrelenting.

Caitlyn hummed at the response, a little wary.

“Okay,” Caitlyn replied, adjusting her rifle strap with a brisk motion.

____

The room was filled with green ornaments in contrast with the low hum of machinery, faint plumes of smoke curling from unseen vents. Silco stood at the far end of a long table, his hands resting lightly on its edge. His sharp features were cast in flickering light, one mismatched eye glinting with intrigue as he reviewed a map of Piltover's docks.

The heavy iron door creaked open, and Silco glanced up, expecting the shadowy figure stepping into the room. A hunter, the one he had sent to weaken Piltover’s golden vampire princess and intercept the silver bullet shipment.

As the figure stepped into the light, his brow arched slightly. She wasn’t what most would expect.

Katarina pulled back her hood, revealing her angular, striking features and sharp green eyes. Her crimson hair, tied in a loose braid, fell over one shoulder, a vivid contrast to the darkness of the room. The faint sheen of blood smeared on her gloves and the jagged dagger at her hip told its own story.

“I’ve not heard of you for days…care to explain?” Silco began.

Silco’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “No matter,” he murmured, his tone laced with amusement. “I must admit, Katarina, I wasn’t expecting you to leave quite the impression you did. Most of Piltover thinks their noble Kiramman heir was taken down by a man.”

Katarina smirked, straightening her dagger on her hip, and unfastening the rifle slung across her back and setting it on the table with a soft thud. “A convenient assumption,” she replied, her tone clipped yet smooth. “Men are predictable. They see a hunter, and they imagine a brute with scars and a penchant for growling. A woman? They never see her coming.”

Silco chuckled, his eye glinting with interest as he leaned forward. “That, my dear, is precisely why I chose you. And judging by the look in your eye, I take it the mission didn’t disappoint.”

Katarina leaned casually against the table, crossing her arms as her sharp gaze met his. “The Kiramman wasn’t an easy target, I’ll give her that. She’s well-trained, precise. But…” A wicked grin tugged at her lips. “She bleeds like anyone else.”

Silco tilted his head, studying her closely. “And yet, she’s still alive.”

Katarina’s smirk didn’t falter, she clenched her fist “Not for lack of trying. She shouldn’t have survived. Not after what I hit her with.”

Katarina finally looked up, meeting his gaze with her sharp green eyes. “The silver bullets were supposed to do more than just wound her. They were designed to poison vampires, to make sure they couldn’t heal. Yet somehow, she’s still standing.” She set the dagger down and crossed her arms, her tone tinged with irritation. “Unless...”

Silco tilted his head, his interest deepening. “Unless what?”

Katarina hesitated for a moment, her expression hardening. “Unless she’s not relying on animal blood to sustain herself,” she said slowly, as if testing the theory aloud.

“But it doesn’t make sense. The Kirammans are devout about their code. They don’t drink from humans—not even in desperation.” Silco interrupted her thought.

“She’ll be dead soon enough,” Katarina said coldly, her confidence unwavering. “The poison in the bullets and the silver alone should’ve done its job, but somehow, she pulled through. I’ll find her again, and next time—”

“Hmm,” Silco interrupted, his tone curious. He leaned closer, his mismatched eyes narrowing. “You are right, that is fascinating.”

Silco let out a low chuckle, circling the table like a predator toying with its prey. “Ah, the Kirammans and their moral high ground. Perhaps their heir isn’t as devout as she wants the world to believe.”

Katarina frowned, her sharp mind racing. “Or there’s something else. Some other factor we’re missing.” She shook her head, her voice turning colder. “She was strong. Too strong for someone who should’ve been dying on the ground.”

Silco leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “You’re certain it wasn’t the bullets themselves? A failure in the design, perhaps?”

“No, well…we’re not sure…we know these are prototypes” Katarina said firmly, her voice laced with certainty. “But I saw the wound—it burned, slowed her down. But she healed faster than she should have. Something else kept her alive.”

Silco chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. “Oh, I know, Katarina. That’s why I keep you around. You’re not just a hunter—you’re an artist.”

Silco’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Fascinating. You’ve wounded Piltover’s golden daughter, forced her to show a side she’s been hiding. And yet, she lives. Tell me, Katarina, does that bother you?”

Katarina’s smirk returned, sharp and cold. “Not for long. Whatever secret she’s hiding won’t save her next time.”

Silco straightened, clasping his hands behind his back as he regarded her thoughtfully. “Secrets, my dear Katarina, are what keep us all alive. But hers… hers might be worth uncovering.”

She scoffed, her confidence unwavering. “I’m not interested in uncovering her secrets. My job is to finish what I started.”

Silco’s mismatched eyes flicked to the rifle on the table, then back to her. “And finish it you will. But for now, let her stew in her survival. The illusion of safety makes people careless. When the time is right, you’ll strike again.” His voice softened, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “This time, Katarina, make sure she doesn’t get back up.”

Katarina nodded once, picking up her rifle and slinging it over her shoulder. “Understood.”

As she turned to leave, Silco’s voice followed her. “Oh, and Katarina?”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder.

He smiled faintly, his tone laced with amusement. “You’ve impressed me. The council will fear her weakness. You’ve already shaken the pillars of Piltover. Don’t stop now.”

Katarina smirked. “I never do.” And with that, she slipped out of the room, her footsteps silent as the door creaked shut behind her.

As the door creaked shut behind her, Silco’s gaze lingered on the spot where she’d stood. “She’s better than I imagined,” he murmured to himself, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. “And far more dangerous.”

______

The industrial docks of Zaun loomed ahead, shrouded in a blanket of mist that clung to the air like an unwelcome guest. The faint glow of alchemical street lamps barely penetrated the darkness, casting long shadows across the rows of stacked shipping crates. The water lapped against the piers in a slow, rhythmic pulse, the only sound breaking the eerie stillness.

Vi led the way, her boots scuffing against the uneven boards as she glanced back at Caitlyn. “Not quite the fancy waterfronts you’re used to, huh?”

Caitlyn adjusted her rifle strap, her sharp blue eyes scanning the shadows. “I’m not here for sightseeing, Violet. Let’s stay focused.”

Vi smirked, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “Relax, Commander. I’ll make sure no one jumps out of a crate and bites your neck”.

“Very funny.” Caitlyn shook her head, a faint smile starting to make its way on her lips.

“So, you survived dinner at Jericho’s—this place should be a breeze for yah.”

Caitlyn’s steps faltered slightly, and she glanced at Vi with a raised brow. “What does Jericho’s have to do with this?”

“Oh, nothing,” Vi said with a casual shrug. “Just saying, you didn’t complain about the food. In fact…” Her lips curled into a grin. “You gave me that look—you know, the ‘this isn’t so bad’ look.”

Caitlyn sighed softly but couldn’t suppress the growing smile that tugged at her lips. “What are you getting at, Violet?”

Vi stopped walking, turning to face her. “I’m just saying, see? I know you liked it.” Her grin widened as she added, “You’re welcome.”

Caitlyn shook her head, her amusement breaking through her usual stoic demeanor. “Let’s just find what we’re looking for, shall we.”

“Sure thing, Commander,” Vi said with a wink, falling back into step beside her.

Caitlyn’s sharp gaze continued to scan the crates for any signs of movement. The faint scent of saltwater and oil filled the air, mingled with something metallic—something wrong. “Stay alert. This place doesn’t feel right.”

As they moved deeper into the dockyard, Vi paused, raising a hand to stop Caitlyn. “Hold up,” she said, her voice low. She crouched slightly, her sharp eyes catching movement near one of the larger crates. A faint shadow shifted, too deliberate to be the wind.

“Got company,” Vi whispered.

As if on cue, shadows shifted at the edges of their vision. Figures emerged, moving with a predatory grace that set Caitlyn’s instincts ablaze. Six vampires in total, their pale skin glinting faintly under the alchemical lights. A figure stepped out from behind a towering stack of crates. He was tall and pale, his crimson eyes gleaming like embers in the dim light. His elegant coat bore the unmistakable crest of the Carravelle family: a serrated blade piercing through a blood-red crescent moon.

“Well, well,” the leader said, his voice dripping with mockery. His gaze flicked to Caitlyn, then lingered on Vi with a smirk. “Piltover’s vampire princess… and what do we have here—a human? How quaint.”

Vi crossed her arms, her stance relaxed but ready. “Yeah? You got a problem with that, fang face?”

The vampire chuckled, his fangs glinting as he stepped closer. “A human, meddling with vampire business? how desperate can you be Kiramman?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, her voice calm but cutting. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. She’s more capable than you think.”

The vampire arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Capable? How charming. Let’s see how long your little pet lasts.”

Vi’s smirk faded, replaced by a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Say that again,” she growled, stepping forward.

Caitlyn raised a hand, stopping her. “Don’t,” she said firmly, her voice low. She turned her gaze to the vampire. “You’re trespassing. Leave now, and I won’t report this to the council.”

The leader laughed, his companions joining in. “Trespassing? Oh, darling, Zaun is anyone’s for the taking. And these crates…” He gestured behind him to the Talis Tech insignia stamped on the cargo. “Are far too dangerous for human hands.”

Caitlyn’s rifle was up in a flash, her aim steady and unwavering. “Last warning. Leave. Now.”

"Oh, I’ve heard stories alright,” the leader drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “The mighty Commander Caitlyn Kiramman. A vampire soldier, the perfect weapon. Protector of the weak, fragile humans—but far too secluded in her ivory tower when her own kind calls for her.”

"I thought you’d given up your position—or was your title stripped from you for spilling the blood of your own kind? Murderer…" the leader sneered, his voice filled with accusation and simmering hatred.

Caitlyn stiffened at the words, a flicker of tension crossing her features, but she quickly pushed it aside. She wouldn’t let his taunts find their mark.

Vi scoffed, stepping forward. “Big talk for someone who needs five backup dancers.” She cracked her knuckles, the sound echoing in the still air. “Let’s dance, then.”

The leader’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a cold snarl. “Kill them.”

The vampires moved in a blur, their inhuman speed making them hard to track. Caitlyn fired the first shot, her rifle cracking like thunder as the bullet struck one of the vampires in the leg. The creature howled, collapsing to the ground, but didn’t stay down for long. Vi launched herself into the fray, meeting the vampires head-on. Her fists connected with brutal force, sending one vampire crashing into a stack of crates. Caitlyn kept her distance, her rifle trained on the vampires darting between the shadows. Her sharp eyes and vampiric reflexes allowed her to anticipate their movements, each shot landing with surgical precision. She aimed for incapacitation rather than death—knees, shoulders, joints—but each shot carried enough force to disrupt their attacks.

Vi faced off a vampire duo at once, her movements a brutal symphony of punches and dodges. One vampire tried to grab her, but she twisted free and delivered a devastating blow to his ribs, sending him sprawling.

“Caitlyn!” Vi shouted, ducking under a swipe. “I could use a little sharpshooter magic over here!

Caitlyn recovered her rifle, spinning around to fire a shot that grazed one vampire’s leg, causing him to collapse. She aimed again, this time striking another attacker squarely in the shoulder. One vampire lunged, claws aiming for her throat, but she caught its arm mid-swing and threw it into a nearby crate, splintering the wood.

The vampire leader watched the chaos unfold with amusement before finally stepping into the fight. His movements were faster than the others, almost a blur. He closed the distance to Caitlyn in a heartbeat, knocking her rifle aside and pinning her to the ground. Before he could strike, Vi barreled into him, tackling him away from Caitlyn. The two tumbled across the ground in a tangle of limbs, Vi’s fists pounding into his face.

Recovering quickly, Caitlyn grabbed her rifle and lined up a shot. “Vi, move!” she shouted.

Vi rolled away just as Caitlyn fired, the bullet slamming into the vampire leader’s arm. He staggered back with a howl of pain, his eyes blazing with fury. But it didn’t stop him, with his lightning speed, he launched himself again at Caitlyn. She sidestepped smoothly, raising her rifle and firing a shot that grazed his shoulder. He hissed in pain, retreating slightly. “Predictable.” she said coldly.

As Caitlyn squared off with the leader, one vampire recovered, grabbing a silver dagger from his coat and charging at Caitlyn. Vi saw him coming and intercepted him, tackling him to the ground. In the scuffle, the dagger slashed across her side, drawing blood. Vi hissed in pain but shoved the vampire off her, landing a solid punch to his jaw. She staggered slightly, clutching her side as blood began to seep through her jacket.

The metallic scent of Vi’s blood hit the air like a spark, and the vampires froze. Their glowing crimson eyes brightened as their predatory instincts kicked in, their focus sharpening on her like wolves scenting prey. One of the flanking vampires sniffed the air, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he took a step toward her.

“Human blood,” he murmured, his voice dripping with hunger.

He took another step closer, his gaze fixed on Vi with ravenous intent, but Caitlyn’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “Not another step.”

Her rifle cracked, the shot ringing out like thunder. The bullet tore through the vampire’s leg, sending him crashing to his knees with a howl of pain. Caitlyn didn’t flinch, her aim steady as the vampire writhed on the ground. But it wasn’t the precision of her shot that stunned Vi—it was Caitlyn herself.

Her piercing blue eyes now burned crimson, glowing with an eerie light that sent a chill down Vi’s spine. The calm, composed woman she had come to know had vanished, replaced by something entirely different. This Caitlyn was haunting, unrelenting, and every inch a killer. For a moment, Vi felt her breath catch, equal parts awe and unease twisting in her chest. She almost didn’t recognize the woman standing before her.

“You should’ve believed those stories,” Caitlyn hissed, her fangs bared. Her voice carried a sharp, eerie menace that sent shivers through the dockyard. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be—every word cut like a blade. Even Vi, who had faced more than her fair share of dangerous opponents, felt a flicker of unease at the cold finality in Caitlyn’s tone.

The dockyard fell silent, the metallic scent of blood mingling with the lingering smoke of Caitlyn’s shot. The vampires exchanged wary glances, their earlier confidence slipping. Even the leader hesitated, his smirk faltering as he took in the Kiramman heir standing tall, her rifle unwavering, her crimson eyes locked on him.

The leader snarled, clutching his injured arm as he staggered to his feet. “This isn’t over, Kiramman.”

Caitlyn kept her rifle trained on him; her expression solid, cold as steel. “Leave,” she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension with unyielding authority, “and tell the Carravelles this: Piltover and Zaun do not bow to threats.”

The leader glared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening. For all his arrogance, there was fear in his eyes now. Without another word, he turned and limped into the mist, his lackeys following close behind. One of them cast a nervous glance back at Caitlyn but quickly looked away when her glowing crimson gaze met his.

Vi exhaled as the vampires disappeared into the fog, but the tension in her chest didn’t fade. Her side throbbed from the wound, but her focus stayed on Caitlyn. “Commander” felt like an understatement now. The way she moved, the way she spoke—it was more than commanding. It was terrifying. And yet, Vi couldn’t deny how effective it was.

The tension hung heavy in the air. Caitlyn lowered her rifle, the sharpness in her stance softening as the eerie glow in her eyes faded, though crimson still lingered, faint but present. She turned to Vi, her expression shifting so quickly it made Vi pause.

“Vi,” Caitlyn said softly, her tone no longer cold but warm, almost tender. The edge in her voice had melted away entirely, replaced with quiet concern. “Are you alright? Let me see your wound.”

Vi blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sudden change. This Caitlyn wasn’t the same terrifying, unrelenting figure who had just sent the vampires running. Her tone, her expression—everything about her was softer now, almost... human. Vi swallowed hard, her voice coming out slower than usual. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” she said, though her eyes lingered on Caitlyn, trying to process the sudden shift.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her eyes darting to the blood seeping through Vi’s jacket. “You’re not fine,” she said gently, her fingers hesitating for a moment before brushing against Vi’s arm. “You’re hurt.”

“Yeah. Just, uh…” She gestured vaguely at Caitlyn, her tone somewhere between teasing and nervous. “You’re a little scary than I thought”

Caitlyn’s expression flickered, a faint shadow crossing her face before she straightened. “I did what I had to,” she said quietly, her voice steady but distant now. Her eyes lingered on the direction the vampires had fled, her gaze hardening like steel. “Let’s get you out of here before they decide to come back.”

Vi slowly pushed herself to her feet, her movements stiff from the wound. Caitlyn stepped forward without hesitation, slipping an arm under Vi’s to steady her. “Easy,” Caitlyn murmured, her touch firm but careful, her earlier coldness melting into quiet concern.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Caitlyn’s expression softened slightly, the faintest flicker of amusement breaking through her icy demeanor. She slung her rifle over her shoulder, her cerulean blue eyes returning to normal.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s just focus on getting you patched up.”

The two continued walking, the glow of Piltover’s skyline barely visible through the haze of Zaun’s smog. Caitlyn’s eyes remained forward, her mind racing with everything that had happened—the vampires, the mention of the Carravelles, and Vi’s injury.

Vi, on the other hand, stole glances at Caitlyn as they walked. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more—the crimson glow of Caitlyn’s eyes back at the docks, or the quiet, almost tender concern in her voice now. Both sides of her were fascinating and terrifying in their own way.

“You know,” Vi said, breaking the silence again, “for someone who keeps saying they don’t need a bodyguard, you sure let me do a lot of protecting.”

Caitlyn’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t look at her right away. “It’s not about needing one,” she replied softly. “It’s about trust.” Then, after a brief pause, her gaze shifted, meeting Vi’s with an intensity that caught her off guard. Caitlyn’s lips curved into a faint, genuine smile, a rare softness breaking through her usual composed demeanor.

Vi blinked, surprised at the honesty in Caitlyn’s words. They struck her in a way she didn’t expect—Caitlyn trusts her. This wasn’t just someone relying on her because they had no choice; this was Caitlyn Kiramman, a person more than capable of handling herself, choosing to trust her. The realization hit like a quiet blow, a pinch in her chest that left her unsteady for a moment. Caitlyn needs her.

Before Vi could respond, Caitlyn added, her voice soft yet firm, “And next time, try not to get hurt.”

Vi grinned, masking the sudden warmth spreading through her. “No promises, Commander,” she replied, her tone lighter, but her chest heavier with unspoken emotions.

Chapter Text

The faint glow of a lantern cast flickering shadows across the walls of the estate’s private clinic. Vi sat on the edge of a chaise, her shirt discarded and chest wrapped in bandages stained faintly red. Caitlyn knelt before her, carefully unwrapping the makeshift bindings to reveal the wound underneath—a deep gash along Vi’s side, jagged and irritated, the edges of the cut still angry and swollen.

Caitlyn’s hands trembled, though not from nerves but focus, as she gently dabbed a cloth against the wound. The silver dagger had done more damage than either of them anticipated.

“Hold still,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice soft yet commanding.

Vi winced as the damp cloth touched her skin, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

“Could be worse. At least they didn’t aim higher.” Caitlyn just gave her a pointed look.

As Caitlyn looked closer, she noticed something unusual.

The torn flesh seemed to shift faintly, knitting together ever so slowly. She blinked, leaning in without realizing. “Remarkable,” she murmured, her fingers hovering just over the injury.

Vi smirked, despite the discomfort. “Yeah, it’s got its perks. Though it’s slower I guess, cause silver is involved. I’ll have to work on dodging better next time.”

Caitlyn’s fingers moved deftly, cleaning away dried blood and debris with care, though Vi could feel the tension in her touch. Caitlyn’s silence was more pointed than any words, her jaw tight as she reached for a small jar of salve.

Caitlyn just hummed in response, as she leaned closer, inspecting the sluggish healing process of Vi’s other injuries, “Remarkable indeed.”

Vi noticed Caitlyn’s furrowed brow as her hand paused over the crimson-stained bandages. “I’ve had better days, sure” Vi said with a shrug, attempting nonchalance. “But I’ll live.”

The room fell silent except for the occasional crackle of the fireside. Caitlyn’s gaze shifted, unbidden, to the streaks of blood that marred Vi’s skin. The sight stirred a memory she had tried hard to bury—the scent of sweet blood on the forest floor that night, warm and inviting, even intoxicating. She blinked and pushed it aside before Vi could catch the flicker of hunger that threatened to surface in her expression.

But Vi caught it.

Her sharp eyes flicked up, reading Caitlyn the way she always did—too well, too easily. She didn’t say anything at first, just tilted her head slightly, watching the way Caitlyn’s fingers stilled for half a second too long, the slight furrow in her brow, the tension locked behind her gaze.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Vi’s voice was softer than usual, the edge of a smirk playing at her lips, but something about the way she said it wasn’t just teasing.

Caitlyn met her gaze, guarded. “What?”

Vi’s smirk widened just a fraction. “I mean… you’re handling all this blood pretty well. It’s impressive.”

Caitlyn paused, glancing at her briefly before wrapping a fresh bandage over her wound. “I’ve been trained my entire life for this. Restraint, self-control, discipline—it’s not just instinct, it’s necessity.” Her voice softened, almost imperceptibly. “What happened in the forest… that was a mistake… And it won’t happen again.”

A beat of silence.

Vi tilted her head, watching Caitlyn tie off the bandage with practiced precision. She should have let the moment pass, should have let Caitlyn tuck that truth away where she wanted it. But Vi never had been one to let things go.

“A mistake, huh?” Vi murmured, her voice softer now, though the smirk still lingered, subtle but there. She shifted slightly, testing the bandage beneath Caitlyn’s touch, but her eyes never left Caitlyn’s face. “Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched—not enough for most to notice, but Vi wasn’t most people.

Her hands went still against Vi’s skin for the barest fraction of a second before she pulled away, moving to tidy the supplies as if the conversation was already over. Control. Restraint. Focus. She had trained for this.

And yet, the memory clung to her like smoke—warm, intoxicating, the scent of sweet blood pooling on the forest floor. Vi’s blood. The way her throat had gone dry, her senses sharpening to something unnatural, something she refused to let define her.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” Vi said after a beat, her voice cutting through the quiet. “You’ve got maids or attendants—whatever fancy term you use—for this kind of thing.”

Caitlyn froze for a fraction of a second before continuing to tend to Vi’s other wounds, some of which had already begun to fade—healing faster than they should. The cloth in her hand hovered over Vi’s skin, as if deciding whether to press down or retreat. Her fingers barely brushed over the bruised flesh, hesitant in a way that wasn’t like her. The lights flickered, casting shifting shadows across Vi’s face, and for a brief moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing.

When Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice was calm, measured—but the faintest edge of something else crept in beneath the practiced neutrality. Something unsteady.

“I don’t trust anyone else to do it properly.”

She dabbed carefully at a cut along Vi’s collarbone, her hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. The warmth of Vi’s skin under her touch made it impossible to ignore just how alive she was. The contrast was striking—heat against the cold calculation Caitlyn had spent years mastering.

And then, almost too softly to be heard, she added, “And besides… I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

The air shifted.

The weight of her words settled between them, thick and tangible in the dim glow of the fire. Vi’s teasing grin softened, losing its usual cockiness, replaced by something warmer, something unguarded.

“Careful, Cupcake,” she said, her voice dropping into something lower, quieter. “Someone might think you’re getting possessive.”

Caitlyn finally looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed, but her expression steady. “Maybe I am.” The words left her before she could think better of them, and she didn’t regret them.

Vi’s grin faded, just slightly, as the words settled between them, heavy despite their softness. She didn’t move away. Instead, she tilted her head, letting Caitlyn’s words sink in like slow-burning embers.

Neither of them realized how close they were until the flickering firelight illuminated the space between them—a space so narrow it might as well have not existed at all.

Caitlyn could see it now, the way Vi’s breath hitched just slightly, how her lips parted like she was about to say something but changed her mind. Vi’s gaze glimmered from Caitlyn’s hands to her face, searching.

“Cait…” Vi’s voice was barely a whisper, more cautious than usual, more careful.

Caitlyn stilled. Her heart hammered louder than she would’ve liked, but she didn’t pull away. She could have—should have. Instead, she cleared her throat, her face still unbearably close.

“And besides,” she murmured, softer now, “you saved me again.”

Vi’s brow quirked at that, a little smirk creeping back into place. “You make it sound like I’m keeping a tally or something.”

Caitlyn exhaled a breath of something that could’ve been a laugh—or relief.

“You probably are,” she replied, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Vi leaned back slightly, but not before Caitlyn caught the way her fingers twitched against her knee, as if resisting the urge to reach for her. “Maybe.” Vi’s grin turned lazy, but her eyes never left Caitlyn’s. A flicker of something unspoken passed between them before she added, “But don’t worry, Princess… I actually take this job more seriously than you think.”

Job.

Caitlyn’s lips parted slightly, brow quirking—not in confusion, but in something closer to understanding.

“Job?” Caitlyn repeated, her voice dipping into something softer, teasing, challenging.

Because they both knew. The things they felt, the things they had been feeling, had long since stepped beyond the boundaries of duty. This wasn’t just about keeping score or teasing flirtations wrapped in playful bravado. It wasn’t about obligation. It never was.

Vi didn’t save her because it was her job.

And Caitlyn knew it.

Her breath slowed, her fingers stilling at her side. She should have pulled back, should have created distance, but she didn’t. Instead, her gaze dipped—just for a second. Just long enough to settle on Vi’s lips.

Vi noticed. Of course she did.

The shift between them was almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Vi tilted her head slightly, her lips just a breath away from Caitlyn’s. Close enough to feel, close enough to want.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

But they both smiled.

A silent admission. A confession without words…when

the door creaked open, breaking the quiet intimacy of the room. Caitlyn froze for a moment, her hands still lingering near Vi’s freshly bandaged wound. Vi didn’t seem to mind the interruption—if anything, her smirk widened as she leaned back slightly in the chair.

“Caitlyn,” Tobias said, his voice warm and gentle as he stepped into the room. “I didn’t realize you were still tending to her wounds.” His kind eyes swept the scene, pausing briefly on the closeness between them, though he said nothing about it.

Caitlyn straightened, setting the bloodied cloth aside as she turned toward him. “Father. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Clearly,” Tobias said with a faint smile. “Though I can’t blame you for being distracted. It seems I caught you in the middle of… quite the effort.”

Vi chuckled from her seat, one arm slung casually over the backrest.

_____

Veyrin sat reclined in his chair, one hand resting on the armrest, the other holding a goblet filled with deep crimson liquid. He watched the flames with a detached interest, the flickering light illuminating his sharp, aristocratic features. The air in the room was thick with the scent of aged wood, leather, and the faint iron tang of blood.

The door creaked open, and Alec stepped in. He moved with purpose but hesitated just before the threshold, his shoulders stiff with tension.

"You’re late," Veyrin said without looking up, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that made Alec freeze.

"My apologies, my lord," Alecreplied, bowing his head slightly. "The docks... there was a complication."

Veyrin’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile, though his eyes remained fixed on the fire. "A complication? You mean the shipment?" He turned his head slowly, his gaze locking onto Alec like a predator sizing up its prey. "Tell me you have the silver bullets."

Alec swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. "We lost them,"

The silence that followed was deafening. Veyrin leaned forward in his chair, setting his goblet down on the table with deliberate care. "Lost them?" he repeated, his tone chilling. "How?"

"It was the Kiramman heir," Alec said quickly. "She intercepted the shipment. Personally."

Veyrin arched an eyebrow. "The sheriff herself. How quaint. And you couldn’t do something about this?”

"Our men fought, brother" Alec said, his voice laced with frustration and shame. "But she overwhelmed them. She fought like a demon. Precise, ruthless. She cut through our defenses as if she knew exactly where we’d strike." He hesitated before adding, "And… she wasn’t alone."

Veyrin’s head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Oh?"

"There was someone with her," Alec continued. "A human."

Veyrin stilled, his crimson eyes narrowing. "A human?" The word dripped with incredulity.

"Yes," Alec said, his voice lowering. "She fought alongside a human. I don’t know who she is, but she was… relentless. She fought with her bare hands. It may seem like she’s a skilled hunter, but I haven’t seen her before... There’s something about her—"

Veyrin interrupted, rising from his chair with a slow, deliberate motion. "So, let me make sure I understand this correctly." He began to circle Alec, his tone soft but dangerous. "You’re telling me that Caitlyn Kiramman—a vampire whose strengths and weaknesses we already know—has now allied herself with a human. And together, the two of them managed to overpower my vampires and steal an entire shipment of silver bullets from under your nose?"

Alec flinched slightly under Veyrin’s gaze but nodded. "Yes. The two of them fought as though they’d been working together for years. Caitlyn with her precision and control, the human with raw, brute strength. Our men, surprisingly didn’t stand a chance."

Veyrin stopped pacing, turning to face the fire as his lips pressed into a thin line. "A vampire and a human," he said softly, almost to himself. "How intriguing."

"My lord, if I may" Alec ventured cautiously, "it’s clear this human is no ordinary companion. She’s dangerous."

"Obviously," Veyrin said, his tone clipped. He turned back to Alec, his expression sharp. "And you don’t know who she is?"

"No, my lord," Alec admitted. "She doesn’t match anyone in our records."

Veyrin tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his mind clearly working. "A human strong enough to stand alongside a vampire in battle," he murmured. "She must be someone of significance. Caitlyn wouldn’t risk her precious secrets for just anyone."

Alec straightened slightly. "Do you want us to investigate the human, my lord?"

Veyrin smirked faintly. "Not yet. Let her remain a mystery for now. But I want the silver reclaimed. Every last bullet. Do whatever it takes to ensure Caitlyn doesn’t get the chance to use it."

"Sure thing, brother" Alec said, bowing his head.

"And Alec," Veyrin added, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "If you fail me again, it won’t be the humans you’ll need to fear."

Alec nodded quickly, retreating toward the door. But before he could leave, Veyrin spoke again, his tone almost thoughtful.

"Tell me," Veyrin said, "did Caitlyn seem… different?"

Alec paused, frowning slightly. "Different, my lord?"

"More ruthless. More… confident," Veyrin said, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "She’s hiding something. And I intend to find out what it is."

Alec  hesitated, then bowed deeply again. "I’ll see to it, my lord."

As the door closed behind him, Veyrin returned to his chair, picking up his goblet and staring into the crimson liquid. A slow smile spread across his face. “A vampire and a human," Veyrin mused, his smirk widening. He took a slow sip from his goblet, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. "This will be fun."

Chapter Text

Caitlyn stormed into Jayce's workshop, her footsteps echoing sharply against the metal flooring. The air was thick with the scent of oil and metal, the faint hum of machinery still active in the background. Workbenches cluttered with blueprints and dismantled gadgets lined the space, but her focus was singular.

In her clenched fist, she held the damning evidence—a bullet casing, unmistakably from the prototype series. Her fingers trembled with rage as she threw it onto his desk.

"Explain this," she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of the workshop. "You said so yourself, these were never supposed to leave this room. The council never approved them. So tell me, Jayce, how did they end up out there?"

Jayce, caught off guard, stiffened before straightening from his workbench. His usual confident demeanor cracked, his brow furrowing deeply as he took the casing from the desk with careful hands. His fingers brushed over the engraved markings, his expression darkening as realization set in.

Vi, having just entered, placed a stack of photographs onto the table beside him. They depicted crates bearing the Talis insignia, stacked high at the docks. She leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, her gaze shifting between the two as the tension in the room thickened.

"Where did you find this?" Jayce finally asked, his voice laced with both caution and disbelief.

Caitlyn’s glare intensified. "I intercepted Caravelle’s men. They were scrambling to get their hands on these bullets—hundreds of them. Do you have any idea what this means? This—" she gestured sharply at the casing, "—this is the same kind of bullet that hit me during that night at the forest. It’s out there, Jayce, and now the Caravelles want it too."

Jayce exhaled heavily, dragging a hand down his face. His shoulders sagged under the weight of the revelation, a mix of shock and guilt flickering in his eyes. "I never authorized—"

"Then who did?" Caitlyn snapped, her voice rising. "Because clearly, someone did, and now they’re circulating beyond our control. This was supposed to be contained. If you don't give me answers soon, Jayce, this is not a good look for your family when the council finds out. And they will."

Jayce clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his mind racing for answers. "I don’t know, Caitlyn. But I swear, I’ll find out. I've already started looking into it, and I'll update you as soon as I have something."

His voice softened, his remorse evident. "I'm sorry. I’ll fix this."

Caitlyn held his gaze for a long moment, then gave a curt nod before turning on her heel. She strode out of the workshop, her movements still tense with frustration. Vi shot Jayce one last look before following Caitlyn, the door closing behind them with a sharp click.

_____

Caitlyn stepped out of the workshop, her mind still tangled in frustration. The conversation with Jayce had left her pulse thrumming with irritation, her jaw tight as she replayed his words. This was bigger than she’d thought, and she wasn’t sure if she could trust him to fix it.

Beside her, Vi shoved her hands into her pockets, letting out a long breath. "Well. That was fun."

Caitlyn shot her a look. "Hardly."

Vi studied Caitlyn for a second, noting the way her shoulders hadn’t relaxed, the way her fingers twitched slightly like she was already reaching for her next plan of attack. Vi knew that feeling—when the weight of the world sat heavy on your chest, demanding that you keep moving before it crushed you.

"Alright," Vi said, nudging Caitlyn’s arm with her elbow. "I think you need a breather."

Caitlyn huffed. "I’m fine."

Vi smirked. "Uh-huh. That’s exactly what people say when they’re two seconds away from punching a wall."

Caitlyn gave her an exasperated look, but Vi just shrugged, hands deep in her pockets.

"Come on," Vi said, easy and light. "Just one drink. I know a place."

Caitlyn hesitated.

She should say no. There were leads to follow, people to question—she didn’t have time to sit in a bar and waste time.

But Vi saw it—the moment of hesitation, the way Caitlyn’s lips parted ever so slightly before she pressed them together again, weighing the choice.

And just like that, Vi was back in the clinic that night.

Back to that moment when Caitlyn had leaned in just a little too close, her breath warm against Vi’s lips, her fingers lingering where they shouldn’t. Vi had felt it then—the pull, of the unspoken tension between them tightening like a drawn bowstring. It would have taken so little to close that distance.

Vi had wanted to. Still wanted to.

And now, standing here, watching Caitlyn hesitate again, Vi felt something else creep in. Regret. Not for inviting Caitlyn, but for knowing she wasn’t sure if she could trust herself around her.

Caitlyn was just so…

So infuriatingly beautiful, so sharp yet soft, so capable of undoing Vi with just a look.

Vi’s smirk faded slightly, her voice dropping into something quieter, more careful.

"Or not," she murmured, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through.

Because maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe dragging Caitlyn into a dimly lit bar, where the air was thick with the scent of whiskey and possibility, was dangerous for reasons that had nothing to do with bullets or politics.

Maybe she shouldn’t have asked at all.

For a beat, Caitlyn just looked at her.

And then, as if she’d made up her mind, Caitlyn exhaled slowly.

"...One drink," she said, almost too soft to hear.

Vi blinked, caught off guard for a fraction of a second before a slow, lopsided grin tugged at her lips.

"Yeah?"

Caitlyn shook her head, the smallest smile threatening to break through. "Yeah."

Vi let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. "Shit."

"Something wrong?" Caitlyn asked, arching a brow.

Vi rubbed the back of her neck, smirking like she hadn’t just had a near-existential crisis over a drink invitation. "Nope. Just… didn’t think you’d say yes."

Caitlyn gave her a look that was both amused and exasperated. "You make a terrible liar."

Vi laughed, shoving the door to open, as they exit. "Yeah, well. You make terrible decisions. Let’s go."

And just like that, Caitlyn followed her.

______

Vi led Caitlyn through the winding streets of Ashwynd, the district where Caitlyn had grown up. The town looked different at night—quieter, the gas lamps casting a golden hue over cobblestone streets, the hum of distant music spilling from tucked-away bars and speakeasies.

Caitlyn followed Vi with cautious curiosity, her sharp gaze flickering over the old storefronts and familiar alleyways. The place had changed, yet there was a strange comfort in the faint remnants of her childhood still lingering in the air.

When Vi finally stopped in front of a bar, Caitlyn raised a brow.

The establishment was… unexpected. Not the dingy dive bar she had imagined Vi would frequent, but not a high-class lounge either. It was somewhere in between, blending polished wood and warm lighting with the undeniable grit of the district.

A mixture of them—Caitlyn’s refinement and Vi’s rough edges, meeting in the middle.

Caitlyn studied the weathered yet elegant signage before glancing at Vi. “Here?”

Vi shrugged. “What, expecting a place where half the patrons are missing teeth?”

Caitlyn smirked. “Given your usual preferences, Maybe.”

Vi chuckled, shoving the door open. "Well, this one's got a little class just like you. ‘sides I’ve got layers, you know"

As they stepped inside, Caitlyn was immediately hit with the scent of aged whiskey, wood polish, and something faintly sweet. The place was alive, yet intimate—low-lit and warm, with a jazz quartet playing in the corner, their melodies smooth but unpolished, as if they were improvising as they went.

Caitlyn let her gaze wander. She had lived in Ashwynd for years, and yet, she had never been here.

She didn’t know why that realization struck her, but it did.

Vi caught the flicker of thought behind her eyes. “Been here before?”

Caitlyn shook her head slowly.

Vi tilted her head, something unreadable crossing her expression. "Your place is around this area and you never came?"

Caitlyn exhaled, running her fingers over the polished wood of the bar as she slid into a seat. “I guess… I never thought to." She paused, considering. "Or maybe I never let myself.”

Vi studied her for a moment, then turned to the bartender, raising two fingers. "Well. First time for everything."

The bartender set down two drinks without asking—a sleek, dark cocktail for Caitlyn, elegantly layered in a crystal-cut glass, and a pint of beer for Vi, simple and no-nonsense.

Caitlyn eyed Vi’s drink and huffed softly. “Really?”

Vi smirked. "Hey, I know what I like."

Caitlyn hummed, fingers wrapping around her own glass, but then—just to prove a point—she reached across the bar and grabbed Vi’s beer instead.

Vi blinked.

Caitlyn took a slow sip, utterly unphased by the bitter taste, and then set it down with calculated ease. She licked a stray drop from her lips and tilted her head at Vi, smug.

“I can handle beer too, you know.”

Vi’s brain promptly short-circuited.

For one very dangerous second, her eyes dropped to Caitlyn’s lips, her mouth slightly parted like she was about to say something—and then forgot how to speak.

She coughed, grabbing her beer back like Caitlyn had just stolen her sanity along with it. "Yeah, uh—sure. Just didn’t think you’d actually want beer."

Caitlyn smirked, lifting her cocktail instead. “Please. I was drinking stolen whiskey in my dorm before I ever stepped into a Piltover gala.”

Vi choked on her drink. “Wait—you?”

Caitlyn just arched a brow, swirling her glass with mock innocence. “Like you said… layers.”

Vi shook her head, laughing. "Okay, now I’m impressed."

_____

Caitlyn swirled the last of her cocktail, watching the way the dim bar lights refracted through the deep blue liquid. Her fingers had stopped tapping against the counter, but she was still thinking. Still analyzing.

She glanced at Vi. “How do you even know a place like this?”

Vi, in the middle of taking a sip of her beer, raised a brow. She smirked. “Careful, you’re taking all my tricks up my sleeve away.”

Caitlyn hummed, unimpressed. “Didn’t know you had any to begin with.”

Vi clutched her chest in mock offense. “Ouch.”

Caitlyn smirked, then let her gaze sweep the bar again. It was comfortable. Unexpected. A mix of polished elegance and rough charm, tucked away in Ashwynd—a place she had spent most of her life in but never once stepped into.

Vi laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, fair. But nah, I get around.” She gestured loosely to the bar. “You think Piltover’s all prim and proper, but places like Ashwynd? They’ve got some grit. A little rough, but nothing you can’t handle if you know how to move through it.”

Caitlyn tilted her head. “That still doesn’t answer how you know Ashwynd almost better than I do. I grew up here.”

Vi took another sip of her beer, then leaned back against the counter, exhaling. “Guess it reminds me of Zaun.”

Caitlyn blinked, her curiosity piqued.

Vi’s gaze flickered toward the entrance, as if lost in thought for a moment. “Zaun’s different, but… not that different. Same kind of hustle. People making things work however they can, some of them doing what they gotta do to survive. I feel at ease here, y’know? No one’s pretending to be something they’re not.”

Caitlyn took in the words, the slight shift in Vi’s voice—not quite nostalgic, but something close. She wanted to ask more, but Vi beat her to it.

“Not that I need to tell you any of this,” Vi said suddenly, smirking. “You probably already saw it in my memories, right?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but laughed, a real one, soft and effortless. “No. It’s not like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I saw things—not everything. I caught glimpses of your past, not a full history lesson.”

Vi leaned on her elbow, watching her closely. “Yeah? And what’d you see?”

Caitlyn hesitated. She could have answered—she could have told Vi about the flickers she’d caught, the moments of loss, of fire, of hands curled into fists too small for the weight they carried. But she didn’t.

Instead, she just said, “Enough to know that you’ve been through a lot.”

Vi exhaled, then smirked. “Well, I’ve been here quite a lot, too.”

Caitlyn picked up on the implication immediately.

Ashwynd. Not just the bar, but the district itself. The streets she’d walked as a child, the places she had once thought were hers. Vi had been here—moving through these same alleys, same corners.

Caitlyn’s lips parted slightly. “I never saw you before.”

Vi’s expression shifted slightly, a glint of something unreadable flashing through her powder blue eyes. “Didn’t see you either. Not till the incident at the forest.”

Caitlyn inhaled sharply. She knew what Vi meant. That night. The bullet. The moment everything changed.

She set her glass down, folding her hands together. “That’s because I wasn’t stationed here.”

Vi arched a brow. “Oh?”

Caitlyn exhaled, like she was debating whether to even say this. But after everything… what was the harm?

“I was part of a special elite task force in Piltover,” Caitlyn said finally. “Not just an Enforcer—I was one of the head snipers. A specialized unit. We operated inside and outside of Noctalis, taking high risks missions, tracking high-profile threats, people the Council didn’t want made public.”

Vi’s gaze sharpened slightly.

“And you were commander?” Vi asked, because she knew how much control Caitlyn had, how precise she was, how she never missed a shot.

“I was.”

Vi caught it—the shift. The way Caitlyn’s voice dipped slightly, the way her fingers curled against her palm.

Was.

Vi didn’t pry, but she could read between the lines. Something happened. Something Caitlyn wasn’t saying.

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered, like she could feel Vi trying to read her. “Things changed,” she said, vague but final. A deflection.

Vi didn’t push. Instead, she just said, “Yeah. They always do.”

Another beat of silence settled between them, heavier this time. Not awkward, but charged.

And somehow, somewhere in that moment—Vi reached for Caitlyn’s hand without thinking.

She didn’t even realize it at first, the way her fingers barely brushed against Caitlyn’s, warm and solid against the smoothness of her skin. A quiet reassurance. A tether.

Caitlyn didn’t pull away.

She looked down at their hands, her expression unreadable, then back up at Vi—searching, waiting.

Vi swallowed, feeling the warmth of Caitlyn’s skin beneath her fingertips.

And then, a little too quickly, she pulled back. Cleared her throat. Grabbed her beer like it had been her intention all along.

Caitlyn noticed. But instead of calling her out on it, she just tilted her head, gave Vi a small, knowing smirk, and took another sip of her drink.

Vi exhaled. Shit.

“Think I need another beer,” Vi muttered under her breath.

Caitlyn chuckled, shaking her head.

The moment passed. But not really.

_____

Back in the dimly lit corridors of the workshop, Jayce paced, frustration etched on his face. The quiet hum of machinery was suddenly broken by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps. Viktor stepped into the room, his sharp gaze locking onto Jayce.

"I believe I have found something," Viktor said, his voice measured, careful. "Someone has been leaking information about the prototype. Not just anyone—a spy."

Jayce stopped mid-step, turning to face him fully. "A spy? How do you know?"

Viktor tapped a few notes on the terminal nearby. "Certain patterns in the lab’s access logs, inconsistencies in security reports… Someone has been accessing restricted files at odd hours, bypassing even the safeguards we put in place. It is not just an accident. It is deliberate."

Jayce’s fists clenched as he exhaled, tension evident. "Then we need to find out who. Before this gets any worse."

Viktor studied him for a moment, then spoke in a more measured tone. "You are worried. More than usual."

Jayce let out a rough chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "Of course, I’m worried, Viktor. This isn't just about stolen blueprints anymore. My family—if the council gets wind of this before we control the damage, it won’t just be my reputation on the line. My parents, my entire name—everything will be under scrutiny."

He shook his head, a heavy sigh escaping him. "And Caitlyn… she trusted me. She always believed in what we were doing here. But now? Now, she’s disappointed. I saw it in her eyes. She thinks I failed her, and maybe she’s right."

Viktor's expression softened slightly. "Jayce, we will fix this. But you must remain focused. If you let guilt cloud your judgment, you will not find the truth in time."

Jayce let out another breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. "I know. It’s just… I feel like it’s already too late. But I can’t let it be."

Viktor placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we find the spy. Together. Before this spiral further."

Jayce nodded slowly, straightening his stance. "Yeah. Together."

____

Mel watched as Caitlyn stepped into her office, expecting a private discussion, but to her surprise, she wasn’t alone. Caitlyn had brought a companion. Mel hadn't anticipated company. Vi stood beside her, arms crossed, casually surveying the room with a relaxed smirk.

Mel arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Caitlyn, darling, I thought this was going to be a private conversation. Now, you’re bringing guests?"

Vi offered Mel a polite nod.

Mel leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand as her gaze swept over Caitlyn with an unmistakable glint of amusement. "You know, I do enjoy these one-on-one meetings with you. A shame we’re not alone."

Caitlyn merely rolled her eyes, unfazed by Mel’s antics. "Vi’s my partner for the investigation. For the time being, at least."

Mel’s smirk deepened as she regarded Vi. "Ah, so the infamous enforcer has a new shadow. How charming."

Vi, having watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, let out a short scoff. "I prefer partner.”

Mel chuckled, clearly entertained by the reaction. "Oh? Well, I do enjoy a challenge."

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking her head with a small smile. She was used to Mel’s antics by now and had long since learned not to take the councilor’s flirtation too seriously. "Mel, the intel?"

Mel waved a hand dismissively before sliding a small, folded note across the desk. "A masquerade ball. Ravensreach. It’s an annual event, political and social. Almost everyone with any influence will be there, including the hunters. And you know how Rhiannon loves her parties."

Caitlyn took the note, scanning its contents. "A grand ball… perfect for gathering intel. But also, dangerous."

Mel smiled knowingly. "That’s the fun part, isn’t it?"

Vi leaned against the desk, glancing at Caitlyn. "So, what’s the play here? We sneak in, blend with the crowd, hope to overhear something useful?"

Mel interlocked her fingers, watching Caitlyn carefully. "More or less. But you won’t just be sneaking in. You’ll be expected. The guest list is exclusive, and thanks to some... maneuvering on my part, both of you have been granted invitations."

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. She had come to expect nothing less from Mel. "Invitations? So, we’re attending as guests rather than sneaking in as spies?"

Mel tilted her head with an amused smile. "Can’t you be both?"

Vi let out a short laugh, though there was a hint of unease beneath it. "Alright, fancy dress it is. Not exactly my scene, though." She shifted slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. "I’m not exactly used to… high society events."

Mel’s smirk widened, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, you’re in perfect hands then. Caitlyn used to be quite the socialite before duty took over her life."

Mel’s eyes flickered with mischief as she rested back in her chair. "Speaking of, I do hope you two know how to dance. It would be such a shame to waste an opportunity to make an impression."

Vi groaned. "Great. A mission with a dance lesson included. Just what I needed."

Caitlyn, however, remained composed. "We’ll do what’s necessary. But I assume there’s more to this than just mingling?"

Mel’s smile faded slightly, her tone becoming more serious. "Yes. There’s a name floating around. Someone who’s been making moves behind the scenes. This ball might be the perfect chance to figure out who they are. Keep your eyes open. If we’re lucky, they’ll show themselves."

She leaned back, fingers drumming lightly on the desk. "And be careful. Rhiannon’s parties are grand affairs, but they’ve had… incidents in the past. People disappear. Deals are made in shadows. A night of revelry can turn into something much more sinister if you’re not paying attention."

Caitlyn nodded, slipping the note into her coat pocket. "Understood."

Mel’s gaze lingered on Caitlyn for a moment longer before she sighed dramatically. "Very well. You two run along and prepare. But Caitlyn, do try to enjoy yourself for once. A little indulgence never hurt anyone."

Vi smirked, nudging Caitlyn. "She’s right you know."

Caitlyn shot her a dry look but didn’t argue. As they turned to leave, Mel’s voice followed them. "And Vi, do try not to step on too many toes out there."

Vi glanced over her shoulder. "No promises, Councilor."

Mel watched the duo leave, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. She liked this version of Caitlyn—one who wasn’t always burdened by duty but instead allowed herself to share the weight with someone else. It was refreshing, even intriguing, to see her open up, even if just a little. There was something different about her posture, a looseness in her stance that hadn’t been there before. After all, Caitlyn was not just an officer; she was also a friend, and Mel could see the subtle shifts that signaled something was changing within her.

______

Caitlyn stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate ribbon on Vi’s collar, her fingers moving with practiced ease. Vi reached up to fix it herself, but Caitlyn gently patted her hand away. Vi shifted uncomfortably, tugging slightly at the fabric of her suit.

"I still think I look ridiculous," Vi muttered.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, her gaze flickering to Vi’s as she straightened the bow. "You look fine," she reassured, a teasing lilt in her voice. "Actually, more than fine. You clean up quite well."

Vi opened her mouth to respond but found herself momentarily speechless. The way Caitlyn’s voice dipped just slightly—playful yet undeniably sincere—sent an unexpected warmth rushing to her face. She swallowed hard, shifting her weight. "Uh… thanks?"

"Well, you’re one to talk," Vi countered, recovering quickly. She gestured vaguely at Caitlyn, her voice quieter now. "You look... well… out of this world in that dress."

Caitlyn smiled, tucking her lipstick into a small pouch.

Vi glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck. Compliments weren’t exactly her strong suit.

Caitlyn smirked at Vi’s words before her expression softened. She stepped closer, giving Vi’s coat one final adjustment. "Just be careful tonight, alright?" Her voice was quieter now, more serious. "I don’t want you getting hurt."

Vi cleared her throat, nodding. "You know I always got your back."

For a brief moment, the air between them thickened, charged with something unspoken. Their gazes locked, lingering just long enough to send Vi’s pulse quickening. There it was again—that moment. The same one that had passed between them before.

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly, the corners of her lips curving into something undeniably suggestive. "We’ll save this after the party, perhaps?"

Vi exhaled sharply, her breath catching as realization sank in. She swallowed hard, nodding once. "Yeah… sure."

She shifted on her feet, feeling suddenly too warm despite the cool fabric of her suit. Damn it, Caitlyn. Did she do this on purpose? Vi clenched her jaw, willing herself to focus, but the way Caitlyn’s eyes lingered—just long enough to be deliberate—was doing things to her resolve. She cleared her throat, hands twitching at her sides, unsure what to do with them.

Caitlyn’s smirk deepened before she turned, leaving Vi standing there, still trying to process the weight of what had just been implied.

______

The carriage rattled softly as it rolled through the winding roads of Noctalis, its interior bathed in the golden glow of lanterns swaying gently with the movement. The farther they traveled, the more unfamiliar the surroundings became—Ravensreach was nothing like Piltover. The streets here were darker, lined with towering estates that loomed over the roads, their silhouettes barely illuminated by the occasional street lamp. The air carried a quiet tension, a stark contrast to the elegance of the night’s upcoming event.

Vi shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the cuffs of her suit as she stared out. "So, what exactly is the plan here? We just stroll in, grab a drink, and hope people spill their secrets in between waltzes?"

Caitlyn smirked. "More or less. But remember, this isn’t just any gathering. It’s Ravensreach. Everyone who matters will be there, and that includes people who would rather see us fail."

Vi exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "Great. Fancy clothes, fake smiles, and a room full of people who probably have knives hidden in their pockets. Sounds like a blast."

Caitlyn’s expression softened as she leaned forward slightly. "You’ll be fine. Just follow my lead. And try not to punch anyone."

Vi just hummed in response.

Caitlyn chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, at least wait until after the first dance."

Vi blinked. "Wait, what?"

Caitlyn gave her an innocent look. "Oh, didn’t I mention? Rhiannon likes to start the night with a grand opening dance. It would be suspicious if we refused."

Vi groaned, leaning her head back against the seat. "You set me up."

Caitlyn grinned. "I’m joking Vi. Relax you’ll be fine."

Vi crossed her arms, muttering under her breath, but when she glanced at Caitlyn again, she found the other woman watching her with that same teasing glint in her eyes. The tension from earlier still hung between them, implicit yet undeniable.

The carriage slowed as it neared the entrance to Ravensreach. Outside, the grand estate shimmered under the glow of chandeliers spilling light through towering windows. Carriages arrived in an elegant procession, guests stepping out dressed in elaborate masks and rich fabrics, the air filled with laughter and the soft clinking of glasses.

Caitlyn took a deep breath before turning to Vi. "Ready?"

Vi adjusted her tie, her fingers slightly unsteady. "As I’ll ever be."

Caitlyn held her gaze for a moment before offering her hand. Vi hesitated before taking it, her grip firm despite the subtle tremor she tried to ignore.

As they stepped out, Caitlyn’s peripheral vision caught sight of something—Rhiannon, standing at the edge of the grand staircase, engaged in hushed conversation with a figure cloaked in shadow. The way they spoke, the tension in their stance, something about it seemed off. Suspicious.

Caitlyn’s brow furrowed slightly, but she forced herself to look away. Not now. She would deal with it later.

_____

The grand entrance to the Ravensworth estate shimmered under golden chandeliers, casting an ethereal glow over the masked guests who turned to watch each new arrival. When Caitlyn and Vi stepped inside, hand in hand, a hushed ripple moved through the crowd. They were a vision—contrasting yet complementary, commanding attention effortlessly.

Caitlyn was breathtaking. Her dark blue hair was swept into an intricate updo, elegant yet effortless, revealing the sculpted lines of her neck and the subtle play of muscle beneath her skin—a sight that only added to the allure she exuded. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast shifting shadows against her exposed collarbone, accentuating the quiet strength in the way she carried herself. Draped in a deep sapphire gown that hugged her form with elegance, the intricate silver embroidery shimmered like constellations woven into fabric. The high slit of her dress hinted at the danger beneath, the concealed weapon strapped against her thigh. Her mask, adorned with delicate silver filigree, framed her striking features, but it was her eyes—sharp, impossibly blue—that captivated through the disguise, holding a quiet intensity that left onlookers speechless. A woman of effortless grace and control, and yet, tonight, something in her presence felt almost untouchable.

Beside her, Vi was a contrast of boldness and ease. Her tailored black suit, crisp and fitted to perfection, exuded power, with deep crimson accents adding a striking edge. The high-collared design emphasized her strong jawline, and her sleek black mask framed her freckled face, letting her sharp smirk shine through. The tailored lines of her coat moved with her like armor, but it was the way she carried herself—unapologetic, confident—that made her just as magnetic as Caitlyn. Together, they were dazzling, a pair that commanded attention, their presence impossible to ignore.

A hushed ripple of admiration and curiosity spread through the crowd. Heads turned, whispers followed in their wake, but Caitlyn remained unfazed, her fingers resting lightly against Vi’s. Vi, on the other hand, smirked, feeling the weight of lingering gazes. "Guess we know how to make an entrance."

Caitlyn chuckled softly, her gaze fixed ahead. "And you’re staring."

Vi’s grip on her hand tightened ever so slightly. "You’re making it impossible for everyone not to."

Caitlyn cast her a knowing glance, lips curving slightly at the corners before they continued deeper into the masquerade, the night’s mission still waiting ahead.

Mel approached with a familiar smirk, swirling a glass of wine in her hand, though her expression held a flicker of something rare—genuine surprise. "Well, well, if it isn’t the two most captivating sights in the room," she mused, her gaze flicking between Caitlyn and Vi. "Caitlyn, as stunning as ever—but Vi, darling, I must say, you are the real shock of the evening.”

Vi gave her polite nod, acknowledging her presence. "Councilor Medarda."

Mel chuckled, stepping closer, her gaze lingering on Vi a moment longer than necessary. "Oh, I knew you cleaned up well. I just didn’t expect you to pull it off this effortlessly. It’s almost criminal how good you look in a suit."

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temple. "Mel—"

"Relax, Commander," Mel cut in, her smirk unwavering. "I know you're here on business, but do try to enjoy yourself. A little fun never hurt anyone."

Vi smirked, leaning slightly toward Caitlyn. "Is she always like this?"

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, yes."

Vi let out a breathy chuckle, watching as Mel sauntered away. "She really does flirt with everyone."

Caitlyn smirked. "She has a way with words."

The ball carried on in a dazzling display of wealth and grandeur. Crystal chandeliers bathed the hall in golden light, casting intricate reflections across the marble floor. Guests in extravagant masks twirled across the dancefloor, their laughter and hushed whispers blending seamlessly with the live orchestra’s enchanting melody. The scent of expensive perfume and aged wine lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of intrigue that always came with affairs of this magnitude.

Caitlyn had been keeping an eye on the room, scanning faces behind their gilded disguises, mentally cataloging potential threats. Yet, amidst the splendor, a familiar prickle ran down her spine, a whisper of instinct warning her before she even fully registered what it meant.

He’s here.

Her breath hitched, but her expression remained unreadable. Then, movement. A shadow slipping through the edge of the crowd. Subtle. Calculated. Her eyes followed without turning her head, her pulse steady but alert.

Vi, ever perceptive, caught the shift in Caitlyn’s demeanor. "What is it?" she murmured under her breath, her voice low enough that only Caitlyn could hear.

Caitlyn’s gaze didn’t waver. "That’s him," she said, barely parting her lips.

Without hesitation, she turned to Vi, her hand extended. "Shall we?"

Vi took it without question, their fingers lacing together as Caitlyn led them onto the dancefloor. The transition was seamless, elegant, as if they were simply another couple lost in the music, rather than two hunters closing in on their prey.

Vi adjusted easily, taking the lead, her grip firm yet careful as she pulled Caitlyn close. The warmth of her palm against Caitlyn’s waist was deliberate, bordering on daring, but their movements remained fluid, blending into the graceful waltz of the other dancers.

Caitlyn let herself be guided, her head tilting slightly as Vi’s fingers trailed briefly down her spine before settling in place. "You’re enjoying this," Caitlyn murmured, amusement threading through her voice despite their focus.

Vi smirked, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s ear. "Maybe just a little."

They moved as one, their steps weaving through the grand hall, following the shadowy figure that drifted toward the exit. Vi’s touch was steady, but her hands, ever so subtly, ventured to dangerous places—her palm pressing against the dip of Caitlyn’s back, her fingers ghosting over the fabric at her hip as they turned. It was a delicate balance between the thrill of the chase and the tension sparking between them.

“You said you didn’t know how to dance.”

“Maybe I was playing hard to get,” Vi whispered into Caitlyn’s ear, her voice husky with amusement. Her other hand ghosted along the silhouette of Caitlyn’s chest, fingertips grazing the delicate fabric of her gown with a featherlight touch. Caitlyn tensed, her breath catching in her throat, a sharp inhale threatening to betray her composure. The warmth of Vi’s palm lingered against her back, the teasing, deliberate pressure of her hold sending a pulse of heat up Caitlyn’s spine. She swallowed hard, willing herself to stay focused, but Vi’s proximity, the way her lips nearly brushed her ear, made it nearly impossible.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply as Vi spun her with controlled ease, the moment stretching longer than necessary, their bodies brushing in a way that sent a shiver through her. She met Vi’s gaze beneath their masks, and for a fleeting second, the mission blurred at the edges.

But then, their target neared the exit.

Caitlyn lifted her chin, just enough to signal. Vi understood. With one final, sweeping turn, they ended their dance with practiced precision, breaking apart just as they reached the outskirts of the floor.

Vi let out a breath, her smirk lingering as she loosened her grip. "Not bad, princess."

Caitlyn huffed a quiet laugh, smoothing the fabric of her gown as she steadied herself. "Let’s go."

And together, they slipped into the shadows, trailing their mark into the unknown.

_____

The cool night air greeted them as they stepped out into the enormous garden of the Ravensworth estate. Manicured hedges towered around them like a labyrinth, moonlight casting long shadows against the stone pathways. The faint sound of music still hummed from the ballroom, but here, in the open night, the tension thickened.

Ahead, the hunter moved swiftly, weaving through the garden paths. Caitlyn’s grip on her concealed weapon tightened, her every sense alert. A sleek, customized pistol was strapped against her thigh, hidden beneath the elegant fabric of her gown. She could feel the weight of it, reassuring and cold.

"Stay close," she murmured to Vi.

But before they could make their next move, the figure turned sharply. A glint of metal. A dagger sliced through the air, barely missing Vi as she twisted out of the way.

The hunter moved with unnerving speed, a blur against the moonlit hedges. Caitlyn barely had time to react before a sharp pang of familiarity surged through her—a memory clawing its way to the surface. That night. The cold bite of steel, the way her limbs had weakened under the hunter’s precision. The phantom sensation of helplessness threatened to crawl up her spine.

For a split second, her vision wavered, her breath catching. Vi caught the flicker of fear in Caitlyn’s eyes—rare, disconcerting. It made something in her chest tighten. "Cait! Focus!" Her voice cut through the haze, sharp and grounding.

"Let's do this."

The moment shattered, and Caitlyn’s instincts took over. She surged forward, her boots skimming the cobblestone as she closed the distance. No hesitation. Not this time. The hunter twisted, evading her, but Caitlyn was already adjusting—her movements crisp, refined, precise. Their feet pounded against the stone pathways, a deadly dance weaving between the shadows of the garden.

With one fluid motion, Caitlyn reached beneath the slit of her gown, drawing her pistol from its hidden holster. A flick of her wrist, two precise shots—one aimed at the hunter’s foot, another just to the left, forcing them to shift course. The hunter spun sharply to avoid the shots, their hesitation minute but costly.

Right into Vi’s path.

Vi didn’t hesitate. She drove forward, her fist connecting with a solid impact. The hunter reeled back, stumbling for the first time. A flicker of surprise crossed their masked gaze. They hadn’t expected this—a duo that moved in tandem, balancing strength and precision like two halves of the same force.

Caitlyn seized the opportunity. Moving like a lightning strike, she lunged, a blur of silk and steel. She tackled the hunter, momentum driving them into the hedges. The scent of crushed leaves and soil filled her senses as they hit the ground. In one swift, practiced motion, she reached up and tore away the hunter’s mask.

A cascade of deep crimson hair tumbled over the hunter’s shoulder, sharp green eyes gleaming with irritation and amusement.

A woman.

Caitlyn’s breath caught. The realization stunned her just long enough for Katarina to smirk, her movements fluid, ruthless. She twisted like a striking viper, delivering a sharp blow to Caitlyn’s ribs that sent her reeling.

Caitlyn gasped, stumbling back, her vision momentarily blurring from the force of the hit. Before Vi could intervene, Katarina moved—silent and lethal. With an effortless pivot, she disappeared into the hedges, vanishing into the night as quickly as she had appeared.

Caitlyn steadied herself, her fingers tightening around her weapon. Her pulse pounded against her ribs.

"You alright?" Vi asked, stepping to her side, eyes still scanning the garden for any lingering presence.

Caitlyn exhaled, jaw tight.

Vi’s brows furrowed. "You know her?"

Caitlyn’s fingers brushed the tender spot where Katarina had struck, her jaw clenching. The sting was nothing compared to the fire burning in her chest. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

"No."

Back inside the ballroom, the contrast was jarring. The warm glow of chandeliers, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—none of it felt real. The weight of the encounter still clung to Caitlyn’s skin, her pulse slower now but no less steady. She barely registered the crowd as they moved toward the edges of the room, the mission still unfinished.

Caitlyn still felt the chill of the garden’s shadows clinging to her skin. She didn’t realize her breathing was still unsteady until Vi’s voice cut through the noise.

“Cait…you’re shaking” Vi’s hand found hers, a grounding touch. Caitlyn opened her mouth to protest, but Vi’s gaze softened. “Don’t do that. Just breathe, alright?”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, the tension easing slightly. Vi didn’t let go right away.

“Whoever she is… she got in your head.” Vi’s voice was low but steady.

Caitlyn inhaled sharply, hesitating for a moment before murmuring, "Every time I go up against her, I fail." The admission was quieter than she intended, but Vi heard it. Her expression darkened instantly, jaw tightening.

"I think I know why she’s here. The bullets…" Caitlyn murmured, her mind stitching together fragments of the night. "Before the party started, I caught sight of her. She was speaking with Rhiannon. It was brief, but there was something... off about their exchange."

Vi’s brow furrowed. "You sure?"

"No," Caitlyn admitted. "Whether it was the bullets or something else, she was here for a reason. And I doubt she’s done with us yet."

Vi crossed her arms, glancing around the room, ever watchful. "So, what’s the plan?"

Caitlyn’s fingers curled at her sides, a slow fire rekindling in her chest. "We find out what she wants. And this time, we make sure she doesn’t slip away."

Chapter Text

The chase in the gardens had left Caitlyn’s pulse thrumming, her mind still tangled with never ending questions she couldn’t afford to leave unanswered. Not even the music and laughter of the party could distract Caitlyn from her thoughts, it just all felt distant. She barely registered the opulence around her—towering marble columns, the flickering candlelight gold against the dark wooden walls.

She was focused on one thing: finding the matriarch, Rhiannon.

Then, she spotted him.

Javier.

Leaning against the wall near one of the side doors, arms crossed, posture easy but eyes always sharp. Even out of uniform, there was no mistaking the way he carried himself—rigid but controlled, a habit from their old days in the force. A thin scar ran from his temple to his jaw, a relic from a raid gone wrong. His dark eyes skimmed toward her the second she stepped into view, and something in his face shifted. Recognition. Surprise. Then caution.

“Back undercover, Commander?”

The unexpected greeting caught her off guard for half a second. It had been a long time since someone called her that, since she’d held that title on the force. There was warmth in his tone, genuine amusement, like he was seeing an old friend rather than a former colleague who had reason to be suspicious.

Caitlyn didn’t let herself smile, didn’t break her stride, her shoes tapping softly against the marble floor as she approached. She didn’t stop walking until she was close enough to lower her voice.

“Javier. It’s nice to see you out of uniform.”

Javier’s brows lifted slightly before a slow smirk crossed his face. Then, to her surprise, he gave her a salute.

After all this time. After everything. He still respected her.

Javier huffed a quiet chuckle, dropping his hand. “Old habits die hard.” His sharp brown eyes flicked back to Caitlyn, studying her carefully. “Though I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised to see you here.”

Caitlyn nodded slightly. “That makes two of us.”

Javier tilted his head slightly, as if considering something before stepping a little closer. His voice lowered, just enough that only Caitlyn and Vi could hear.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, glancing briefly toward the halls behind him. Javier wasn’t just a former colleague—he was someone she had trusted before, someone who knew how things worked within the Taskforce.

And right now, she needed that trust.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides. “I need to see Rhiannon.”

Javier gave her a long look before nodding. “I figured.” He hesitated for only a moment before stepping aside, motioning for them to follow.

Javier’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning.

"I advise you don’t go digging too deep on this, Kiramman. It’s dangerous."

Caitlyn held his gaze, her fingers curling slightly at her sides, not out of fear—but because she already knew. She had known the moment she found that bullet.

Vi, predictably, scoffed, shifting her weight onto one hip. “See, that just makes me want to dig deeper.”

Javier shot her a flat look, but Caitlyn didn’t waver.

"Then you do know the gravity of why I’m here, Javi. I need to see her. Now."

For a moment, Javier didn’t move. Caitlyn could see the flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes, something that made her stomach twist in a way she didn’t like. He knew more than he was letting on.

But then, finally, he sighed, shaking his head just slightly. “You were always like this. Stubborn.”

Caitlyn stayed silent. She wasn’t here for old reminiscences.

Javier exhaled deeply, raking a hand through his short, dark hair. Then, he stepped aside, motioning for them to follow.

“Alright,” he muttered. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged a brief glance before stepping forward, following Javier down the dimly lit corridor

“Come on, then. I’ll take you to her.”

He sighed and gestured toward a corridor leading further into the estate. “She’s in her private chambers.” He hesitated before adding, “If you go in there looking for a fight, don’t expect to walk out with all your answers.They stopped in front of the grand door.

Caitlyn’s smirk was small, barely there. “I never expect anything from Rhiannon.”

Javier shook his head, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes, but he said nothing more.

Instead, he stepped aside, hand pressing to the heavy wooden door, pushing it open just enough for them to pass through. The air beyond was cooler, quieter, the kind of stillness that came not from peace but from controlled power.

Just before Caitlyn could step inside, Javier gave her another salute.

It wasn’t as formal as before—a little slower, a little more personal. A lingering sign of respect. Or maybe… a silent warning.

Then, with one last glance at him, Caitlyn crossed the threshold.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, the scent of aged wood and something faintly floral lingering in the air. Heavy drapes framed the tall windows, the glass reflecting the flicker of the flames from the ornate fireplace. It was a place of power, designed not for comfort but for intimidation through grace. Rhiannon sat at the center of it all, poised as ever. The soft light in the room reflected against the smooth porcelain of her skin, the deep red of her dress pooling like wine against the chair’s armrest.

She didn’t look startled. She didn’t even pretend to be surprised.

“You took your time,” Rhiannon mused, finally lifting her gaze.

Her voice was silken, composed. “I’ve been expecting you since, after you had a little soirée with the hunter in my garden.”

Caitlyn remained standing. She didn’t sit. Didn’t give Rhiannon the satisfaction of lowering herself into a chair like she was just another guest in her domain.

“And yet,” Caitlyn said evenly, “you left the party before I could find you.”

Rhiannon’s lips curled, just slightly.

“Didn’t feel like socializing anymore,” she murmured, tilting her head ever so slightly.

Caitlyn’s gaze didn’t waver. “That’s different from what I heard. You love parties. That’s always been you.”

Rhiannon chuckled—low, amused, like Caitlyn had said something quaint. She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the candlelight as if it held more intrigue than the conversation itself.

“I found that there are far more important things than that, actually.” Rhiannon’s voice was silk and steel, smooth but weighted with meaning. She lifted her gaze, locking onto Caitlyn’s.

“Just for the night at least,” she added, taking a slow sip before setting her glass down with a soft clink.

Then, her lips curved ever so slightly.

“And it’s the mere reason why you’re here, am I right, Caitlyn?”

With a graceful motion, she gestured toward the chair across from her. “Sit, Caitlyn. You look like you’ve been chasing ghosts.”

Caitlyn hesitated for half a second, but she had learned a long time ago that Rhiannon played the long game—never rattled, never out of control. If she had nothing to hide, she wouldn’t be so composed. If she did have something to hide, then she was choosing to be open about it. Either way, this was going to be a conversation, not a confrontation. At least, not yet.

Ignoring Vi’s quiet scoff behind her, Caitlyn lowered herself into the chair across from Rhiannon. Vi, of course, remained standing, arms crossed, barely concealing her distaste.

“So, what exactly do you want to ask me, Caitlyn? Or should I save us all some time and get to the part where I tell you exactly what you came here for?”

Caitlyn leaned forward, hands resting on the armrests. “Then let’s not waste time.”

Rhiannon set down her glass with a quiet clink. “The Huntress. Is she working for you?” Caitlyn asked plainly.

Rhiannon scoffed, tilting her head slightly. “Oh, Caitlyn, you wound me.” She exhaled, almost amused. “I would never hire someone so careless to handle my affairs—leaving traces behind, stirring up trouble so publicly. No, darling. If I wanted something done, you’d never know it was me.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t break eye contact. “And the bullets?”

Rhiannon exhaled slowly, as if entertained by Caitlyn’s directness, taking her time before responding. She reached for her glass again, swirling the wine absently before finally speaking.

“Ah, yes. I offered her an ample sum in exchange for the prototypes.”

Caitlyn didn’t react at first, letting the words settle. Then, evenly, “Why?”

Rhiannon’s lips curled slightly; her tone almost indifferent. “Same reason why the Caravelles want them, I suppose. I needed to know if they were real.”

Caitlyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You know very damn well the Caravelles want those bullets for a different reason.”

Rhiannon’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable. She tilted her head, resting her chin against her fingers, studying Caitlyn.

“I really couldn’t care less.” She let the words settle, then added, more pointedly, “You know how dangerous those bullets are, Caitlyn.”

Silence stretched between them for a moment. Rhiannon leaned back, fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You may think you understand what’s at stake, Caitlyn, but you don’t. These bullets—they’re not just whispered rumors in darkened corners anymore. They’re real. The Caravelles want them. And if they get their hands on them first, it won’t just be hunters wielding them against us.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted. The weight of those words was heavy, pressing against her chest. She had assumed this was a threat against vampires—against people like Rhiannon. But if she was right, this wasn’t about one war. It was about many.

Rhiannon reached into a small drawer beside her chair, pulled out a folded slip of parchment, and slid it across the table. “This is where the Huntress is offering the shipment. Consider this my act of good faith.”

Caitlyn picked up the paper but didn’t look away from Rhiannon. “Why give this to me?”

Rhiannon’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but there was something almost... solemn in her gaze. “Because if you go down this path, you won’t be able to turn back. And when that time comes, Caitlyn...” She tilted her head slightly, studying her. “I hope you know where your loyalty lies.”

Caitlyn swallowed, fingers tightening around the parchment. She didn’t respond. She didn’t have an answer. Rhiannon’s voice was smooth, measured, but there was an edge to it, something dangerously close to familiarity. As if she was almost being kind. Almost.

“I know what you’ve been through,” she said, eyes never leaving Caitlyn’s.

Caitlyn stiffened slightly.

“You’ve always carried this need to fix things,” Rhiannon continued, as if she wasn’t dissecting Caitlyn with every word. “To fight every battle, to stand between the fire and the ones you love.”

She leaned forward slightly, her smirk a fraction softer, but her words sharp enough to wound.

“You are a Kiramman, down to your very core. But you can’t save everyone, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn’s grip on the parchment tightened.

Rhiannon’s gaze flicked briefly to Vi, then back to her. “You can only do so much for the people you care about. And at some point, you’ll have to accept that some people—” she paused, her smirk faint but knowing, “—some people are beyond saving. Not even your human friend here.”

Vi tensed at that, shifting closer as if daring Rhiannon to elaborate. But Caitlyn spoke first, her voice low and steady.

“I don’t need you to tell me who I can or can’t save.”

Rhiannon tilted her head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. Then, she let out a quiet chuckle. “No, I suppose you don’t.”

She leaned back in her chair, as if the conversation was already over. “Be careful, Caitlyn. The moment you pick a side, there’s no undoing it.”

Caitlyn stood without another word, Vi at her side, the parchment burning in her hand.

_____

The address led them deep into Ravensreach, far from the grand estates and city lights, where the air turned thick with soot and the streets narrowed into winding alleyways. Vi walked ahead, posture tight with anticipation, while Caitlyn kept a firm grip on her rifle, her gaze sharp as she scanned their surroundings.

“This place screams ‘trap,’” VI muttered, stepping over a broken crate.

Caitlyn didn’t disagree. The warehouse stood at the edge of an abandoned shipping yard, the structure looming, rust clinging to its steel beams. A few flickering streetlights did little to fight off the oppressive darkness pooling around them.

They moved carefully, stepping inside. The warehouse was cavernous, the air was copious with dust, and the faint, metallic scent of silver lingered, mixing with the dampness of the wooden crates stacked high around them. The dim glow of street lamps outside barely cut through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, casting long, skeletal shadows over the floor.

Caitlyn moved cautiously, gun drawn, eyes sharp as she scanned the room. Beside her, Vi was more relaxed in posture but just as alert, hands flexing near her knuckle guards, ready for anything.

The crates were there, exactly where Rhiannon’s information had said they would be. Neatly stacked, untouched. Too untouched.

Vi was the first to break the silence. “Well… this is anti-climactic.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, stepping closer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something wasn’t right.

Then—a voice cut through the darkness.

“Well, well… you two are really persistent. It’s starting to annoy me very much”

The moment Caitlyn heard it, she spun, gun raised, already knowing who she’d see before her eyes confirmed it.

The Huntress.

She stood casually on a stack of crates, watching them with a smirk that was more amusement than surprise. She was illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight cutting through the rafters, her trench coat flowing slightly as she shifted.

Vi clicked her tongue. “Gotta say, you’re starting to feel like a damn mosquito. You just don’t quit.”

The Huntress chuckled, swinging her legs over the crate as she stood. “Says the one who keeps chasing me.” She glanced at Caitlyn, her grin widening. “And the one who just can’t help herself, can she?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “We know about the bullets. The prototypes. Who’s really behind this?”

The Huntress tilted her head. “Now, now. That would be telling.”

Without another word, she moved first.

Caitlyn barely had time to react before the Huntress lunged, boots slamming against the floorboards with a force that echoed. Vi intercepted her instantly, fists raised, swinging hard—but the Huntress was fast.

Her punch cut through the air, but the Huntress ducked, sidestepped, and retaliated with a precise kick to Vi’s ribs. Vi grunted, rolling with the impact and coming back just as fast. The warehouse became a blur of movement—Vi and the Huntress exchanging rapid blows, weaving between the stacks of crates. Their footfalls echoed, their breaths sharp, each strike met with a counter.

Caitlyn circled them, rifle raised, waiting for an opening. But the fight was too fast, too fluid.

Vi dodged left, parrying a slash of the Huntress’s knife with the bracer on her forearm. Sparks flew as metal scraped against metal.

Then, with a sharp pivot, Vi slammed her elbow forward, catching the Huntress off guard. The impact sent the Huntress skidding back, her boots scraping against the concrete. She barely caught herself, panting slightly.

Then, for the first time, she hesitated. Her sharp gaze flicked over Vi, assessing. “You’re fast.”

Caitlyn saw the opening—she aimed and fired. The shot missed, narrowly, as the Huntress spun out of reach.

“You always this trigger-happy, officer?” the Huntress taunted, tossing something—a throwing knife—toward Caitlyn.

Caitlyn dodged, the blade embedding itself into the wood beside her. Her frustration grew as the Huntress moved like she knew this fight was pointless. Like she was stalling.

And then—Vi stopped mid-step, her expression shifting.

A sound.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

A cold realization crawled up Caitlyn’s spine. That wasn’t the sound of shifting crates or creaking wood. It was mechanical. Rhythmic.

A timer.

Vi’s eyes widened. “Caitlyn…”

Caitlyn turned—and saw the small, metallic device attached to one of the crates.

A bomb.

The Huntress laughed, and Caitlyn’s blood ran cold. “Oh, you’re fast. But not fast enough.” Caitlyn turned back just in time to see the Huntress kicking Vi back, hard enough to send her stumbling.

Caitlyn raised her gun again, but the Huntress was already moving—heading straight for the exit.

“You don’t get to run this time!” Caitlyn snapped, firing. The bullet grazed the Huntress’s coat, but it wasn’t enough. The Huntress vaulted over a crate, reaching the warehouse door. With a single, calculated move, she grabbed the heavy iron bar—and slammed it shut behind her, locking them in.

Vi rushed to the door, yanking at the handle, but it didn’t budge. The sound of ticking grew louder.

The Huntress’s voice came through the cracks of the door, amused and unbothered. “Now, I’d love to stick around, but… I think you two have a little problem to deal with.”

Then—her footsteps faded into the night.

She was gone. And the bomb was still ticking.

Caitlyn slammed her shoulder against the locked door for the third time, but it didn’t budge. Her breath came in short bursts, chest rising and falling as frustration knotted in her gut. Vi was beside her, yanking at the metal handle, cursing under her breath. The sound of the ticking filled the space around them, a suffocating reminder of how little time they had left.

They were trapped.

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, scanning the dimly lit warehouse for another way out—anything—but there was none. The walls were thick, the windows too high. The heat from the silver-laced crates around them seemed to press into her skin, a cruel reminder that if the bomb went off, it would kill everything within its range.

Vi let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the door. Despite the tension, she gave a wry chuckle, shaking her head.

“Well,” she muttered, voice light but forced, “I think this is it.”

Caitlyn turned to her, pulse pounding against her ribs. Vi lifted her head, meeting her eyes with something almost peaceful.

“It was nice knowing you.”

Caitlyn’s chest tightened, eyes softened. “Vi—”

“I mean it,” Vi interrupted. “I wish… I wish I had more time.” She let out a small, breathy laugh that barely hid the rawness in her voice. “With my sister…with Powder, with my family… with you.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. Vi’s gaze softened, and she gave a half-smile, almost shy.

“You were the best part of all of this,” Vi whispered.

Caitlyn’s heart clenched, something breaking and rebuilding inside her all at once. Before she could think, before doubt or fear could stop her, she reached forward, cupping Vi’s face with both hands.

Vi inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s fingertips. Time slowed. The ticking faded, drowned by the deafening rush of Caitlyn’s heartbeat. She saw it in Vi’s eyes—the same longing, the same ache, the same impossible pull that had been between them for so long.

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

Then, Caitlyn closed the space between them.

Vi straightened her stance as their lips met in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, like a spark igniting something that had been waiting to burn. Vi let out the smallest gasp against Caitlyn’s lips before melting into her, hands gripping the fabric of Caitlyn’s coat as if holding on for dear life.

It was nothing like Caitlyn had imagined—because nothing could have prepared her for how right it felt. The warmth of Vi’s mouth, the way their breaths mingled, the way Vi sighed against her like she had been waiting just as long. It was a moment stolen in the face of death, but it was the realest thing Caitlyn had ever felt.

Caitlyn pulled back for a fraction of a second, just enough to whisper against Vi’s lips, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

Vi barely had time to smile before Caitlyn kissed her again, deeper this time, as if she could pour everything, she had ever held back into it. Vi responded just as eagerly, fingers threading through Caitlyn’s hair, pulling her closer.

The world didn’t matter. The ticking didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but this.

Then—click.

They froze.

The sound of the final tick of the bomb.

But… nothing happened. No explosion. No fire. No destruction.

Panting, they slowly pulled back, still close enough that Caitlyn could feel Vi’s breath on her lips. Their eyes met, wild and searching.

The warehouse was still standing. They were still alive.

And the ticking… was still going, now fainter.

Realization dawned, hitting them both at once.

It wasn’t a bomb.

Caitlyn exhaled a disbelieving laugh, forehead pressing against Vi’s. Vi let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head.

“Well,” Vi murmured, voice still rough from the kiss, “guess we’re not dead yet.”

Caitlyn huffed out a laugh, fingers still lingering against Vi’s jaw. “Nope. Not today.”

Then, they both turned toward the source of the sound, a new determination settling between them. Caitlyn’s eyes landed on the opened crate at the middle.

It was a package.

With hands still shaking, she reached for it, carefully prying open the container. Inside, rows of silver bullets lined the case—but these weren’t ordinary.

They glowed. A faint, purple substance pulsed through the metal, something unnatural twisting beneath the surface.

Vi exhaled. “What the hell is that?”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, pulse pounding. She had seen this before.

And if she was right…

This wasn’t just a weapon.

_____

The carriage ride back to Piltover had been uneventful, but heavy with unspoken tension.

Rhiannon was nowhere to be seen when they went back to her place—she had only ensured that the ride was arranged, her message clear without needing to say it outright. A favor, a silence, a debt.

Caitlyn had no illusions about what this meant. In exchange for a smooth return, she wouldn’t go to the council. Not yet.

And, for now, she was fine with that. The real weight pressing against her was the bullet tucked safely in the suitcase she was holding, its unnatural glow still burned into her mind.

She couldn't let this spiral into war—not before she knew exactly what they were dealing with.

Caitlyn and Vi now walked through the early morning streets of Piltover, the golden hues of dawn stretching across the skyline, painting the city in soft pastels. The chaos of the warehouse still lingered between them, unspoken but present in every quiet glance, in every heavy footstep.

The city was already stirring to life—street vendors setting up their stalls, factory workers beginning their long shifts, the rhythmic clatter of steam-powered trams rolling through the upper districts. The scent of fresh bread and coffee drifted from a nearby café, blending with the crisp morning air.

The gas lamps above flickered as they dimmed, their glow fading in the growing daylight, casting long, softened shadows over the stone paths. Piltover was waking up, but for Caitlyn and Vi, the night hadn’t truly ended yet.

They walked in silence, the weight of what they had discovered pressing down on them.

“So…” she started, glancing sideways at Caitlyn. “You’re not gonna tell Jayce, huh?”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing a hand over her temple. “Not yet.”

Vi raised a brow, grinning slightly. “Lemme guess—‘I need more time to investigate,’ ‘I have to be sure before I make any bold claims,’ something like that?”

Caitlyn shot her a look. “Yes.”

Vi’s teasing didn’t change the weight on her shoulders.

She hesitated before speaking again. “If I tell Jayce now, he’ll go straight to the council. And then the council will go straight to war. I can’t risk that.”

Vi nodded, her teasing fading into something more serious. “So you wanna study the bullet first.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Yes.”

Vi tilted her head slightly, watching her for a moment before breaking into a small, knowing smile. “I could help with that, you know.”

Caitlyn furrowed her brows. “Help?”

Vi shrugged, rocking back on her heels. “Yeah. I know someone who could take a look at that fancy glowing bullet of yours.”

Caitlyn folded her arms. “Who?”

Vi’s grin widened. “Powder.”

Caitlyn stiffened slightly. “Your sister?”

Vi nodded. “That’s the one.”

Caitlyn hesitated.

She barely knew Powder. And trust—trust had always been Caitlyn’s dilemma. It was easier to rely on herself, easier to analyze, to calculate, to keep her guard up. She had learned long ago that trust was a fragile thing, and in her world, fragility often led to disaster.

But when it came to Vi…

Trusting Vi felt as natural as breathing, as instinctive as muscle memory. Like the back of her hand—a certainty she never had to question. And if Vi trusted her sister, if she believed Powder could help them, then Caitlyn had to believe it too.

And Caitlyn needs answers.

She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “Fine. Take me to her.”

Vi smirked, already turning toward the undercity. “Knew you’d see reason, cupcake.”

Caitlyn sighed, but despite herself, she followed.

___

It was already noon by the time they reached Zaun, the shift in the air unmistakable. Caitlyn barely paid attention to where they were going. She just let Vi take the lead, guiding her through the winding streets and hidden alleyways. Wherever they were heading, she trusted Vi to get them there.

Her body ached, fatigue creeping into her limbs. It felt like they had been traveling for hours, their footsteps dragging under the weight for the past two days without proper sleep, without a moment to truly stop and breathe.

Caitlyn was a bit surprised when she felt a hand on hers. It was warm, steady—Vi.

She glanced down at their hands just as Vi gave a small, reassuring squeeze. Maybe she had noticed how Caitlyn had started to drag her steps, how exhaustion was creeping in, how she had been running on nothing but adrenaline for a while.

Vi didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t tease or make a comment.

She just held on for a second longer before letting go.

Then, Vi looked ahead and muttered, “We’re here, Cait.”

Caitlyn barely had time to process that before she was stepping into a dimly lit space, the scent of alcohol and metal immediately filling her senses. It took her a second to realize—it was a bar.

She blinked. "I don't think we have time—"

But before she could even finish, Vi grinned and called out, “Powder!”

Caitlyn barely had time to process what was happening before a voice from behind the counter perked up in response.

Behind the bar, a young woman with messy blue hair and sharp, intelligent eyes twirled a glass bottle in one hand, her other effortlessly mixing a drink. She moved with ease, like she was perfectly at home in the chaos, her hands fast and precise.

Powder looked up, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room before a flicker of recognition crossed her face.

She grinned instantly, sliding a drink across the bar without even looking.

“Well, well, well,” she mused, voice laced with amusement. “And here I thought you’d never show up for the next… I don’t know, two weeks?”

Then, her playful expression shifted to something more pointed. “Vi, where were you?! I was starting to get worried.” Before Vi could even answer, Powder hopped over the bar effortlessly, landing with a light bounce on her feet before closing the distance. Then, without hesitation, she pulled Vi into a tight hug.

Caitlyn watched quietly, taking in the way Vi softened instantly in Powder’s arms, the tension in her shoulders easing for the first time in hours.

Powder pulled back from the hug, but her eyes had already shifted to the figure standing beside Vi. Her sharp gaze flicked over Caitlyn, assessing, taking in the tailored uniform, the way she held herself, the way Vi stood just a little closer to her than she probably realized.

Then, a smirk tugged at Powder’s lips.

“Ah, I see what’s going on.” She folded her arms, tilting her head. “A girl got you holding up.”

Caitlyn blinked. Vi groaned.

“Pow—”

“No, no, I get it now,” Powder continued, nodding to herself like she had just solved a grand mystery. “You weren’t dodging me, you were just... preoccupied.”

Vi rubbed a hand down her face. Powder nudged her sister with a knowing grin. “You never told me you had a girlfriend.”

Vi choked on absolutely nothing.

“She’s not—” Vi started, waving a hand, her voice slightly higher than usual. “Let’s just get on with it.”

Caitlyn, who had been watching this entire interaction unfold with barely concealed amusement, couldn’t hold back her laughter. Powder was sharp. Teasing, but in a way that was affectionate, not mean-spirited.

Powder leaned her chin on her hand, eyes flicking back to Caitlyn with playful interest. “So, you must be someone special if Vi’s bringing you here.”

Vi cleared her throat, moving past the topic entirely. “We need your help.”

Powder’s teasing grin faded just slightly, shifting to something more curious. “Oh? With what?”

Vi glanced around, suddenly aware of too many ears in the bar.

“Not here,” Caitlyn answered, voice calm but firm. “Somewhere safe.”

Powder considered her for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, alright. Follow me.”

_____

The walk wasn’t long—just a few turns down quieter alleyways, past old metal stairwells and dimly lit backstreets until Powder stopped in front of a reinforced metal door.

She typed in a code on the keypad, and with a soft click, the door unlocked. Inside, the space was a chaotic mix of brilliance and disorder. Blueprints and half-built gadgets covered the metal tables, neon-lit monitors flickered with coded data, and the faint smell of oil, metal, and something vaguely sweet hung in the air. It was the lab of someone who never stopped thinking. Caitlyn glanced around, taking in the sheer chaos of the workshop.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned to Powder. “You live here?”

Powder snorted, already tossing herself onto a worn-out couch with an exaggerated sprawl. “Nah, I just tinker here. Safer than my actual place. Less people snooping around.” Her eyes darted to her sister.

Vi leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I don’t want these near my things.” Vi gesturing on some of Powder’s things.

Caitlyn glanced at the assortment of volatile-looking gadgets scattered across the space. Some looked half-exploded. Others looked like they were designed to explode. She turned back to Powder, her expression deadpan. “I’m starting to see why.” Powder grinned, clearly proud of herself.

Powder’s teasing demeanor didn’t fully disappear, but there was a flicker of focus behind her eyes now. “Alright, alright. What are we dealing with?”

Caitlyn hesitated for only a second before giving Vi a subtle signal. Vi, without a word, reached into her coat and pulled out a small, metallic suitcase—one she had been carrying this whole time.

She handed it to Caitlyn, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should.

Taking a steadying breath, Caitlyn unlatched the case and opened it.

Inside, neatly arranged in rows, were the bullets.

Not just ordinary silver bullets—but the ones laced with that eerie, unnatural glow. Caitlyn took one in her hands.

Powder’s eyes immediately sharpened, all humor gone as she took the glowing silver bullet from Caitlyn’s palm, rolling it between her fingers.

A slow whistle escaped her lips. “Damn.”

Caitlyn watched her reaction carefully. “Do you recognize it?”

Powder didn’t look up right away. Instead, she tilted the bullet toward the nearest lamp, examining the faint purple glow beneath the silver casing.

Then, she finally smirked.

“Not the bullet,” she said. “But I know that glow.”

Caitlyn’s stomach tightened. “You do?”

Powder twirled the bullet between her fingers, then grinned up at Caitlyn like she had just solved a puzzle.

“You’re the finest sniper of Piltover, aren’t you?” she said suddenly, voice laced with amusement.

Caitlyn barely had time to react before Powder continued.

“I recognize you from one of those Talis tech magazines, a few years back. I never forget a face” Powder tapped her temple, feigning deep thought before pointing at Caitlyn with a smirk. “You’re the fine-ass sniper, the first user of the Hextech sniper rifle. The first vampire in the elite force.”

Caitlyn blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

Powder leaned in slightly, still grinning. “And you’re a Kiramman, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn stiffened. “I am.”

Powder tilted her head. “Huh. Guess Vi’s really out here pulling royalty, huh?”

Vi groaned. “Oh my God. Powder.”

Caitlyn, despite the weight of everything, couldn’t help but laugh.

This was going to be an interesting night.

______

Powder leaned back, still twirling the bullet between her fingers, watching the way the faint purple glisten caught the dim light. Her brows furrowed slightly, the gears in her mind clearly turning.

Caitlyn and Vi both waited in tense silence, watching as she examined it.

Then Powder muttered, mostly to herself, “I don’t know for sure, but…I mean I have to run some tests. Probably ask Mylo about it too.” She trailed off, flipping the bullet over again, lips pressing into a thin line.

Vi narrowed her eyes. “But?”

Powder exhaled through her nose. “It kinda reminds me of something. Something hush-hush. A ‘wonder drug’ that’s been floating around Zaun for years.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted. “A drug?”

Powder nodded slowly. “Yeah. Not the kind you get at the local apothecary, though. This stuff? It’s rare. Black market kind of rare. The kinda thing people get desperate over.”

She tapped the bullet lightly against the table, then looked up at Caitlyn. “It’s been around for a while, but nobody really talks about it openly. If it’s what I think it is…”

Vi’s expression shifted, her mind clicking the pieces together.

She sat up straighter, brows furrowed. “Wait. Hang on. It can’t be…” She turned to Powder, voice hesitant. “Powder?”

Powder gave her an exasperated look. “Yes, Vi, please keep up.”

Vi stared at the bullet, as if seeing it in an entirely new light. “You’re saying this could be…”

Powder nodded. “Shimmer. That’s what people call it.”

Caitlyn felt the name settle like a cold weight in her chest. Shimmer. The word itself carried a sense of something unnatural. Something volatile.

Caitlyn’s grip tightened around her arm. “It’s actually real?”

Powder snorted. “Oh, it’s real. And it’s rumored to have been created right here in Zaun.”

Vi rubbed her hands down her face. “Shit.”

Powder tilted her head. “It’s not something you just stumble across, though. It’s expensive. Hoarded. Controlled. You have to know the right people—or the wrong ones—to even get a glimpse of it.”

Caitlyn frowned. “Then how did someone manage to weaponize it?”

Powder exhaled slowly. “That part I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice losing some of its usual playfulness.

She clicked her tongue, leaning back against the workbench, expression thoughtful.

“Probably some smart-ass who wants a lot of money.” She shrugged. “There are shady people, vampires everywhere, princess.” She tossed the bullet in the air once, catching it smoothly, then smirked slightly. “You pretty much have to sell your soul to get your hands on this stuff.”

Then, after a pause, she added, deadpan, “Kidding. I don’t know. All I know is—it’s dangerous.”

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged a look. The air between them felt heavier now. Shimmer wasn’t just a street legend anymore—it was in their hands. In a bullet. Which meant someone wasn’t just experimenting with it. They were preparing to use it.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “Can you confirm if it’s actually Shimmer?”

Powder grinned, cracking her knuckles. “Well, you came to the right girl, didn’t you?”

And just like that, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

_______

The quiet streets of Ashwynd stretched before them. The Kiramman estate loomed in the distance, its elegant iron gates standing tall against the night sky. It was a reminder of the world she was about to step back into. But Caitlyn barely spared it a glance.

Because she was still here. With Vi.

Their footsteps slowed as they approached the old-fashioned lamppost on the street corner, the golden glow flickering gently against the cobblestone. Then, just as Caitlyn instinctively took another step forward—Vi’s hand caught her wrist, pulling her back. Caitlyn turned to her, brows furrowed in question, but Vi didn’t immediately speak. Instead, she studied Caitlyn, lips quirking just slightly like she was debating something.

Then, finally, she sighed, voice soft.

“I should probably go back home for now.”

Caitlyn blinked at her, the shift in Vi’s tone catching her off guard. She expected something teasing, something light, but there was a quiet sincerity to her words. Vi didn’t want to leave.

“You should rest,” Vi added. “We’ve had a long night.”

The night air was cool, but Caitlyn swore she could still feel the warmth from Vi’s fingers against her skin, even after she let go. Caitlyn exhaled, watching Vi carefully. But before she could say anything, Vi smirked, her usual confidence slipping back in.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked, but her eyes held something more. Something unreadable.

And then—before Caitlyn could answer—Vi tilted her head, giving her a knowing look.

“Or,” she added, “Do you wanna maybe talk about the big elephant in the room?”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “You know.”

Caitlyn, already bracing herself, shook her head. “Sorry. I really don’t.”

Vi exhaled dramatically, mocking disappointment. “Wow. Not even gonna acknowledge it?”

“Acknowledge what, Violet?” Caitlyn asked, exasperated.

Vi grinned, stepping just a little closer. “Oh, I don’t know… maybe the part where you kissed me at the warehouse.”

Caitlyn froze.

Her heartbeat stuttered, her mind scrambling for an answer, any answer that wouldn’t make her feel like she was standing on thin ice.

She cleared her throat, forcing composure. “That was—it was a high-stakes situation.”

Vi tilted her head, unconvinced. “Mmm-hmm.”

“I thought we were going to die,” Caitlyn added quickly.

Vi smirked. “Riiight.”

“It was the adrenaline,” Caitlyn insisted.

Vi’s grin widened. “Uh-huh. And was it also the adrenaline when you kissed me again after saying you’ve waited for a while now?”

Caitlyn opened her mouth. Then closed it.

Vi laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, Cupcake. You make it too easy.”

Caitlyn huffed in frustration, but the warmth blooming in her chest refused to fade.

Then—Vi tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting into something softer.

She leaned in, just a fraction, voice lowering.

“You know,” she murmured, mimicking Caitlyn’s words and accent from earlier, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widened for half a second before she groaned, her entire face flushed red. “Violet, you are insufferable! I hate you”

Vi grinned but didn’t move away. “No, you don’t.”

Caitlyn wanted to argue, wanted to say something to wipe that smug look off Vi’s face—but the teasing glint in Vi’s eyes had softened, replaced with something genuine.

Before Caitlyn could process it, Vi reached for her hand—lifting it gently, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against her knuckles.

The warmth of Vi’s lips against her skin sent a shiver up Caitlyn’s spine, and she suddenly felt weightless. Caitlyn swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat.

Then—Vi pulled back, watching her carefully.

“I really like you, Caitlyn,” she admitted, voice quieter this time.

The weight of those words settled between them, tangible, real. Vi’s eyes searched hers, patient, like she wasn’t expecting Caitlyn to say it back—but wanted her to know.

Caitlyn exhaled shakily and did the only thing that felt right.

She stepped forward and kissed her.

Vi froze for half a second, like the thought had crossed her mind but she hadn’t quite let herself believe it would happen again. Then, her breath hitched, and she was kissing Caitlyn back—fiercely, deeply, like she had been waiting just as long.

Caitlyn sank into it, her hands gripping onto Vi’s coat like she needed something to hold her steady. Vi’s fingers slid over her waist, firm yet careful, pulling Caitlyn against her, their bodies pressed together in the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Vi sighed against her lips, smiling slightly into the kiss, ant there’s something about how Vi melted so easily into her, like this had always been inevitable—it made Caitlyn’s chest tighten in the best way.

Vi’s hand moved up, fingers threading through Caitlyn’s hair, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss. It was slow and lingering, but intensely real—unrushed, untainted by adrenaline or desperation.

This wasn’t a moment stolen out of fear.

It was a choice.

Caitlyn let out a quiet breath, lips parting as Vi tilted her chin up slightly, pressing just a little closer. And Gods, Caitlyn thought, if she had known it would feel like this—warm and grounding and so utterly right—she might’ve stopped running from it sooner.

She pulled back, just a fraction, her nose brushing Vi’s. Vi’s eyes were half-lidded, breathless, pink lips parted slightly as she searched Caitlyn’s face.

A small, lazy grin tugged at Vi’s lips, and she murmured against her, voice still rough from the kiss—“So, uh… does this mean I can kiss you whenever now, or do I need another near-death experience to get permission?”

Caitlyn shoved Vi and rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Go home, Vi.”

Vi laughed, stepping back, but not before giving Caitlyn one last lingering look—the kind that made Caitlyn’s chest feel impossibly tight.

Caitlyn swallowed, willing herself to stay focused, even as her voice softened just slightly.

“Whatever this is, Vi… you know we’ve got a lot of things going on.”

“No… I know.”

She didn’t rush the words, didn’t try to fill the silence with anything unnecessary. She just let them settle. And for a second, Caitlyn felt her chest swell—because she knew Vi meant it. Vi exhaled softly, lifting a hand to tuck a loose strand of Caitlyn’s hair behind her ear. The touch was gentle, lingering, deliberate.

A small gesture, but intimate in a way Caitlyn wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Vi’s smirk was softer now, no longer teasing, no longer masking something deeper. Less bravado, more surety. “Alright, alright. I’ll wait.” The words came quietly, but they settled like a promise between them.

She stepped back, hands sliding into her pockets, as if grounding herself, as if forcing herself to move.

Then, just as Caitlyn thought the moment was over, Vi glanced back over her shoulder. Her smirk returned, just a little, but her voice remained the same—steady, honest.

“For however long it takes, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn stood there for a long moment after Vi had disappeared down the street, touching her lips absently, unable to stop smiling.

She wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring. But for tonight?

For tonight, this was enough.

Chapter Text

The Kiramman estate’s private training hall was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of footsteps circling the mat. Vi rolled her shoulders, the predatory gleam in her eyes unmistakable. Her greatest weapon had always been her strength—unrelenting, raw, and devastating when it landed. She wasn’t one for graceful maneuvers or calculated strikes; she fought with instinct, pressure, and sheer force.

She tapped her knuckles together, flashing a grin. "Come on, princess. Show me what you got." Vi winked.

The training hall’s dim overhead lights cast sharp shadows over Vi’s frame, accentuating the cut of her muscles beneath her white tank top. She was built like a brawler—strong, powerful, the kind of fighter who didn’t need finesse when visceral force did the job just fine.

Caitlyn, in contrast, was the epitome of precision and poise. Her long, dark blue hair was tied up, a few loose strands framing her face. The deep crimson of her fitted top hugged her form, the sleek material complementing her lean build. Her training pants, snug against her frame, emphasized the long, effortless grace of her movements. Where Vi was muscle and impact, Caitlyn was speed and calculation.

Caitlyn smirked, stretching her neck before rolling her wrists, her movements deliberate, effortless—calculated. She took a measured step forward, the picture of poised confidence.

If Vi was brute strength, then Caitlyn was precision, control, and lethal efficiency. She had been trained to read an opponent before they even threw a punch, to predict movement, to strike with inhuman speed before they had time to react. A vampire’s instincts gave her an edge Vi could never match—but that didn’t mean Caitlyn wasn’t going to have a little fun first.

She wanted to play.

Vi lunged first, her footwork quick, a heavy right hook slicing through the air toward Caitlyn’s ribs.

But Caitlyn was already moving.

She sidestepped fluidly, pivoting on the balls of her feet, avoiding the blow by mere inches. Vi barely had time to register the miss before Caitlyn countered—a sharp twist, her leg sweeping low to knock Vi’s balance.

Vi stumbled, but instead of falling, she planted her hands on the mat and flipped herself back upright. Her smirk didn’t falter.

"Alright. Fast. I’ll give you that."

Caitlyn chuckled, tilting her head. "You sound surprised, Violet"

Vi didn’t answer—she just moved. She faked a left jab before twisting into an uppercut, quick and deceptive, the kind of strike that had dropped opponents twice her size. It was a feint Caitlyn might’ve fallen for—if she were human. But she wasn’t.

Caitlyn read the move before Vi had even committed to it, stepping inside the arc of the punch with effortless grace.

Her body twisted. She caught Vi’s wrist mid-strike, shifted her weight, and—

Vi barely had time to register what had happened before she found herself flat on her back, breath knocked from her lungs.

And Caitlyn—damn her—was smirking.

She was towering over Vi, straddling Vi’s waist, pinning her down effortlessly, one hand bracing Vi’s arm above her head.

Her voice was smooth, teasing. “That was your signature move."

Vi blinked up at her, stunned. Then, realization dawned.

“Wha—? You’re cheating! You saw that in my memories, didn’t you?!”

Caitlyn’s laugh was pure melody—light, amused, infuriating. She didn’t deny it.

Vi groaned, flopping her free arm against the mat in dramatic defeat. But then, despite herself, she giggled. Not because she had lost. Because of Caitlyn.

The way she’s laughing, flushed from exertion, her hair slightly messy, crimson top hugging her form just right. The way her eyes sparkled with amusement; lips curled in a smirk that made Vi’s heart stutter.

She wasn’t even mad anymore. She was in awe.

A moment of silence stretched between them, broken only by their heavy breathing.

Vi groaned, "Okay, maybe you got me."

Caitlyn arched a brow. "Maybe?"

Then, she realized how close they were.

The teasing fell away as something heavier settled in the space between them. Vi’s hands were still gripping Caitlyn’s thighs, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric. Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her pulse—if she still had one—roaring in her ears.

She was so close—close enough to feel the heat radiating from Vi’s skin beneath her palms, close enough to see the way Vi’s chest rose and fell, lips slightly parted, caught between breath and hesitation.

She should move. She knew she should. But she didn’t.

Neither of them did.

Vi’s gaze flickered down to her lips—Caitlyn caught it.

She didn’t hesitate. Caitlyn leaned down, her lips brushing against Vi’s in the lightest, most fleeting touch—smiling, searching.

Vi’s breath hitched, but she couldn’t hide the smile forming on her lips. She met her halfway

It was small, barely there, but undeniable. The kiss was soft at first—tentative, tasting. But it came naturally now, like instinct, like muscle memory. For a moment, there was only warmth. Only the press of lips, the slight tremble of restraint, the weight of something unspoken passing between them.

Then Caitlyn pulled back, just barely, her breath warm against Vi’s lips.

And Vi—who had spent so long memorizing every shade of Caitlyn’s cerulean blue eyes, who could get lost in them without ever finding her way out—saw something different.

Caitlyn’s eyes were no longer blue. They were crimson.

Not from bloodlust. Not from hunger. But from this. From her.

Vi sucked in a breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. It was the first time she had ever seen Caitlyn’s eyes shift like that for this reason. For her.

And god, if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing Vi had ever seen.

She adored everything about this woman. Crimson or blue—it didn’t matter.  She loved those goddamn eyes.

A slow, breathless chuckle escaped Vi—something between awe and mischief.

Her hands, almost without thinking, slid softly over Caitlyn’s thighs, fingertips brushing against the smooth fabric of her training pants. She felt the tension there, the control in Caitlyn’s muscles, the restraint she knew Caitlyn held back—not just in strength, but in everything. Caitlyn, still towering over her, looked down—with hunger, but also with wonder and almost inquisitiveness.

“What?” Caitlyn asked with raspiness in her voice.

Vi’s voice came softer now, almost like a whisper between them.

"Sometimes I forget you're a vampire."

Caitlyn just smiled. Slow. Knowing.

She tilted her head slightly, amusement flickering in her own crimson gaze “Do you want me to remind you?” her voice deep and seductive. Vi barely had time to process the tease before Caitlyn leaned down again.

This time, the kiss deepened.

Caitlyn lips moved with purpose, no longer hesitant, she tilted her head slightly drawing Vi in, and when her tongue brushed against Vi’s—it sent spark straight through her. Vi gasped against Caitlyn’s mouth, that also elicited a moan from Caitlyn. Vi groaned softly, her grip tightening, her fingers curling against Caitlyn’s thighs, pulling her closer. And then Caitlyn shifted above her, just slightly. Just enough that Vi felt the deliberate, slow press of Caitlyn’s hips against her abdomen.

Fuck.

She would be the death of her. Caitlyn’s hands tangled into Vi’s hair, her body pressing flush against her. Vi gritted her teeth, exhaling sharply, and before Catilyn could pull away, she flipped their positions, rolling her over with a playful growl.

Vi smirked against her lips. "You’re trying to kill me, cupcake?"

Caitlyn reached for the back of Vi’s neck, “No talking”, fingers threading through short, silken strands, and pulled her down for an open-mouth sloppy, heated kiss. It was messy, wet, desperate—pure instinct. Caitlyn nipped at Vi’s bottom lip, teasing, playful, but with just enough pressure to make Vi’s breath stutter.

The sound that left Vi’s throat was low, involuntary—a quiet growl of need. Caitlyn smirked against her lips, pleased. Vi wasn’t about to let her have the upper hand. With a slow, sure movement, Vi pressed her lean abdomen, on Caitlyn’s growing arousal underneath those sleek training pants as she tilted her head down, pressing her mouth to Caitlyn’s neck. Then Vi kissed just below her pulse, slow and lingering, and Caitlyn let out a soft, shuddering moan. She felt Caitlyn’s body tense beneath her, her fingers tightening against her shoulders. Vi grinned against Caitlyn’s throat “Yeah?” she murmured, voice low, teasing as she continues press on Caitlyn’s.

“Shut up” Caitlyn whispered. Vi smiled and kissed the same spot.

 “So much for wait—”

Before Vi could finish, Caitlyn’s fingers pressed over her mouth, shushing her.  At first, she thought Caitlyn was teasing her back, a playful power move. But then—she noticed the sudden stillness in Caitlyn’s body and sharp focus in her expression. Vi’s sensitive hearing sharpened instinctively. Their faces were still close, their bodies still tangled together but the moment was ruined. Caitlyn’s hunger, the fire in her eyes that had been so unmistakable just seconds ago, had vanished. She was listening.

A noise. Doors opening. Footsteps.

Vi froze. Caitlyn stiffened beneath her; her instincts honed just as sharply. Someone was entering the mansion. Caitlyn’s peripheral hearing heard it.

She knew that walk. That pace.

“Mel—” Vi beat her to it.

Pure panic shot through her. Before Vi could react, Caitlyn shoved her.

Hard.

Vi went flying—literally flying.

She crashed onto the floor on the other side of the room, as far away from Caitlyn as physically possible. Vi was sprawled out like she had just been tossed by a hurricane, still panting. The door swung open. And there stood Mel Medarda—Poised. Impeccable. A single eyebrow arched as she took in the scene.

Caitlyn was on all fours, straddling thin air, panting. Vi sprawled in an undignified heap across the room, looking like she had just survived an explosion.

Silence.

Mel exhaled a quiet chuckle, stepping inside, arms crossed.

“Well. This is interesting.”

Vi, still groaning on the floor. “Yep. Super interesting…Ow…ow…ow”

Caitlyn wanted the ground to swallow her whole, immediately. Vi squealed from across the room, still lying on the floor, her hands on her hips, reaching for her limbs, wondering if it’s still there. “Damn, cup—Cait…if you didn’t want me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

Caitlyn’s face burned. She shot Vi a glare that very clearly said shut up right now.

Mel, meanwhile, looked thoroughly entertained.

She took a slow step inside, arms still crossed, tilting her head in mock curiosity. “Now, I came here to check in on the two of you, but it seems I’ve interrupted… something.”

Caitlyn sprang to her feet, brushing imaginary dust off her pants, as if that would somehow erase what just happened.
"It’s not—It’s not what it looks like."

Vi, still half-dead on the floor: “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Mel smirked.

“I see,” she said, voice rich with amusement. "So, was your mission at Ravensworth at least fruitful? Or were you both too busy—"

She made a vague gesture between them. “…sparring there too?”

Caitlyn went rigid. Vi, on the other hand, just grinned from the floor, rubbing her sore shoulder like she was recalling a fond memory instead of getting absolutely wrecked.

“You were right,” Vi said casually. “Rhiannon’s parties are eventful. You should know, I almost got my ass kicked back there.”

Mel barely blinked. “Not the first time, apparently.”

Vi laughed so loud. Caitlyn did not.

Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose, praying to whatever gods existed to end her suffering.
"Mel, why are you here?"

Mel’s smirk didn’t fade, but she graciously decided to let Caitlyn off the hook. “Well, I expect a report from your mission, I’m pretty sure the council will call for another meeting” she said smoothly, shifting back to business.  She leveled Caitlyn with a pointed look. “I trust you have something”

Caitlyn hesitated. Just for a second. Vi, now on her feet—rolling out her shoulder, still sore from being launched across the room—noticed. Mel did too.

Her golden gaze sharpened, honing in on Caitlyn like a predator catching the scent of something hidden.

"Caitlyn." Mel’s voice was smooth, expectant. "Darling, I got you that intel. I deserve to know everything. You know you can trust me."

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, her fingers flexing at her sides. She did trust Mel. But this… this was bigger than a simple report. This was a powder keg waiting to explode.

Caitlyn exhaled, choosing her next words deliberately.

“Well… something happened at Ravensworth.” That alone made Mel’s gaze flicker.

Caitlyn squared her shoulders. “The hunter was there. Because there was a buyer for the prototype silver bullets.”

Mel’s voice was smooth, immediate. “Who?”

Caitlyn met her gaze. “Rhiannon.”

A pause.

Then, Mel let out a slow, unimpressed breath. “Of course she would.”

Caitlyn lifted a hand, not done.

“Not for the reason you think. She told me she just wanted to see if they were real.”

Mel arched a brow. “And you believed that?”

Caitlyn huffed. “Not entirely. But I do know she was worried. I saw it in her eyes”

That made Mel pause. Caitlyn pressed on. “I’m quite certain she heard about the Caravelles wanting to get their hands on it.” Her jaw tightened.

“Mel, everyone is desperate to get these bloody bullets. Rhiannon included. And if she’s worried?”

She met Mel’s gaze, voice lowering. “Then we all should be.”

Silence.

Mel’s fingers drummed lightly against her arm, her mind clearly working through the implications. Then, she exhaled.

“But that’s not all?” Vi’s voice cut through the silence, her tone somewhere between curiosity and growing concern.

Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to her. Then, slowly, she nodded.

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “There was another type of bullet.”

Mel didn’t react right away, but Caitlyn knew she was listening intently.

She measured her words carefully. “It’s not just silver—it’s been altered. Infused with something else.”

Mel’s expression remained unreadable, but something in her eyes sharpened.

“The first one was mercury-infused,” she said smoothly. “I read Talis’ report. Go on.”

Caitlyn hesitated again. Then:

“We’re not certain yet. We’re waiting for results. But this one is different. Definitely not mercury, or any substance we’re acquainted with.”

The room seemed to still.

Something unspoken passed between them.

For the first time in their entire exchange, Mel’s polished mask slipped. It was brief—just a flicker of something, some rare crack in her otherwise impenetrable composure. But Caitlyn saw it.

Mel exhaled slowly, weighing the information in her mind. Then, her gaze sharpened.

"That doesn’t sound good."

Caitlyn nodded, her voice firm now. "It isn’t. And it’s worse than that. We found them in a shipment at Ravensworth. And before you ask—No, Rhiannon knew nothing about the new ones."

Mel’s brows lifted slightly, but she didn’t look entirely surprised. "Let me guess. She made a deal?"

Caitlyn crossed her arms. "She said the hunter offered her ‘new ammunition’ she only knew about the prototype. I think that’s what she expected the hunter was talking about. In exchange for that information, I agreed not to report it to the council—at least, not yet."

Mel hummed, thoughtful. "Smart. But dangerous."

Vi scoffed, arms still folded. "Yeah, that’s been our whole night, actually."

Caitlyn shot Vi a look but didn’t disagree.

Mel hummed, tilting her head slightly. "Rhiannon played it safe. If she truly knew about these new bullets, she wouldn’t have let you walk away so easily."

Caitlyn frowned. "Exactly. That’s what makes this worse. Because if Rhiannon is out of the loop on this?"

Mel’s gaze sharpened. “Have you told anyone about this?”

The duo replied in perfect sync—“No…”

"Then who’s running the tests on these bullets?"

Caitlyn hesitated for half a second—just enough for Mel to notice.

Vi, however, answered smoothly. "Well… someone I know. Someone we can trust."

Mel’s eyes flicked to Vi, waiting.

Vi shrugged. "She doesn’t know everything. Just enough."

Mel’s expression didn’t shift, but Caitlyn could practically see the gears turning in her head.

“Good,” Mel said finally. “Keep it that way.”

Caitlyn nodded. "If these bullets exist, it means something bigger is happening. And if we make a move too early, we lose any chance at stopping it before it escalates."

Mel was quiet for a long moment.

“And you’re right. The council doesn’t need another crisis right now, anyway. I’ll make sure they don’t act—yet." She lifted her chin slightly, watching Caitlyn carefully. "But you need to move fast. If these bullets are real, then it’s not just a political problem."

Her voice dropped just slightly, something weighty behind it.

"It’s war. And no one is ready for it."

Caitlyn held her gaze.

"I know."

The unspoken tension settled between them. Mel studied her for another second, then, seemingly satisfied, turned toward the door.

But, because she was Mel, she paused just before leaving and cast Caitlyn one last look—her smirk returning, just a little.

"Still. Try not to break your girlfriend next time, will you?"

Caitlyn groaned.

Vi grinned. "I’m with her on this one." Caitlyn’s eye twitched.

"OUT." Caitlyn pointed at the door. "Both of you. NOW."

Mel left without another word. Vi, looking entirely too smug, followed her out.

_____

For the first time in a while, Caitlyn felt like herself again. Not just the noble daughter of House Kiramman nor the political pawn in some Council’s games. But an actual enforcer. A detective.

Sometimes she missed the rush. Not in a reckless kind of way. It was because high stakes missions were different. It demanded more—sharper instincts, faster decisions, the thrill of knowing one wrong move could change everything. The Ravensworth mission had been exactly like that.  

Chasing a target through darkened gardens, unraveling hidden schemes, the electric tension of knowing they were one step away from uncovering something that could shift the balance of power—it was the kind of work that kept her on edge. Kept her alive.

But right now, she wanted to start her day with just reports, cases and investigation. She wanted to focus on the huntress, the bullets, the mastermind of it all.

Council meetings had been frequent, the weight of political unrest hanging in the air like an oncoming storm. She stood near one of the tall arched windows, the morning light casting shadows against the polished floor of Piltover’s City Hall. A crisp newspaper was unfolded in her hands, her sharp eyes scanning the headline: COUNCIL IN TURMOIL, WHO WILL FALL NEXT

She sighed. Of course, the press was already spinning their own narratives. Vi’s footsteps approached before Caitlyn even looked up. The distinct clink of a coffee cup shifting against another caught her ears.

Suddenly, a warm cup was pressed into her free hand and without even looking, Caitlyn took it.

"Thanks, darling." She continued reading, sipping her coffee, not registering what she had just said.

Caitlyn felt Vi staring. Slowly she glanced up and seeing Vi with the widest grin. That kind of grin—the most insufferable smug, shit-eating, cocky kind.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, “What?”

Vi leaned casually against the pillar beside her, taking an exaggerated sip of her coffee before replying. “You called me darling, it’s cute”

Caitlyn blinked. She replayed the moment in her head. A flush crept up her neck, but she recovered quickly, shifting her expression back to neutral. She slowly lowered the newspaper, meeting Vi’s amused gaze.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Violet” but a smile was creeping onto her lips.

"I like it… I might start bringing you coffee every morning just to hear it." Vi winked. Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. Instead, she simply took a slow sip of coffee and returned to her paper—as if completely unbothered. Vi watched her for a moment longer, grinning.

Vi’s eyes flicked to the newspaper headline. The playful energy shifted.  Before she could react—

“Caitlyn” Both of them turned to see Jayce approaching, his expression tight with urgency.

Caitlyn folded the newspaper, already shifting gears. "What is it?"

Jayce exhaled, holding the folder out to her. "I was on my way to see your mother. But I figured you should see this first…” he said, his tone edged with tension. Then, as if remembering himself, he glanced at Vi, pausing. “Forgive me I haven’t introduced myself to your friend—Jayce Talis.”

Vi glanced at Caitlyn first, then at Jayce’s outstretched hand. She took it gripping his hand firmly. “Vi”

Jayce blinked at the strength of her handshake but smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Vi tilted her head slightly, eyeing him. "Yeah, I know who you are."

Jayce chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Guess I do make the papers a lot."

Caitlyn, already flipping open the folder, barely acknowledged the exchange. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly, sharp and calculating. Vi, ever observant, caught how Caitlyn’s fingers tensed slightly, the change in her partner’s posture.

"What is it?" Vi asked, shifting closer to peek at the file.

Caitlyn's jaw set as she looked up at Jayce. "Where did you get this?"

Jayce sighed, crossing his arms. "Security footage. Victor helped me with the investigation. We found the spy who infiltrated Talis Industries—the one who leaked the blueprints and the prototypes." He hesitated, watching Caitlyn carefully.

“And you might want to see this, I know you’ll want to see who it is” He flipped to the photo inside the folder. Vi and Caitlyn both looked down.  The grainy security footage still captured a figure moving swiftly, dressed in dark clothes, barely visible in the shadows. It was the hair that gave it away. Even in the poor-quality image, crimson strands peeked from beneath the hood.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. She knew. She didn’t need a clearer shot of the face. She didn’t need any more proof.

It was her. Katarina.

Vi cursed softly under her breath, barely audible because they both recognized her immediately, and yet neither of them reacted. They exchanged a brief glance, barely a flicker of a look—but it was enough. They couldn’t tell Jayce for now. Not until they knew who Katarina was really working for.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, steadying her expression. "We're still looking into it, Jayce," she said smoothly, closing the folder. "But we’d like a copy of this report."

Jayce studied her for a moment, as if sensing there was more she wasn’t saying. But in the end, he simply nodded. "Sure," he said, handing her the folder. "I’ll have my office send you everything we have."

Then, before Caitlyn or Vi could say anything else, Jayce’s gaze flicked past them, his expression shifted.

"Councilor Kiramman—" he greeted with a polite nod, already stepping away.

Vi and Caitlyn, almost in sync, gave Cassandra a polite nod as she passed. Cassandra acknowledged them with a brief glance, but her focus was already shifting—her stride purposeful, her expression unreadable.

Jayce barely missed a beat, falling into step beside her as they began talking in hushed, urgent tones.

And just like that, Caitlyn and Vi were left standing in the corridor, alone once more.

“I guess we’re not telling him?” Vi crossed her arms, watching Caitlyn carefully.

“No. Not yet.”

____

Caitlyn tends to get obsessed with solving cases, like what she’s doing right now. Her private study was a mess—but a carefully organized kind of chaos. She stood in the center of it, her sharp eyes scanning over the wall, taking in the web of photographs, notes, and connections she had pieced together. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of desk lamps casting long shadows over stacks of case files, scattered maps, and official reports sprawled across the massive desk. At the center of it all, was the investigation board—pinned photographs, written notes, red strings connecting key figures and locations—the visual map of her thoughts, of every clue she had, every lead she was still chasing.

She had spent hours assembling everything, making sense of the chaos. Behind her, Vi sat casually on the desk, one leg propped up on the chair, nursing what was probably her third cup of coffee.

"Alright, commander genius. Where are we at?" Vi asked, her tone light, but her gaze sharp as she took in the board.

Caitlyn exhaled, pointing at a cluster of images and names. "Rhiannon confirmed the Caravelles were trying to acquire the prototype bullets. Now, Jayce’s investigation proves that Katarina was the one who infiltrated Talis Industries to steal them. That’s a direct link."

Vi hummed, standing up and walking closer. "But you’re missing something."

Caitlyn arched a brow. "Am I?"

Vi smirked. "Look here." She gestured at another part of the board—an older note Caitlyn had pinned up but hadn’t connected yet. "You remember that warehouse we raided?" Vi continued. “The one where we found those crates of smuggled silver? Not the one in Ravensworth—before that.”

Caitlyn frowned, scanning the details. "Yes, but those weren’t linked to the prototypes. They were just raw materials."

Vi pointed aimlessly at the board. "Sure. But you marked down that the supplier was unknown, right? Guess what? I did a little digging while you were busy being all council-y. Turns out, the name scratched off that manifest matches a supplier linked to somewhere and well…someone in Zaun.”

Caitlyn titled her head, intrigued now. “And?”

Vi shrugged casually, but there was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "I just got us, an address. And a name."

Caitlyn’s expression hardened, her full attention snapping to Vi.

"Who?"

Vi’s smirk turned sharper. "A Mr. S."

Caitlyn’s brows lifted, genuine surprise flickering across her face. "Vi…" She turned to fully face her, processing the information. "You actually cross-referenced a shipment manifest?"

Vi grinned. "Yeah, yeah, pick your jaw off the floor, cupcake. I do pay attention. Sometimes."

"That changes things," Caitlyn murmured, mind already racing ahead. "If someone was involved in smuggling raw silver, then they weren’t just trying to steal the prototypes—they were trying to manufacture their own."

Vi whistled lowly, crossing her arms. "Yep. Cause why would they need that amount of silver for. Unless they’re building something."

Caitlyn nodded; expression serious. "And if they succeed, they won’t just have a few prototype bullets. They’ll have an entire supply chain of them."

Vi leaned against the desk again, rubbing her jaw. "That’s a full-scale arms race, Cait."

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, “If that’s the case, it makes sense. I remember the report, Jayce never authorized a mass production of these bullets” Caitlyn muttered, more to herself than Vi.

"The council was divided on their use. Even if someone inside Talis was responsible for the leak, why would they keep the Talis insignia on the new rounds?"

Vi hummed, pushing herself up off the desk and strolling over to the other side board.

"They wouldn’t," she said simply.

Caitlyn frowned. "What?"

Vi crossed her arms, eyes flicking across the pinned notes, piecing something together in real-time.

"If the goal was to make a profit or sell the prototypes to the highest bidder, keeping the Talis branding on the bullets would be stupid," Vi explained, her voice slow, thoughtful. "It’s a dead giveaway. No real black-market arms dealer would leave a company’s insignia on their stolen product unless…"

She trailed off, her brows drawing together.

Caitlyn finished the thought. "Unless they wanted people to believe Talis was responsible."

Vi snapped her fingers, pointing at her. "Exactly."

Caitlyn’s expression shifted, her analytical mind shifting gears. She turned back to the board, eyes scanning the network of suspects, connections, motives.

"Someone isn’t just stealing weapons," she murmured, pulling a red string taut between the stolen prototypes and a recently recovered shipment of silver ammunition. "They’re framing Jayce. His entire family. Making it look like they’re the ones secretly manufacturing these bullets."

Caitlyn took a deep breath, stepping back from the board as the weight of the revelation settled in. "We find out who benefits the most from this," Caitlyn said, reaching for her coat. "And we stop them before they can pull the next string."

"Well, first thing’s first.” Vi gestured to the board, finally tapping a pinned note.

“We just have to prove if this ‘Mr. S’  is behind all of this…or just someone trying to throw us off.”

“Vi…this is brilliant” Caitlyn’s voice was full of excitement, her mind already running through possibilities, leads, next steps.

But then—she moved.

With quick, deliberate strides, she closed the distance between them, her fingers hooking onto Vi’s coat, pulling her in without hesitation. Vi barely had time to react before Caitlyn smirked, her eyes sharp, playful.

"Look at you, getting all smart and hot." Vi gulped, the words landed like a punch to the gut, knocking all coherent thought straight out of Vi’s head. She was not prepared for this, specifically for Caitlyn’s sudden boldness. Vi blinked rapidly, her mouth opening, then closing—then opening again.

Caitlyn’s grip lingered for just a second longer, her smirk deepening as she took in Vi’s reaction. Then she closed the distance. It was soft and intentional. She kissed Vi—just once, just a gentle press on the lips, just because she can do that now—a quiet, unhurried moment. Then finally, she let go, stepping back with a satisfied hum, her eyes still closed of a fleeting second. Vi, still frozen in place, her face inches from Caitlyn’s. Vi blinked rapidly.

“We should go…” Caitlyn finally murmured.

Vi stared, wide eyed as she let out a slow, stunned breath, “Mmmm-hmmm”

Caitlyn tilted her head innocently. "Just keeping you on your toes, Violet."

Vi groaned dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. “You’re really trying to kill me.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly, leaving Vi, and already reaching for the door.

But the moment she pulled it open—everything changed. Because standing on the other side was Cassandra Kiramman and for the first time in a long while, her mother wasn’t composed.

She looked worried. Tense. Unsettled.

Caitlyn immediately straightened, her smirk fading."Mother?"

Cassandra's voice was grim, urgent. "Elias Hartwell’s son is dead." The weight of the words settled heavily in the air, suffocating and undeniable.

Caitlyn felt her stomach drop and Vi’s playful demeanor vanished in an instant. For a long second, Caitlyn just looked at Vi, and Vi met her gaze. No words needed. She nodded, already stepping forward and Vi followed her without question.

Chapter Text

The Hartwell estate loomed ahead; its grand, imposing architecture bathed in the cold glow of street lamps. An iron gate stood ajar, flanked by enforcers maintaining a strict perimeter. Beyond it, a flurry of movement—officers, investigators, and council representatives—buzzed around the mansion like bees in a hive.

Caitlyn, Cassandra, and Vi stepped past the entrance, the crisp night air carrying the weight of something grim.

Just inside the gate, Cassandra broke away toward a grief-stricken woman in a deep blue gown—Elias Hartwell’s wife. The quiet murmur of their conversation hung in the air, vital but controlled. Caitlyn didn’t pause to listen; she already had a purpose in mind.

She and Vi walked toward the estate’s entrance, boots clicking against the stone pathway.

Vi cast a glance around, taking in the sheer size of the operation. "So, how does this work?"

Caitlyn kept her gaze forward. "Crime scenes in Piltover follow strict protocol. Depending on jurisdiction, the local enforcers handle initial containment while council-sanctioned investigators handle forensic work."

She gestured toward a section of officers by the entrance, directing personnel and scribbling notes.

"Everything is logged. Witness statements, forensics, evidence chains—no loose ends. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work."

Vi hummed, hands in her pockets. "Sounds neat and tidy."

Caitlyn’s gaze flicked toward the group, her expression unreadable, but Vi caught the slight tension in her jaw. The Hunters stood apart from the enforcers, clad in dark, well-worn leather, their weapons hidden but ever-present. Their presence alone carried an unspoken authority—they weren’t just here to observe.

Vi’s shoulders tensed instinctively. "Looks like they’ve already decided this is their problem too."

Caitlyn respired, her voice level. “They’re doing their job. Or at least, what they believe is their job.”

Vi’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the group. “Yeah? And what do they believe this time?”

Caitlyn hesitated before answering. “That depends on what they find.”

One of the Hunters glanced their way, his gaze sharp, assessing. There was no immediate hostility, but Vi didn’t like the weight behind that look—like they were already running their own conclusions. The Hunter’s nod was brief, a silent acknowledgment—a sign of respect and recognition, but not necessarily trust. Caitlyn returned it with a composed, almost detached expression, a quiet authority in the way she held herself.

Vi’s brows lifted slightly, her gaze flicking between Caitlyn and the Hunter. “Friend of yours?” she muttered under her breath.

Caitlyn exhaled softly, her expression unreadable. “Not quite. But they know who I am.”

Vi’s instincts prickled. She wasn’t used to seeing Caitlyn in this space—not just as an enforcer, but as someone who carried real weight among people like them.

She shifted slightly closer, lowering her voice. “Alright, Cupcake. Enlighten me. What’s the deal?”

Caitlyn barely moved, but Vi caught the subtle tension in her posture. “Hunters operate under different rules. They don’t answer to the council, not directly. They have their own jurisdiction, their own system.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched, but her tone remained measured. “They’re necessary. They specialize in tracking, in ruling things out. When things slip past enforcers, when it’s… not just a simple crime, they step in.”

Vi’s eyes darkened slightly, her shoulders squaring. “And by ‘not just a simple crime,’ you mean vampires, supernatural.”

Caitlyn didn’t deny it. “Among other things.”

“Well, I know most of the deal about them hunters, my brother Claggor is one of them, just didn’t think they got their hands dirty with cases like this” Vi explained.

Caitlyn sighed. “You’re right. They don’t usually interfere, but the Hartwells are too important. They’ll make sure no detail is overlooked.” She glanced at Vi, curiosity creeping into her voice. “But Claggor… I didn’t know he was a Hunter.”

Vi nodded, exhaling through her nose, “Yeah…he was the one who wanted me to be something more.” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Tried to get me to join the Hunters once. Said I had the instincts for it.”

Caitlyn tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “And you said no?”

Vi smirked, though there was something softer beneath it. “Hell no. Told him I didn’t like being told what to do. He said that was exactly why I should join.”

Caitlyn let out a small chuckle, imagining a younger Vi being dragged into lectures about duty and purpose. “Sounds like he saw something in you.”

Vi’s smirk faded just slightly. “Maybe. But that life? It wasn’t for me.”

The Hunter finally turned away, falling back into discussion with the others, but Vi still felt the weight of his earlier stare lingering.

Caitlyn smirked, just slightly. “You don’t like authority figures watching over your shoulder?”

Vi shot her a knowing look, a playful glint in her eyes. “Depends on the authority figure…” she winked, her meaning unmistakable. “No, but seriously, I don’t like people who think they know everything before they even look at the facts.”

Caitlyn hummed, gaze returning to the scene before them. “Then let’s make sure we find those facts first.”

Vi nodded, eyes flickering to the estate’s grand entrance. "And what happens when we walk in there?"

Caitlyn slowed her pace slightly, glancing at her.

"Follow my lead."

Vi smirked. "Don’t I always?"

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but didn’t reply.

As they approached the cordoned-off area, two enforcers stood guard—both immediately straightened at Caitlyn’s presence.

One of them—a tall man with short-cropped dark hair and sharp enforcer blues—offered a small, familiar smile.

"Commander, it’s nice to see you back in action."

Vi arched a brow.

Caitlyn, however, remained as professional as ever, offering a polite nod.

"I wouldn’t say that," she replied smoothly.

Vi watched as the officer stepped aside without hesitation, as if Caitlyn’s presence was more than enough to override any concerns. She had noticed it before—how Caitlyn carried herself, how she commanded a room even without trying. But here, in an official setting, it was undeniable. People respected her genuinely.

Caitlyn turned slightly, gesturing to Vi.

"This is Vi. She’s, my partner.” Vi offered the officer a nod. Caitlyn continued without missing a beat. "She’s authorized."

The officer gave Vi a once-over, measuring. "Understood, Commander. You’ll find the body in the drawing room. The forensic team just started their analysis."

Caitlyn gave a curt nod “We won’t waste their time.”

_____

The grand double doors creaked open, revealing a lavishly furnished drawing room, its usual elegance overshadowed by the unmistakable presence of death. The air carried the faint, metallic tang of blood, barely masked by the estate’s expensive colognes and polished wood.

The forensic team worked quietly in the background, setting up equipment, snapping photographs, taking samples. Caitlyn grabbed a pair of gloves and masks from the table beside her, handing one set to Vi.

“This is... a lot.” Vi glanced around, taking in the structured chaos of the investigation—the forensic team moving with practiced efficiency, the scattered evidence markers, and the lifeless body lying at the center of it all.

Caitlyn nodded. "This isn’t my usual work," she admitted, voice even as they made their way toward the body.

Vi raised a brow. "Oh?"

Caitlyn kept her eyes ahead. "I was pulled for special missions more often than local investigations. Taskforce assignments. Field work. High-risk operations."

Vi hummed. "So you’re used to chasing people, not piecing together evidence."

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, a ghost of a smirk behind her mask "Something like that. But I was trained for both. And I do miss some detective work."

A single, cold body lay sprawled near the center of the room.

The heir of the Hartwell family. A young man, mid-twenties, well-dressed, but now unnaturally still, his form oddly contorted. His eyes were open, vacant, his body positioned awkwardly against an ornate carpet as if his muscles seized in his final moments.

Caitlyn and Vi stepped forward.

The officers around them instinctively parted, letting Caitlyn through. It was an unspoken understanding—this was her space now.

And Caitlyn moved like she belonged here.

Her gaze flickered over the scene, analyzing everything at once.

Vi watched her for a moment before rolling her shoulders. "Alright, Sherlock, what are we working with?"

Caitlyn ignored her teasing, already kneeling by the body.

Caitlyn tilted the victim’s chin slightly, noting the unnatural pallor. She pressed two fingers against the skin. Cold. Rigor had already begun.

"He’s been dead for at least three hours," she murmured, glancing at the expensive pocket watch still clutched in his limp hand.

Looking closely, the victim’s veins had darkened, bulging almost evidently against his pale skin, as if something had been coursing through him in his final moments—something unnatural. His eyes were open, but the whites were bloodshot, tinged with an eerie violet hue. His fingertips were blackened, the flesh rigid and cracked.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, scanning his hands, his arms, his neck.

Vi crouched beside her, studying the scene.

"No forced entry," she noted, scanning the pristine doors and windows. "Whoever did this either had access to the estate or the victim let them in."

Caitlyn nodded, pressing a gloved hand against the edge of the victim’s collar, then peeling it back slightly.

Then, Caitlyn reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small magnifier, carefully inspecting the victim’s skin. And that’s when she saw it—a faint, iridescent residue clinging to the edges of his collar, his fingers, the corners of his mouth.

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged look.

The forensic officer beside them gestured toward the body. "We’re still determining the cause of death, Commander, but…" He hesitated. "It’s strange. There’s no sign of physical trauma, no poison in the immediate blood samples we took. Whatever killed him… it acted fast."

Fast. Unnatural. Mutagenic.

Caitlyn stood up slowly, rolling her shoulders back, her mind already moving five steps ahead. Her eyes scanned the room again. Everything had been left intact. Vi’s right, there was no sign of a break-in, no signs of forced entry. That meant the killer had access or was let in. 

She turned to the forensic officer standing nearby, watching the scene unfold. "Time of death?" she asked.

The officer shifted slightly, glancing at the initial notes. "Estimated between 2:30 and 3:00 pm. We’re already running tests”

Caitlyn nodded once. "And the last person to see him alive?"

The officer cast a glance toward the doorway. “His personal assistant said the heir was entertaining a guest earlier but wouldn’t say who.”

Vi’s expression darkened. “That’s suspicious.”

Caitlyn exhaled softly, turning her attention back to the body. Her sharp gaze flickered to the unnatural shimmer clinging to the corpse’s fingertips—subtle, but unmistakable. Vi stepped beside her, lowering her voice. “It’s probably her.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately, her jaw tightening. “We can’t be sure… but this wasn’t random. This was targeted.”

Vi crossed her arms, her tone firm. “And she’s using whatever was in those bullets…”

Caitlyn’s fingers curled slightly, tension coiling in her stance. “The bullets, and now this. If it’s really her…” She let out a slow breath, her frustration barely contained. “I hate how she’s always a step ahead of us.”

Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. "We need to move before another body drops."

Before heading toward the exit, Caitlyn turned to the officer, her voice firm. “Get me the initial test results as soon as possible.”

_______

The heavy air of the crime scene clung to Caitlyn as she stepped out into the estate’s vast courtyard, the cool night air doing little to clear the tension coiling in her chest. The forensic team continued their work inside, but her mind was already five steps ahead, sorting through every detail, every lead.

Vi followed close behind, hands tucked into her jacket, watchful but silent. She knew Caitlyn was already piecing things together, and she let her work through it in silence.

 “Commander.”

The voice—measured, controlled, yet tinged with unmistakable grief—drew Caitlyn’s attention.

She turned, immediately straightening at the sight of Elias Hartwell. The Chancellor of Piltover stood under the dim glow of the courtyard lanterns, a man who had always exuded power and presence. Even now, dressed impeccably in his dark council robes, his face was lined with something deeper than sorrow. Loss and Anger.

Caitlyn had always known him to be composed, a man who dictated the course of Piltover with precision and influence. But tonight, that control was barely holding together.

She stepped forward, offering a polite but respectful nod. “Chancellor Hartwell.”

Elias’s gaze flickered over her, his eyes searching, as if measuring something within her. Then, his voice softened just slightly.

“Caitlyn.” That alone was telling.

Elias was more than a chancellor—he was a General, and generals didn’t often address officers by their first names. But Elias Hartwell had always held Caitlyn in high regard. She had earned his respect years ago, through her work, her efficiency, and her unwavering sense of justice. And now, he was looking at her not just as an investigator—but as someone he trusted. Elias took a slow, steady breath before speaking.

“I need you to find who did this.” His voice vulnerable with no demands, but a plea.

Caitlyn didn’t answer immediately, but she held his gaze. She could see the weight pressing into him—not just the loss of his heir, but the implications of it. A murder like this—unnatural, deliberate—wasn’t just a personal tragedy. It was a message and at the same time, a warning.

Vi’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She glanced at the screen, then back at Caitlyn before murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” She stepped away, giving them space, as Caitlyn and Elias remained locked in a quiet, heavy conversation.

Caitlyn finally exhaled, her voice calm, assured. “I will.” Elias studied Caitlyn for a long moment, as if committing those words to memory.

Then, his gaze darkened slightly. “There are forces in this city that believe they can do as they please.” His hands curled into tight fists at his sides. “They are mistaken.”

Caitlyn remained still. She understood what he was saying. This wasn’t just about justice. This was about power and control. About reminding those responsible that no one, no matter how untouchable they believed themselves to be, could escape the consequences.

Elias Hartwell would ensure that and he was trusting her to deliver. Caitlyn gave a slow nod. “Then I won’t fail.” Elias held her gaze for a second longer before stepping back.

His composure returned; his grief masked beneath the steel of a man who refused to be seen as vulnerable for long. The old man gave a final glance toward the mansion, he spoke once more, “Whatever resources you need, take them. Just bring me results, soldier.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked back into the mansion.

Caitlyn stood motionless for a moment.

Then—

Vi approached Caitlyn with a sudden spark of excitement in her eyes. "That was Powder… she wants to see us."

Caitlyn’s brow lifted slightly, sensing the urgency behind Vi’s words. “Did she say why?”

Vi smirked, tilting her head. “Nope. Just said it’s important. And knowing Powder? That means either she’s figured something out or she’s about to drag us into something messy.”

Caitlyn exhaled, her exhaustion momentarily pushed aside. "Then we shouldn’t keep her waiting."

____

Vi and Caitlyn arrived at Powder’s tinkerhub, the familiar place was still cluttered but functional, gears and blueprints stacked against the walls—if anything, it looked even more hectic than they remembered. Powder was already at her workstation, goggles pushed onto her forehead, fingers moving deftly over a set of vials, tools and carefully labeled containers —each one filled with substances Caitlyn didn’t even want to ask about.

Powder didn’t look up immediately—too focused, too deep into her work. “Took you both long enough” she muttered.

Vi smirked, leaning against a nearby table. "Hey, we had a crime scene to crash. You know how it is."

Powder huffed, finally looking up at them. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something beneath it—excitement, but also something darker.

Caitlyn arched a brow, stepping closer. “You found something.”

Powder finally looked up, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Oh, you’re gonna love this.”

Powder pulled a chair out and spun it backward, straddling it as she gestured toward a small vial on her workbench. The liquid inside glowed faintly—a deep, unnatural purple.

Powder twirling a screwdriver between her fingers with a smug grin. "Okay, so—funny thing," she began, drawing out the words like she was about to tell the best joke in the world. "Turns out, Mylo wasn’t just full of shit. He had a guy—a broker in the Black Lanes—who still owes me a favor."

Vi’s eyes narrowed, arms crossing over her chest. "You went through Mylo’s contacts for this?"

Powder shrugged effortlessly, tossing the screwdriver onto the workbench with a clatter. "Hey, it was an exchange for something. And yes, you guys are lucky, because I’m just as invested in this as you are."

Caitlyn leaned in slightly, her sharp gaze focused. "And what exactly did you exchange, Powder?"

Powder smirked, kicking her feet up on a crate. "Relax, princess. Just some minor tinkering work. No blood was shed, no limbs were lost—this time."

Vi let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing her temples. "Pow, one day, you’re gonna tell me something without making it sound like you committed a crime."

Caitlyn arched a brow. "And this contact… got you what?"

Powder grinned, tapping the vial. "A raw sample of the drug. Straight from the Black Market. Uncut. Untouched. Pure."

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered to the substance inside. It didn’t look exactly like the one found in the bullets; she thought.

Powder continued, leaning forward slightly. "I cross-referenced it with the stuff in your fancy bullets." She gestured at the disassembled prototype Caitlyn had brought. Then, her grin faded.

"It’s the same. Hundred percent match." Powder explained. Caitlyn felt Vi shift beside her. Caitlyn opened her mouth—then closed again, not really knowing what to say.

“Uh—But” Powder added, cutting Caitlyn and holding up a finger. “There are tweaks.”

Powder grabbed a set of notes, flipping through pages covered in diagrams and chemical equations. "See, drinking Shimmer? That’s different. It mutates you. Makes you stronger, tougher, faster—but messy. You lose control. It’s why most users end up looking like walking corpses with a death wish."

She tapped one of the notes, where she had scribbled side effects. "Muscle expansion. Enhanced aggression. Accelerated healing. Temporary resistance to pain. But also? Total system burnout. Eventually, your body can’t take it, and you go down—hard."

Vi crossed her arms, a knowing look flashing in her eyes. "Right. I’ve seen that before. Thought I was just dealing with some overhyped street brawler, but turns out, he wasn’t just pissed—he was on something."

Caitlyn frowned, tilting her head. "Where?"

Vi scoffed. "Underground ring fight. Some guy took a bad hit, went down, looked like he should’ve been out cold." She shook her head. "But next thing I know, he’s back on his feet like nothing happened. Stronger. More pissed. The guy was fast, barely flinched when I hit him again. I won the match, but when I was heading home? He cornered me in the alley."

Caitlyn’s posture immediately stiffened. "And?"

Vi smirked, shrugging. "I knocked him out. Again. For good this time."

Powder let out a low whistle. "Damn, Vi. Remind me never to bet against you."

Caitlyn nodded. "But the bullets don’t work the same way, do they?"

Powder grinned. "Bingo. The version inside the bullets? That shit isn’t designed to make you stronger. It’s designed to kill you."

She spun one of the bullet casings in her fingers. "It’s a poison, princess. A really, really bad one. It doesn’t make you mutate—it makes you decay."

Caitlyn leaned in, studying the breakdown Powder had written out.

"Faster absorption. Direct bloodstream exposure. Cellular breakdown."

Powder nodded. "You get hit with this? It’s over. Fast."

Vi exhaled, dragging a hand down her face. "Fucking hell."

Powder gestured toward a small holographic projection of a humanoid model—one she had mapped to show how the substance worked. "The moment the bullet hits?" She clicked a button, and the model began to degrade in real-time.

Veins blacken. Skin hardens and cracks. Muscles contort. The body seizes.

Powder let the simulation play out then she added, almost too casually—"I’d give someone less than an hour before they go into full systemic failure. Not a fun way to go."

Vi grimaced. "Understatement of the damn century."

Caitlyn’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it’s completely unrecoverable?”

Powder shook her head, tapping her fingers against the table. “If they’re smart, they’d have an antidote.”

Vi arched a brow. “And do they?”

Powder let out a slow breath, crossing her arms. “That’s the million-coin question, isn’t it? If this was just meant to kill, there’d be no reason to reverse the effects. But if they’re experimenting? If they’re testing limits—pushing how far someone can go before they burn out?” She shrugged. “Then yeah. There’s probably an antidote.”

Powder leaned back, tapping her temple and continued, "This wasn’t some basement alchemist screwing around. This was intentional. Precise. Someone modified Shimmer specifically to be used as a weapon—not just for enhancement, but for execution."

“Shimmer, the drug, Do you get overdose with it?” Caitlyn asked.

"Technically? Yeah. But it’s not like normal drugs where you just pass out and never wake up." She held up the vial, watching the liquid glow under the dim light. "Shimmer doesn’t just kill you outright—it pushes your body past its limits, forces every cell to burn hotter, work harder. The more you take, the more you change."

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. "Until?"

Powder flicked her gaze to her, then set the vial down with a soft clink. "Until your body can’t take it anymore. Your muscles rip themselves apart, your organs shut down. Or worse—you mutate beyond control."

Vi exhaled, nodding. "So it all depends on your body’s threshold. If you can handle more of the mutation, you don’t just die—you change. You turn into something unrecognizable."

Powder grinned, pointing at Vi. "Exactly. See? Smart pants run in the family."

Vi turned to Caitlyn, her expression serious. “You think this is what killed the Hartwell guy?”

Caitlyn exhaled, nodding. “I’m quite certain, yes.”

Powder let out a low whistle, running a hand through her hair. “Shit. It found its way into Piltover?”

Caitlyn’s gaze remained steady, her mind already retracing details. “It seems like Hartwell had been using it for a while. I remember seeing a photo of him months ago—he wasn’t that bulked up. But if the side effects work the way you described… He’d been taking it, his body was changing, and eventually?” She gestured vaguely, her voice quiet but firm. “It killed him.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, her mind already racing ahead. “Which means if we find the supplier, we might find a way to possibly stop it.”

Vi exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Great. So, all we have to do is track down the mystery mastermind running an underground shimmer operation.”

_____

The weight of the case still lingered between them as they stepped out of Powder’s workshop, the cold Zaun air settling over their shoulders. It had been a long night—too many questions, too few answers, and a growing sense that they were still two steps behind.

Vi walked a little ahead, hands shoved into her pockets, her usual confidence slightly dimmed by the sheer exhaustion pressing into her. Caitlyn, though composed as always, was quieter than usual, her mind clearly still running through possibilities, suspects, connections.

They reached the edge of the Lanes where Caitlyn had planned to call for a transport back to Piltover. But before she could, Vi spoke up.

“Hey… Stay the night.”

Caitlyn blinked, caught off guard. “Vi—”

“Not like that.” Vi smirked but there was no teasing in her tone, no underlying playfulness. Just something steady, almost careful. “I just— I know you. You’re gonna go back, stare at your board for hours, drive yourself mad trying to make all the pieces fit.”

Caitlyn hesitated, lips parting as if to argue—but Vi wasn’t wrong.

Vi shrugged, tilting her head toward the dimly lit streets. “Just crash at my place. You need a break, even if you won’t admit it.”.  She kept her tone casual, but there was something else beneath it—hope. A silent request lingering in the space between them.

Vi saw it—the flicker of longing in her eyes, the slight shift in her posture, like she was considering it. Caitlyn wanted it too. But then, Caitlyn smiled—soft, tired. She reached out, fingers brushing lightly against Vi’s wrist, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Then she let go.

“Alright, just… try to get some sleep, okay?” Vi requested.

Caitlyn nodded, though she wasn’t sure she’d listen to that advice herself.

Caitlyn turned, stepping into the waiting vehicle. Vi stayed rooted on the pavement, hands in her pockets, watching as the wheels began to roll forward, as the glow of the lanterns flickered against the night.

She watched until the car disappeared into the dark. Until she could no longer see Caitlyn.

Then, with a quiet exhale, she shook her head, muttering, “Goodnight, Cait”

And she turned back toward home, still feeling the ghost of Caitlyn’s touch on her skin.

_____

The apartment was silent.

For once, nobody was home. No Powder tinkering away at some gadget, no Mylo being an ass just for fun. No Claggor. Just Vi. Vi’s home was small but comfortable, a stark contrast to Caitlyn’s pristine estate. It wasn’t fancy, but it was Vi’s. Worn leather furniture, mismatched decor, a few scattered dumbbells on the floor.

She flicked on the single dim lamp, letting the soft glow stretch across the room as she shrugged off her long coat and tossed it over a chair. She huffed, rubbing the back of her neck, stretching it from side to side, as she leaned against the counter, thinking.

Thinking about Caitlyn. About the case. About the way Caitlyn’s mind never stopped, the way she carried everything like it was hers alone to bear.

Vi sighed, dragging a hand through her hair, her mind circling back to everything that had unfolded tonight. The pieces still weren’t fitting together, and Caitlyn—Caitlyn was probably drowning herself in theories, standing in front of that damn investigation board with exhaustion in her eyes.

Vi shook her head, chuckling softly to herself. That woman, stubborn as ever.

Then—a knock at the door.

Vi straightened, glancing toward it. Just when she thought she could finally have the place to herself. She didn’t think Powder would be coming home at this hour—not unless she had gotten into trouble.

There was another knock, more urgent than the previous. Vi rolled her eyes, exhaling as she pushed off the couch. “Yeah… yeah… hold on a moment.”

She stretched lazily as she walked toward the door, rolling up the sleeve of her long-sleeved vest, just enough to expose her forearm. The cold air of the apartment met her skin, sending a brief shiver up her spine, but she ignored it.

Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob, pulling it open with an easy flick—

And froze.

Caitlyn.

Standing there, hair slightly disheveled from the ride, cheeks flushed from the night air, her eyes locking onto Vi’s like she had been running on nothing but instinct just to get here.

Vi opened her mouth to speak—to ask what happened, “Cai—”

But before she could get a word out, Caitlyn stepped forward, grabbed Vi by the collar, and kissed her.

It was hungry, urgent—a collision of lips, of hands fisting into fabric, of a need neither of them had the patience to put into words.

Vi barely had time to catch up before instinct took over—hands gripping Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her flush against her, lips parting, the kiss deepening like it had been waiting to happen all damn night. With one swoop, one movement and Caitlyn was inside, the door swung shut behind them.

Hands everywhere—Vi gripped her waist, then slid up her back, pulling her impossibly closer as their kiss deepened. Caitlyn was fire—urgent, demanding, unrelenting—and Vi matched her beat for beat.

Then, with one motion, Caitlyn’s back hit the door. Caitlyn let out a small gasp, hot and aroused.

Vi caged her in, breathless, eyes dark with heat as she stared at her.

“I—” Caitlyn started, her voice hoarse, unsteady. Vi looked at her, eyes wide, questioning, waiting. Vi swallowed, hands tightening around Caitlyn’s waist.

“I don’t want to think about anything else.” Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, hands fisting onto Vi’s shirt, pulling her in.

“Then don’t” Vi she murmured. Their lips met again—hungrier, deeper, drowning in everything neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Caitlyn giggled against Vi’s lips, breathless and warm, her fingers fumbling with the worn fabric of Vi’s shirt. She wasn’t rushing—no, she was taking her time, savoring every moment, every touch. It had been a while since she felt warmth like this, since she let herself have it.

Caitlyn gently kissed Vi’s cheek, then her lips brushed Vi’s jaw, slow and teasing. Another kiss. Lower, against the pulse of her throat.

Vi let out a low chuckle, head tilting back just slightly, giving in to Caitlyn’s touch. “Oh, you’re enjoying this.”

Caitlyn just hummed, smirking against Vi’s skin. Her fingers slipped beneath the edge of Vi’s shirt, pushing it up inch by inch, her nails trailing lightly over warm skin.

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, but before she could quip back, Caitlyn kissed her again—firm, deep, leaving no space for words. Then, with a smooth motion, Caitlyn tugged Vi’s vest off her shoulders, letting it hit the floor.

Her hands slid over Vi’s stomach, then up, taking the hem of her shirt along with them. Vi felt the warmth of Caitlyn’s fingers, the hungry yet deliberate way she peeled the fabric away, the way Caitlyn kissed her in between—soft, playful, unhurried.

A kiss against Vi’s collarbone.

A kiss at the center of her chest.

Caitlyn had seen Vi fight before. Had seen the way she moved—all power and raw force, all sharp edges and undeniable strength. But this— seeing her like this, under her touch, was different.

Vi was all heat, muscle, and tension coiled beneath soft, freckled skin. Her body was built for battle. Broad shoulders, sculpted arms, all strength and control, but so incredibly warm under Caitlyn’s hands, under her lips.

Her stomach, toned and taut, flexed beneath Caitlyn’s fingertips, muscles rippling as she traced the defined lines leading down—dangerously low.

And her back—god, her back. Vi had the kind of body that made Caitlyn’s mouth go dry, made her fingertips ache to memorize every ridge, every curve.

Caitlyn pressed her palm flat against Vi’s bare abdomen, reveling in the way she tensed at the touch.

She was solid. Strong. A force of nature. Everything about Vi was beautiful—even her scars, each one telling a story Caitlyn wanted to know, wanted to trace with her lips. She mentally took note of every mark, every ridge of skin, already planning where she would kiss next.

Vi was breathing hard now, chest rising and falling, lips parted, pupils blown wide with heat. The raw hunger in her eyes sent a delicious shiver down Caitlyn’s spine. She wanted her. All of her.

“You’re a fucking menace, Caitlyn”

Caitlyn smirked, leaning in one more time, pressing a lingering kiss to Vi’s lips.

Vi’s hands were on her again—urgent, searching, claiming. Vi groaned against Caitlyn’s mouth as she pressed her fully against the door, slotting their bodies together, feeling the heat between them. Caitlyn gasped into the kiss, her fingers tangling into Vi’s hair, pulling her closer. Like she couldn’t get enough. Like she didn’t want to be apart for even a second.

Vi took advantage of the opening, deepening the kiss, her tongue brushing against Caitlyn’s. It was hot, overwhelming—Caitlyn’s breath hitched, and Vi swallowed the sound.

She felt Caitlyn arch against her, the slow, deliberate roll of her hips sending a jolt of heat through her veins. Vi groaned, gripping Caitlyn’s waist tightly, anchoring herself.

Caitlyn giggled into the kiss, but it was breathy, laced with something heavier. Vi didn’t think—just acted.

Her hands moved with purpose now, grasping the hem of Caitlyn’s black top, pushing it up. slowly at first, savoring the feel of smooth skin beneath her fingertips.

Caitlyn shivered at the touch, her breathing uneven, but she didn’t stop Vi. Instead, she lifted her arms slightly, just enough to let Vi peel the fabric away.

The second the top was gone, Vi paused, staring.

Caitlyn was all flushed skin, heavy-lidded eyes, lips swollen from kissing.

And fuck—she was gorgeous.

Vi had seen beautiful things before. The way dawn painted Zaun’s skyline, the glow of streetlights on rain-slick pavement.

But none of it—nothing—compared to this. To Caitlyn.

Vi’s breath caught as she took her in—all flushed skin, smooth and inviting, toned in ways that reminded Vi just how fast, how lethal she was.

Her frame was lean, sculpted with an effortless kind of grace, all long lines and soft curves. The tight discipline of her training was evident—the tautness of her stomach, the defined lines just beneath her ribs. But then there were the little things, too.

The dip of her waist, the gentle slope of her hips. The way her collarbones stood out ever so slightly, sharp and delicate, begging to be kissed. And her skin—pale, but warm under Vi’s hands. Vi’s fingers traced along Caitlyn’s side, feeling the way, she trembled barely, but enough.

Caitlyn was breathing harder now, chest rising and falling beneath Vi’s touch.

God, her chest—

Vi bit her lip, fighting to keep her focus as her hands slid up, thumbs grazing the underside of soft, supple curves. She heard Caitlyn’s breath hitch, just slightly.

“You’re staring.”

Vi exhaled a sharp breath, grinning. “Damn right, I am.”

Caitlyn’s smirk widened, her hands sliding up Vi’s arms, slow, deliberate. Then, she leaned in, pressing her lips against Vi’s jaw, her breath warm, teasing.

“Are you going to fuck me or what…” Caitlyn’s words dirty, her voice inviting.

They met in the middle—bare skin pressing against bare skin, warmth melting into warmth. Vi’s hands roamed, firm but slow, mapping every curve of Caitlyn’s waist, her back, her sides. Her touch was reverent, almost like she was committing every inch of her to memory.

Caitlyn sucked in a breath, shivering at the contrast—the roughness of Vi’s palms against her own smooth skin. It made her pulse spike, made her thighs clench.

They crashed into another kiss—hungry, desperate, no hesitation. Caitlyn moaned softly as Vi’s grip on her waist tightened, pulling her flush against her, their bodies molding together effortlessly. Vi’s other hand traveled upward, rough yet careful, fingers tracing over soft, sensitive skin before cupping her breast. She kneaded gently, teasing, her thumb brushing over Caitlyn’s nipple in slow, deliberate circles.

Caitlyn almost choked on her breath, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the sensation. It felt too good, too much, but not enough—not nearly enough. She arched into Vi’s touch, chasing more, craving more.

Vi dipped her head, lips parting as she took Caitlyn’s nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the hardened peak before sucking gently. The heat of it sent a shudder down Caitlyn’s spine, a sharp gasp slipping from her lips.

Vi’s other hand remained busy, kneading, teasing, rolling the other nipple between her fingers. She could feel Caitlyn’s heartbeat beneath her touch, could hear the way her breath gasped for air, turned ragged. Caitlyn’s grip on Vi’s hair tightened, she needed more.

“Violet—” Caitlyn moaned, her head tipping back as Vi hummed against her skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through Caitlyn’s body. She smirked, her teeth grazing lightly before pulling away, her lips trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down Caitlyn’s torso, slow and savoring.

Then Vi moved—the deliberate roll of her hips. The friction sent a sharp, delicious spark of pleasure straight through Caitlyn. She gasped into Vi’s mouth, her fingers digging into Vi’s toned shoulders, clutching, grounding herself.  The fabric of their pants rubbed just right—just enough.

Vi groaned, voice low, wrecked. “You like that?”

Caitlyn barely managed a response—just a breathless, frantic nod, her head tipping back as she clung to Vi furiously, needily. Vi continued to pound her hips slowly, her back hitting the door every time, and she could only whimper in response, her nails dragging down Vi’s back, desperate for more.

"Tell me what you want, cupcake."

Caitlyn’s breath was ragged, but her eyes—crimson, burning—were sharp, challenging.

She tugged Vi’s hair, pulling her up until their mouths were a breath apart.

“Violet please…” Caitlyn whispered, her voice trembling, raw. Her gaze was restless—almost pleading, almost demanding, teetering on the edge of control.  

The second Vi’s fingers slipped past the waistband, she felt it.

Heat. Wetness. Caitlyn was already soaking wet and so fucking ready for her.

Vi groaned, her forehead dropping against Caitlyn’s as she exhaled sharply. “Shit, Cait—” But she didn’t get to finish. Caitlyn kissed her hard again, hungry and all consuming.

And then—the world shifted.

Vi barely had time to process what happened before her back slammed against the opposite wall of the room with a sharp thud. Fast. Too fast.

For a split second, she was disoriented, the room spinning around her, and she realized—Caitlyn had moved them in an instant. One second, Vi had Caitlyn pinned on the door, her hand down her pants, the next, she was the one trapped, her back flush against the wall, Caitlyn’s body pressing into hers, caging her in.

Vi’s breath hitched, her mind short-circuiting. The sheer strength, the impossible speed.

Caitlyn wasn’t holding back anymore. And fuck—Vi liked it. Vi let out a breathless laugh, dazed, turned on beyond reason. Vi’s hunger took over, with a sudden shift, she flipped them again. Caitlyn let out a surprised gasp, as her back hit the cold wall, but it melted into a moan as Vi swallowed the sound with a searing kiss. Her hand was still inside Caitlyn’s pants, still feeling her, stroking, pressing wet folds.

And then—Caitlyn moved. Vi froze.

Caitlyn arched against her hand, rolling her hips, fucking herself against Vi’s fingers, chasing the friction without hesitation. Slick folds devouring Vi’s fingers and her brain stopped.

Vi didn’t think she could be more wrecked than she already was. She was wrong. "You feel so good—" Vi rasped, her forehead dropping to Caitlyn’s shoulder, her breath coming out in short, uneven bursts. Because Caitlyn was using her.

Vi could feel it—the restriction, the way Caitlyn’s pants clung too tight, constraining her movements. It should have been frustrating. Should have slowed her down.

But Caitlyn didn’t stop, she was determined, relentless. She moved against Vi’s hand like she needed this more than air.

And Vi—fuck, Vi was losing her mind.

She could barely keep up, her fingers struggling to work between the layers of fabric, but Caitlyn didn’t seem to care—didn’t care that it was messy, rushed, unfiltered.

Her head tipped back against the wall, her lips parted, breathless, moaning, desperate.

Vi was going to die. She was sure of it.

Caitlyn gasped sharply, nails digging into Vi’s shoulder. Vi supporting her as Caitlyn continues to ride her fingers furiously.

"More…yes, fuck—"

Vi obeyed instantly, she pushed another finger inside, stretching her, pressing deeper, curling just right. Vi’s thumb found Caitlyn’s clit, circling, teasing, applying just enough pressure to drive her insane. Caitlyn’s breath stuttered, a moan spilling from her lips, raw and needy. Caitlyn shuddered violently, her thighs quivering, her whole body reacting, her breath catching in her throat.

Vi felt her walls clench around her fingers, felt how Caitlyn’s body pulled her in, greedy, ravenous.

“Yesyesyes” Caitlyn nodded furiously, gripping Vi’s wrist, not to stop her—but to urge her on. Her nails dug into Vi’s skin as her hips rolled to meet every thrust, chasing the pleasure, desperate for more.

"Yes…fuck, take it” Vi choked out, her forehead dropping against Caitlyn’s, breathing her in, drowning in her.

Caitlyn’s hips snapped against Vi’s hand, a sharp, desperate roll. And Vi had never seen her like this.

Wild. Untamed. Ruthless.

“Let go, baby.” Vi’s words were the final push, sending Caitlyn spiraling into oblivion.

Her fingers tightened in Vi’s hair, a hungry, grounding touch, her eyes locking onto Vi’s with unwavering intensity—burning, pleading, surrendering. And then—she came undone in Vi’s hands, her body trembling, gasping, moaning her name like a prayer, like a plea, like she never wanted it to end.

Vi never looked away. Didn’t dare. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

____

She was still catching her breath, her forehead against Caitlyn’s, her mind still trying to process what just happened.

But Caitlyn—Caitlyn was not done.

Before Vi could fully recover, Caitlyn shifted against her, hands pressing into Vi’s chest, shoving—firm but controlled. Vi barely had time to react before her back hit the couch.

"Shit—slow down, Cupcake—" Vi started, but her voice faltered when she saw Caitlyn’s face.

That mischievous, knowing smirk. She straightened up, eyes locked onto Vi’s, slowly, painstakingly slowly—sliding her hands down her own hips.

And then—her pants were gone. Caitlyn stood there, completely bare, her flawless skin glowing under the dim light, her toned form sharp and elegant, curves exactly where Vi had always imagined them.

Vi felt her stomach tighten. Felt the hunger, the raw, insatiable need crash over her like a damn tidal wave.

Caitlyn smirked when she saw Vi’s reaction.

Vi’s eyes darkened, flicking down her body, drinking in every inch. Vi licked her lips, and Caitlyn caught it.

"Goddamn," Vi muttered, voice hoarse, barely able to breathe.

“Baby, I’m not done with you” Caitlyn’s voice was husky, ragged, and dripping with intent sent a shiver straight down Vi’s spine.

Vi didn’t want to linger on the way Caitlyn had just called her that—baby. She should. She really should. Maybe she’d bring it up later. Maybe she’d tease her about it in the morning—

And then—Caitlyn moved.

One second, she was standing there, teasing her. The next, she was kneeling between Vi’s legs.

Fast. Too fast.

Vi gasped, her hands gripping the couch, the air stolen from her lungs. Caitlyn pressed a soft kiss to Vi’s abdomen—right above her navel and Vi’s whole body jerked.

Vi reached down, threading her fingers through Caitlyn’s hair, gently pushing back the loose strands so she could see her.

And god, the sight—Caitlyn looked up at her, lips swollen, eyes blown wide with hunger.

Vi swallowed thickly, her chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. Caitlyn held her gaze, teasing, almost smug, as she trailed her nails down Vi’s thigh, dragging out the anticipation until Vi thought she might go insane.

And then, in a voice smooth as velvet, dripping with amusement, Caitlyn whispered—

“You’re shaking, darling.”

Caitlyn planted an innocent kiss on her abdomen once more—too soft, too fleeting—was immediately ruined by what came next.

Because Caitlyn’s tongue flicked out, dragging up—slow, hot, deliberate.

Vi let out a strangled sound, her entire body tensing, thighs clenching involuntarily.

"Caitlyn—" she breathed. Caitlyn hummed against her skin.

And then—her hands moved.

Quick. Efficient. Ruthless. Vi barely registered what was happening before her pants were completely gone.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her fists clenching at the cushions as Caitlyn looked up at her again.

Vi never imagined sex could be like this. She wasn’t new to it—she’d had her fair share of experiences. But this? Caitlyn was different.

It wasn’t just the pleasure—it was her. The way she moved, controlled, teased—the way she looked at Vi, like she wanted to devour her whole and yes, she wanted to be devoured.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open, to hold Caitlyn’s gaze, to watch—fuck—watch the way Caitlyn worked.

Caitlyn’s tongue flattened, dragging slowly, deliberately, lapping up the slick warmth already there—a teasing hum vibrating in her throat as she tasted Vi. Then, she slid against her, slow at first, torturously controlled, every movement calculated, pressing, gliding across every sensitive spot with maddening precision.

Vi gasped, her hips rolling forward, chasing the pressure.

The vibrations shot straight through Vi’s core.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her hands gripping at Caitlyn’s dark hair, needing something—anything—to ground herself. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes flicked up, full-blown, pupils dilated.

Tongue out. Waiting. Smirking.

Vi growled, tightened her grip, just enough to lift Caitlyn slightly off her, watching her for a split second—memorizing how fucked-out she looked beneath her.

"You want that, don’t you?" Vi rasped, breathless, voice wrecked.

Caitlyn’s only response was a sinful hum, her tongue flicking out, teasing, slow.

Vi groaned. She couldn’t take it. Her fingers tangled tighter in Caitlyn’s hair, and she pushed her back down, gasping sharply as Caitlyn’s tongue met her again. Vi’s head tipped back against the couch, a curse slipping from her lips.

“Fuck…Cait—yes”

Caitlyn’s grip on her thighs, tightened, holding her in place.

Vi’s body tensed, every muscle coiling tight as Caitlyn pushed her over the edge. It hit fast and hard, like an explosion tearing through her, sending her spiraling into nothing but pure, white-hot pleasure.

She came in Caitlyn’s mouth, her thighs trembling, her grip on Caitlyn’s hair tightening.

Caitlyn, the absolute menace that she was, took it all. Vi barely had time to recover, her chest still heaving, breath ragged—because Caitlyn was already moving. Oh she will be the death of her, truly.

Strong hands gripped Vi’s face—fingers framing her jaw, thumbs pressing lightly against her cheeks.

Caitlyn kissed her and Vi groaned against Caitlyn’s lips, tasting herself, tasting the heat of what just happened— It was filthy. And so fucking hot.

Vi pulled Caitlyn closer, deeper, her hands gripping at her waist, needing to feel her against her, needing more. Caitlyn moaned softly into the kiss, her lips parting slightly, letting Vi taste every part of it.

_____

Vi barely had time to catch her breath. She was still lightheaded, still feeling the aftershocks of Caitlyn wrecking her—before she felt another blur, a rush of air.

Next thing she knew, her back hit the bed, the world tilting, Caitlyn moving them in an instant with her. Vi barely processed what was happening, Caitlyn was straddling her now.

Panting. Flushed. Gracious as ever.  The moonlight from the window poured over her, illuminating every inch of bare, porcelain skin. It made her look untouchable, ethereal.

And yet, here she was—breathless, grinding down against Vi like she’d fall apart if she stopped.

Vi’s hands instinctively gripped at Caitlyn’s hips, fingers digging into soft, smooth skin, feeling every deliberate roll of her hips. Vi felt every pressure, every heat. Caitlyn tilted her head down, her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she gazed at Vi through lidded, half-crazed crimson eyes.

“Baby, you okay?” Vi rasped, her voice failing her.

Caitlyn bit her lip, her movements slowing just slightly, teasing.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Her voice was sin itself. Vi’s stomach clenched. Her grip tightened.

Mind? Vi let out a hoarse laugh, half delirious, half desperate.

"Cupcake, if you stop, I might actually die."

Vi felt everything.

The way Caitlyn moved, the way she needed friction, her wet folds rubbing against her skin. the way she chased her own high, the way her body trembled above her—

And then it happened. Caitlyn came, again.

Right there, on Vi’s abdomen—hot, wet, and utterly undone.

Vi watched it all unfold, completely mesmerized.

The way Caitlyn’s back arched, how her lips parted on a breathless moan, her fingers digging into Vi’s chest as she shattered above her. It was beautiful, primal and fucking perfect.

Vi was still watching, still burning, still completely feral when she moved, faster than she thought she could. Caitlyn was no longer above her, catching her breath. Caitlyn’s stomach hit the bed, a surprised gasp and a smile escaping her lips. And Vi didn’t hesitate. She pressed her hands firm on Caitlyn’s waist, her body flush against hers, her breath hot against Caitlyn’s neck.

Vi showed her strength.

And Caitlyn whimpered. "Yes—please fuck me—" her voice was shaky and pleading. It’s like filling an endless cup. She couldn’t get enough of feeling this human even if she wanted to.

Vi grinned against her shoulder, pressing her lips to the flushed skin there, savoring every sound Caitlyn made.

Vi didn’t give Caitlyn a warning. She didn’t need to.

Caitlyn was already falling apart beneath her, already trembling, already begging—

So Vi gave her exactly what she wanted. One hand tightened around Caitlyn’s waist, keeping her exactly where she needed her.

And then—she thrust in. Three fingers. All at once. Deep.

Caitlyn let out a sharp, choked gasp, her back arching violently, her fingers gripping the sheets hard enough to tear.

"F-fuck—Vi—" Caitlyn felt Vi’s thick, long fingers, stretching her even more.

And Vi felt it—the way Caitlyn clenched around her, how impossibly warm and wet she was, how she trembled under her hands.

“Don’t stop…yes!”

Vi obliged, she didn’t stop and didn’t slow. Her pace was fast, relentless—just the way Caitlyn needed it.

The sound of it, the obscene wetness, Caitlyn’s moans turning into broken cries was driving Vi insane.

She leaned down, teeth grazing the shell of Caitlyn’s ear, voice dripping with heat and satisfaction. Caitlyn nodded frantically, her breath hitching, her body rocking against Vi’s hand, chasing every thrust.

"Yes—like that—just like that!" she gasped, her voice a high, breathless mess.

Vi groaned softly, her free hand splaying over Caitlyn’s back, feeling the way her muscles tensed beneath her.

"You’re such a good girl for me, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn whimpered at that, her entire body tightening at the praise, her legs shaking as Vi pushed her further and further into blissful ruin. And Vi wasn’t stopping until Caitlyn completely shattered for her.

___

By the time they finally collapsed, both were utterly wrecked.

Limbs tangled, bodies glistening with sweat, muscles trembling from exhaustion—they had spent hours chasing the high, pushing each other to the edge, again and again and yet neither of them had a limit.

Every time Caitlyn thought she had wrung Vi dry, Vi would flip her over, pin her down, and take her all over again. Every time Vi thought Caitlyn was spent, Caitlyn would prove exactly how wrong she was, moving with inhuman stamina, an endless, ravenous hunger that made Vi dizzy.

By the end, they had no choice but to call it a truce.

Caitlyn lay on her stomach, her bare back exposed to the cool night air, her hair sprawled in a gorgeous mess over the pillows. Her skin was flushed, faint marks along her shoulders and thighs, proof of Vi’s hands, Vi’s mouth, Vi’s complete and utter lack of self-control.

Vi, on the other hand, was flat on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling, completely senseless.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, deep, steady, the occasional rustle of the sheets. Vi, still staring at the ceiling, voice rough, half-awake when she broke the silence,

"Vampire sex is the best." Vi said.

Caitlyn’s shoulders shook with laughter, muffled against the pillow. “Shut up…” she mumbled, voice laced with exhaustion and amusement. But then—realization hit her. A groan slipped past her lips, and she buried her face deeper into the pillow as if that would somehow make her less mortified. Her confidence from earlier? Completely gone.

Vi chuckled lowly, shifting onto her side, watching Caitlyn with a lazy, satisfied grin.

Caitlyn turned her head just enough to meet Vi’s gaze, her blue eyes still sparkling, breathless laughter lingering on her lips.

"Do remind me every time?" Vi muttered, pressing a kiss to Caitlyn’s shoulder.

Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just reached for Vi, cupping her face, pressing a slow, gentle kiss against her lips—nothing rushed, nothing urgent, just warmth.

Vi sighed into it, melting just a little.

Caitlyn then rested her head against Vi’s shoulder, fitting perfectly against her side, her arm draped over Vi’s waist.

Vi wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, her fingers tracing lazy circles against Caitlyn’s bare back.

The exhaustion finally crept in. Their breathing slowed. Their bodies relaxed. Caitlyn whispered something, too soft for Vi to catch.

And just like that—they slept.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn woke slowly, her senses stirring before her mind fully caught up. The weight of the blankets, the faint scent of something familiar—leather, a tinge of cinnamon, and the warmth against her side grounded her.

She blinked, adjusting to the hazy glow filtering through the room, and let her gaze settle on Vi.

Vi was still asleep, her face relaxed in a way Caitlyn rarely saw when she was awake. Her usually sharp, teasing features softened in the quiet of morning. A few stray strands of pink hair had fallen over her face, and Caitlyn, without thinking, reached out to brush them back. Her fingers lingered for just a second, tracing the line of Vi’s cheek without touching.

She had never really stopped to study her like this. The soft curve of her lips. The faint freckles dusting her nose. The quiet rise and fall of her breath. And her lashes—long, delicate, completely unfair. But nothing, nothing could ever compare to Vi’s eyes when they were open. That striking powder blue, bright and alive, filled with mischief, intensity. And just when the moonlight hit them right, they turned gray, soft like storm clouds before the rain.

She hesitated before her fingers could make contact, the moment feeling too fragile to disturb. Instead, she let herself watch—her heart slow and steady, taking in the way Vi’s chest rose and fell, the way her lips parted slightly, how utterly at peace she looked. Caitlyn exhaled softly, her chest aching in a way she didn’t quite know how to name.

Then, Vi stirred.

A slow inhale, a shift against the sheets, and Caitlyn knew she was waking. Before Vi could blink her eyes open, Caitlyn leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Vi hummed in response, a lazy smile curving her lips. Caitlyn let herself smile too, whispering, “Morning, beautiful”. Vi let out a quiet chuckle, her voice still thick with sleep.

Caitlyn adjusted herself, shifting slightly before pressing her back against Vi’s torso, settling into the warmth of her.

Without hesitation, Vi wrapped her arms around Caitlyn from behind, pulling her close. Her breath was warm against Caitlyn’s shoulder, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"I prefer handsome," Vi muttered groggily.

Caitlyn huffed a soft laugh, rolling her eyes. “Of course you do.”

Vi grinned against her skin, tightening her embrace, her nose nuzzling against the crook of Caitlyn’s neck. "Mmm, but I’ll take beautiful if you’re the one saying it."

“Mmmm”

For a few moments, they simply lay there, wrapped in the kind of quiet that felt heavy with unspoken things. Then, Caitlyn felt the slow, lazy drag of Vi’s fingers, tracing absentminded patterns against her skin, feather-light but intentional.

Caitlyn hummed softly at the sensation, biting her lip as Vi’s hand wandered lower, slipping beneath the sheets and over the curve of her stomach. It was a quiet reminder that they were still very much naked from the previous night’s activities. The touch was unhurried, teasing, like Vi was exploring her all over again—like she had all the time in the world. Caitlyn shivered slightly, her lips parting as Vi’s hand moved to a dangerous place.  

Vi pressed a lingering kiss to Caitlyn’s shoulder, her voice still thick with sleep as she murmured, “Up for a morning work out?”

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, her body already responding to Vi’s touch, but she still smirked at the rasp in Vi’s voice. “Mm…hmmm” She bit her lip, trying to contain the heat pooling inside her, but it was useless. Vi’s touch did that to her now. Effortlessly. Completely.

Caitlyn exhaled a soft sound, something between a sigh and a whimper, her body trembling instantly into Vi’s touch. She wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of the morning, the comfort of waking up like this, or just Vi—but she felt herself melt, every inch of her responding to the way Vi touched her.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched as Vi’s hand wandered higher now, slow and deliberate, fingers grazing the curve of one of her breasts before fully cupping it. Her palm was warm, calloused, firm but her touch was careful—reverent, even. Vi’s thumb brushed over Caitlyn’s nipple, a lazy, teasing stroke that sent a shiver through her spine. A sob slipped from Caitlyn’s lips, her body arching instinctively, profanities threatening to spill out because of how good it felt.

Vi hummed against her shoulder, pressing another kiss to her skin, this time lingering, her lips parting just enough to graze her teeth against Caitlyn’s shoulder. Then she bit—just enough to make Caitlyn gasp, and then, before she could stop it, the word slipped out. “Fuck…”

“Don’t hold back baby girl” Vi murmured, voice thick with amusement, her fingers kneading more firmly as she rolled Caitlyn’s nipple between them.

A raw, uncontrolled sound escaped Caitlyn’s lips—something almost primal. Her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as her hand flew to cover her mouth, instinctively trying to muffle the sound. Vi was having none of that it so her free hand slid up, gently prying Caitlyn’s fingers away from her lips.

“Let me hear your beautiful voice, how much you fuckin want this.”

Caitlyn’s breath shuddered, her grip tightening around Vi’s hand instead—but she didn’t stop her. She shifted, pressing her body closer, back arching slightly until she could feel it, the warmth of Vi against her, the undeniable heat between them.

She didn’t even think before she did it—before she rolled her hips, grinding back against Vi’s warmth, feeling the wetness pressing against her skin. Vi let out a low, startled breath, her grip on Caitlyn’s breast tightening for a moment.

“Fuck…Cait” Vi exhaled, her hips pressing forward instinctively, chasing the friction Caitlyn had given her. Her toned abs pressed firm and warm against Caitlyn’s back, the heat between them unbearable, electrifying.

Caitlyn bit her lip, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk as she did it again, slower this time, feeling the slick heat of Vi slide against her. Vi groaned, her breath hot against Caitlyn’s neck, her fingers flexing as she squeezed her breast in response.

Her hand abandoned Caitlyn’s breast, trailing lower, teasing down her stomach, fingers brushing just shy of where Caitlyn needed her most. Vi’s breath was hot against Caitlyn’s skin, her grip possessive but unhurried, like she was savoring every reaction, every little sound Caitlyn made. But Caitlyn wasn’t going to just let Vi have all the control.

Caitlyn was already worked up, impatient. She reached for Vi’s hand and brought it up to her lips, her tongue flicking over Vi’s fingers before taking them into her mouth, slow and purposeful. She could hear Vi’s breath hitch behind her, feel the way her body tensed as Caitlyn sucked lightly, her tongue swirling over Vi’s fingertips, teasing.

“Cait…” Vi groaned, her voice tight, like she was barely holding herself together.

Caitlyn smirked against her fingers before guiding Vi’s hand downward, dragging it over her own skin, over the softness of her stomach—until she pressed it between her thighs, where she was already soaked.

“Ohh my god yes…” Caitlyn muttered, her voice barely above a breath, but dripping with need.

Vi let out a sharp breath as her fingers met Caitlyn’s wetness, her other hand moving without hesitation, sliding up to wrap lightly around Caitlyn’s throat. She didn’t squeeze—just applied the slightest pressure, grounding her, holding her in place.

Caitlyn gasped at the sensation, her body shivering at the contrast—the heat of Vi’s fingers between her legs, the firm but gentle grip at her throat. She felt claimed, worshipped, and it sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her. “Baby yes—yes—yes” her voice exhilarated but almost strangled, trembling between pleasure and desperation.

Vi’s lips brushed against Caitlyn’s ear, her voice a low, teasing rasp. “You really are something else, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn hummed in response, her hips pumping instinctively against Vi’s hand, urging her for more. “Then don’t fucking stop.”

Vi didn’t hold back. The rhythm of her fingers was relentless, precise—fucking Caitlyn senseless, drawing out moans that filled the quiet morning air. Each thrust, each curl of her fingers, sent Caitlyn spiraling, her body burning with pleasure.

Vi felt it all, the euphoria of feeling every inch of Caitlyn, the way her walls clenched around her fingers, so perfect and so tight for her. But just as Caitlyn’s breaths turned ragged, just as her body clenched tighter around Vi’s fingers, teetering on the edge—Vi withdrew. Caitlyn whimpered at the loss, her hips instinctively rolling back, seeking friction, chasing what Vi had just taken away.

“Fuck baby…Vi please—” her voice was frantic, laced with shameless destitute, as Vi holds her firmly while she trembles.

Vi smirked against her shoulder, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s skin. “You sound so fucking pretty when you beg, princess”

Before Caitlyn could respond, Vi’s fingers found her lips again, pressing against them, coaxing her mouth open. Caitlyn obeyed without hesitation, her tongue flicking over Vi’s fingers, tasting herself before taking them in slow, greedy and sinful. Her eyes fluttered shut, letting herself drown in the sensation, in the raw intimacy of it. She took Vi’s fingers deeper, her breath hitching as the sensation pushed past her limit. Her throat tightened—a sharp gag, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she didn’t stop. Vi watched, mesmerized, feeling Caitlyn’s warmth, her eagerness, her fingers slick with the wetness of it all. Then—Caitlyn pulled back slightly, gasping, coughing just a little, a dazed smile playing on her lips, “Fuck.”

Vi groaned at the sight, low and rough, her other hand sliding into Caitlyn’s raven hair, gripping just enough to make Caitlyn shiver. "Yeah, take it," Vi murmured, her voice dark with want. "You’re so fucking hot." Vi watches her from behind, mesmerized—the way Caitlyn’s breath trembled, her pupils blown wide, hazy with euphoria, as she met her gaze. And then she took Vi’s finger, deeper, swallowing them again.

Caitlyn hollowed her cheeks, sucking harder, and Vi’s breath stuttered. For a moment, neither of them moved—just the wet sound of Caitlyn’s mouth, the heat between them coiling tighter.

Then Vi moved, she adjusted herself, pressing harder against Caitlyn’s back, as she dragged her fingers free with a slick pop, glistening, only to shove them back between Caitlyn’s thighs, sinking into her once more with no hesitation—no warning. A sharp, breathless gasp tore from Caitlyn’s lips as Vi filled her again, deep and sure, her pace slow but devastating.

Her other hand found Caitlyn’s throat once more, not squeezing—just caressing, gripping, anchoring, supporting her every movement. Caitlyn’s entire body arching against Vi’s front, gasping at the sudden intrusion. “Oh my fucking—yes” Caitlyn gasped, her breath breaking, her body squirmed at the overwhelming sensation.

Vi’s voice thick with desire, “That’s it, let me feel you”

Caitlyn was lost in it now—the way Vi filled her, the slick, relentless movement of her fingers driving her higher and higher. Every thrust sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through her, her body pressing back, desperate to take more.

Caitlyn was barely holding on, every thrust of Vi’s fingers sending shockwaves through her, leaving her teetering dangerously on the edge. But she wasn’t the only one unraveling—she could feel Vi pressing against her, her breathing uneven, her body just as desperate for release.

With a soft gasp, Caitlyn shifted, rolling her hips back, grinding her ass harder against Vi’s crotch. The motion was slow at first, teasing, but when she felt the sharp inhale Vi took, the way her breath faltered against Caitlyn’s neck, she did it again—firmer this time.

Vi groaned, her grip tightening at Caitlyn’s throat, just enough to make her pulse spike, the pressure grounding her in the cloud of pleasure. "You’re so fucking good—" Vi’s voice was wrecked, thick with need.

Caitlyn’s thighs trembled as she kept grinding back, feeling the heat of Vi’s arousal slick against her skin, the way Vi rocked into the pressure instinctively. Their movements synced—Caitlyn riding Vi’s hand as Vi pressed against her, using her like an anchor.

Then Vi curled her fingers perfectly deep and reckless—and Caitlyn shattered, “Vi—Vi—Vi—yes—oh god”

Her whole body tensed, her back arching as pleasure crashed through her in a violent wave. She gasped, a sharp, breathless sound that turned into a broken moan as her thighs squeezed tightly around Vi’s arm, holding her there, refusing to let go.

Vi groaned, feeling Caitlyn pulse around her fingers, the grip at Caitlyn’s throat tightening just slightly before loosening, her other hand still wet from Caitlyn’s juices, now gripping Caitlyn’s hip like she needed to hold onto something real, grinding harder.

"Yeah baby fuck—fuck," Vi rasped, her voice thick with satisfaction. "That’s it—fuck."

Caitlyn moaned, her whole body shuddering as she rode out the last aftershocks, her fingers digging into Vi’s wrist, her breath coming in ragged pants. But even in her haze, she didn’t stop moving. She was grinding back, pressing against Vi’s crotch, giving her the friction she needed.

Vi’s breath stuttered, her hold on Caitlyn tightening, her hips rolling forward to chase the feeling. Caitlyn could feel the way Vi quaked, the way her body coiled tighter and tighter—until finally, Vi let out a strangled groan, pressing herself flush against Caitlyn as she came undone, her body shuddering violently against her.

Vi pressed her forehead against Caitlyn’s shoulder, their bodies still tangled, their breaths heavy and uneven. For a moment, neither of them spoke—just the sound of their soft, breathless chuckles mixing in the quiet warmth of the room.

"Holy shit," Vi finally muttered, voice low and hoarse.

Caitlyn let out a soft, lazy hum, still catching her breath, her body loose, sated, completely at ease. She smiled sleepily, reaching for Vi without thinking, her fingers threading through Vi’s messy pink hair.

"You, alright?" Caitlyn asked, her tone fond, affectionate.

Vi nodded, her eyes closed with exhaustion and satisfaction.

Her arm remained wrapped securely around Caitlyn’s waist, fingers still ghosting over her skin, tracing absent-minded patterns.

Slowly, Caitlyn reached for Vi’s hand again, the same one that had just unraveled her completely. Turning her head over her shoulder, she met Vi’s gaze—half-lidded, dazed, still dark with lingering hunger. Holding eye contact, Caitlyn brought Vi’s slick fingers to her lips, parting them as she dragged her tongue over them, tasting herself.

Vi inhaled sharply, her eyes darkening further as she watched. "You're unbelievable," she muttered, her voice thick, wrecked.

Caitlyn smirked, letting Vi’s fingers slip from her mouth, her lips curling into something wicked and teasing before she laughed low, warm, and utterly shameless. Vi had never seen this side of Caitlyn before, there was something feral, greedy, completely uninhibited.

And she fucking liked it.

"You’re fucking evil," Vi joked, her voice still rough, breathless.

Caitlyn’s laugh was a menace, all teasing and knowing, as if she was fully aware of the effect she had on Vi. She leaned in, her lips brushing just barely against Vi’s ear before whispering,

"We better leave this bed before we can’t."

Vi groaned, her hand instinctively tightening around Caitlyn’s waist as if considering pulling her back in. "Oh, come on, Cupcake—"

But Caitlyn was already moving, slipping from Vi’s grasp with effortless grace. She stood, stretching just enough to be thoughtful, fully aware of Vi’s eyes roaming her naked body. She didn’t rush as she walked toward the bathroom. She knew Vi was watching, could feel the heat of her gaze, and that only made her smirk grow.

Before disappearing into the bathroom, Caitlyn cast Vi one last glance over her shoulder, her expression smug, teasing. "Coming?"

Vi flopped back onto the mattress, running a hand through her messy hair, exhaling sharply as she muttered to herself, "Yeah, I’m fucked."

Caitlyn only laughed from inside the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar—just enough for Vi to consider following.

And Vi? Yeah, she definitely wasn’t staying in bed alone.

_____

The grand chamber of the council hall was filled with hushed murmurs, the weight of anticipation pressing down on the air. The long, polished table reflected the cold light from the chandeliers above, the faces of the council members etched with curiosity and concern.

Caitlyn stepped forward, her posture straight, unwavering, as she placed a folder onto the table. Vi, standing beside her, gave a polite nod to Mel and Jayce, both seated and watching with measured interest. Vi’s expression was sharp, calculating but unreadable.

The room carried the weight of anticipation, the tension thick as Cassandra leaned forward slightly, her fingers steepled.

"Caitlyn, I trust you’re here to enlighten us. Any progress?" she asked, her tone calm but expectant.

"The results arrived. We have determined the cause of death of the deceased—Lord Hartwell’s son."

At the mention of his son, Elias Hartwell leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of his chair, his gaze piercing, locked onto Caitlyn.

Caitlyn remained steady, composed, as she opened the folder, revealing a set of forensic analysis reports.

She turned a page and slid it across the table, allowing them to see.

"We found traces of an unknown substance in his system," she stated, her voice clear and professional. "A powerful stimulant, unlike anything medics or scientists have seen before."

She let that information settle, watching the slight shifts in expressions around the table before continuing.

"All details of the body are consistent with a possible overdose on this particular drug. Cause of death has been proven not to be related to any supernatural or physical attack, as the deceased had no open lesions or external wounds."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Elias’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable, but the subtle way his fingers twitched against the chair gave away the storm brewing inside him.

"And what drug are you talking about?"

Elias Hartwell’s voice was sharp, his impatience barely contained as his fingers dug into the armrests of his chair.

Vi gave Caitlyn a small nod, letting her take the lead.

Caitlyn met Elias’s gaze, unwavering, before continuing.

"I believe this drug is called Shimmer."

The name alone sent a ripple of uncertainty through the room, council members exchanging wary glances.

"It’s probably foreign to most in this room," Caitlyn continued, "but this substance has been creeping into the underground for years. It originated in Zaun, but it has likely spread to other neutral zones—operating in the shadows, mostly unnoticed."

The moment she finished speaking, Elias shot up from his seat, his fury barely contained.

"Nonsense!" he spat, his voice trembling with grief and disbelief.

His chair scraped against the floor as he leaned over the table, his hands braced against the surface.

"My son would never try anything like that! He was a good man! How could he have even gotten his hands on this… this filth if it isn’t even found here? You said so yourself!"

His breathing was heavy, unsteady, but his gaze was burning with suspicion, accusations forming before the words even left his lips.

"Despite your claims, just because this wasn’t a vampire attack doesn’t mean a vampire didn’t orchestrate it!"

The room tensed.

Caitlyn kept her composure, but Vi could already feel the weight of the words settling between them.

Elias Hartwell wasn’t just grieving—he was looking for someone to blame.

For the first time, Cassandra Kiramman, who often walked the careful line between the council's factions, spoke in defense of their kind.

"Humans can be just as cunning as vampires Elias—perhaps even more so," she said, her voice firm, her eyes sweeping across the room. "Humans cannot continue to blame vampires every time something terrible happens.”

Her words were measured, but the underlying frustration was unmistakable. “The truth is more complicated than that” there was weight to her tone, bordering on anger yet still composed.

From across the table, Councilor Veyrin smirked, leaning back in his chair as if entertained by the unfolding conflict.

Vi stepped forward, her presence commanding, her voice breaking through the thick silence that had settled over the room.

"Shimmer isn’t just some street drug," she said, her tone rough, sharp, cutting through the weight of Elias’s accusations. "It’s rare. Dangerous. It enhances strength, warps the mind, makes people unpredictable. And it doesn’t just turn up in a nobleman’s system by accident."

She let that sink in, her gaze leveling the council members, daring them to challenge her. Then, she exhaled sharply, a bitter scoff escaping her lips, "Clearly, if you all had been paying attention to the corruption happening outside your mighty castles, maybe this could’ve been avoided."

Her words hit their mark.

A ripple of shock ran through the room, some council members bristling at the audacity of her statement. But others—the ones who knew she was right—shifted uncomfortably, their guilt clear in their expressions. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths. Caitlyn smiled softly, reaching out and placing it over Vi’s hand, grounding her.

A silent show of support, of understanding.

Cassandra noticed the exchange, her gaze lingering for a brief moment before she exhaled, her expression unreadable. "She’s right." She finally broke the heavy silence.

Her voice was even, unwavering, but there was a weight to it—a rare acknowledgment of failure. She turned to the rest of the council, her gaze sweeping over the room. "This council doesn't pay nearly enough attention to things that don’t affect us directly most of the time… and unfortunately, I believe this is where all our problems begin."

The words hung heavy in the air, met with shifting postures and uncertain glances.

One of the councilors cleared their throat, hesitant. "Councilor, do you propose we designate officials in the neutral zones, like Zaun?"

Cassandra shook her head. "Not necessarily. But I do believe that the neutral zones reek of injustice, crime, and corruption " she paused, her voice sharpening, "—and that’s on us."

The words landed like a hammer, making some council members flinch, others frown. Because for once, someone was saying it outright and no one could argue.

“And while we’re on this topic of injustice…here’s what we’ve put together—evidence pointing to the framing of House Talis” Caitlyn added.

Vi continued, her tone measured and finally calm. "The attack on House Talis was meant to incite war. Someone orchestrated it to pit vampires and humans against one another. We intercepted a shipment of new ammunition—bullets designed to be more lethal than anything before. And we have reason to believe they’re laced with Shimmer."

The reaction was immediate. Murmurs erupted around the table, concern flashing in the councilors' eyes.

"New ammunition?" one of them questioned. "Who is making them? Who is distributing them?"

Caitlyn kept her expression neutral. "We intercepted them during one of our missions," she said carefully, not revealing Ravensworth as the source. But she let her gaze flicker just for a moment to Rhiannon.

Rhiannon, seated with her usual composed elegance, met Caitlyn’s glance and gave a slow, subtle nod.

Caitlyn turned back to the council. "There’s a lead. We will continue investigating, but understand this—this is not just about our differences. Whoever is behind this doesn’t want peace. They want us divided. They want the council to fall. And if we keep playing into their hands, we might just give them exactly what they want."

Then Elias Hartwell spoke, his voice, usually strong and commanding, now held something fragile, vulnerable. "I need to know who gave this drug to my son."

His fingers tightened against the edge of the table, his grief barely concealed beneath his words. A beat passed before he added, his voice firmer now, resolute:

"More importantly, we need to find the source and put an end to this." His words settled in the air, heavy and unshakable.

And for the first time since the meeting began, the council members weren't just hearing the problem.

They were beginning to understand the weight of it.

_____

The heavy doors of the council chamber shut behind them, sealing in the weight of the discussions they had just left behind. The air outside felt crisper, less suffocating, but Caitlyn could still feel the tension lingering in her chest.

Jayce and Viktor were waiting just beyond the steps, their expressions a mix of relief and gratitude.

"That was impressive," Jayce said, clapping Caitlyn on the shoulder. "You handled that room better than most politicians do."

Caitlyn huffed, rubbing her temple. "I’d rather be in the field than stuck in a room full of egos, but thank you."

Vi chuckled beside her, arms crossed, still riding the high of calling out the council’s blind spots. "Yeah, we make a good team, huh?"

“Absolutely Vi!, You two were fantastic” Jayce agreed.

Viktor nodded approvingly, his sharp eyes flicking between Caitlyn and Vi.

"You both presented the evidence well. This changes things." There was a thoughtfulness in his voice, his analytical mind already piecing together the implications of what had just been revealed.

Then, after a brief pause, curiosity sparked in his gaze. "Ah, but where are my manners?" He offered a small, knowing smile before continuing.

"Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Viktor, Jayce’s partner at Talis Industries. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Vi." Vi arched a brow, glancing at Caitlyn before turning back to him. Viktor’s expression remained warm, but interested, something familiar in his gaze. "I spent my childhood days in Zaun too."

Vi tilted her head slightly, studying Viktor now in a way she hadn’t before.

For the first time, she wondered just how much he really knew. But before she could dwell on it, Viktor continued.

"But I have to ask—who helped you? This was more than just fieldwork."

Jayce, who had been listening intently, tilted his head, intrigued.

"Yeah, whoever’s working with you is sharp. I’ve read the reports about Shimmer and the new bullets—I’d love to meet them."

Vi smirked, shoving her hands in her pockets, her stance relaxed but amused. "That’d be my sister."

Jayce blinked, raising an eyebrow. "You have a sister?"

Vi chuckled, glancing at Caitlyn, who just gave her an exasperated but knowing look.

"Yeah," Vi said casually. "And she’s a genius. But don’t tell her I said that—it’ll go straight to her head. But the tech that helped us get this far, that’s all her."

Viktor’s eyes lit up with intrigue. "A great mind, then. If she is as brilliant as you say, we would be happy to offer her a place at Talis Industries."

Jayce immediately perked up at the idea. "Absolutely. We’re always looking for innovative minds—especially with the kind of intellect it takes to pull off what you two just did."

Vi blinked, momentarily thrown off by the offer. Then, she chuckled, shaking her head. "She’d probably laugh in my face if I told her that."

Caitlyn smirked. "She’d definitely make you work for it."

Vi sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, I’ll talk to her. No promises, though."

Jayce grinned. "Hey, we’re patient. Just let her know we’d love to meet her."

Viktor nodded in agreement, his expression considerate. "Talent like that should not go unnoticed."

Vi hesitated for a beat, then finally said, "Thanks, Jayce. I’ll let Powder know."

Caitlyn nudged Vi playfully. "She might actually like the idea. Just… don’t pitch it like a job interview." Vi chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."

As they walked away from the council steps, Caitlyn glanced at Vi, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You proud of her?"

Vi exhaled, her expression softening. "Hell yeah, I am."

And with that, they stepped into the city, the weight of the meeting behind them—but the future of what came next still waiting to unfold.

_____

The scent of home-cooked food filled the small but cozy home, the warmth from the stove lingering in the air. Vi had gone all out—plates stacked with roasted meats, buttered vegetables, and fresh bread, an actual feast spread out across the table.

"Damn, Vi," Mylo whistled, plopping into his chair. "You tryna fatten us up or something?"

Vi smirked, setting down a pitcher of ale. "Nah, just making sure you all eat something that isn’t stolen or borderline poisonous."

Claggor chuckled, already reaching for a plate. "A rare event, but I’ll take it."

Powder, perched on the counter with a drink in hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay, okay, but let’s talk about the real news—Vi’s finally introducing me to Talis Industries’ golden boys."

Vi raised an eyebrow. "Try to tone it down, yeah?"

Powder scoffed. "Oh, please. Viktor seems cool. Jayce, though? I mean, yeah, genius and all, but he’s also the poster child for privilege." She grinned, taking a sip. "Bet he’s got a mirror in his office just to wink at himself."

Vi burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Okay, that’s kinda fair."

Claggor cleared his throat, his expression shifting to something more curious. "So, Vi… how’d you end up working with ‘the’ Caitlyn Kiramman?"

Mylo snorted. "Yeah, the vampire princess, right? I heard she was a commander before."

Vi exhaled, rolling her shoulders before pulling out a chair. "Yeah, she was. And still is, in a way." She leaned back, arms crossed. "It’s a long story, but short version? She needed a partner for something big, and I was in the right place at the right time."

Powder smirked. "More like she saw you punch a guy and thought, ‘Yeah, I need her.’"

Claggor studied her for a moment. "And she’s paying you well, huh?"

Vi shrugged, but there was a hint of pride in her voice. "Councilor Kiramman is just making sure I don’t go broke while playing bodyguard for her precious daughter, yeah."

Mylo shook his head in amusement. "Damn, Vi. You’re really running around with the elite now."

Powder snorted. "Please. Vi still punches first and asks questions later. Caitlyn’s probably filing complaints on her behalf every week."

Vi smirked, taking a bite of food. "You’re not wrong."

Claggor’s expression shifted, thoughtful and measured.

He set his fork down, looking at Vi. “Alright, I gotta ask.”

Vi glanced up, chewing lazily. “What’s on your mind?”

Claggor leaned forward slightly, his fingers threading together. “Why would a vampire—an ex-military commander—need a bodyguard? I’m sure everyone heard the stories, she’s fucking sniper, an assassin” His voice wasn’t accusing, just careful. “It doesn’t add up.”

The air seemed to change. Powder and Mylo, who had been snickering moments before, quieted, their eyes flicking between Vi and Claggor. The scrape of Mylo’s knife against his plate stilled, Powder stopped swinging her legs from the counter.

Vi didn’t answer right away. She set her cup down, exhaling slowly before giving a small shrug. “It’s just not humans who need protecting now, is it?”

Claggor stilled. His fork, mid-shuffle through his food, went untouched as his gaze lifted to meet Vi’s. A beat passed—one heavy enough that even Powder felt the tension shift.

He leaned back in his chair, studying her carefully. “You know, I just didn’t expect you to get tangled in all this—vampire politics and all.” His voice was quiet, but there was something else beneath it. Something like disappointment. “You made it real clear before that you wanted nothing to do with this world. I remember when you wouldn’t even consider joining me as a hunter.”

Vi clenched her jaw for a moment but didn’t look away. “Yeah, I remember.”

“So what changed?” Claggor asked, searching her expression.

Vi exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. “Nothing’s changed.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Except that it’s bigger than just them. It’s not just vampires against humans anymore, Claggor. I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m sure you know there’s something bigger going on”

He was quiet for a moment, watching her, weighing her words. Then, with a slow nod, he picked up his fork again. “Guess that makes sense.”

Claggor snorted. “Nah. Just didn’t think I’d see the day you’d be working alongside a Kiramman.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, well… neither did I.” The tension lingered, but it had softened, settled into something more understanding.

Powder exhaled, rocking back in her chair. “Well, that got serious real quick.”

Vi nudged her playfully. “Yeah, yeah. Eat your food before Mylo steals it.”

The air still held the weight of Claggor’s words, but the moment had softened, settled into something quieter. Vi knew he still had more to say, but for now he let it rest.

That was, until Powder, ever the chaos bringer, leaned back in her chair with a dramatic sigh and smirked.

"Oh, please. We all know why she’s tangled up in this mess."

Vi turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? Enlighten me, Powder."

Powder grinned, drumming her fingers on the table. "It’s ‘cause you’re whipped, Vi." She stretched out the word for emphasis. "Absolutely, head over heels, whipped for the vampire princess with the hot British accent and long legs."

Vi groaned, dropping her head into her hands as Mylo cackled. "Goddamn it, Powder."

"No, no, really, think about it," Powder continued, grinning wickedly. "First, you’re just ‘helping’ her out, and now you’re running around being her bodyguard, sticking by her side, probably staring at her long legs while she gives orders in that fancy voice of hers—"

Vi pointed a warning finger at her. "I swear to god, Powder"

The laughter from Powder’s “whipped” comment was already dying down when she casually leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. But Vi could see it—that glint in her sister’s eyes that always meant she had something worse up her sleeve.

"Oh, and speaking of our dear vampire princess," Powder drawled.

Vi narrowed her eyes. "Powder—"

"You know, it’s been real hard getting a good night’s sleep lately." Powder sighed dramatically, drumming her fingers against the table. "I mean, some of us work very hard, and when we come home, we just wanna crash in bed, right? But imagine my surprise when—"

Vi’s stomach dropped. "No. Don’t."

"I walk into the living room the other day and find—oh, I don’t know?" Powder tapped her chin, pretending to think. "A completely ruined coffee table, couch cushions on the floor, and oh—claw marks on the fucking wall."

Vi choked.

Not figuratively. She actually choked on her water, coughing violently as she slammed her cup onto the table.

Mylo, mid-bite, froze—then wheeze-laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

Claggor, fork halfway to his mouth, stopped dead, his brows shooting up before he slowly put it back down. "Huh."

Powder smirked, wicked. "Yeah. Huh."

Vi was still recovering from her near-death experience, wheezing and pounding her chest. "I swear to god"

"I thought we got robbed at first," Powder continued, barely suppressing her laughter. "But then I noticed the very obvious pattern of destruction. And then I heard things—"

Vi slammed her hand on the table. "NO, YOU DIDN’T."

"Oh, I definitely did," Powder sing-songed, "because these walls? Not that thick, sis."

Vi wanted to die.

Mylo was now crying, wheezing between gasps. "Holy shit, Vi, I thought you were just her bodyguard—"

"Turns out," Powder grinned, "Vi’s actually the vampire’s plaything."

Claggor finally spoke, shaking his head, voice calm but way too amused. "Explains why you’ve been in a good mood lately."

Vi grabbed the nearest bread roll and launched it at his face. Claggor caught it without missing a beat and took a bite. Mylo was still laughing. "Wait, wait—so that’s why the coffee table is busted? That was my favorite damn table, Vi!"

Powder clutched her chest dramatically. "RIP to the table, but it died for a beautiful cause."

Vi groaned, slumping forward and burying her face in her hands. "I hate all of you."

Claggor patted her shoulder. "No, you don’t."

“You should keep her Vi, ‘cause that girl is freaky as hell” Powder grinned wiggling her eyebrows with absolutely no shame.

Vi exhaled slowly, still burning with embarrassment, then lifted her head just enough to glare at Powder. "One more word out of you and I’m locking you out of the house."

Powder beamed. "Good luck with that. You’re the one who lost your keys last week."

Vi groaned louder.

And just like that, the house was filled with laughter again but at her expense, of course.

______

Caitlyn hadn’t expected her mother to ask her to stay after the council meeting. But now, as she sat across from Cassandra Kiramman in the familiar comfort of their home, she found she didn’t mind. The room was quiet, a fresh pot of tea sat between them, its warmth curling into the air, carrying the scent of chamomile and honey.

Cassandra studied her for a long moment, a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. “I wanted to thank you,” she finally said, her voice gentle.

Caitlyn blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

Cassandra exhaled, setting her cup down with quiet precision. “For everything, Caitlyn. For your efforts, for your dedication… for fighting for something greater than yourself.” Her expression softened. “I see how much you’ve done, how much you’ve risked. And I want you to know, if you need anything, anything at all, you only have to ask.”

Caitlyn hesitated for a fraction of a second before offering a small smile. “Thank you, Mother.”

Cassandra nodded, studying her again, but this time, her gaze carried something more… personal.

"You know," Cassandra murmured, tilting her head slightly, her gaze keen. "I've noticed something about you lately."

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across her features. "Oh?"

Cassandra’s lips curled, the amusement in her expression unmistakable, knowing. "You've been… yourself again."

Caitlyn stilled as words settled deep, unexpected. She hadn't realized how far she had drifted from herself until now. Cassandra continued, her voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

“After everything that happened…for a while, you seemed lost. Always carrying the weight of something, always looking as if you were searching for something you couldn’t quite find.” She exhaled, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup.

“But lately, despite all the chaos, despite everything that’s happening… you have that glint in your eyes again.”

Caitlyn felt her throat tighten slightly, caught off guard by the observation.

Cassandra smiled, reaching forward to place a gentle hand over Caitlyn’s. “I don’t know what or who brought that spark back, but I’m glad.”

Caitlyn let out a soft breath, her gaze lowering for a moment. Vi’s voice echoed in her mind. The teasing, the unwavering presence, the warmth of waking up beside her.

She glanced back up at her mother and smiled trivial, but real. “I think I just stopped running from it.”

Cassandra squeezed her hand before pulling away, her expression warm. “Whatever it is, hold onto it, Caitlyn.” Caitlyn nodded, her heart settling into something quieter, steadier.

____

The Hartwell family crest hung draped in solemn banners, the air thick with incense and whispered condolences. The grand hall stood in eerie silence, its towering stained-glass windows casting fractured light across the black-clad figures gathered within.

All the prime families were in attendance—a rare occasion when the most powerful human and vampire lineages stood under the same roof, not for politics, but for grief. Lords and Ladies in their finest mourning attire, their expressions unreadable masks of civility, watched as the ceremony unfolded with quiet reverence.

At the front of the hall, Lord Elias Hartwell stood rigid, his face carved from stone, grief buried beneath layers of dignity. The weight of the tragedy had aged him overnight, his once imposing frame somehow smaller. He barely acknowledged the murmured sympathies as council members and nobles passed by, offering hollow words of comfort.

Among them, Mel Medarda stood beside Caitlyn and Jayce, her dark gold jewelry glinting subtly under the cathedral light. She looked composed as ever, but her sharp eyes missed nothing.

"This will set things in motion," Mel murmured, her voice just low enough for Caitlyn to hear. "The council will want a response. Hartwell won’t rest until he has retribution, no matter what the evidence says."

Caitlyn exhaled quietly, hands clasped in front of her. "That’s what I’m afraid of."

Jayce, standing at Caitlyn’s other side, shifted slightly. "We have to be careful. Tensions are already high. One wrong move, and this turns into something we can’t control."

Caitlyn nodded but didn’t respond. Her eyes drifted to the front rows, where the Caravelles sat in their usual, perfectly postured manner, clad in dark silks. And among them, leaning just slightly back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world, was Veyrin Caravelle.

His sharp, wolfish grin was absent, but Caitlyn wasn’t fooled. He was enjoying this.

The ceremony moved forward with the droning voice of the officiant, hymns filling the space as Elias Hartwell’s son was laid to rest. A nobleman’s death, one wrapped in scandal and suspicion, one that had already begun shifting the political landscape before his body had even grown cold.

By the time it ended, nobles and council members began making their way out of the cathedral in somber clusters, hushed conversations breaking out in corners.

Caitlyn turned to leave, but just as she reached the large cathedral doors, a voice slid through the quiet like silk.

"Commander Kiramman."

She stopped, her back stiffening before she turned to meet Veyrin’s gaze.

He stood a few steps behind her, his smirk sharp enough to cut. His dark suit, a perfect blend of elegance and power, made him look like he belonged here among the grieving elite except there was no grief in his eyes, only amusement.

"Back in your glory," he mused, hands tucked behind his back. "Doing God’s work, as always."

Caitlyn didn’t bite at the obvious bait. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her voice calm but laced with steel. "I wonder if your men feel the same," she mused, watching his expression. "Especially the ones who attacked me at the docks."

Veyrin chuckled, slow and unbothered, as if she had just told him a particularly amusing joke.

"Ah, the docks," he sighed. "Now there’s a memory."

Caitlyn didn’t look away. "Your men tried to acquire those bullets. The same ones you’re pretending don’t exist."

Veyrin exhaled, shaking his head as if humoring a child. "You wound me, Caitlyn. Here I thought we were both just victims of this tragic misunderstanding."

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. "We all know, you’re waiting for these things to escalate."

His smirk widened, but his eyes held something colder now. "Come now, Caitlyn. You know as well as I do that war doesn’t start with a single bullet. It starts with fear. With whispers. With people like you, turning up stones that were meant to stay buried. At the end of the day, I’m just looking after are kind, because no one else seems to care about us anymore.”

She took a step closer. "Who do you think you’re warning?"

Veyrin tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. Then, with a casual shrug, he said, "No one."

His expression flickered, just for a second, it was something calculated, something dangerous. "I just really do hope," he murmured, voice lower now, "that you’re doing the right thing."

And with that, he stepped past her, his presence lingering even after he was gone. Caitlyn remained still, her fingers flexing slightly at her sides.

____

Caitlyn stepped into the quiet room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The weight of the funeral still clung to her. Her entire day drowned with whispers of condolences, the tight, calculated grief of the families, the careful glances exchanged like silent negotiations. It had been exhausting in ways words couldn’t fully describe.

But then, her eyes landed on Vi.

She was standing near the small desk, fixing her things with that usual careless efficiency, adjusting the strap of her bag, rolling up the sleeves of her jacket like she was getting ready to head home. But as if sensing Caitlyn’s presence, Vi glanced up, her sharp blue gaze flicking over her, assessing.

Vi smirked.

“Hey beautiful, you look wrecked…still pretty though… but wrecked” She went back to adjusting the buckle of her bag before throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Don’t fancy funerals have good food, at least? Wouldn’t know—never been.”

Caitlyn let out a breath, shaking her head, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “I wish you were there.”

Vi’s fingers stilled for a moment. Not enough for most people to notice, but Caitlyn did. And before Vi could turn, before she could deflect with another joke or that cocky grin, Caitlyn closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Vi from behind.

She felt Vi tense just for a second before relaxing into the embrace, exhaling softly.

Caitlyn rested her forehead against Vi’s back, closing her eyes. "Stay."

Vi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned in Caitlyn’s arms, her expression softer now, more careful. “Cait—”

But Caitlyn didn’t let her finish. She reached up, cupping Vi’s face between her hands, her fingers tracing the familiar edges of her jaw, the freckles she knew by heart.

Then, she kissed her. Gentle and careful, full of something quiet but undeniable. It was a choice, a reassurance, an anchor in the midst of all the chaos. Vi melted into it, her arms tightening around Caitlyn’s waist, pulling her in.

When they finally broke apart, Caitlyn rested her forehead against Vi’s, eyes half-lidded, voice barely above a whisper. "Just stay."

Vi exhaled, her hands resting at the small of Caitlyn’s back. “Alright, cupcake.”

Caitlyn let out a soft breath, wrapping her arms around Vi again, tighter this time, and Vi held her just as fiercely. Caitlyn leaned intoVi’s shoulder, her eyes drifting shut, soaking in the warmth, the calm, the quiet strength Vi always gave her. She always felt safe with her. And as they stood there, wrapped in each other, the world around them faded to black.

Chapter Text

Vi stirred awake, the softness of the sheets foreign against her skin. For a split second, she forgot where she was. She blinked against the early light filtering through the curtains, muscles still lax from sleep. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, adjusting at the light, still caught in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. Caitlyn’s room had always been regal as she observes how the golden morning glow poured in, the elegant dark wood furnishings, the carefully curated bookshelves, the grand canopy bed draped in rich navy fabric. The air smelled faintly of Caitlyn—soft florals, something expensive and distinct about her.

Vi’s fingers skimmed across the silk sheets, so different from her own rough, worn-out blankets back home. Everything here was polished, refined just like the girl that drives her mad.

And yet, for all its grand design, Caitlyn’s side of the bed was empty. Vi frowned, barely awake, reaching out instinctively, her fingers brushing against cool fabric.

That’s when she felt it—a shift beneath the sheets on and on her hips. There was a sudden press of lips against her stomach. It was a soft, warm and lingering.  Vi inhaled sharply, her senses catching up fast as another kiss followed, slowly, sensually, just below her ribs. A wet drag of tongue over taut skin.

Vi’s consciousness suddenly awakens, her brows furrowed. She never realized how bare she felt. The cool air brushed against her skin, and it hit her. She was undressed, topless that is, except for her necklace.

Vi’s breath hitched, confusion flickering in her groggy mind. She swore she had gone to sleep in Caitlyn’s pajamas. The loose, silky shirt, the matching shorts she remembered wearing them.

She lifted her head just in time to see the dark silhouette moving beneath the covers. Vi sucked in a breath of what she saw—Caitlyn’s hair had fallen forward, spilling like liquid silk over Vi’s abdomen, and in the dim morning light, its true color finally revealed itself. A deep, breathtaking blue like the night sky stretched over an endless horizon.

Vi exhaled shakily, fingers twitching at the sight of it, at the way the deep hue stood in stark contrast against her own sun-kissed alabaster skin. Caitlyn looked otherworldly like this—moonlight and desire woven into the shape of a woman, moving with purpose, pressing slow, gentle kisses lower, lower…

Vi barely had time to react before she felt it—Caitlyn’s tongue, warm and slow, tracing along the lines of her abs. A rough, involuntary groan tore from Vi’s throat, her back arching slightly as Caitlyn hummed against her skin, lips curving into a smirk.

The seductive lilt in Caitlyn’s voice sent a ripple of heat down Vi’s spine. Her lips hovered just above Vi’s navel, her breath warm, teasing, promising.

“Morning, baby.” And there it was again. Vi swore she’d never get used to how Caitlyn could say those two words in the softest, most affectionate way, yet still lace them with something that sent heat rolling straight through her. Her voice was velvet and sin, gentle yet utterly consuming. And when Vi tilted her head up, blinking through the golden haze of morning light, she met that fucking look, the one that wrecked her every time.

Caitlyn’s gaze was soft, impossibly tender, but beneath it was hunger. Smoldering and unfiltered desire.

Vi barely had time to breathe before she felt Caitlyn’s fingertips grazing the waistband of her shorts, snapping the elastic with a sharp little tug. A tiny, wicked smirk curved on Caitlyn’s lips, but the way she tilted her head, batting her lashes with that pretentious, practiced innocence, was downright lethal. Vi’s breath hitched, her stomach clenching at the mix of teasing and control.

Vi let out a groan, throwing her head back against the pillows, hands covering her face as if that could somehow help her regain control of her sanity.

She could still feel Caitlyn’s lips ghosting over her skin, the heat of her breath, the way her voice dripped with that dangerous mix of affection and hunger.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Caitlyn’s voice was smooth, lightly teasing but genuinely curious. Vi didn’t answer right away, trying to collect herself, trying to level her breathing.

But fuck, it was impossible.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, dragging her hands away from her face to glance down at the woman currently ruining her life.

“Why do you do that…?” Vi muttered, voice rough, still slightly hoarse from sleep.

Caitlyn tilted her head, watching her, her lips curling at the edges, amused.

“Do what?”

Vi sighed, her fingers twitching against the sheets, because she knew Caitlyn was doing this on purpose. Still, she answered, because Caitlyn deserved to hear exactly how she was wrecking Vi beyond repair.

“How can you say the sweetest shit while being an absolute menace at the same time?”

For a second, there was silence. Then Caitlyn laughed low and sinful, vibrating against Vi’s skin, an electricity before a storm.  Vi felt the sound travel through her, felt the deep, dangerous warmth of it sinking into her bones.

And before Vi could even think, Caitlyn kissed her, just right on top of her navel—nothing crazy, just gentle peck. It wasn’t about teasing, wasn’t meant to drive her insane or push her to the edge.

It was just… them. For a moment, the heat simmered down, replaced by something warmer, lighter—an unspoken understanding that neither of them ever had to say out loud.

Vi exhaled, her shoulders relaxing, her body no longer tense from anticipation but from something deeper. Caitlyn rested her chin against Vi’s stomach for just a second, her eyes tracing over her face. Vi looked down at her, and they just stared at each other, breathing in the quiet between them. Both of them so completely wrapped up in this thing between them.

This thing that felt easy. That felt right.

Caitlyn smiled first. Small, genuine, nothing laced with seduction this time—just pure warmth.

And Vi felt it, deep in her chest, this stupid, uncontrollable swell of affection. They could break each other, wreck each other, push each other to the limit. But they could also make each other light.

And that was something Vi knew she’d never get enough of.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly, her gaze tracing over Vi’s face. “Something on your mind, is there?” Vi exhaled, lips parting slightly, and before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“You’re so beautiful.” was all she said. Because what else could she say?

What else could she do when Caitlyn was staring at her like that—like she saw right through her, like she had always seen her? Caitlyn blinked. For half a second, her confidence faltered, lips parting in quiet surprise. A slow, mischievous smirk curled at the corners of her lips, but Vi caught the faintest trace of warmth in her eyes.

“Well…there’s no need for such flattery, I was already inclined to eat you,” Caitlyn drawled, voice teasing, “but now you’re just so…dreadfully sentimental so—” Her sentence was cut short by her own scream-giggle as Vi gripped her waist, flipping her effortlessly onto the mattress.

Caitlyn landed breathless, stunned, but Vi was already on her. Crushing their mouths together in a kiss that was nothing short of merciless. Teeth, tongue, heat—pure hunger.

Vi swallowed every sound Caitlyn made, drinking her in like she’d never get another chance.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, but her body reacted instantly, fingers sliding into Vi’s hair, tangling into the soft pink strands.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?” Vi murmured in between kisses, her voice rough, teasing. Caitlyn laughed breathlessly against her lips, her hands skimming over Vi’s back, nails lightly scraping the thickened skin, covered by ink.

“Vi, stop—Violet I swear—” But she wasn’t saying it like she meant it.

Vi didn’t stop at all. She smothered Caitlyn in kisses—everywhere. Across her jaw, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the dip of her collarbone.

Caitlyn squealed, breathless, laughing, trying to turn her face away, but Vi was unyielding. It was a flurry of lips, of warmth, of love wrapped in playful chaos. Then suddenly it was slow.

Caitlyn moaned into her mouth, her fingers tangling into Vi’s hair, pulling her closer—like she wanted to drown in her. Her nightgown had already slipped from one shoulder, baring the delicate curve of her collarbone, the smooth expanse of her skin, and Vi wasted no time.

Her lips trailed from Caitlyn’s mouth, down the line of her jaw, to the pulse at her throat, sucking, biting just enough to make Caitlyn gasp.

“My sexy beast just couldn’t wait, so hungry…so greedy” Vi taunted breathlessly, her smirk lazy.

Her lips trailed from Caitlyn’s mouth, down the line of her jaw, to the pulse at her throat, sucking, biting just enough to make Caitlyn gasp.

And just like that, with effortless strength, Vi rolled, shifting Caitlyn above her, gripping her hips with firm hands.

Caitlyn blinked, breathless and flushed, realizing where this was going as Vi settled beneath her.

Vi smirked up at her, her voice low, teasing, but filled with raw hunger. “Well, just like you, I’m famished”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her pulse hammering at the realization. Then Vi’s hands tightened on her thighs, guiding her forward positioning her exactly where she wanted her.

“Oh fuck yes…” Caitlyn said with excitement as she shifted herself on top of her lover, straddling her with purpose, placing herself over Vi’s waiting mouth.

Vi groaned as Caitlyn settled above her, straddling her mouth with delicious intent. The weight of her, the heat, the slickness pressing against her lips, it was enough to make Vi’s head spin.

But then, as Caitlyn shifted, her thighs tightening around Vi’s face, her breath ragged and wanting—Vi felt it.

Nothing. No fabric. No lace. No barrier between them.

Vi’s fingers dug into Caitlyn’s thighs, leaving marks as a wicked grin curled against her lips.

"Oh, you're not even wearing anything, like the freak that you are." Her voice was muffled against Caitlyn’s skin, but the tease still landed like a spark.

Vi dragged her tongue slowly against Caitlyn’s drenched folds, savoring the way Caitlyn instantly tensed, a sharp gasp escaping her.

She smirked. "And you’re already so fucking wet for me." Caitlyn whimpered, her nails scraping the headboard as Vi’s words settled deep into her bones.

“Only for you…” Caitlyn managed to confess, and the words hit Vi like a reward.

Vi tilted her head back, taking in the view above her, the sight of Caitlyn’s legs spread, her glistening pussy practically dripping onto her tongue, flushed and aching, swollen with need.

The scent of her arousal was heady, intoxicating, sending a surge of heat through Vi’s body. She felt drunk off it, off Caitlyn, how the way her hips instinctively rolled forward, desperate for more.

God, she was beautiful.

Vi saw it, she felt it, tasted it. The way Caitlyn’s folds were soft, slick, perfect against her tongue, her clit swollen and sensitive as Vi flicked against it teasingly.

Caitlyn jerked, breath hitching, and Vi chuckled, her voice dark and low, coaxing her, "Yeah, that’s right, baby. Give me everything."

Vi opened her mouth, wider, tongue out, basically waiting. Caitlyn looked down, mesmerized at the view, pink hair, hungry grey eyes, while her body betrayed her as her thigh trembled even more and her arousal slowly dripped down, landing messily onto Vi’s waiting tongue.

“Oh god, you’re so hot like this…under me…” Caitlyn muttered while Vi let out a low, guttural moan, relishing it, savoring it, her grip tightening as her tongue flicked out, gathering every drop, drinking her in.

Then, Vi dragged her tongue through her folds, slow then deeper. Caitlyn cried out, her thighs trembling, her hands gripping the headboard tighter, her breath short, as she rocked against Vi’s mouth, chasing the pleasure building inside her. Vi’s head was squeezed by Caitlyn’s toned thighs, locked in, held there with no escape. Caitlyn was strong, stronger than most, strong enough to crush her if she wanted, and Caitlyn wasn’t holding back but Caitlyn didn’t care, she knew Vi could take it, Vi wanted to take it.

Vi wanted more of her. Caitlyn hips rolled, her hold loosening as Vi started to wander, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, kneading the soft flesh, thumb flicking over her already sensitive nipple. Caitlyn gasped, arching into her touch, her own fingers reaching up to play with the other.

The sight above her—Caitlyn touching herself, her lips parted, body trembling, completely lost in her pleasure was fucking unreal. Vi groaned against her, her tongue working deeper, flicking, sucking, matching Caitlyn’s movements as she guided her with firm hands.

She lifted her nails, just enough to graze along Caitlyn’s inner thighs, teasing, marking her, watching as Caitlyn shuddered at the sensation.

“Yeah your tongue feels so good in me, more— ” Caitlyn gasped, her voice breaking with need.

Vi hummed against her, the vibration sending a shockwave through Caitlyn’s body.

Vi gripped her tighter, holding her down as she sucked her clit into her mouth, drawing another wrecked moan from Caitlyn’s lips. Caitlyn was losing herself completely, her rhythm turning erratic as she felt herself spiraling closer, closer—

Caitlyn was so close. Her breath came in shallow, desperate gasps, her thighs unsteady around Vi’s face as she chased the pleasure that was just within reach.

But just as she teetered on the edge—

Vi pulled away.

Caitlyn whimpered, a broken sound, her hands immediately seeking Vi’s face, trying to push her back where she needed her most. “Wha—Vi nonono…please!” she choked out, frustrated with obvious desperation in her voice. Her fingers trembled as they moved toward her own aching heat. Vi caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “Let me take care of you.” Caitlyn bit her lip, as she gripped the headboard tighter. 

Vi grinned against her inner thigh, her breath hot against Caitlyn’s oversensitive skin as she tilted her head back to admire the sight before her.

Fucking hell.

Caitlyn’s pussy was soaked, wrecked, glistening in the dim morning light, her arousal dripping down her thighs, aching to be touched again.

Vi groaned at the sight, fingers digging into Caitlyn’s skin as she just stared, drinking her in.

“Look at you,” Vi murmured, her voice with desire. “So fucking messy for me.”

Caitlyn whimpered above her, her hips rolling instinctively, desperate for friction. “Darling please—”

Vi smirked, loving the way Caitlyn practically chased after her, trying to grind against her mouth, but she held her back just a little longer, teasing her, making her wait.

She let her fingers glide through Caitlyn’s slick folds, gathering the wetness before barely brushing over her clit—just enough to send a shudder through her body, but not enough to satisfy. Caitlyn whimpered, her frustration spilling out in breathless little gasps.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Vi muttered against her inner thigh, nipping the sensitive skin. “Dripping for me. Desperate for me.”

Then finally, Vi slid two fingers inside her, sinking in with almost no resistance, her touch met with Caitlyn’s unbearable wetness, filling her just enough to make Caitlyn’s entire body jolt.

Caitlyn cried out, her back arching, fingers gripping the headboard so tight her knuckles turned white.

“Ooooh, fuck—yes—yes – yes!”

Vi smirked at how wrecked she already was, at how her walls clenched around her fingers, hot and tight and perfect.

She didn’t waste time as she curled her fingers just right, finding that spot inside Caitlyn that had her gasping, crying out, grinding down against her palm.

And then Vi lowered her mouth again, flicking her tongue against Caitlyn’s clit in perfect rhythm with her fingers, sucking, licking, fucking her deep and hard.

Caitlyn was gone—completely lost in the pleasure Vi was pulling from her.

The rhythm, the pressure, the way Vi’s fingers curled inside her, fucking her deep, slow, then faster, perfectly in sync with the relentless flicks of her tongue against her swollen clit—it was too much. Too perfect. Her body tensed, every muscle coiling, her mind blanking out

Her grip on the headboard, once tight and desperate, was now almost limp, her body trembling uncontrollably, struggling to keep itself upright. Her thighs quivered violently, the tension wrecking her, overwhelming her. She tried to hold herself up, but her strength was slipping, her balance precarious, her elbow barely keeping her steady as her body quaked in the feverish euphoria swallowing her whole.

Vi felt it.

Felt the way Caitlyn’s muscles tensed and loosened all at once, the way her breath hitched into broken moans, the way she was seconds from collapsing entirely.

And Vi wouldn’t let her fall. Not now. Not when Caitlyn was giving her everything.

With a firm yet gentle grip, Vi slid one strong arm around Caitlyn’s waist, supporting her, keeping her steady, keeping her exactly where she wanted her. “I got you baby”

Caitlyn screamed, her hips jerking as her climax ripped through her, her entire body trembling, shattering under the force of it. “Baby… oh my god… oh my god—YES!” she gasped, voice breaking, raw with pleasure.

Her head fell back, eyes rolling, mouth parted, completely lost in the overwhelming bliss

But then, as Vi pushed her further, as her fingers thrusted deeper, her tongue lapping at her mercilessly, something snapped.

Caitlyn cried out, everything was too sensitive, her body seizing as an entirely different wave crashed over her.

And before she even registered what was happening—she felt it.

The release. The uncontrollable flood of pleasure. The delicious wetness flooded Vi’s senses, and very existence.

Caitlyn’s eyes flew wide, a shocked gasp escaping her lips but Vi just groaned against her, gripping her thighs tighter as the wetness splashed over her lips, her chin, dripping down her fingers. She didn’t stop. Vi’s hand still massaging Caitlyn’s folds, draining her as Caitlyn continues to quake above her, maddeningly lost of words, lost in jubilation. “Fuck yes…you’re so fucking hot—”

Didn’t let Caitlyn shy away from it, didn’t let her feel anything but pure, raw pleasure. Caitlyn shuddered, her mind blank, her breath stolen as her body gave Vi everything. Vi pulled back just enough to watch, her breath ragged, her mouth and chin glistening with Caitlyn’s release.

Her lips curled into the cockiest, smuggest fucking grin. “Holy fuck, Cupcake.”

Caitlyn barely had the strength to respond, her body still trembling, her thighs weak as she tried to catch her breath.

Vi licked her lips, still tasting her, still reveling in the beautiful mess.

"Fuck Caitlyn... that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Caitlyn flushed, completely intoxicated, but Vi wasn’t done admiring her.

She trailed her hands over Caitlyn’s trembling thighs, gentle, feeling the heat of her, the way she was still throbbing, still dripping from what just happened. Vi tilted her head, pure awe flashing across her face as she took in the sight before her.

Caitlyn was still spread out, ruined, glistening with her release, chest rising and falling rapidly, lips swollen, flushed, utterly consumed. Vi had never seen anything so fucking beautiful in her life.

Vi grinned up at her, still positioned between Caitlyn’s legs, her lips and chin glistening with Caitlyn’s release.

Caitlyn languidly fixed her messy hair with one hand, she shook off the lingering sweat, her body still humming and twitching from the aftermath. Then, Caitlyn looked down, her hooded eyes heavy with satisfaction, a lazy grin tugging at her lips.

"Let me… let me catch my breath first," she murmured, her voice breathless, fragile, lost in the lingering ebullition, caught somewhere between pure bliss and exhaustion.

Vi chuckled, her voice low and teasing but there was warmth beneath it, something gentler and quieter. She sat up slightly, her strong arms, wrapping around Caitlyn’s waist, supporting her effortlessly. Caitlyn was still trembling, her breath uneven, her body boneless from the aftershocks of pleasure. Vi could feel it—the way she slumped against her, completely spent, completely safe.

Vi adjusted her grip, shifting them both until Caitlyn was straddling her lap, legs draped around her. Vi reached for the nearest towel, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric before she handed it to Caitlyn.

“Here…” Vi murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Caitlyn’s ear.

Her voice was softer now, affectionate, still laced with amusement but carrying something deeper. Something devoted.

Caitlyn blinked slowly, her mind still fogged, still floating, but she took the towel with slightly shaky fingers. Vi watched her carefully, her hands never leaving Caitlyn’s back, tracing slow circles against her spine, grounding her. She let Caitlyn take her time, let her catch her breath, let her settle into the warmth of their closeness.

Caitlyn wiped at her inner thighs lazily, her body still feeling too light, too warm, and Vi just… watched. Vi watched how the way Caitlyn’s hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders now, the way her lips were still swollen from their kisses, the way she sat on Vi’s lap like she belonged there.

Caitlyn huffed out a weak laugh, as she snatched another towel from the bedside and reached for Vi’s face. She gently wiped Vi’s face, cleaning the mess she had made of her.

Vi let her, watching her with a lazy, satisfied smile, letting Caitlyn take care of her in this small, intimate way. Once she was done, Caitlyn leaned forward, pressing a soft peck to Vi’s lips—something tender, lingering, a contrast to everything that had just happened.

Vi’s fingers brushed over her waist, savoring the moment before pulling back slightly.

“Drink,” Vi murmured, reaching over to grab a glass of water she had left on the bedside table last night. She handed it to Caitlyn, her smirk softening into something more affectionate.

Caitlyn took it gratefully, drinking deep, sighing as the cool liquid soothed her throat.

Vi watched her with a fond look, placing a peck on Caitlyn’s clavicle, utterly content.

Caitlyn handed Vi the empty glass, their fingers brushing briefly, and Vi took it, setting it back on the nightstand with an absentminded ease.

Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, Vi leaned in, nipping at Caitlyn’s shoulder.

“Baby, you’re so loud,” she teased against her skin, grinning when Caitlyn tensed.

“You probably woke everyone in this house. I mean your mother’s probably mortified” Vi continued, her grin widening. “Doesn’t she have some vampire hearing sense or something?”

Vi gasped dramatically, pulling back to look Caitlyn dead in the eye, mock horror in her expression.

"Oh my god, Cait. Do you think she heard everything?"

Caitlyn groaned, burying her face into Vi’s shoulder before turning back to Vi, still breathless, still tingling. “That’s quite beyond the realm of possibility, darling”

Vi smirked, eyebrow quirking. “Oh? And why’s that, Cupcake?”

Caitlyn ran her fingers lazily through Vi’s damp hair, voice slightly hoarse but still filled with smug satisfaction.

“Because I may have commissioned soundproof walls from Jayce.”

Vi blinked. Then—she burst into laughter.

“Wait, wait—hold up.” Vi propped herself up on one elbow, eyes dancing with mischief.

“You’re telling me… you had your room—your bedroom—custom-fitted with soundproofing? Just your room?”

Caitlyn bit her lip, glancing away. “...And my study.”

Vi’s grin widened, downright predatory now.

"You never know when you might need one, right?"

“You little freak,” she teased before kissing Caitlyn again, slow and deep, letting her know exactly how much she appreciated that decision.

Caitlyn sighed against her lips, almost forgetting she was a vampire, forgetting how Vi drained her energy in the best possible way. Caitlyn slipping her tongue, tasting what’s left of her from Vi’s mouth, hands trailing lower to Vi’s stomach, until—

There was a knock and her entire body stiffened.

Vi noticed instantly. “What is—” Caitlyn snapped upright, eyes wide.

“Shit—Vi, hide!”

Vi bolted out of bed, half-dressed, still adjusting her shorts as she dived for the closet, fumbling to close the doors behind her.

Caitlyn barely had time to fix her nightgown before—The door opened.

Her father, Tobias, stepped in, raising an eyebrow at the very obvious chaos in her room.

“Morning, Caitlyn.” His voice was calm, but there was a knowing edge to it.

Caitlyn swallowed, forcing her most composed, I-wasn’t-just-screaming-my-lungs-out voice.

“G’Morning, Father.” Her voice failed her, it was still raw and rasp from all the screaming.

Tobias’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the slightly disheveled sheets, the way Caitlyn’s nightgown was slipping off one shoulder, the slight blush on Caitlyn’s cheeks, her slightly tousled hair, the not-so-subtle tension in the air, and the headboard with a slight crack near at the center.

He sighed.

“Your mother is already out. Busy, as always.” He mused, and puffed out a breath. “I actually made breakfast. You should eat before you… start your day.”

Caitlyn nodded quickly. “Thank you, Father. That’s very kind of you.” Her voice suspiciously low.

She was about to sigh in relief when she noticed Vi’s foot. It was peeking out from the edge of the closet doors.

Fucking hell.

Caitlyn barely suppressed a wince, praying Tobias wouldn’t notice.

But of course, he did. As he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway.

Then—he smiled, almost amused.

“Violet, you must join us for breaktast. I made Caitlyn’s favorite Ionian pastry.” His voice was casual, but the undertone was clear. He knew.

Caitlyn wanted to die, literally.

The cabinet’s door, squeaked open. Vi emerged from the closet, grinning and a bit shy, running a hand through her hair as she adjusted her shirt.

“Sure thing, sir,” she replied, all charm, all ease.

As soon as Tobias left, Caitlyn collapsed face-first into Vi’s chest, groaning in embarrassment. Vi, laughing, wrapped her arms around her, shaking with amusement.

“Well, guess we’re having breakfast,” she teased, pressing a kiss into Caitlyn’s hair. “I guess I’m having buffet this morning.”

Caitlyn muffled a curse against Vi’s skin before sighing dramatically as she slightly punch Vi’s side.

“Shut up, Violet.”

Vi just chuckled, hugging her even tighter.

______

By the time Caitlyn and Vi made it downstairs, the scent of breakfast from the grand dining hall almost filled the entire mansion. The aroma of fresh-baked Ionian pastries and rich coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the morning light spilling through the grand windows.

Vi looked a little too dashing and dapper at the same time, adjusting her suspenders as they stepped inside. She had thrown on her usual white button-up, the sleeves lazily rolled to her elbows, exposing the intricate ink lining her arms. The navy vest she wore matched Caitlyn’s uniform almost perfectly, a detail Vi was clearly proud of, if the way she kept tugging at it with a smirk was any indication.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, looked lighter. Different in the best way possible. Even the staff had begun to notice how she carried a smile more often these days, a stark contrast to her usual composed, officer-like demeanor.

She was without the stiff posture, without the ever-present weight of her station. Instead of her usual neatly-pressed uniform and buttoned-up formality, she had settled for something softer, more relaxed. She was wearing a crisp, white perfectly tailored shirt that hugged her body perfectly—was still buttoned a bit too high for Vi’s liking, but the navy waistcoat she wore, the same deep blue as Vi’s, made them look like they belonged together. The symmetry was almost unnerving.

Vi held Caitlyn’s coat for her. It was her actual enforcer uniform, polished and pristine—slung over her arm. She hadn’t handed it over yet, clearly enjoying the small victory of carrying it for her.

Caitlyn glanced at her, rolling her eyes, but made no move to take it.

As they stepped into the hall, the butler greeted them with a small bow, his voice even, practiced.

"Good morning, my lady."

Caitlyn nodded, her voice smooth, composed, though the faintest warmth still lingered on her cheeks.

"Morning, Henry."

Vi fought the urge to chuckle at how effortlessly Caitlyn could slip back into her noble grace—
even with her collar slightly askew from Vi’s earlier hands, or the absolute monstrosity she was this morning.

The butler’s gaze flicked toward Vi, taking note of the coat, she still held before he motioned for them to follow.

"Your father is waiting in the dining area."

Vi mimicked Henry’s formal posture in an exaggerated, goofy way, her face twisting into a mock-serious expression. Caitlyn caught it immediately, her lips twitching before a soft giggle escaped her. She pinched Vi’s arm in reprimand, though there was no real bite to it.

“Behave,” she murmured, her voice fond despite the warning.

Vi grinned, leaning in slightly, “Yes milady.” And this time lowering her voice just enough so only she could hear.

Tobias was already seated at the head of the table, reading over some documents while idly stirring his coffee. His eyes flicked up as they entered, sharp but unreadable.

Vi grinned, effortlessly slipping into a smooth, almost exaggerated gallantry as she pulled out a chair for Caitlyn, her movements casual yet undeniably charming. “M’lady,” she teased, her voice playful as she gestured for Caitlyn to sit.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless, the warmth in her gaze betraying her fondness.

"Thank you, Vi," she said, her voice softer now, as she gracefully slid into the chair. Vi took her own seat beside her, stretching out slightly before inhaling deeply. “Smells good, sir,” she remarked, glancing toward Tobias with a raised brow. “You made all this?”

Tobias nodded, setting his papers aside. “I make breakfast when I can. It’s one of the few things I still enjoy doing myself.”

Caitlyn poured herself a drink, her movements as graceful as ever. Vi watched absently, until she noticed the deep crimson hue of the liquid in Caitlyn’s glass. It wasn’t wine.

Vi had caught glimpses before, how Caitlyn subtly drinking something darker, richer, in quiet moments—but now, with the morning light filtering through the tall windows, she could see it clearly. Blood.

Probably cultivated blood because Vi had heard of it before, an alternative made for higher-class vampires, refined, safe, harvested without harming anyone. Caitlyn felt Vi’s gaze. She hadn’t though much about it before, it was something routine, second nature but now under Vi’s eyes, she suddenly felt hyperaware of the glass in her hand.

Vi didn’t say anything, but offered a fond smile. Instead, she reached under the table and squeezed Caitlyn’s hand, her thumb brushing over her knuckles in quiet reassurance.

Caitlyn hesitated for only a second before setting the glass down, glancing at Vi with something warm, grateful.

Tobias, always perceptive, took note of the silent exchange. His sharp gaze softened just slightly as he reached for his own drink, a crystal glass of blood.

He took a sip, then looked at Vi. "You don’t mind, do you?"

Vi met his gaze evenly, unwavering, then shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “No, sir. Doesn’t bother me at all.” Tobias studied her for a moment before nodding, satisfied. He felt the genuineness from Vi. There was a quiet, unshaken truth in Vi’s words. And in that moment, he understood. He understood why his daughter was so drawn to this person.

Because Vi wasn’t just someone passing through Caitlyn’s life. She was someone standing in it, fully, without hesitation.

Tobias observed quietly, his gaze shifting between the two of them. He saw the way his daughter carried herself now. The usual sharp, disciplined edge of a soldier was still there, but something else had taken root alongside it. A warmth. A quiet ease.

There was a certain contentment in Caitlyn’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. He watched as Caitlyn laughed at Vi’s jokes, something soft and unguarded in her expression. Saw the way she reached out without thinking, wiping the corner of Vi’s lips with a napkin, a gesture so absentminded yet intimate that it spoke louder than any words could. He saw the way Vi responded just as naturally, without hesitation. Pouring Caitlyn a drink reaching for food and placing it on her plate, their movements instinctive and it wasn’t anything performative. He realized, her daughter was falling for this human.

Vi, ever the one to keep things light, clapped her hands together and grinned at the spread of food on the table.

"Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here!" she announced, rubbing her palms together in excitement, completely oblivious to the weight of Tobias’s realization.

“Damn, this all looks incredible.” She grabbed a plate and began helping herself. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m gonna start waking up early just to crash here for breakfast, but if it’s always this good, I might consider it.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes fondly, but Tobias let out the smallest amused exhale.

“Glad to hear it, help yourself please” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

Vi took a bite and groaned, clearly impressed. “Okay, seriously. This is amazing. Cait, why don’t you cook like this?”

Caitlyn scoffed, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “I’m afraid I have more pressing matters to attend to than cooking, Violet.”

Vi smirked. “I mean, same, but I still know how to cook. What if one day you’re trapped somewhere and all you have is a stove? What then, Commander?”

Caitlyn sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose I’ll just die.”

Tobias, despite himself, let out an amused chuckle, shaking his head. Vi grinned, nudging Caitlyn’s knee under the table. "Guess I'll have to stick around, then. Can't have my girl starving."

Caitlyn froze for half a second at the casual ‘my girl’ before quickly reaching for her drink, taking a sip to hide the way her lips had twitched into a tiny, barely-there smile.

Tobias, still watching, said nothing.

But he saw everything. And, for once, he didn’t mind.

____

Powder bounced on her heels, eyes wide with excitement as she stepped into the sleek, high-tech halls of Talis Industries.

Everything about the place was polished, pristine, and humming with energy, from the glass-paneled workstations to the state-of-the-art Hextech machinery lining the walls. It was a playground of innovation, and Powder looked like a kid who had just walked into a candy store.

“Holy shit.”

Jayce and Viktor exchanged a look—Viktor, amused, and Jayce, mildly concerned.

"I take it you approve?" Viktor asked, watching as Powder practically vibrated with excitement.

"Approve?!" Powder spun in a circle, hands on her head. "You guys work with this every day?!"

Jayce smirked, crossing his arms. "Yep. Perks of being a genius."

Powder snorted. "Please, I bet Viktor does all the actual work while you just stand around looking pretty."

Viktor coughed into his fist to hide a chuckle. Jayce, however, gasped in fake offense. "Excuse me, I'll have you know I’m a very hands-on scientist." Powder grinned. "Oh, totally. You definitely look like a guy who holds a wrench maybe twice a month."

Jayce opened his mouth, then shut it. Viktor patted him on the shoulder. "She has a point, Jayce." Powder cackled.

But soon, her mischief faded, replaced by genuine fascination as she moved toward one of the workstations, eyes scanning the blueprints sprawled across the table. She reached out, hesitated for half a second, then tapped the edge of a half-assembled Hextech core with the tip of her finger.

"You got stabilization issues with the energy flow here," she muttered, more to herself. "If you adjust the conductivity of the casing by, say, two percent—bam, you could increase efficiency without overheating the core."

Jayce and Viktor exchanged another glance, this one more impressed.

Viktor nodded, pleased. "You’re sharp."

Powder beamed. "Duh. In Zaun, we make do with what we have. We don’t get the fancy materials, the pristine labs, or unlimited funding but we make it happen." She grinned, tapping her temple. “Being resourceful is what keeps us ahead.

Jayce chuckled, leaning against the workstation. "We could use a mind like yours around here.” Powder froze instantly.

Her grin faltered for just a second before she turned toward them fully, eyes scanning their faces. "Wait—are you saying what I think you’re saying?"

Viktor smiled. "We’d like to support your work. Sponsor you. If you have projects of your own, we’d be happy to fund them or, if you prefer, you could work alongside us."

Jayce nodded. "No pressure, obviously. But from what I’ve seen, you’re a genius in your own right."

Powder blinked. Once. Twice. "HOLY SHIT."

She practically vibrated with excitement, grabbing Viktor’s sleeve. "Are you kidding?! A real-ass lab?! A budget that isn't just whatever I scavenge from the junkyard?!"

Viktor chuckled. "Correct." Jayce laughed. "So... that’s a yes?"

Powder grabbed his hand and shook it aggressively. "That is the biggest hell yes of my life!"

Jayce winced. "Okay yep, strong grip, noted."

Powder spun around, her mind already racing. "Oh man, I have so many ideas—wait, do I get my own workspace? Can I mess with your stabilization theories? I promise I won’t blow anything up. Well…probably."

Viktor sighed, though there was clear amusement in his eyes. "We’ll discuss boundaries later."

Powder grinned. "Fair."

As she took another wide-eyed look around the lab, taking in the sheer possibilities in front of her, one thought burned in her mind. She had just been given a golden opportunity and she was going to make damn sure she made the most of it.

___

Caitlyn and Vi moved through the narrow alleyways at Zaun, boots silent against the damp pavement as they neared their destination—a suspected shimmer manufacturing warehouse.

From the outside, the warehouse looked operational—faintly lit windows, the faded buzz of security devices but there was no trace of shimmer. No guards. No shipments coming in or out. It looked absolutely normal. It was too clean and too empty for their liking.

Vi, hands in her pockets, glanced at Caitlyn with a smirk, breaking the silence. "I think your father likes me."

Caitlyn huffed a quiet laugh, her lips curling into an amused smile. "Oh? What gave it away?"

Vi grinned. "Well, he didn’t throw me out of the house. And I gotta say, remind me to ask him for that Ionian breakfast recipe. That man knows how to cook."

Caitlyn arched a brow, tilting her head teasingly. "Must I be worried? You do seem absurdly compatible."

Vi chuckled, bumping Caitlyn’s shoulder lightly with her own. "Don’t worry, Cupcake. I like you more."

Caitlyn smiled at her, something softer in her eyes this time. "And I like you."

Her voice was sincere, quiet but certain.

Vi blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in Caitlyn’s tone, the way she looked at he like she actually meant it.

For once, Vi had no smart remark, no deflection. She just stared, her smirk faltering into something more real.

Caitlyn walked past Vi, breaking whatever moment had settled between them, her focus sharpening as she neared the warehouse. Vi watched her go, exhaling a quiet chuckle, shaking her head before following.

Caitlyn and Vi froze, pressing themselves against the shadows as they spotted two men slipping into the warehouse.

They weren’t just workers their movements were too careful, too cautious. Smugglers. Enforcers. Something else. The men exchanged hurried low and urgent whispers. Caitlyn strained to catch the words, but the hum of machinery swallowed their voices.

Then, one of them reached for a rusted panel on the far wall. Caitlyn’s sharp eyes caught the slight indentation in the metal, it was a hidden lift. The panel clicked and a mechanism engaged. The lift doors slid open, revealing a darkened shaft leading down.

Without another word, the men stepped inside. The doors closed behind them, and within seconds, the lift descended disappearing into the unknown depths beneath the warehouse.

Vi exhaled, tilting her head. “Well, that’s suspicious as hell.”

Caitlyn nodded, thoughtful. “Illegal production usually happens in hidden labs not in open warehouses. This place was too clean. Now we know why.”

Vi cracked her knuckles. “Underground facility. Perfect place to hide something nasty.”

“And, of course, to ensure that no one makes an untimely exit should matters take a turn,” Caitlyn added grimly.

They scanned the area, looking for another way down. The lift was locked. There was no way to call it back without access.

Vi tapped her boot against the concrete floor, thinking. Then, she spotted it—a ventilation shaft, half-hidden behind a stack of crates.

She smirked, nudging Caitlyn. "Looks like we’re taking the fun way in."

Caitlyn sighed, already dreading whatever cramped space Vi was about to shove them into. “I hate the fun way.”

Vi grinned, already pulling the grate open. “No, you don’t.”

With a resigned breath, Caitlyn followed Vi into the darkness, down into the unknown depths of Zaun’s underground.

_____

Caitlyn and Vi moved carefully through the underground corridor. The air was thick and heavy with the unmistakable chemical tang of something foreign clung into the damp walls.  The ventilation shaft had led them to a hidden level beneath the warehouse. It was massive, obscurely lit expanse, far bigger than they had expected. They crouched behind a row of rusted metal containers, keeping low, keeping quiet.

Caitlyn and Vi did not believe what they were seeing. There were dozens of workers—humans and even some vampires—moved like ghosts, working tirelessly, their eyes hollow, their movements mechanical.

Machines hissed and churned, mixing and refining the bright, glowing substance of Shimmer, pouring it into vials, injecting it into sealed cartridges, packaging it for mass distribution. The entire space reeked of secrecy and control.

Vi exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening. "Well, shit."

Caitlyn’s fingers flexed against the grip of her rifle, eyes scanning the scene. “This isn’t just a production site. This is a full-scale operation.”

Then, Vi’s gaze landed on something that made her frown. A group of armed men stood near the entrance, their movements precise, their presence imposing. But what caught her attention wasn’t just their numbers—it was their armor. The metal gleamed under the dim lights, reinforced with a strange, pulsating energy.

She clenched her jaw, instinctively reaching for Caitlyn’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Hold up,” Vi murmured, voice low, eyes scanning the guards. “They’re not just your usual muscle… Look at their gear.”

“Shimmer-enhanced gear, perhaps” Vi whispered.

Caitlyn followed Vi’s gaze, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the modifications—the unnatural glow of shimmer coursing through the plating, the telltale signs of alchemical enhancements. Her grip on her rifle tightened. There were enforcers too, heavily armored carrying crates marked with unfamiliar symbols.

Something about it felt off.

Caitlyn’s voice was barely a whisper. “Those aren’t just shipments. That’s weapons-grade security.”

Vi nodded. "Yeah. And they're moving like they're expecting trouble."

They exchanged a look.

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes scanned the factory floor, analyzing every detail. Workers moved like clockwork, mixing, refining, packaging but then, something caught her eye.

There was a figure but his back was facing them but she wasn’t sure why, but something about him felt familiar. He was positioned near the secured section of the lab, speaking to another man. His stance, his posture—it nagged at her memory.

But before she could dwell on it, her gaze shifted to the other man.

A single, glowing eye cut through the dim light. Caitlyn stiffened, instincts flaring. She didn’t recognize him. However, Vi did. Vi’s entire body went rigid, her fists clenching slightly.

"Makes sense now."

Caitlyn turned to her, noting the tension in Vi’s expression. “You know him?”

Vi exhaled through her nose, keeping her voice low, wary.

"Yeah. Mr. S. That’s Silco.”

Caitlyn blinked. "Silco, the industrialist?"

Vi nodded, her jaw tight. "Yep, one of the biggest names in Zaun. Industrialist, businessman—people call him a 'visionary.’” She scoffed under her breath. "Didn’t know he was into illegal shit, though."

Caitlyn frowned, glancing back toward him. “You’re quite certain?”

Vi huffed a quiet laugh, but it lacked humor. "Yes, that’s him alright. I do know he’s one of the biggest sponsors for the underground pit fights."

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. "Pit fights?"

Vi gave her a sidelong glance, smirking slightly but with little amusement. "You wouldn’t like ‘em, Cupcake. Not the kind of sport you’d bet on at the academy."

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted, but she kept her focus on the scene below.

Silco, calm and composed, spoke to the familiar man in hushed tones, gesturing subtly toward the crates. Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, adjusting her position slightly to focus on their voices but the moment she tried, an unnatural interference prickled against her senses. A muffled silence. A distortion, like sound itself was being swallowed before it could reach her ears. She was sure there is some kind of auditory barrier surrounding them, keeping their conversation private.

She exchanged a glance with Vi, who had noticed it too. Vi tapped her temple twice, a silent way of saying “Can you read their lips?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, her frustration barely concealed. "No," she mouthed back.

Vi scowled, shifting her stance. "Shit," she muttered under her breath.

They couldn’t hear the deal being made. Couldn’t decipher what Silco and his associate were orchestrating. But they knew one thing for certain—whatever was happening here wasn’t just illegal. It was calculated, dangerous, and about to get a whole lot worse.

_____

Caitlyn and Vi moved swiftly, weaving through the maze of pipes and dimly lit corridors, their footsteps soundless against the steel flooring. The underground lab had been a revelation for both of them.

They needed to get out before anyone noticed them.

Vi glanced over her shoulder once, ensuring they weren’t being followed, before they reached a rusted service ladder near one of the outer tunnels.

She gestured for Caitlyn to go first. "Up you go, princess."

Caitlyn shot her a glare but climbed anyway, moving fast, the cold rungs biting against her gloved fingers. Vi followed close behind, gripping the ladder with practiced ease. The moment they emerged, the night air hit them like a cold slap.

Zaun’s smog still clung to the air, profuse and oppressive, but the silence outside was a stark contrast to the hum of the factory beneath them.

Vi rolled her shoulders, adjusting her jacket, before turning to Caitlyn. "Alright, Cupcake. What’s the plan?"

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, her mind racing through their options.

“It would be terribly reckless to charge in unprepared, it’s best for us to devise a plan.” She glanced back at the warehouse, her sharp gaze calculating. “The odds are against us. We’re outnumbered.”

Vi exhaled through her nose, nodding. "Yeah, figured as much."

Caitlyn crossed her arms, thinking. "We must gather more information, secure more leverage. There’s a reason this is shrouded in secrecy. Seems like Mr. S have connections.”

Vi smirked. "So, we dig deeper, huh?"

Caitlyn met her gaze, nodding. "Quite. Our priority is establishing where those crates are headed and, identifying the real benefactors behind this scheme."

Vi grinned, a spark of mischief in her eyes. "And when the time comes, we tear it all down?"

Caitlyn smiled faintly, the cold wind ruffling her hair as she looked back at the warehouse.

"When the time comes… we do it right."

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Smart and dangerous. That’s why I like you."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but smirked. "Come on, we should get moving before someone realizes we were down there."

____

They maneuvered their way back the way they came, by Caitlyn and Vi were far enough from the warehouse, the distant hum of the operation still rang in their ears, an unshakable weight settling over them. The feeling seemed to linger, pressing down on Caitlyn’s chest like a phantom warning.

Then, a voice cut through the silence.

"You two never stop, do you?"

Vi and Caitlyn immediately halted, their instincts kicking in. Caitlyn reached for her rifle and Vi’s hands balled into fists.

From the shadows of a nearby building, Katarina stepped forward, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Caitlyn’s grip on her rifle tightened. “Now we know who you’re working for.”

Katarina tilted her head, unimpressed. “Do you now, And?” And before she could even finish that thought—Vi was already swinging. The punch connected cleanly with Katarina’s jaw, sending her staggering back.

"See, I never hit a girl," Vi said, shaking out her knuckles, her grin sharp. "But you tried to kill Cait once, so you’re an exception."

Katarina wiped her lip, spitting to the side before smirking. "What a loyal pet. Always predictable."

Vi rolled her shoulders, flexing her fingers. “Yeah? Let’s see if you saw this coming.”

Vi lifted her arm, and with a sharp whirr, the new gear Jayce had given her activated. A metallic hiss cut through the night air as the sleek, nano-enhanced material expanded, forming a reinforced gauntlet around her fist in a matter of seconds. The energy coursing through it pulsed faintly, a soft hum vibrating beneath her skin. The nano-suit flickered to life, the material crawling over her forearm, expanding, shifting—until a mechanical gauntlet snapped into place over her fist.

Katarina’s smirk faltered just slightly. “Well. That’s new.”

Vi cracked her neck. "Yeah. Thought I’d try it out on you."

Katarina’s eyes flickered with amusement, excitement and maybe even a challenge.

Like a shadow, Katarina vanished into the trees beyond the city streets, her silhouette barely a blur against the darkness as she sprinted into the forest.

Vi didn’t hesitate.

“Oh, hell no—”

She took off after her, boots pounding against the ground, twigs snapping underfoot as she pushed forward with everything she had.

"Vi!" Caitlyn called out, but Vi was already too far ahead, lost in the chase.

Before Caitlyn could react, something prickled at the edge of her senses. There was a shift in the air, the sharp click of a trigger being pulled. Time slowed.

Her body moved before her mind fully registered it, instinct taking over. She twisted sharply, dodging just as a bullet sliced through the space where her head had been a second ago.

Her killer instinct ignited. Her pupils dilated, her fangs elongating as the world sharpened around her. The scent of gunpowder. Metal and sweat. Six distinct heartbeats pounding in her ears. She turned slowly, eyes glowing crimson as she met the gazes of the six men who had surrounded her.

Armed. Trained. But out of their depth.

One of them took a step forward, gun still raised, his grip firm but not without hesitation.

"Shit," one of them muttered.

Caitlyn exhaled, the flicker of a smirk forming on her lips.

They thought they had cornered her. They had no idea what they were dealing with.

The trees became a blur, the cold wind biting at her skin, but Vi didn’t slow. Katarina was unnaturally fast as ever but Vi had spent her whole life chasing down people who thought they could outrun her.

She dodged low branches, barely weaving past a jagged rock formation, the pulse of the chase roaring in her ears. The forest canopy swallowed the moonlight, leaving only flickers of silver through the trees, but Vi kept her eyes locked ahead, tracking Katarina’s every move.

And then Katarina turned. A whirl of steel came flying straight at Vi.

Reacting on pure instinct, Vi ducked just as a dagger sliced through the air, grazing the edge of her ear. She gritted her teeth, launching forward just as Katarina vaulted over a fallen tree, flipping mid-air like she wasn’t even human.

Vi snarled, climbing over it with brute force, her gauntlet-enhanced grip crushing the bark as she pushed forward.

"You’re not getting away this time!"

Katarina moved like a ghost, her blades flashing in the dark, each strike meant to cut deep, to kill quickly. But Vi was relentless.

The gauntlet roared as Vi’s next strike landed, sending Katarina skidding back against the damp earth. She gritted her teeth, wiping a smear of blood from her lip, eyes sharp with excitement.

"Gotta admit," Katarina smirked, "you’re putting up a fight. You always were tougher than the rest."

Vi rolled her shoulders, her smirk sharp. "Oh, honey, I’m just getting started."

Katarina moved precise, fluid and ruthless.  In one fluid sweep, her blade flashed through the air and sliced clean across Vi’s side. Vi grunted, stumbling slightly. The pain was sharp, hot but brief.

Because almost instantly, the wound began to close. Katarina froze.

Her eyes widened, disbelief flickering across her face as she watched flesh mend itself before her very eyes.

"What the fuck—"

She barely got the words out before Vi lunged again, throwing a brutal uppercut with her gauntlet. Katarina dodged at the last second, flipping away, her breath slightly unsteady now.

Her gaze flicked from Vi’s side to her eyes. "That’s not technology."

Vi didn’t answer. She just kept coming.

A brutal right hook. A kick meant to break ribs. A relentless barrage of strikes.

Katarina blocked, parried, spun away, but she wasn’t smirking anymore.

"Fuck—are you a vampire now too?"

Vi’s expression was unreadable, her eyes burning with focus. She didn’t answer. She just fought.

Katarina snarled, flipping a dagger in her hand before slamming it into Vi’s shoulder.

Vi barely reacted. The blade sank deep—but there was no hesitation, no slowing down. Vi simply grabbed Katarina by the wrist, wrenching the dagger free and tossing it aside like an afterthought.

Katarina stared. Then realization dawned. "She fucking turned you, didn’t she?"

Vi’s jaw tightened, her grip flexing. She still didn’t answer.

Instead, she drove her knee into Katarina’s stomach, sending her crashing into a tree. Katarina coughed, spitting blood, but even through the pain, her mind was racing. She narrowed her eyes, watching the way Vi moved.

She wasn’t as fast as a vampire. She wasn’t as fluid, as inhumanly smooth. But she wasn’t normal either. There was something about V on how she took every damage, the way her wounds instantly healed was wrong, it was inhuman.

Katarina wiped her lip, her grip tightening around her last dagger.

"No," she murmured, watching Vi carefully now. "You’re not as fast as a vampire."

She tilted her head, something almost resembling unease flickering in her sharp green eyes.

"What the fuck are you?" Vi rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck.

"Wanna find out?"

Then she charged again.

____

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, steadying herself as she assessed the situation.

Six men. Blades. Guns. Mercenaries.

They were trained killers, their movements precise, coordinated, forming a loose circle around her. But they had no idea who they were dealing with.

The first man lunged—Caitlyn sidestepped with inhuman speed, her movements too fast, too fluid and before his blade even reached where she had been standing, she was already behind him. A single shot rang out. The man collapsed instantly, a bullet perfectly placed between his ribs, silencing him before he could even scream.

The others barely had time to register what had happened before Caitlyn moved again. Another shot—clean, precise. Another mercenary dropped, a flash of crimson spilling onto the forest floor.

One of them barked a command, trying to rally. “Surround her! Don’t let her—” Caitlyn was already gone. She was an absolute menace, a blur in the darkness.

Silent. Deadly. Untouchable.

Another man swung his blade, a wide desparate strike – too slow. Caitlyn ducked low, her gun twisting in her grip, and slammed the barrel beneath his chin.

Click.

A muffled shot, a clean kill. There was three left. Darkness loomed in her expression, the quiet, chilling stillness of a cold-blooded killer. Her breath steady, measured. No hesitation. No remorse.

One panicked, raising his rifle to fire.

Caitlyn vanished from his sights.

A blink and she was already behind him. A swift kick to the back of his knee. He staggered, just enough for her to grab his collar and yank him into the path of another man’s blade. The mercenary’s own comrade skewered him straight through the chest.

The attacker’s eyes went wide in horror, realizing what he had done—Too late.

Caitlyn grabbed his wrist, twisting sharply until she heard the snap of bone. He screamed—only for Caitlyn to drive her knee into his gut, silencing him instantly.

One left.

He hesitated. He saw what she was. What she could do.

His hands trembled on the hilt of his blade.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, stepping forward with a predator’s pace. Measured. Controlled. Her piercing crimson eyes locked onto him, unyielding. He knew he was already dead.

Silence helped.

Caitlyn’s ears sharpened, trying to tune in to Katarina’s fight. She filtered through the chaos—the clash of blades, the crunch of fists meeting flesh—then she heard it. Vi was hurt.

Caitlyn’s senses flared, her mind pulling away for just a fraction of a second too long.

The man saw his opening. He lunged.

Pain sliced through Caitlyn’s side. A blade. Not silver. She was lucky. The wound burned, but it wasn’t deep, it would heal. But she still staggered, just barely. The scent of her own blood filled the cold night air.

The man froze. He had landed a hit and yet, he had already lost.

Caitlyn snapped back at him. She didn’t give him a chance to breathe. She moved too fast, too precise. In one fluid motion, she knocked the blade from his grasp, twisting his wrist until she heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking.

He screamed.

A muffled shot silenced him.

He dropped, lifeless, his body hitting the cold earth as Caitlyn exhaled, blood dripping from her side, evaporating as her body healed.

But Vi—

She turned, tearing through the trees, her rifle already swinging onto her back as she sprinted toward the fight.

____

The fight was merciless.

Vi and Katarina clashed like titans, steel meeting reinforced fists, each strike more desperate, more lethal than the last. The forest was alive with the sounds of their battle—grunts, sharp exhales, the crack of wood as they dodged and struck with deadly precision.

Vi swung her gauntlet, the nano-metal flaring with power, but Katarina twisted away, her agility inhuman, razor-sharp.

A dagger sliced through the air. Vi dodged—but not fast enough. The blade cut across her side, drawing blood.

Vi gritted her teeth, stumbling but refusing to fall.

Katarina saw the opening. She moved too fast, too precise. Her dagger was aimed for Vi’s heart, ready to finish it.

Then—she froze.

Her eyes locked onto Vi’s chest. The necklace. The symbol. The mark.

Katarina’s entire body stiffened, her face twisting into something between shock and horror.

“No.” Her voice barely a whisper, filled with something undeniably raw.

Vi, panting, bleeding, barely registering what just happened, watched Katarina’s expression shift saw the moment something changed.

“What?” Vi breathed, confused, her grip on her gauntlet tightening.

But before she could ask—

A sound.

Footsteps. Someone approaching.

Katarina’s gaze snapped to the side.

Caitlyn.

Without another word, Katarina disappeared.

A blur of red and steel, fading into the shadows of the forest.

Vi staggered slightly, her hand pressing to her wound, her breaths ragged, confused.

Then—Caitlyn appeared.

"Vi!" Her voice was sharp, urgent, cutting through the night like a gunshot.

Vi turned, breathing hard, blood dripping from a fresh wound on her arm, but she still grinned. "She’s not far off, I’m okay! Go!"

But Caitlyn didn’t hear her. Caitlyn didn’t care. Her world tunneled, her focus narrowing onto Vi. The way she was holding her side, the blood staining her sleeve, the tension in her stance.

Caitlyn’s voice was panicked, breathless. The second she saw Vi on the ground, she dropped to her knees beside her, hands already reaching to check her injuries.

“Are you okay?” Her voice shook, worry bleeding through every word.

Vi, still trying to make sense of what had just happened but saw the fear in Caitlyn’s eyes.

"Cait, I’m fine. I’m healing, see?"

Vi tried to sound light, reassuring, even lifting her arm to show Caitlyn how the wound was already beginning to close. But Caitlyn wasn’t looking at the wound anymore.

She was looking at her, at Vi, bloodied, bruised but still smiling.

Caitlyn let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, her entire body trembling from adrenaline and something deeper, something raw. Tears pricked at the corners of her blue eyes, but she ignored them, leaning forward in an instant, she wrapped Vi in a tight hug.

Her arms were strong and desperate. Holding all of her.

Vi barely had time to react before Caitlyn cupped her face, fingers firm, kissed her hard, overwhelming, like she was trying to anchor herself to the moment. Then she pulled back just as fast, only to bury herself against Vi’s shoulder again, her arms locking tighter, as if she never wanted to let go.

"You’re so stupid." Her voice was barely above a breath, shaky, raw, like the words had been forced out against her will.

Vi blinked, momentarily startled then melted into it. Her arms came up, wrapping around Caitlyn instinctively, holding her just as fiercely.

"Baby, I’m okay."

Caitlyn shook her head against Vi’s shoulder, a quiet, trembling exhale leaving her lips, but she didn’t move. She just held on tighter, arms locked around Vi, eyes shut. 

For a moment, there was nothing but their breathing, the cool night air, the distant echoes of the fight that had just ended.

Chapter Text

Vi sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over her face, frustration evident in the way her fingers press into her temples. She’s already dressed, shoving the last of her things into a bag—clearly ready to leave, despite the fresh bandages wrapped around her wounds.

She winces as she moves, but she shakes it off.

For all her regenerative abilities, healing has never been a consistent process. Some wounds knit together in an instant, as if they were never there. Others linger, raw and unyielding, refusing to close for days. She doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s just the way her body works. Or maybe—she thinks bitterly—it’s the universe’s way of reminding her she’s not invincible.

Her fingers graze the necklace resting against her collarbone—the same one the huntress noticed before she hesitated. The moment replays in Vi’s mind, looping over and over. She didn’t know why, but why did she?

She had worn the necklace for as long as she could remember, yet it never truly occurred to her what it meant. Her mother had given it to Vander to pass down to her, but she had always thought it was nothing more than a keepsake. And if that was the case… then what about the ring her mother had given to Powder? Did that hold meaning too?

Before she can dwell on it any longer, the door creaks open. Caitlyn steps inside, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and unreadable. Vi rolls her shoulder before she sits on the bed, watching as Caitlyn paces back and forth, biting her finger—a telltale sign of frustration.

“Cupcake, everything alright?” Vi asks, her voice light, trying to gauge the mood.

Caitlyn stops pacing but doesn’t meet her eyes. "You, um… take a rest for a day or two," she says plainly. There was no teasing nor warmth in her statement.

Vi grins, brushing her hands over the fresh bandages. "Babe, I told you, I’m fine. Come here, look." She reaches for Caitlyn’s hand, but Caitlyn pulls away.

Caitlyn exhales sharply, her jaw tightening, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

"I… I do wish you’d exercised a touch of patience next time." Her voice wavers slightly before firming. "You can’t just leap into danger simply because you assume you can handle it—you don’t even know what you’re up against!"

Vi stiffens. It’s the first time she’s heard Caitlyn speak to her like this.

Not with teasing. Not with quiet exasperation. Anger and fear laced her words.

"She’s dangerous! What made you think you could handle her alone?!" Caitlyn presses, her voice sharp with frustration.

Vi sighs, rolling her eyes, trying to brush it off. "Cupcake, come on. I can handle danger. Have you seen me—"

"Honestly, must everything be a joke to you?" Caitlyn cuts in, her tone cold, biting. "This is serious, Violet."

Vi’s smirk falters, just slightly.

"You took it upon yourself to face that huntress alone. Do you have the faintest idea how staggeringly reckless that was? She nearly killed me—a vampire, no less. Do you even realize what that means?" Caitlyn’s voice sharpens, her words cutting through Vi’s usual bravado.

"I know you fancy yourself quite formidable, but she is more than capable of dealing with you in much the same manner. And contrary to what you may believe, you are not invincible."

Her words hit Vi like bricks, heavy and unrelenting. Suddenly, the physical pain she felt earlier seemed insignificant in comparison. Silence stretched between them, thick and unmoving. Vi’s jaw tightens. She doesn’t like being talked down to—never has—but there’s an unspoken guilt in her eyes. She knows Caitlyn isn’t wrong.

“I handled it,” she mutters, but even she knows the words sound weaker than she intended.

Caitlyn’s frustration flares. “What if you didn’t?!”

Vi flinches, just slightly.

“Just because you think you have that power doesn’t mean you need to rely on it every time,” Caitlyn continued.

Vi looks away, exhaling sharply. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, tension rolling through her shoulders. The weight of Caitlyn’s words lingers between them, heavy and suffocating.

After a long beat, Vi scoffs. “Well, I guess you don’t know me as well as you think.” Her voice is quieter now, but it carries something rough, something stiff.

“Because just like I said, I can handle myself. I survived long before all this, and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” She meets Caitlyn’s gaze, steady and defiant. “I’ll do whatever it takes to stay alive for the people who need me. For the people who matter to me.”

Caitlyn inhales sharply, but when she speaks again, her voice is calmer, colder.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Caitlyn said not looking at her.

“I’ve arranged a ride for you back to Zaun. Just rest for a few days.”

“What?”

Vi scoffs, ready to argue, but Caitlyn doesn’t wait for a response. She turns and walks out before Vi can challenge her decision, leaving her sitting there, tense and defeated.

_____

Katarina stands motionless, arms crossed, her sharp eyes locked on the crates being loaded onto transport vehicles. Men move around her, barking orders, boots scuffing against the concrete. She barely hears them.

Her mind is elsewhere.

A symbol. A necklace. A ghost of a past she thought was buried.

Footsteps echo behind her—steady, measured.

She knows who it is before he even speaks.

Silco.

He stops beside her, his sharp, calculating gaze sweeping over the operation. For a long moment, he says nothing. Then, without looking at her, his voice cuts through the noise—smooth, but edged with something cold.

"Where have you been?" Silco asks.

Katarina’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t look at him. She keeps her gaze on the crates. Watching. Thinking. Silco exhales, tapping the ash from his cigarette. The embers crumble to the floor, dissolving into nothing.

"There’s been an attack. I assume you’ve heard?" His voice is smooth, but there’s something sharp beneath it. "I’m quite sure it’s the Kiramman girl."

That makes Katarina turn her head. Her expression is unreadable, but Silco doesn’t miss the slight shift in her posture, a subtle stiffness, a tell.

"I think they might have snooped around Zaun."

Katarina remains silent. Her fingers curl slightly at her sides. For the first time, Silco’s full attention shifts to her. His eyes narrow.

"Were you not there” There’s curiosity in his voice, but something more beneath it. A quiet test. Katarina meets his gaze, unreadable. Cold. Controlled. The perfect lie. "No."

She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t flinch.

And yet, Silco exhales slowly, as if weighing her words, deciding whether or not to believe her. His gaze lingers a second too long. The weight of it presses down on her, searching for cracks.

Then—he looks away.

"No matter."

He flicks his cigarette to the ground, the ember sparking briefly before it dies against the concrete.

His tone is calm, but firm. "We need to tighten security. I want you to oversee the transport of these crates before anyone else starts snooping here."

Silco’s words fade into the background, his voice distant, lost beneath the steady hum of the warehouse. Katarina drifts to the fight.

Katarina remembers the way her blades cut through flesh—deep, precise, meant to incapacitate. They should have slowed her down, forced her to stumble, to hesitate.

But she didn’t.

Vi kept moving. Kept fighting. Her wounds did its magic.

Katarina saw it with her own eyes.

The way the gashes knitted together too quickly, how the bleeding stopped before it should have, as if her body refused to obey the laws of nature. The image is burned into her mind, replaying in a relentless loop.

Her pulse quickens.

There was only one explanation for Vi’s abilities—the regeneration she had just witnessed. And yet, she wasn’t a vampire.

Katarina’s chest tightens. Her fingers twitch at her sides, then curl into fists, her nails pressing into her palms. She swallows hard, barely aware of the way her body tenses, the way her breath turns shallow.

Because there is only one bloodline capable of that. The Ashen Order.

A chill creeps down her spine, slow and insidious, coiling around her like a phantom of the past. It can’t be. She was the last. The only survivor.

The vampires wiped them all out—every last one. She saw the carnage herself, the burning ruins, the blood-streaked soil. She buried their names, carried their ghosts, wore her scars as proof of the price they paid.

She was alone. She’s always been alone.

And yet—Vi’s face flashes in her mind. That unwavering defiance. That damnable resilience. The way she fought, instinctive and fierce, like something ingrained in her very bones. It all makes sense now.

A slow, shaky breath escapes her, but her heart pounds harder against her ribs. Her gaze flickers back to the crates, but the mission no longer holds her focus.

If Vi is truly Ashen… Then she isn’t alone after all.

And everything Katarina believed about her past, about her revenge, about the very foundation of the war she’s waged within herself has just been shaken to its core.

___

The forest was alive with the whisper of the wind, weaving through towering trees and rustling the underbrush. The scent of damp earth and pine clung to the air, crisp and cold, but Caitlyn barely felt it. She stood in the clearing, rifle gripped tightly in her hands, the weight of it grounding her, steadying her. It was an old ritual—one she had perfected over the years. The rhythm of movement, the pull of the trigger, the sharp crack of a bullet slicing through silence. It was something she could control. Something that made sense.

Unlike everything else.

Her pulse pounded beneath her skin, a dull, restless beat that refused to settle. Her jaw was tight, her breath sharp. She had told herself this was just training. Just another session to keep her aim sharp, her reflexes honed. But she knew better. This wasn’t about discipline. It wasn’t about skill.

This was frustration.

This was anger.

This was everything she couldn’t say—everything she couldn’t fight.

A gust of wind stirred through the trees, catching strands of her dark blue hair, lifting them before settling them across her face. She tucked them back behind her ear, blinking through the strands as she exhaled sharply. She was dressed in her black tactical gear, fitted yet flexible, built for movement. Her rifle strap rested against her shoulder, snug against the deep navy of her jacket.

She adjusted her gloves, the leather tight against her fingers. Then, without hesitation, she moved.

She burst into motion, boots barely making a sound as she sprinted through the clearing. The targets were scattered between the trees, some closer, some barely visible in the distance.

She raised the rifle. A sharp snap echoed as the bullet tore through the air. A target shattered backward from the impact, splinters flying as the bullet carved through it.

She ducked behind a tree, pivoted, fired again.

Another shots rang out, splintering the silence as two more targets dropped in succession. She barely stopped, her body a blur, her mind locked onto the next target, the next shot.

Her heart raced. Her breath sharpened.

She reloaded without thinking, moving forward swiftly, the weight of the rifle steady in her grip.

Another target—she fired. Perfect shot.

Still, not enough.

She pushed harder, moving faster.

The ghosts of her enemies flashed through her mind—Katarina, the speed of her blades, the way she had moved like specter in the dark. Too fast. Too untouchable. Faster than she could track. Faster than she could shoot.

Her grip on the rifle tightened.

She turned sharply, her boots kicking up dust, her breath ragged. Another target appeared in the distance. Veyrin’s face appear in her mind, the darkness that surrounds him, that makes Caitlyn’s skin crawl—her rifle cracked, sharp and precise as the bullet punched through the target, leaving nothing but a jagged hole.

Another clean hit.

But something inside her still felt restless.

She was too aware of the silence between each shot, of the thoughts clawing at the edge of her mind.Her lungs burned, her heartbeat thrumming like a war drum, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. If she stopped, she would have to think.

And she wasn’t ready for that.

And there it was—the last target.

She skidded to a halt, feet planted, rifle raised. The air around her was still now, save for the lingering echoes of her last shot. This was it. The final one. She could feel her pulse hammering in her wrists, her breath coming quicker than before.

She inhaled sharply, fingers steady on the trigger.

All of a sudden there’s a flash.

Not Katarina.

Not Veyrin.

Vi.

Vi, grinning at her, the strands of rose-gold hair fell over her forehead, her eyes—soft, warm, looking at her like she was the only person in the world. Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her grip on the rifle tightening. The forest blurred. The targets disappeared.

All she saw was Vi.

And then—the vision split, shattering like glass.

Vi, on the ground. Vi, wincing, her hand clutching at an unseen wound, her chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. The warmth in her eyes was gone, replaced with pain.

A sharp crack rang out. Caitlyn’s rifle had fired—without her even realizing it.

The sharp scent of gunpowder filled her lungs. The weight of the weapon pressed heavy against her hands like an anchor, yet she felt unsteady.

A slow, disorienting drumbeat against her ribs.

When she finally snapped back to reality, her breath was uneven, her body still tense, locked in a moment she didn’t fully understand. Her gaze drifted forward. The final target stood. Caitlyn stared at it for a long moment and she didn’t move.

Then, without a word, without another glance, she slung her rifle over her back and turned away. The clearing was silent. The wind stirred through the trees, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder away.

The final target remained.

Caitlyn missed.

_____

Vi sat cross-legged on the floor, the dim light from her bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room. The old photobook rested on her lap, its worn leather cover rough under her fingers. She hadn’t touched this thing in years, hadn’t even thought about it until today.

Until the necklace.

Her thumb absently brushed over the metal resting against her collarbone, the symbol cold and unfamiliar despite the years she had worn it. She had never questioned it, never thought much about it. She scanned through the photobook, until her fingers stilled over a particular photograph.

The faded image was worn, edges curled slightly from time and handling. It was a picture of her father, standing tall, his usual half-smirk captured in the grainy print. He looked younger here, relaxed in a way she could barely remember. Her breath caught slightly as her gaze shifted, drinking in the rest of the image. Her father carried her on his shoulders, one of his large hands securing her legs while her tiny arms stretched out as if she could touch the sky. She was laughing—she could almost hear it in her head, the echo of a childhood memory she thought had long since faded.

But that wasn’t what made her stomach twist. Her mother stood beside them.

And around her mother’s neck, barely visible beneath the collar of her blouse—

The necklace.

Vi’s chest tightened.

Her gaze flickered lower, to the man standing next to her mother.

Vander.

Her mother’s best friend, the man who had raised her and Powder after everything fell apart. He stood just slightly off to the side, arms crossed, a rare grin breaking across his features. And there, inked on his right arm, was a tattoo of the same symbol.

What the hell did it mean?

Had she been wearing something important all this time without even knowing?

Her fingers instinctively clutched at the pendant around her neck, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. It was nothing, wasn’t it?

Her mother had given it to Vander. To give to her. But why had Vander marked himself with it?

Vi shut the photobook with a dull thud, pushing herself to her feet with renewed purpose. She didn’t waste time. The next morning, she was in Zaun’s largest library, scanning the endless shelves, pulling out anything that looked remotely useful.

She flipped through old records, tracing through Zaun’s history, looking for anything that matched the symbol engraved in her pendant.

Nothing.

Not a single book, not a single reference.

No clan markings, no religious emblems, no guild insignias.

The symbol on her necklace simply… didn’t exist.

Frustration built in her chest, her grip tightening around the edge of a book before she exhaled sharply, forcing herself to let go. Fine. If Zaun had nothing, then there was only one place left to go. Piltover held the largest library in all of Noctalis, an archive filled with historical records, classified texts, and ancient tomes. If anywhere held the answer to what this symbol meant, it would be there.

And Vi wasn’t leaving without it.

With one last glance at the photobook tucked into her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and made her way toward Piltover, toward the answers that had been hidden from her for too long.

She had been wearing a mystery her entire life. It was time to figure out what the hell it meant.

______

The towering spires of Piltover’s Grand Library loomed ahead; its marble facade bathed in the soft golden glow of the evening sun. The Library of Noctalis was the largest and most comprehensive archive in the entire continent, a place where history lived, preserved in ink and parchment, waiting for the right person to uncover its secrets.

Vi wasn’t the right person.

She wasn’t a scholar. She wasn’t a historian. She wasn’t like those researchers who spent their lives bent over manuscripts, obsessing over words that had long lost their meaning.

But this time, she needed answers.

Tugging the strap of her bag tighter against her shoulder, she climbed the wide stone steps leading to the entrance. The air was cooler in Piltover than in Zaun, cleaner too—something she usually resented. But today, she barely noticed.

Stepping inside, she was immediately engulfed by the scent of old parchment, polished wood, and faint traces of ink. The library’s vast interior stretched before her, towering bookshelves reaching the high-arched ceilings, their dark oak wood gleaming under the glow of enchanted lanterns.

A few scholars sat hunched over long tables, scribbling in journals or flipping through ancient tomes. The hushed silence was broken only by the faint scratching of quills, the soft rustle of pages turning, the distant footsteps of librarians navigating the endless aisles.

Vi inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly.

She wasn’t sure where to even start.

She had spent hours in Zaun’s archives, flipping through dusty records, searching for anything that bore even a resemblance to the symbol engraved on her pendant.

Nothing.

Not a single mention. Not a single match.

But if the Library of Noctalis didn’t have it either then maybe it was never recorded at all.

And that was almost worse.

Her fingers instinctively reached for the pendant resting against her collarbone, her thumb brushing over the familiar ridges of the engraving. Her mother had worn it. Vander had it inked into his skin.

And yet, she had no damn idea what it meant.

Vi clenched her jaw and pushed forward, her boots muffled against the thick carpeted floors as she strode toward the nearest bookshelf.

There had to be something.

She was barely five minutes into scanning the spines of books—most of which held names she couldn’t even pronounce, let alone understand. She was just about to give up and start blindly pulling books when a familiar voice drifted from behind her.

He gestured vaguely toward the rows of shelves surrounding them. “Of all the places I expected to see you, this was certainly not one of them.”

Vi turned, already smirking before she even saw his face.

Viktor sat at a nearby table, leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand resting over an open book, the other absently tapping a pen against the polished wood. His sharp amber eyes flickered with amusement, though the smirk curling at the edges of his mouth suggested he was thoroughly enjoying the sight of her standing among the towering bookshelves like she actually belonged there.

Vi scoffed, crossing her arms. “What makes you think I don’t read?”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head. “Oh, I am sure you read, Vi. But not about Piltover’s Linguistics, yes?” referring to the section Vi was currently looking at.

Vi rolled her eyes, grabbing the nearest book from the shelf just to prove a point. She barely glanced at the title—something about the origins of runic dialects, whatever the hell that meant—before holding it up.

“Yeah? Well, desperate times.”

Viktor’s smirk didn’t waver as he tapped his pen against the book in front of him. “Desperate times, indeed. And what is it that brings you here, then?”

Vi hesitated, fingers tightening around the book she held before she set it back in its place.

How much was she supposed to say? She didn’t want to mention the Huntress. The fight. The fact that Caitlyn sent her away. Instead, she sighed, rocking on her heels before finally shrugging.

Viktor arched an eyebrow, waiting, patient as ever.

Vi exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath. “I’m looking for something.”

“Something,” Viktor echoed, tilting his head. “That is very specific.”

Vi rolled her eyes. “A symbol.”

At that, Viktor’s curiosity sharpened. He watched as Vi reached for the chain around her neck, lifting the pendant slightly so he could see.

The flickering candlelight overhead caught on the metal, glinting off the engraved symbol—old, worn from years of touch.

Viktor leaned forward slightly, his amusement fading into genuine interest.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing in thought. He didn’t reach for it, but he studied it closely. “And you do not know its origin?”

Vi shook her head. “That’s why I’m here.”

Something flickered across Viktor’s face—a shift from casual intrigue to something more calculated. He tapped his fingers against the table.

“You may be in luck, then.”

Vi straightened. “You’ve seen it before?”

Viktor’s lips curled at the edges, that familiar, knowing smirk returning. “No.”

Vi scowled. “Then what the hell, Vik?”

He pushed back his chair, grabbing his cane as he rose to his feet. “But I know where to start.”

He turned slightly, motioning for her to follow.

Vi hesitated for only a second before she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped after him, deeper into the labyrinth of knowledge that Piltover kept locked away.

_____

Vi followed Viktor deeper into the library, winding through endless rows of bookshelves. The wooden floor creaked beneath their steps, and the warm glow of enchanted lanterns flickered overhead, casting elongated shadows across the towering bookcases.

Vi didn’t know where he was taking her. Hell, she didn’t know if he was taking her anywhere. She could never tell if Viktor was leading her somewhere specific or just taking the scenic route to amuse himself.

She shoved her hands into her pockets, her eyes flicking over the towering shelves stacked with dusty tomes, fragile scrolls, and thick, intimidating books with spines covered in golden script.

“Mind telling me where exactly we’re headed?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Viktor smirked but didn’t look back at her. “You are quite impatient.”

“I don’t do well with places like this, Vik. I’m not exactly—” She gestured vaguely at the books around her. “Scholar material.”

Viktor hummed in amusement. “Yes, I gathered that much.”

Vi huffed, rolling her eyes. “And what’s your excuse? You don’t look like you’re working on any great experiment right now.”

At that, Viktor’s smirk softened, his gaze flicking toward the ceiling as if considering something. “Ah, well. I find myself with more time to spare than usual.”

Vi arched a brow. “You? Time to spare? That’s new.”

Viktor sighed, leaning slightly on his cane as they walked. “Jayce has been rather… preoccupied with council duties as of late. Endless meetings. Endless discussions. He hardly has time to work in the lab anymore.”

Vi didn’t miss the faint trace of boredom and frustration in his voice. “Let me guess,” she mused, “He’s drowning in politics, and now you’re stuck here, lurking around the library with nothing better to do?”

Viktor chuckled, the sound dry but amused. “It is as you say. Without Jayce’s usual antics to keep me entertained, I am left to wander the city in search of distractions.”

Vi smirked. “And here I thought I was the only one looking for trouble today.”

Viktor tapped his cane against the floor. “Trouble is subjective.”

Vi snorted. “That’s what people say right before they get arrested.”

Viktor didn’t even miss a beat. “Then it is fortunate I have you to set an example for what not to do.”

Vi rolled her eyes, but a small grin tugged at her lips.

Eventually, Viktor led her to a secluded section of the library, where the bookshelves grew narrower and the air seemed heavier, thick with dust and the weight of forgotten history.

Vi slowed her steps, taking in the change in atmosphere. It was quieter here. Older. The wooden shelves looked like they hadn’t been touched in decades, the books stacked haphazardly, some of them nearly falling apart.

“This place looks like it hasn’t seen daylight in a century,” Vi muttered, brushing a layer of dust off the nearest book.

Viktor smirked, his fingers gliding along the spines of the books with practiced ease. “Precisely why we are here.”

Vi frowned, glancing around. “You’re saying whatever I’m looking for is buried back here?”

“It is possible.” Viktor reached for a book, pulling it from the shelf and inspecting the faded lettering on the cover. “Libraries are meticulous in what they choose to preserve. But sometimes, information that is inconvenient, dangerous, or simply forgotten is pushed into the shadows.”

Vi exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Right. So I’m looking for something nobody thought was important enough to keep front and center.”

“Or,” Viktor mused, flipping through the pages of the book in his hands, “something they did not want anyone to find.”

That made Vi pause.

Her fingers brushed over the pendant resting against her collarbone, the symbol cold against her skin. Her father had worn this. Her mother had worn it. Vander had it tattooed on his arm.

But it was like it didn’t exist.

She exhaled slowly. “Where do we start?”

Viktor glanced at her, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity. “We start by looking for the things people wanted to forget.”

And with that, he handed her a book and pulled another from the shelf, the search for answers beginning in the silence of the forgotten archives.

Vi pulled a thick, dust-covered book from the shelf, flipping it open with little care for its fragile state. The pages were stiff, yellowed with age, and smelled like they hadn’t been touched in decades.

She sighed. “This is gonna take forever, isn’t it?”

Viktor, already settled with a book of his own, hummed in amusement. “Welcome to research, my dear. It is not quite as thrilling as punching your problems in the face, I imagine.”

Vi smirked. “You’d be surprised how much you can learn from punching.”

Viktor chuckled but didn’t press the point. Instead, his fingers tapped lightly against the book’s spine as he flipped a page, his tone turning thoughtful.

“By the way,” he mused, not looking up. “Your sister has been quite impressive as of late.”

Vi’s hands stilled over the pages of her own book. Her gaze flicked toward him, brows raising slightly.

Viktor continued, still absorbed in his reading. “Powder, I mean. Her work at Talis Industries is exceptional. Jayce would never admit it, but I suspect he is more than a little intimidated by her intellect.”

A slow grin crept onto Vi’s face. “Yeah?”

“Mm.” Viktor finally glanced up, a knowing glint in his eyes. “She is sharp. Unorthodox, perhaps, but brilliant nonetheless.”

Vi leaned back slightly, arms crossed over her chest. “You don’t say.”

She tried to play it cool, but the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

Powder had always been a genius—Vi had known that since they were kids. But hearing it from someone like Viktor, someone who actually understood what that kind of brilliance meant?

Yeah. She felt that.

A quiet pride swelled in her chest, settling beneath her ribs like something solid and real.

She exhaled, shaking her head. “I guess it runs in the family.”

Viktor smirked. “Ah, yes. Of course. Genius and recklessness—a perfect combination.”

Vi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned her focus back to the book in front of her, her fingers absently tapping against its pages.

Powder had made something of herself and that meant everything for her.

And for the first time in days, Vi felt lighter.

_____

Vi had already sifted through countless books, most of which were useless—historical records, political essays, things she couldn’t care less about.

She was about to give up when she heard Viktor’s voice—calm, but laced with something unreadable.

“Vi.”

She glanced up from the book she had been skimming, catching the way Viktor’s gaze had sharpened, his fingers brushing over the spine of an old, unassuming book.

It was smaller than the rest, the edges frayed, its dark leather worn smooth from time. Unlike the other books, it had no elaborate title, no golden filigree decorating the surface. Just a single engraving, subtle, almost easy to miss—the same symbol.

Vi’s breath caught as she stepped closer, heart pounding as she recognized the same emblem etched onto her pendant. The same one her mother wore. The same one Vander had tattooed on his arm.

Viktor’s fingers traced the engraving along the spine before he turned the book over, revealing the faded lettering on its cover.

"The Fallen Order."

Viktor, ever composed, let out a quiet hum, tilting his head as if assessing the book’s worth. Then, without looking at her, he smirked. “Looks like you owe me a drink.”

Vi barely heard him.

Her throat felt tight, her pulse loud in her ears as she stared at the emblem engraved into the spine.

This was it.

She exhaled sharply, ignoring the dryness in her mouth. "Open it."

Viktor didn’t hesitate. With careful precision, he thumbed through the delicate pages, each one filled with ink that had long since faded but remained legible beneath the dim light.

Vi leaned over the table, her pulse hammering in her ears.

She didn’t know what she was expecting—but the moment Viktor started reading, she knew.

This wasn’t just a book. It was the answer to everything.

____

Vi took a slow sip of her drink, the burn trailing down her throat, grounding her. Across from her, Viktor swirled his own glass, watching the amber liquid dance before taking a measured sip. Vi gave in to Viktor, and she took him to the same bar she had brought Caitlyn.

Between them, on the battered wooden table, lay the old book—The Fallen Order. Its fragile pages, now protected in a leather wrap Viktor had provided, remained untouched for the moment.

They had spent hours in the library, poring over its contents, deciphering what little they could. But the book was old—older than either of them could have imagined. The language shifted between readable text and runes that neither of them fully understood.

Viktor exhaled through his nose, setting his drink down with a quiet thud.

“I can help you translate the runes,” he admitted, tilting his head as he regarded her. “But beyond that… this is something you may need to figure out on your own.”

Vi rolled the glass between her fingers, staring at the way the candlelight reflected off its surface.

“Yeah. Figures.”

Viktor smirked. “Do not sound so disappointed. The thrill of discovery is half the journey, no?”

Vi huffed, taking another sip. “Sure, if you’re a history nerd like you.”

Viktor chuckled, tapping his fingers against the table. “You wound me, Vi.”

His gaze flickered over her, assessing with a sharp, knowing glint. His smirk widened, “Though, I must say… you are not in your usual uniform tonight. And, more curiously—” he took another sip, drawing out the pause for dramatic effect, “—you seem to be without your beautiful companion. The Commander.”

Vi nearly choked on her drink.

She set the glass down a little too hard, wiping the corner of her mouth with her thumb as she shot him a glare. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Viktor lifted a shoulder, mock innocence dripping from every movement. “What? I merely ask out of curiosity.”

Vi leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, smirk curling at her lips. “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to Caitlyn.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “No, but I do pay attention to you.”

That actually caught Vi off guard for a second. Viktor took advantage of her pause, propping his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand. “So, tell me. Why are you drinking here with me and not with your dear Commander?”

Vi exhaled slowly, tilting her head as she studied her drink.

Caitlyn.

A flash of dark blue hair, piercing eyes, the way her brows furrowed when she was pissed at Vi for doing something reckless. The way her lips parted slightly when she was thinking. The way—

Vi shut the thought down before it could go any further.

She tapped her fingers against her glass before shrugging. “Cait’s busy.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not really.

Viktor hummed, unconvinced. “Ah, I see. And you are here because…?”

Vi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before muttering, “Because I pissed her off. So she benched me.”

Viktor’s smirk returned. “Ah, there it is.”

Vi groaned.

Viktor lifted his hands in surrender, amusement still dancing in his golden eyes. “If there’s something you should have learned by now, it’s not to mess with her.”

Vi exhaled, shaking her head as a smirk tugged at her lips. "Yeah, you're right."

Viktor merely sipped his drink in response, looking far too pleased with himself.

For a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable silence, the pub’s atmosphere filling the space between them. The hum of distant conversations, the occasional clink of glasses, the faint strumming of a lute in the far corner.

The whiskey had loosened Vi’s tongue more than she realized. She had started talking about Caitlyn without even meaning to.

At first, it had just been a casual mention—something about how the Commander had been on her case lately. But one comment led to another, and suddenly she was blabbering about her, completely unprompted. Viktor, ever perceptive, just leaned back in his chair, the smirk on his face growing more amused by the second.

Vi didn’t even notice—not at first.

She was too busy talking. Talking about how Caitlyn’s aim was ridiculous, how she never missed a shot, how she could shut Vi up with just one look and how she calls Caitlyn cupcake.

How she fussed over her wounds, how she was too stubborn for her own good, how she looked ridiculously cute when she was flustered—

Vi abruptly shut up, blinking. Viktor’s smirk deepened. “Do go on.”

Vi groaned, rubbing her hand down her face. “Oh, shut up.”

Viktor chuckled, swirling his drink lazily. “Fascinating, truly. I have never seen you speak so… animatedly about someone before.”

Vi pointed at him. “You’re dangerously close to getting punched.”

Viktor just chuckled, but before he could make another remark, his gaze flickered over Vi’s shoulder.

Something in his expression shifted. Something more amused.

“Cupcake?”

Vi blinked, frowning. “Huh?”

Viktor’s smirk grew sharper. “You call her that, do you not?”

Vi tensed slightly, sitting up. “Yeah? So what?” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell her I told you, though.”

Viktor’s smirk didn’t fade. “No, Vi.” He lifted his glass slightly before nodding toward the entrance. “Your Cupcake is here.”

“The Commander.”

Vi turned her head just in time to see Caitlyn standing near the entrance, talking to another officer.

For a second Vi didn’t move, she just watched. The way Caitlyn’s expression was softer than usual, the way she let out a rare laugh at something the officer said. The way she stood, focused but at ease—discussing something serious, yet not weighed down by it. The officer leaned in slightly, speaking low, as if sharing something important.

Vi felt a strange sensation crawl under her skin.

Viktor, ever the observer, caught the subtle shift in Vi’s expression immediately.

Vi set her glass down. “We should go.”

Viktor lifted a brow but didn’t argue. He simply downed the rest of his drink, exhaling slowly before pushing back his chair. “As you wish.”

As they walked toward the exit, they had no choice but to pass right by Caitlyn.

Viktor, ever polite, inclined his head slightly. “Commander.”

Caitlyn’s smile was polite but fleeting until her gaze shifted slightly and caught Viktor following Vi. She stiffened.

“Vi?”

Her voice wasn’t commanding. It wasn’t even questioning. It was just there. Something about the way she said it made Vi hesitate for half a second.

But she didn’t stop walking.

Caitlyn took half a step forward, as if instinctively moving to close the space.

“What are you doing here?”

Vi finally stopped, though her shoulders remained stiff, her back still half-turned toward Caitlyn.

She glanced sideways, her smirk already in place, but her eyes didn’t quite match it.

“Hanging out with my best pal, Viktor.” Her tone was light, sarcastic, throwing the words like a shield. Like she wasn’t standing inches away from someone who could see right through her.

Her gaze flickered just slightly to the officer standing beside Caitlyn.

Something in her jaw ticked.

Caitlyn barely noticed. Or maybe she did, but she pretended not to.

She cleared her throat. “Oh, this is Officer Lincoln.” A short nod toward him. “He’s come across some interesting information about a suspicious warehouse. I’m looking into it now to see if it connects to what we discussed.”

Vi didn’t react. Not really.

She barely spared the officer a glance. Just kept her hands in her pockets and exhaled slowly through her nose. Then, with a half-smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes, she said, “Yeah, well. Good for you.”

Caitlyn’s stomach tightened.

Vi shifted her weight, then turned fully away as she added,

“Don’t wanna stop you now, Commander.”

Caitlyn stiffened.

The word—Commander.

Vi had called her that before, but not like this.

Not like she was just another officer in her way. Vi had called her that when she teased her. When she whispered it against her lips in the morning, soft and lazy, before pulling her back into bed.

Vi had walked past her, pushing open the door and stepping out into the cool night air.

Viktor, ever the spectator, lingered for a beat longer. He glanced at Caitlyn, then at Vi’s retreating form, a knowing glint in his golden eyes.

With a final nod towards Caitlyn, he followed after Vi, leaving the Commander standing there, jaw tightening watching Vi walk away.

____

The bedside lamp cast flickering shadows across the mess of books and papers sprawled around Vi’s room. It had been days since she started reading The Fallen Order, and the more she uncovered, the less she seemed to understand.

The Ashen Order.

The name itself carried weight—a bloodline of supernatural hunters, their existence so dangerous, so feared, that they had been erased from history. Their records weren’t preserved; they were buried, forgotten by time or forcibly removed from existence.

And yet…

Here she was, reading about them in the dead of night, feeling their weight in her very bones.

Vi sat cross-legged on the bed, one hand gripping the fragile edge of a page as she read through the faded ink. Her eyes scanned the passage, words pressing into her skull like whispers from the past.

“The Ashen Order was unlike any other. A lineage passed not by choice, but by blood. Unlike ordinary hunters, they did not rely solely on weapons or tactics. Their bodies were their greatest strength—their instincts, their abilities. Some were faster than even the quickest vampire. Some were strong enough to match them in battle. Some could track prey across entire continents by scent alone.”

Vi swallowed, flipping the page. The parchment felt thin, fragile, like it could crumble beneath her fingers.

“Their abilities were never identical. No two were ever the same. Some were born with heightened reflexes, their bodies adapting to movement before their minds could catch up. Others had regenerative abilities that defied natural laws—wounds closing within minutes, broken bones resetting in hours. Some carried a different gift entirely, an intuition so sharp they could sense danger before it even arrived.”

Vi’s fingers tightened around the book. Was this the answer to her question? Is she one of them?

Vi flipped through the brittle pages, her eyes catching on another section

“The Ashen bloodline is unlike any ordinary inheritance. It does not pass to every child born of its lineage, nor does it follow a predictable pattern. It is recessive, lying dormant in many while awakening in only a chosen few. Some are born as ordinary humans, carrying nothing more than the name of their ancestors. Others, however, inherit the legacy in full—abilities that manifest without warning, instincts that sharpen as if something ancient stirs within them. The blood of the Ashen does not always manifest at birth. Many who carry it live their lives unaware, their abilities lying dormant, untouched. But there are moments—specific conditions—that can awaken what has been hidden within.”

This was what had been running through her veins all along, what had awakened the night Caitlyn bit her.

She inhaled sharply, flipping to another passage.

“The blood of the Ashen is unlike any other. When consumed by a vampire, its effects vary. For some, it is a death sentence—poison in its purest form. But for others, it is power.”

Vi stilled.

Her breath came slower now, measured, as she continued to read.

“There are those who, upon drinking the blood of the Ashen, find their abilities magnified beyond reason. Their strength, their speed, their senses enhanced beyond their natural limits. It is temporary. But for those few moments, they are unstoppable.”

Her stomach twisted.

And then—before she could stop it—

A flash of blue. Caitlyn.

The memory crashed into her like a wave.

That night. The forest. The air thick with tension. The way Caitlyn’s breath had come ragged, her pupils blown wide, her lips ghosting over Vi’s skin before sinking in.

The moment it happened. The sting, the pull—something else.

Something Vi hadn’t understood at the time. The way Caitlyn had stiffened. The way her grip on Vi had tightened. The way her entire body had gone still, as if caught in a storm she wasn’t prepared for.

Vi remembered the change within her that came after that. Vi exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. She sat there, staring at the open book in front of her, but she wasn’t reading anymore.

But then her mind was elsewhere.

Caitlyn’s eyes, burning into her. The warmth of her breath. The weight of her name on Caitlyn’s lips. Vi clenched her jaw and snapped the book shut.

She threw it onto the nightstand beside her, rubbing at her temples before flopping back onto the bed. The room was too quiet, too empty. She turned onto her side, trying to push the thoughts away. Trying to ignore the way her body ached for something that wasn’t there.

She knew she should sleep.

But even as she closed her eyes, she already knew what she’d dream of.

Blue eyes. The press of lips against her skin. Caitlyn.

It was always Caitlyn.

____

The night was too quiet.

Caitlyn lay still, staring at the ceiling, her breaths slow and even but her mind was anything but quiet. Sleep had long since evaded her, leaving her trapped in the heavy stillness of her own bedroom. She turned onto her side, then onto her back, then onto her side again, shifting restlessly as if trying to chase the comfort that had once been here. But it was wrong.

The sheets felt too cold, too empty. The space beside her stretched too wide.

She sighed, a quiet, frustrated breath, before finally blinking her eyes open. Her gaze drifted without purpose until it landed on the nightstand beside her bed.

And then she saw them.

Vi’s gloves.

The breath caught in Caitlyn’s throat. They sat there, fingers curled slightly inward, the leather still worn from use, still shaped by Vi’s hands. A careless thing Vi must have forgotten the last time she was here.

Caitlyn swallowed, something small and sharp tightening in her chest.

The memories came all at once. Vi, stretched out across her bed, arms folded behind her head, smirking up at her.

"Your bed's comfier than mine, Cupcake."

"Vi, you have a bed."

"Yeah, but I like yours better."

The way Vi would always make herself at home, claiming the space like she belonged there. The way she would pull Caitlyn close without asking, burying her face into her neck, murmuring half-asleep nonsense in that low, tired voice.

The nights when Caitlyn had reached for her first, not even thinking about it.

When Vi’s powder-blue eyes softened in the dim glow of the lamps, looking at her like she was something precious, something Vi would never let slip away. When Caitlyn would trace old scars with gentle fingers, following their patterns over bare skin, listening to the steady hum of Vi’s breathing against her.

When Vi would tangle their legs together, arms wrapped tight around her waist, as if holding Caitlyn close was the only way she could sleep.

Caitlyn curled her fingers into the sheets, exhaling shakily.

She shouldn’t have let herself remember.

Because now, she missed her.

Gods, she missed her.

The ache in her chest deepened, spreading through her like an old wound reopening. She reached out—hesitant, slow—and let her fingertips brush against the leather of Vi’s gloves. They were soft, but firm, still warm from the way they had been folded.

They still smelled like her.

Oil, leather and mint. A hint of something warm, something familiar.

A lump formed in Caitlyn’s throat as she gently lifted one, tracing its seams, her fingers resting where Vi’s once had.

How many times had those hands held her? Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear? Brushed over her skin like she was something Vi couldn’t quite believe was real?

She clenched her jaw, closing her eyes, her grip tightening around the gloves. She turned onto her side, curling into herself slightly, bringing them closer than she wanted to admit.

And there, in the loneliness of her own room, wrapped in nothing but the memory of what once was—

She finally admitted it. She misses her.

_____

The cafeteria at Talis Industries hummed with life. The scent of coffee, metal, and fresh bread filled the air, blending with the murmur of engineers discussing schematics, enforcers on break, and the occasional bursts of laughter from researchers swapping stories.

Caitlyn sat at a table near the window, her posture straight, her focus sharp. She wasn’t alone because Jayce had been going on for at least ten minutes about some new rifle upgrade, rattling off specs and enhancements that were supposed to make her aim even deadlier.

She should be listening.

She wasn’t.

Because at that moment, something shifted in the air.

A sound—a presence she knew better than her own heartbeat.

A familiar set of footsteps, confident, a little heavy, like their owner walked with the certainty of someone who never doubted their place in a room.

Caitlyn didn’t turn.

She didn’t have to. It was Vi.

Her presence was undeniable, pressing into Caitlyn’s awareness before she even had time to process why her stomach suddenly felt tight.

A second voice infiltrated her senses.

Lighter. Bright. Close.

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened slightly around her coffee cup.

She heard everything.

The teasing lilt of a voice that wasn’t Vi’s. The way Vi huffed a laugh, something warm, familiar.

The subtle brush of fabric against fabric—like an arm linked through another.

She knew she shouldn’t care. She knew it didn’t mean anything.

But still she didn’t turn.

She simply kept staring at her cup, willing herself to stay focused on Jayce’s voice, which was now nothing more than white noise.

___

Vi barely registered Viktor’s smirk before cutting straight to the point. “Hey Vik, where’s Powder?”

Viktor lifted a brow, sipping his tea lazily. “Already done with me?”

Vi grinned. “Don’t take it too hard, pal.”

Viktor sighed, shaking his head. “Your love is fleeting.”

Vi snorted, brushing him off. “Yeah, yeah—so, where is she?”

Right on cue—

“VI!”

A familiar voice rang through the cafeteria just before a blur of blue hair barreled into her. Vi barely had time to brace herself before Powder crashed into her, arms tight around her waist in an exaggerated hug.

“Whoa—Powder—” Vi staggered back a step, laughing, steadying them both as Powder pulled back, grinning up at her.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off getting into trouble?”

Vi smirked. “Nice to see you too.”

Before she could say more, Powder’s gaze flicked past her, and suddenly, her grin widened. “Oh shit, Lux! You’re actually here!”

Lux, already rocking on her heels, beamed. “Of course I am! What, you think I wouldn’t visit my favorite little menace?”

Powder snorted before yanking Lux into a tight hug, pulling her in with a level of enthusiasm only Powder could manage. Vi grinned at the scene, watching as Powder dramatically slung an arm over Lux’s shoulder like they were co-conspirators in some grand scheme.

“Alright, you two,” Powder declared, already turning toward the exit. “I’m giving you a grand tour of my latest projects.”

Lux’s eyes lit up instantly. “Yes! Wait—do I get to see the workshop?”

“You get to see everything.”

Before Vi could even respond, Powder was already dragging them both along, her grip tight, determined. Vi barely had time to glance back at Viktor, who looked far too amused, before she was being pulled away.

“See ya later, nerds!” Powder called over her shoulder, her laughter fading into the hallway.

And just like that, they were gone.

Caitlyn hadn’t looked. Hadn’t turned. Hadn’t acknowledged Vi’s presence at all. But she heard it—the laughter, the easy warmth in Vi’s voice, the carefree energy she hadn’t seen in days. It was impossible to ignore, threading through the hum of the cafeteria like a sound meant only for her, pressing against her ribs, curling into something tight and unwanted inside her chest.

She wasn’t watching. She wasn’t listening. She wasn’t paying attention.

Except she was.

Her grip on the spoon tightened, fingers curling around the metal until she felt it give, bending beneath the force she hadn’t realized she was exerting. Jayce was still talking, his voice droning on about recoil, about modifications that should have mattered, but Caitlyn wasn’t hearing him anymore. Her mind had blurred everything else into static because Vi had just left.

Just like that—gone.

And Caitlyn had stayed behind.

With Jayce.

With Viktor.

With the weight of something she refused to name.

A sharp creak pulled her back to reality. Viktor’s gaze flicked downward, and Caitlyn followed his line of sight just as he smirked. The spoon in her hand was now bent completely out of shape.

He tilted his head, voice laced with amusement. "Cait, oh my god. Are you even listening to this conversation?"

The words came out too fast, too sharp. "I am not!"

Jayce blinked, frowning in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, forcing herself to loosen her grip, forcing herself to smooth over the moment, to push it down, to pretend none of this had mattered.

To act as if she hadn’t been listening to Vi the entire time.

She straightened, brushing off the moment with practiced ease, ignoring the way Viktor’s knowing smirk deepened.

____

The hallway stretched before them, the courtyard visible through the arched glass windows lining the corridor. The hum of Talis Industries’ late-night operations filled the air, distant conversations blending with the occasional click of enforcer boots against polished stone.

Caitlyn walked with measured steps, keeping pace with Jayce and Viktor as they discussed—well, Jayce discussed. Viktor, on the other hand, seemed distracted.

Caitlyn didn’t think much of it—until he spoke.

“So, Caitlyn,” Viktor began, his voice carrying an unmistakable note of amusement. “What’s your stance on cupcakes?”

Caitlyn blinked, taken aback. "Cupcakes?"

Jayce, walking beside them, gave Viktor a confused look. “Why the hell do you care about Caitlyn’s dessert preferences?”

Viktor simply shrugged, entirely too entertained. “Just curious.”

Caitlyn frowned, giving him a long, scrutinizing stare. The question itself wasn’t strange, but coming from Viktor—it felt oddly deliberate.

Cupcakes.

The word rolled through her mind, settling somewhere too familiar.

Something about it nagged at her.

And then, it clicked. Vi called her that. Every damn time.

The way she muttered it under her breath, teasing, smug. The way she grinned every time Caitlyn rolled her eyes. The way it had become something entirely Vi’s—something Caitlyn never questioned, never minded.

Her breath caught.

Her gaze snapped to Viktor, sharp, narrowing in suspicion. "Wait—how do you know—?”

Before she could finish—

“Oh, speaking of cupcakes,” Jayce cut in, seemingly oblivious to Caitlyn’s entire train of thought. “I heard Powder’s been researching some cupcake recipes for her sister.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched.

Viktor, beside her, let out the softest chuckle.

Caitlyn had never wanted to throw something at both of them more.

And just when she was about to say something, anything—

A tremor ripped through the floor beneath them. A split second later, a thunderous explosion ruptured the air, tearing through the upper floors like a shockwave. The force of it sent a blast of heat rolling down the corridor, a violent gust that rattled the windows and sent dust cascading from the ceiling.

Then—the shatter.

Glass rained down as the windows above fractured under the force, alarms wailing through the building as smoke billowed outward, curling thick and dark into the night. For a moment, there was nothing but the ringing in their ears, the weight of the explosion pressing into their chests.

Then—chaos.

Caitlyn was already in motion, grabbing for her rifle, posture rigid with urgency.

Jayce swore under his breath, his eyes snapping upward. “What the hell was that!?” Viktor exhaled, adjusting his cane with a sigh. “Well, that certainly ended the conversation.”

Caitlyn turned on her heel, bolting toward the smoke.

_____

Caitlyn sprinted through the smoke-filled corridor, rifle strapped to her back, her boots echoing against the marble floor. The stench of burning metal and blood was thick in the air, suffocating, clinging to her skin like a warning.

She had already called for backup, her voice clipped and urgent through the comms, but she knew she couldn’t wait. Whatever was happening up here—she had to face it now.

Turning a corner, she halted abruptly.

Bodies. Lifeless. Scattered. Twisted.

Some were slumped against walls, others lay sprawled across the floor, their uniforms still bearing the emblem of Talis Industries. The scent of fresh blood mixed with the acrid burn of chemicals in the air. The bodies weren’t just dead—they had been torn apart.

At that moment, she saw it—the thing standing in the middle of the wreckage.

It was once a man. That much was clear. The remnants of his Talis uniform hung in shreds across his hulking frame, his ID badge barely dangling from his torn collar. But his veins—pulsing, thick, unnatural and it glowed with a sickening purple hue. His body had expanded grotesquely, muscles bulging, skin stretched too tightly over a monstrous form.

Shimmer.

Caitlyn knew it instantly. She didn’t need confirmation, didn’t need to analyze the signs—she had seen what the drug could do. And this? This was worse than anything she had encountered before.

The creature let out a guttural snarl, his head snapping toward her, his bloodshot eyes locking onto her like prey.

He moved towards Caitlyn, the ground cracked beneath his weight as he lunged, and Caitlyn was already in motion.

She sidestepped, fast as a shadow, narrowly avoiding the massive fist that shattered the wall where she had just been. The impact sent debris flying, stone crumbling like sand. She didn’t stop.

In a blur, Caitlyn ducked low, pivoted, her leg sweeping out in a precise arc. The kick landed against his knee, forcing it to buckle slightly—but not enough. He was too big. Too strong.

Not yet.

She needed to wear him down first.

Caitlyn sprang backward, drawing her rifle—not to shoot, but to use it as a lever, swinging the butt against the creature’s jaw with a sickening crack. He reeled, but only for a second.

He roared and hurled with frightening speed, he grabbed the end of the rifle and yanked. Caitlyn stumbled forward, forced off balance—and that’s when he struck.

A massive hand closed around her throat.

Caitlyn gasped as her feet left the ground, her body lifted effortlessly into the air.

His grip was unrelenting, crushing. She clawed at his wrist, trying to pry herself free, but his strength was inhuman. The edges of her vision darkened.

Her rifle—she had to get to her rifle—

But her fingers barely brushed the strap before his grip tightened.

Caitlyn choked.

____

Vi was already bolting down the hallway, pushing past fleeing workers and enforcers as her heartbeat slammed in her ears. She reached Jayce and Viktor, their faces illuminated by the flickering emergency lights.

"Where's Caitlyn?" she demanded, her voice sharp, borderline panicked.

Jayce barely had time to respond. "She went up—back up is coming, but—"

Vi didn’t wait.

She was already running. Taking the stairs three at a time, Vi pushed through the thick smoke, her breath burning in her lungs. The air was dense, thick with the acrid scent of fire, metal, and something worse—blood.

She barely registered the shattered glass crunching beneath her boots, barely noticed the distant screams or the alarms blaring through the walls. Her mind focused on one thing. She assessed the surroundings in a single sweep, taking in the destruction, the collapsed beams, the flickering emergency lights.

But none of it mattered. She saw her—Caitlyn.

Struggling.

Her body dangled off the ground, feet kicking uselessly in the air. A massive hand was wrapped around her throat, squeezing, lifting her effortlessly like she weighed nothing at all.

The monster—because it wasn’t a man anymore, not really—was hulking, grotesque, his veins bulging with sickly purple light, his frame stretched beyond human limits. His muscles tensed as he tightened his grip, Caitlyn’s fingers clawing weakly at his wrist.

Her face was pale, her lips slightly parted as she gasped for breath. Vi’s stomach plummeted.

No. No. No.

And in that moment, something snapped inside Vi.

She didn’t think. She just moved.

With a burst of speed, Vi launched herself forward, bare fists driving into the creature’s ribs. The impact was like a cannon blast. A shockwave of force rippled through his body, the impact reverberating down the corridor. The creature staggered, his grip faltering just enough for Caitlyn to drop. She hit the floor, coughing, choking, one hand bracing against the ground as she sucked in air.

Vi was at her side in an instant.

"Are you alright?" Vi’s voice was sharp, urgent, filled with something close to panic.

Caitlyn didn’t answer at first—just exhaled shakily, a small nod, her fingers still trembling slightly.

But Vi barely had time to feel relief before the monster snarled.

He was recovering.

And he was angry.

___

The creature charged, but this time, they were ready.

Vi glanced at Caitlyn. One nod.

That was all they needed.

Caitlyn vanished in a blur, moving faster than the eye could track, darting around the creature’s massive swings, her movements precise, lethal. She leaped onto his back, an arm locking around his throat, using her momentum to throw his balance off.

Vi took her opening.

A devastating right hook to the ribs.

The impact sent quakes undulating through the air, the sound of breaking bone deafening in the corridor. The monster roared in agony, stumbling back. Caitlyn twisted, kicking off his shoulders, flipping backward mid-air before landing in a perfect crouch beside Vi.

The two of them stood together, shoulder to shoulder.

The monster charged again, its movements wild, erratic, fueled by pure rage. But Vi and Caitlyn didn’t flinch. They didn’t hesitate.

They moved as one.

Caitlyn darted low, fast, unpredictable, her fists striking with precision—nerve points, weak spots, anywhere that would weaken his balance. She wasn’t just fast—she was efficient, merciless.

Vi went high, brutal, relentless. Every punch she threw cracked like thunder, carrying the full force of her strength, sending shockwaves through the creature’s already faltering form.

Blow after blow.

Attack after attack. They overwhelmed him.

Their synergy was flawless, effortless.

Like they had done this a hundred times before.

Like they were meant to fight together.

The battle crashed through the hall, shattering walls and sending debris flying, until the monster, desperate and enraged, stumbled back out into the courtyard. Gasps rang out from the gathered crowd. Engineers, enforcers, and onlookers stood frozen, watching as the battle unfolded before them. Jayce and Viktor were somewhere in the distance, their eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

But Vi and Caitlyn didn’t register any of it.

Because in the next instant— The monster grabbed Vi. His massive hands clamped down on her shoulders, and before she could wrench herself free, he lifted her clear off the ground and slammed her into the pavement.

Vi gasped—sharp, pained. Her vision swam as she felt the cold, hard impact reverberate through her ribs.

Caitlyn didn’t think.

Didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t wait.

Her rifle was in her hands before she even realized she had moved.

One shot.

The bullet sliced through the air, precise, a single whisper of death. It hit just below the temple, tearing through enhanced flesh. A second passed too agonizing, before the beast staggered mid-motion, a choked gurgle escaping its throat.

Vi barely had time to react before the creature’s body collapsed, falling forward with a sickening thud. Its weight slammed against the ground, sending up a cloud of dust and bloodied debris.

Silent. Still. Dead.

The courtyard was eerily quiet. Caitlyn’s heart pounded. Her grip on the rifle was still tight, her breath unsteady. She turned just as Vi, still on the ground, let out a low, pained chuckle.

“Damn, Cupcake. Took you long enough.”

Caitlyn exhaled, her arms shaking slightly, but she lowered her rifle and offered Vi a hand. Vi took it, grinning even through the wince.

The fight was over.

_____

Vi sat on the edge of the examination table, arms crossed, expression tense.  Across from her, the medic sighed, exasperated.

“You need to be checked.”

Vi waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine.”

And she was, mostly.

The wounds she had sustained during the fight were already gone, sealed up within minutes like they had never been there at all. Her body had already stitched itself back together, muscle and skin knitting seamlessly.

Except for one.

Her hand flexed involuntarily, feeling the slight sting of the wound on her side—the only one that still hadn’t closed. The only one that still ached, slow and stubborn. The wound the Huntress had given her over a week ago. She didn’t know why it was different. Why it lingered when the others didn’t.

But she sure as hell wasn’t about to let the medic inspect it too closely.

“You took quite a hit.” The medic frowned, adjusting their gloves. “If you’re healing this quickly, I still need to—”

The door swung open.

Caitlyn.

She stood in the doorway, her uniform disheveled, the tension in her shoulders making it clear she had stormed her way here without hesitation. Her eyes flicked to Vi, scanning her quickly, before settling on the medic.

“Leave us.” Her voice was sharp, curt.

The medic hesitated, looking between the two of them before letting out a tired sigh. “Fine. But don’t come running to me if something reopens.” With that, they gathered their equipment and stepped out, closing the door behind them.

The door clicked shut, leaving only the quiet hum of the clinic’s machines between them.

Vi exhaled, shoulders relaxing as she tilted her head back against the wall, watching Caitlyn step forward. Slow, deliberate. There was something in her expression—not anger. Not frustration. Something softer.

Vi sat up slightly, watching her carefully. “If you’re here to lecture me again—”

“I’m sorry.”

The words stopped Vi mid-sentence. She blinked, surprised. Straightened slightly. Caitlyn’s eyes were on her now, not sharp, not demanding, but open. Her expression was unsteady and vulnerable.

Vi tilted her head, brow furrowing. “For what?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her lips parting as if she wasn’t quite sure how to phrase what she wanted to say. Then, her composure cracked, just a little.

“I just…” she exhaled, voice quieter now, something raw creeping in.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides before she slowly unclenched them. “I’m just… You’re just—”

She shook her head, looking away for a brief moment, as if collecting herself. When she met Vi’s gaze again, her mask had slipped completely.

“I’m scared, alright?”

Vi froze.

Caitlyn swallowed hard, something shaky, uncertain in her breath as she stepped even closer. "I don't want you getting hurt." Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper, and it made Vi’s chest tighten.

“Every time you run off like that—every time I see you throwing yourself into danger, it feels like the very air is stolen from my lungs. Like I’m watching something slip away beyond my reach, and all I can do is stand there, helpless.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, frustration and fear bleeding into every syllable. "And I’m not like this. I don’t lose. I don’t let things slip away from me. But you—"

She stopped, exhaling sharply, her gaze flickering.

Vi didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Because for the first time, she wasn’t sure what to say. Caitlyn’s expression softened, but only slightly, only enough for Vi to see the weight of her words.

“You’re you… You’re relentless, you’re stubborn, you do what you please, and—”

Vi tilted her head, her voice low, testing. “You can’t deal with that…”

"No." Caitlyn took a step forward, her eyes burning into Vi’s. "That’s the thing."

Caitlyn exhaled, releasing a breath, locking into Vi’s gaze, “I want the chaos. I don’t want quiet. I don’t want simple. I want you. Every reckless, maddening piece of you.

“Because only with you—” she drew a breath, shaking her head, as though the truth of it was too overwhelming to put into words.  “Only with you, I feel so alive.”

Vi stilled.

Because this wasn’t Caitlyn, the commander. This wasn’t Caitlyn, the enforcer.

This was just Caitlyn. The woman standing before her, shoulders tense, gaze heavy with emotions Vi hadn’t quite let herself believe she deserved.

“You almost died.” Caitlyn whispered, voice trembling now. "And I—"

She stopped, inhaled sharply.

Vi swallowed. Her instinct was to deflect. To tease. To reassure her.

But she couldn’t. Not when Caitlyn was looking at her like that. Like losing her would be something unbearable.

Slowly, Vi reached out, fingers brushing against Caitlyn’s wrist. It was gentle, approaching.

"Hey," Vi said, softer now. "I'm here, aren’t I?"

Caitlyn let out a shaky breath. Her hand turned, palm up, grasping Vi’s fingers as if testing if she was really there.

She was.

Caitlyn took a slow, deliberate step forward, then another, until she was standing between Vi’s legs. Vi watched her closely, her expression softer than usual, something warm flickering behind those sharp, mischievous eyes. But she didn’t say anything—she just lifted a hand, fingers grazing along Caitlyn’s jaw, and cupping her face gently. A quiet inhale.

Caitlyn leaned into the touch, her lashes fluttering as she let herself sink into the warmth of Vi’s palm.

“I... I missed you.” The words came out unsteady, nearly breaking at the edges.

Vi swallowed, thumb brushing lightly over Caitlyn’s lower lip. A simple touch—barely there, but enough. Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. She kissed it. A slow press of her lips against Vi’s thumb, warm and fleeting.

Before Vi could react, Caitlyn's fingers curled against the base of Vi’s skull, her grip firm, certain.

And then she pulled her in. The kiss wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was slow, drawn out, filled with something far deeper than need.

It was missing.

It was longing.

It was every unspoken word, every breath held too tightly, every moment they had spent apart but thought of nothing but each other.

Vi melted into it, her hands sliding down to Caitlyn’s waist, anchoring her there. She felt the warmth of her, the shape of her body pressed between her legs, the way Caitlyn fit against her like she belonged there.

Because she did.

Vi’s hands tightened, one moving up Caitlyn’s back, fingers pressing into fabric, into skin, into everything she didn’t want to let go of. Caitlyn’s lips were soft, deliberate, brushing over Vi’s with an intimacy that stole the breath straight from her lungs. She kissed her like she needed her. Like she had spent every second apart from her aching for this.

Vi deepened it, one hand sliding to the back of Caitlyn’s neck, fingers tangling in her hair, tipping her head just enough to claim more of her.

And Caitlyn let her.

She let herself be kissed, be wanted, be held.

She let herself need Vi as much as Vi needed her.

Time blurred.

The world outside didn’t matter.

It was just them.

Lips brushing, breaths mingling, hands exploring like they were relearning each other, like they were memorizing this moment. Caitlyn sighed against her mouth, a quiet, longing sound that sent a shiver down Vi’s spine.

She pulled back just slightly, enough to hover, enough to meet Vi’s gaze—

And in that moment, everything was written there. Vi was grinning—lazy, completely and utterly lovestruck, “I missed you too”.

The door swung open.

“Vi, I—Caitlyn? What the hell—”

Jayce’s exasperated voice cut through the moment like a blade.

Caitlyn jerked slightly, blinking as if she had just been yanked back to reality. Slowly, she stepped away from Vi, putting just enough space between them to look composed but not enough to completely erase what had just happened. Her cheeks were flushed, the lingering warmth of Vi’s touch still burning against her skin.

Vi, on the other hand, looked completely unbothered.

In fact—she was grinning.

Jayce’s gaze flicked between them, his arms crossing tightly over his chest. "I’ll appreciate it if you two don’t mess around in here."

Before Caitlyn could even find a way to respond, another voice chimed in—smug, amused, and absolutely enjoying every second of this.

“Oh, don’t mind me. This is highly entertaining.” Viktor stood in the doorway beside Jayce, sipping his tea lazily, his golden eyes filled with quiet mischief.

“EWWWE—Sis, what the fuck?!” Powder’s voice rang through the room, making Vi groan.

Caitlyn turned just in time to see Powder standing there with Lux, both of them staring at them like they had just walked in on something horrific. Lux, on the other hand, was smiling, ear to ear.

Powder, arms crossed, head shaking, made a dramatic gagging motion.

"Great, they're back together. Fantastic. Amazing." she deadpanned.

Then, with mock enthusiasm, she gave a slow, sarcastic clap. “Can’t wait for the sequel where they ruin yet another piece of furniture.”

Jayce made a disgusted face, brows furrowing in genuine horror. “What the hell? I don’t even want to know that.”

Vi snickered, clearly enjoying how thoroughly disturbed he looked.

Caitlyn, ever composed, ever the professional, straightened her uniform and cleared her throat.

"I'm going to check on the forensic reports," she announced smoothly, as if she hadn’t just been caught in Vi’s arms. "I’ll see you all around."

Vi grinned, tilting her head as she watched Caitlyn slip effortlessly back into commander mode, as if she hadn’t just kissed Vi like she needed her more than air.

Powder let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands in the air. “Yeah, yeah, run away. Pretend this didn’t happen. But I’ll remember, Caitlyn. I’ll always remember.”

Viktor, sipping his tea with the air of someone thoroughly entertained, chuckled. “A truly masterful deflection.”

Caitlyn shot them one last look, unreadable but unmistakably exasperated, before briskly turning on her heel and walking out.

_____

They barely made it up the steps.

Their hands were everywhere—grasping, pulling, clutching at fabric like they needed to feel every inch of each other. Vi’s jacket was already halfway off her shoulders, Caitlyn’s hands roaming beneath her shirt, nails dragging lightly along warm skin.

Their kisses were hungry, urgent, fueled by a week’s worth of separation, of longing neither of them had wanted to admit out loud. Vi pressed Caitlyn against the wall just inside the entrance, grinning against her lips when Caitlyn let out a breathless laugh.

“Missed me that much, huh?” Vi murmured between kisses. Caitlyn only hummed in response, grabbing Vi’s face and pulling her back in, her teeth scraping against Vi’s bottom lip, demanding, needy.

Vi groaned, losing herself in the heat of it, hands gripping Caitlyn’s hips, pressing her flush against her. Caitlyn gasped into her mouth, her nails digging into Vi’s shoulders, needing to hold onto something onto her. Vi kept pushing, pumping against Caitlyn, slow then firmer.

And fuck, Caitlyn could feel everything. It wasn’t just Vi’s body—it was the taut muscle of her abdomen, the way it flexed, moved with every precise grind against her. It was her belt, stiff leather pressing right into the heat between Caitlyn’s thighs, the metal buckle digging in slightly, adding just the right kind of pressure.

"Ahhh—Vi," Caitlyn gasped, her head tilting back against the wall, completely lost in it.

Vi grinned against her jaw, hearing the way Caitlyn’s voice broke.

But then—Caitlyn suddenly pulled away, breathless, eyes flickering around the dimly lit corridor.

“Shh.” She whispered, lifting a finger to Vi’s lips.

Vi blinked, dazed. "Shh?"

Caitlyn’s gaze darted around the entrance hall, listening for movement, for any sign of her mother or any of the staff.

Vi snorted, trying not to laugh, still trapped between Caitlyn and the wall. “Oh, babe, you think I’m the loud one?”

Caitlyn shot her a look. “Vi—"

Before she could finish, Vi grabbed her wrist, pulling her close again, kissing her slow and deep—effectively shutting her up. Caitlyn let out a quiet whimper against Vi’s lips, gripping her collar as she kissed her back, harder, more desperate.

Vi felt the earnestness,  Caitlyn’s hands grasping hers, tugging, leading her through the estate, both of them moving clumsily, stumbling as they tried to kiss and walk at the same time.

Vi laughed against Caitlyn’s lips. “Babe, I can’t—walk—if you’re kissing me—” Caitlyn only hummed in response, her grip on Vi’s wrist tightening, dragging her down the hallway, barely breaking the kiss.

They hit a door hard.

Vi barely had time to process it before Caitlyn shoved it open, pushing Vi inside with her. Vi stumbled backward, laughing, her hands blindly reaching for Caitlyn as she was pressed against the door. Caitlyn followed, her lips already back on Vi’s, her breath hot, heavy, consuming.

Vi smirked against her mouth. “Ooh, where are we?” Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just kissed her deeper, hungrier, her hands already undoing the first button of Vi’s shirt.

Vi chuckled, tilting her head back slightly, letting Caitlyn nip at her neck, enjoying how eager she was. Caitlyn’s fingers fumbled against Vi’s belt, quick, impatient, shuffling at the buckle like she couldn’t get it off fast enough.

Her breath was ragged, shallow, her body still pinned between Vi and door but she wasn’t backing down—she was pulling Vi in closer, tugging at the leather strap, desperate to get rid of it. Vi groaned, feeling Caitlyn’s urgency, the way she was all heat and need against her, her hands restless, hungry.

Caitlyn’s fingers tugged hard at the belt—too hard.

The buckle clinked loudly, and Vi let out a breathless laugh, her forehead dropping against Caitlyn’s for a second.

"Cait—Shit, you’re so impatient"

Caitlyn barely acknowledged the tease, her breath coming in soft, warm pants against Vi’s lips.

Then her hands slowed, just for a second, and she finally looked around.

It was not her bedroom.

“Babe,” Vi chuckled, her voice rough, amused. “This isn’t your bedroom.” Caitlyn blinked, breath still uneven, her fingers still hooked in Vi’s belt loops. Then, she smirked. She leaned in, nipping softly at Vi’s bottom lip, her voice sultry, teasing.

“No, it’s not.” It was her study. She pulled Vi forward, stumbling together toward the desk behind them.

Vi barely had time to process what was happening before Caitlyn was pushing her down onto it but before Vi landed on the desk she flipped them, moving on pure instinct.

Caitlyn gasped, a breathless "Ah" escaping her lips as her back hit the wood. Papers, pens, a forgotten datapad—everything scattered to the floor in a chaotic mess.

Neither of them cared.

Caitlyn was already reaching for Vi, pulling her down, capturing her mouth again, hungry, desperate. Vi groaned, her hands moving faster now, working at the buttons of Caitlyn’s uniform, pushing the fabric aside, revealing soft, pale skin. She sucked in a sharp breath at the sight—Caitlyn, laid out beneath her, her bra barely concealing how perfect she was.

Fuck.

Vi felt her pulse thudding in her ears, her mouth already aching to taste her.

But before she could move, Caitlyn’s fingers ghosted over her side.

Vi didn’t noticed at first, too lost in the way Caitlyn was looking at her—flushed, lips swollen, eyes dark with need but Caitlyn’s touch lingered.

Her fingertips traced gently, softly, over the bandage on Vi’s side.

The moment shifted. Caitlyn’s expression changed, still filled with desire, but now something deeper settled into her features.

Vi swallowed.

She knew that look. Concern. Worry. The kind Caitlyn tried to mask but never could when it came to her.

"Hey," Vi whispered, catching Caitlyn’s hand in her own, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Caitlyn’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, uncertainty flickering beneath the heat of the moment.

Vi held her gaze, serious, steady.

"I'm okay."

Caitlyn exhaled softly, her fingers still resting over the bandage, like she needed to reassure herself. Vi smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind Caitlyn’s ear, brushing her lips lightly against her forehead.

“I’m right here.”

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened on Vi’s wrist, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something,

But then Vi kissed her again. And this time it wasn’t just hungry, it was deep. Slow. Reassuring. Vi poured everything into it. Every silent promise, every unspoken reassurance that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Caitlyn let out a quiet, breathy sound against Vi’s lips, her grip tightening, pulling Vi closer. The warmth returned, the need reigniting, but there was something else there now—something raw, something full of love.

Vi smiled against her mouth, pressing their foreheads together. “Where were we?”

Caitlyn was done waiting.

She exhaled shakily, barely holding onto her restraint, her fingers gripping Vi’s shoulders as she moved. Then she slid down, pressing herself against Vi’s thigh, rolling her hips, chasing friction.

Vi groaned.

The heat between them was unbearable now, their bodies perfectly slotted together, Caitlyn’s soft, desperate movements making Vi’s head spin.

"Caitlyn…" Vi whispered, gripping Caitlyn’s hips, steadying her, helping her.

Caitlyn moaned, eyes fluttering shut, lost in the sensation, in the way Vi’s thigh felt between her legs. Vi could feel how wet she was, how desperate, how completely undone she was becoming.

So fucking beautiful.

Vi tightened her grip on Caitlyn’s waist, lifting her thigh slightly, pressing it harder against her. Caitlyn let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into Vi’s arms. She kept moving, rolling, grinding, taking what she needed, her breath coming in quick, uneven pants.

Vi watched her, completely entranced.

Then Caitlyn reached for Vi’s face, pulling her into a kiss, deep and messy, full of need. Vi groaned against her lips, feeling Caitlyn’s moans spill into her mouth as she moved faster, pressing herself down harder, her body trembling.

Their eyes locked intense, heated, like the world had narrowed down to just this moment, just them. Caitlyn tilted her head back, her pleasure growing too overwhelming, her body reacting on pure nature. Her lips parted, a soft, wrecked moan slipping out, her neck arching, exposing herself completely.

Vi immediately grabbed the back of her head, pulling her forward again, their foreheads nearly touching.

"Baby, look at me."

Caitlyn whimpered, barely able to keep her eyes open, but she obeyed, meeting Vi’s gaze again.

Vi’s lips curled into the softest smirk, her fingers tightening slightly against Caitlyn’s scalp.

"That's it, babe. Stay with me."

Vi could barely breathe, barely think. Caitlyn was grinding down on her, desperate, her wetness soaking into Vi’s thigh, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Vi watched her completely entranced.

The way Caitlyn’s brows furrowed in pleasure, the way her lips parted, how her whole body trembled with every roll of her hips.  Vi tightened her grip on Caitlyn’s waist, lifting her thigh slightly, pressing it harder against her. Caitlyn let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into Vi’s arms.

Vi slid one hand between them. Caitlyn froze, her breath stuttering, her grip tightening on Vi’s arms.

"Wait… fuck."

She barely had time to process it before—Vi tore her underwear straight down the middle.

Caitlyn gasped with pure pleasure. “Yes—”

Vi’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk, her fingers already slipping between Caitlyn’s thighs, finding the mess she had made.

"Shit" Vi murmured, voice low, rough. "You're soaked.”

Then she pressed a single finger against Caitlyn’s swollen, aching clit. Caitlyn let out a sharp, helpless moan, her knees nearly giving out. “Fuck…” Caitlyn choked out the words, her hips jerking, her head falling against Vi’s shoulder.

Vi groaned, feeling just how wet she was, how completely wrecked she already was.

She pressed slow, tight circles against Caitlyn’s clit, teasing, making her whimper, making her squirm. "That’s it, baby," Vi whispered, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s ear. Caitlyn continued to grind down on Vi’s thigh.  Caitlyn moaned, her body trembling, her hands clutching at Vi’s back.

Vi smirked, pulling Caitlyn’s face up, forcing their eyes to meet. Caitlyn struggled, her pleasure growing too intense, her eyelids heavy.

Vi pressed her fingers harder against her clit, slow and precise. Caitlyn’s thighs clenched around Vi, her whole-body tightening.

"Baby, I can’t—"

Then she pressed her thumb against Caitlyn’s clit and flicked it just right. Caitlyn let out a sharp, helpless moan, her entire body arching, her nails raking down Vi’s back. Her breath hitched, stuttering, her walls fluttering, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.

Vi held her through it, murmuring soft, filthy praises against her lips.

"That’s it, you’re so perfect." Vi whispering to her ear.

Caitlyn shuddered, whimpering against Vi’s mouth, her body going completely weak. Vi grinned, steadying her, kissing her temple.

Caitlyn kissed her languidly, still feeling Vi’s thigh clenching beneath her. “I’ve missed you, you have no idea”

Vi kissed her cheek. They barely had the time to recover before strong hands gripped Caitlyn’s thighs, lifting her effortlessly, spreading her open against the desk.

Caitlyn gasped, her back arching, her fingers clutching at the wood beneath her as Vi knelt between her legs.

"Yes—"

Vi smirked, dragging her lips up Caitlyn’s inner thigh, warm, teasing. Her breath was hot, deliberate against Caitlyn’s already soaked, swollen heat.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Caitlyn whimpered, her head rolling back, her chest heaving. Vi licked a slow, devastating stripe up Caitlyn’s slit, letting her tongue press against her sensitive clit just right. Caitlyn let out a choked, desperate moan, her thighs vibrating.

Vi groaned, completely undone by how Caitlyn tasted, how she reacted, how her whole body responded so perfectly to her. Every moan, every tremble, every desperate roll of Caitlyn’s hips against her mouth—Vi wanted it all.

Caitlyn reached for the clasp of her bra, her movements frantic, feverish. She unhooked it, letting the lace fall away, tossing it somewhere neither of them cared to look. Vi barely had time to admire the sight before Caitlyn arched, cupping her own breasts, kneading them, her back arching off the desk.

"Baby—yes”

Vi moaned against her, the vibration sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through Caitlyn’s body.

Caitlyn’s other hand shot down, burying into Vi’s hair, gripping tight. She pressed Vi down harder against her core, whimpering when Vi growled in response, her tongue moving with even more urgency. Caitlyn was losing herself completely, her fingers tightening, then lifting Vi slightly—only to pull her back in, again and again, controlling the rhythm.

Vi let her let Caitlyn take what she needed, let her hips move with every flick of her tongue, with every press of her lips against her swollen clit. Vi steadied her grip, gripping Caitlyn’s thighs tighter, keeping her open.  Her tongue worked deep, slow at first then faster, fucking into Caitlyn with unrelenting precision.

Caitlyn let out a shaky, wrecked cry, her body tensing, her thighs trembling.

"Yes—yes—yes—so good"

Vi groaned, lapping her up greedily, flicking her tongue just the way she knew would ruin her.

She could feel Caitlyn’s stomach tightening, her breath breaking into short, desperate gasps.

She was close. So fucking close.

Vi didn’t stop.

Didn’t let up.

"You’re so wet for me," Vi murmured against her. Then she slid two fingers inside her. Caitlyn felt long, thick fingers stretching her. Caitlyn’s body seized, her back arching off the desk, her mouth opening in a silent scream. Vi curled her fingers, pumping slow, deep, her tongue never stopping its relentless assault on Caitlyn’s clit.

Caitlyn sobbed out a moan, her body twitching, her hands pulling at Vi’s hair as she completely lost herself. Caitlyn wasn’t even fully coherent anymore, just gasping, crying out, moaning with every calculated thrust, every flick of Vi’s tongue.

Her entire body was on fire, overstimulated, on the edge of something far stronger than before.

Vi felt it, felt the way Caitlyn’s thighs tensed, the way her walls fluttered around her fingers, desperate, begging for release.

She smirked, pulling back just enough to whisper—

"Come for me, Cait” Vi said as she sucked Caitlyn’s clit into her mouth, hard, and that was it.

Caitlyn screamed, her whole body convulsing, her thighs clamping around Vi’s head as she shattered. The pleasure hit so hard, so fast, she swore she saw stars, her mind going completely blank, her breath stolen from her.

Vi didn’t stop.

She worked Caitlyn through it, lapping up everything, taking everything, letting Caitlyn ride the high until she had nothing left to give. Caitlyn slumped back against the desk, completely boneless, her limbs weak, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.

Vi finally pulled away, wiping her mouth, grinning like she had just won the fucking lottery.

She looked up at Caitlyn—flushed, wrecked, still trembling but smiling.

_____

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, golden rays stretching across the study’s wooden floor, illuminating the mess they had made—clothes scattered, books haphazardly knocked over, their bodies still tangled together where they had collapsed.

Caitlyn stirred first.

She was warm, comfortably sore, her body still humming with the remnants of the night before. But it wasn’t just the aftermath of pleasure that made her feel this way—it was Vi.

Vi’s arm was draped lazily around her waist, her face buried in Caitlyn’s shoulder, her breath slow, even. Caitlyn listened to it for a moment, to the steady rise and fall of Vi’s chest, to the heartbeat that had become her anchor. A soft smile touched Caitlyn’s lips as she turned, brushing stray strands of red from Vi’s forehead.

She hadn’t even realized just how much she had missed this. Vi shifted, stirring slightly at the touch, her lashes fluttering before tired, sleepy violet eyes blinked open.

Vi squinted, groggy, her voice rough from sleep, "Mm… we overslept?"

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at her, taking her in, the way the morning light caught in Vi’s tousled hair, the sleepiness in ash blue eyes, the warmth of her arm draped over Caitlyn’s waist like she belonged there. She traced slow, lazy patterns along Vi’s arm, her expression softer than it had ever been.

Then, quietly—so quietly Vi almost didn’t catch it— she murmured,

"Spend the rest of your days with me."

Vi blinked, the last traces of sleep vanishing instantly. She searched Caitlyn’s gaze, realizing she wasn’t joking, that this wasn’t pillow talk, wasn’t something casual.

Caitlyn meant it.

Vi’s breath caught, her chest tightening with something overwhelming, something bigger than she knew what to do with.

Caitlyn’s lips parted, as if she was about to say more, but Vi beat her to it. She lifted a hand, tucking a strand of Caitlyn’s blue hair behind her ear, letting her fingertips linger against her cheek. She smiled, basking in the beauty before her. Caitlyn was so, so beautiful.

"I know you can't love me for the rest of my days," Caitlyn whispered, her voice steady, but her eyes glistening. "But I will love you for the rest of mine."

Vi’s stomach twisted, her throat going tight.

Those words hit her like no other—the sweetness of them, the weight of them, yet the ache of the reality beneath them.

Because Caitlyn was immortal. And she wasn’t.

But Caitlyn was surrendering her heart to her anyway—a promise not just of love, but of devotion, of something Vi knew Caitlyn didn’t give away easily.

Caitlyn had chosen her.

Even knowing that Vi would eventually be gone. Even knowing there would be a day when Caitlyn would wake up alone. Still, she chose her.

Vi exhaled slowly, lifting Caitlyn’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary.

Then, softly, like a vow Vi whispered—"To this lifetime and the next." Caitlyn nodding, understanding the weight of Vi’s words. Vi not letting this to be a tragic reality.

Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly, her breath shaky, but when she opened them, all she saw was Vi.

Alive. Here.

She leaned in, capturing Vi’s lips in a slow, tender kiss one that held every unspoken promise, every quiet devotion.

Vi smiled against her lips, resting her forehead against Caitlyn’s.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Hi guys, please read my other new work. "The Heiress Paradox" . hope you're enjoying a romantic day today! Happy Valentines!

https://archiveofourown.to/works/63056905/chapters/161488660

Chapter Text

Jayce delivers his report, leaning against Caitlyn’s desk with a troubled expression. He explains that the attacker, Elias Karr, was a regular Talis Industries employee before the incident. By all official records, he had no history of aggression or erratic behavior.

However, Jayce reveals that Karr had been the target of repeated harassment from his colleagues—the very same ones who ended up dead during the attack. There were multiple complaints on record about workplace bullying, but nothing had escalated beyond verbal disputes and minor altercations. No one saw him as a threat.

Jayce, arms crossed, hesitates before adding, “For now, this looks like an isolated case. A tragedy, but not necessarily part of a larger attack.”

He implies that Karr might have snapped due to personal reasons, not because of an orchestrated plan.

Caitlyn, flipping through the toxicology report, shakes her head, her expression tightening. She counters, her voice firm, “I’m afraid it’s rather more complicated than that.”

She sets the report down on her desk and slides a finger over the highlighted results. “Shimmer didn’t simply materialize in Karr’s system overnight. It has been building up for weeks, perhaps even longer. This isn’t the result of a single dose, nor is it a recent indulgence.”

Her eyes flicker over the pages, searching for deeper implications, for something they might have missed. She exhales slowly, organizing her thoughts.

"He didn’t just ‘snap,’" she continues, more certain now. "He was breaking for a long time. This was inevitable."

Jayce frowns, arms crossed as he processes her words. “Yes, but the physical transformation wasn’t really obvious,” he counters. “He didn’t seem to be out of the ordinary, based on what I’ve heard.”

Caitlyn tilts her head slightly, considering his point. “That’s exactly what concerns me.”

She taps a line in the report, voice thoughtful yet edged with urgency. "Shimmer affects everyone differently, but we've mostly dealt with cases where users go through rapid, violent physical changes. If Karr had been taking it for weeks and still looked... normal, then that means—"

She exhales, eyes darkening. "We don’t know how many more like him are out there. People using, functioning, blending in until something triggers the unavoidable."

Jayce falls silent, his frown deepening. A heavy realization settles between them.

"And worse," Caitlyn murmurs, staring at the report as if it might reveal more secrets, "what if some never break at all?"

That thought lingers in the room a chilling implication. If Shimmer has different thresholds for different people, it could mean some users are out there right now, functioning, unnoticed… until it’s too late.

A familiar scent—rich, dark coffee suddenly drifts into Caitlyn’s office before Vi appears at her side, setting a steaming cup on the desk.

"Figured you'd need this," Vi mutters, her tone casual but the gesture unspokenly thoughtful.

Caitlyn glances up briefly, then back down at the report, the corners of her lips barely twitching upward. "You're learning."

"I’m always learning, Cupcake," Vi quips, leaning in slightly to glance over Caitlyn’s shoulder. She scans the report, her brows knitting together.

"I’ll take a copy to Powder," she says after a beat, tapping the page lightly. "See if she can find anything you missed."

Caitlyn rolls her eyes. "I don’t miss things."

Vi, standing just behind her, hums, unconvinced. "Mmm."

She doesn’t argue, but the smug tilt of her lips says plenty. She lingers a second longer than necessary, gaze flicking between Caitlyn and the document in her hands, before finally grabbing the file and striding toward the door.

Just as she reaches it, Vi glances at Jayce and smirks."Hey there, pretty boy. Sorry, didn’t get you one." She gestures to Caitlyn’s untouched coffee on the desk.

Jayce rolls his eyes, but there’s an amused glint in them as he waves her off. "Shame. I’ll try to recover from the heartbreak."

Vi gives a lazy salute before disappearing down the hall. Caitlyn’s gaze lingers on her retreating form, her fingers unconsciously resting against the warm ceramic of the coffee cup, a smile slightly tugging her lips.  She doesn’t realize she’s still watching not until Jayce clears his throat, smirking.

"So… you and Vi, huh?"

Caitlyn blinks, quickly shifting her attention back to her desk. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Jayce chuckles, leaning back against the doorframe. "Right. And I suppose you weren’t just making heart eyes at her a second ago?"

Caitlyn gives him a pointed look, but the small smile tugging at her lips betrays her.

Jayce, still grinning, pushes off the doorframe and waves a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry, I’ll let you live in denial a little longer."

He shifts gears, tone turning more serious. "I’ll keep looking into this on my end. Powder and Viktor might be able to develop a faster way to detect Shimmer in the bloodstream. If Karr was using for as long as the tox report suggests, we need a way to catch it early before someone else snaps."

Caitlyn nods, absorbing his words.

Jayce turns to leave, but pauses at the door, glancing back.

"I like this version of you, Cait."

Caitlyn looks up, momentarily caught off guard. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Jayce just grins. "You seem… lighter."

And with that, he exits, leaving Caitlyn sitting there, coffee in hand, a thoughtful expression lingering on her face.

_____

Shadows stretch long against the worn concrete walls of Silco’s underground facility, the low whirr of machinery filling the silence. Flickering industrial lights cast long, shifting shadows across the walls, illuminating just enough to make the unknown feel closer.

Silco sits comfortably behind a scarred wooden desk, the scent of oil, metal, and cigar smoke hanging thick in the air. His fingers idly drum against the armrest of his chair, his single good eye studying the man who stands just beyond the reach of the dim, golden glow.

He is faceless in the darkness, but his presence is impossible to ignore.

Silco exhales a slow, deliberate breath of smoke, his gaze sharp despite the casual lean of his posture. He has made deals before, but this one feels different.

More calculated. More dangerous.

"A man with ambition," Silco muses, shifting forward slightly. His lips curl into something resembling a smirk, though there is no amusement in his voice. "I admire that. But admiration doesn’t buy loyalty. And loyalty is the only currency that matters to me."

The shadowed figure does not react, does not flinch. His voice is smooth, almost measured in its control.

"You'll have what you’re owed," he replies, the weight of certainty behind his words. "And when the time comes, you’ll find yourself on the right side of history."

Silco leans back, considering. History.

It is a fickle thing, written and rewritten by those with the power to shape it. He takes another long, thoughtful drag of his cigar, letting the silence stretch before responding.

"History is written by the ones who survive it," he murmurs, tapping off the ashes into a tray. His voice is quieter now, almost thoughtful. "I just hope you’re prepared to play your part."

For the first time, the man moves. He steps forward, just enough for the dim light to graze the edge of his sharp jawline but no further. His crimson eyes cut through the darkness, glowing with quiet authority. Cold. Unyielding. Calculating.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Don't worry," he says smoothly, almost amused. "You’ll be on my side when it happens."

The words hang between them, heavy with implication.

And just like that, he turns his presence vanishing as quickly as it arrived, swallowed by the waiting shadows.

Silco watches the space where he once stood, his expression unreadable, his fingers pressing lightly against the edge of the desk.

Then, without a sound, a figure high above shifts in the rafters, unseen. Katarina watches. She learned everything they have discussed.  Her fingers curl instinctively around the hilt of her blade, her breath slow and controlled.

"So that’s your game," she whispers under her breath, her expression illegible.

Without a sound, she disappears into the darkness.

This meeting was never truly private. And now, the game has changed.

____

Caitlyn sat at her desk, her fountain pen gliding smoothly across parchment as she meticulously documented the latest findings on the Shimmer case. The warm glow of the desk lamp cast soft shadows over the papers, the room otherwise quiet until the door creaked open.

Vi strode in, looking a little disheveled, a little restless. She wasn’t wearing her gauntlets, which was rare, and the slight furrow in her brow told Caitlyn she was overthinking something.

Caitlyn barely looked up, used to Vi’s restless energy filling her space. But then, instead of her usual sarcasm, Vi did something unexpected.

She started pacing. Back and forth. Aimless. Like she had something to say but couldn’t quite land on how to say it.

Caitlyn finally lifted her gaze, arching a brow. "Vi, what are you doing?"

Vi stopped mid-step, then blurted out, “What color are you wearing?”

Caitlyn blinked. That was not what she had expected. “What?”

Vi ran a hand through her messy hair, shifting awkwardly. "Tonight. The Gala. What color are you wearing?"

There was a beat of silence, then Caitlyn’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. She laughed softly, setting her pen down. “Is this what’s keeping you on edge?”

Vi scoffed, crossing her arms. “No.” Then, after a pause, “Maybe.”

Caitlyn shook her head in amusement. “A hint of blue, as always.”

Vi relaxed just slightly.

Caitlyn, still watching her with a quiet fondness, leaned back in her chair, tilting her head, “It’s a trivial matter, truly. Wear whatever you want.”

Vi shifted her weight, nodding like that answer should have been obvious. But she still didn’t look entirely convinced. “Right. Yeah. Okay,” she muttered. Then, like it was an afterthought, “I’ll just… ask Powder what to wear.”

That made Caitlyn finally put her pen down. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into her chair, her sharp eyes studying Vi with an amused, knowing expression.

Vi, catching the look, frowned. “What?”

Caitlyn smiled. "Nothing. you’re simply far too adorable for this.”

Vi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fully hide the blush creeping up her neck. “Shut up.”

Caitlyn chuckled, standing up and closing the distance between them. She placed her hands around Vi’s neck, fingers playing lightly with the hairs at the nape.

"You'll be fine," she murmured, voice low and soothing. "It’s just like the Ravensworth party, but better."

She nudged her nose against Vi’s, then pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Vi sighed into it, briefly forgetting whatever was making her nervous until reality snapped back.

She pulled back suddenly, groaning. “No! don’t distract me.”

Caitlyn laughed again, mischief twinkling in her blue eyes.

"Darling, it’s fine. I already got you something to wear."

Vi narrowed her eyes. "You did?"

Caitlyn smirked. "Of course."

Caitlyn let her fingers glide down Vi’s arms, feeling the warmth beneath her fingertips. The tension lingering in Vi’s stance had softened just a little.

"There’ll be plenty of time for choices later," she murmured, her voice smooth and teasing. She leaned in again, her breath warm against Vi’s lips.

"At present, however…" her voice dropped lower, playful, inviting. "Let me distract you a little longer."

Vi froze for a half-second, considering the offer. And then, with zero warning, she pulled back entirely.

"Nope—actually, I’m gonna get a haircut."

Caitlyn blinked. "What?"

Vi grinned, kissing her once more quick, playful, barely enough. When she pulled away, her smirk was lopsided, her expression entirely too pleased with herself. "See you later, Cupcake."

And with that, she turned, striding for the door with that effortless confidence Caitlyn had grown to adore.

Caitlyn just stood there, watching her go, shaking her head with a quiet, knowing smile.

___

The Kiramman Estate stood at the heart of Ashwynd, an architectural masterpiece bathed in moonlight, its towering spires and intricate ironwork casting long, dramatic shadows across the marble courtyard.  Velvet curtains in deep burgundy framed tall glass windows, where the night sky stretched endlessly beyond. Servants moved seamlessly through the crowd, offering glasses of bloodwine and exotic spirits. Conversations hummed in hushed, aristocratic tones, laughter drifting like music above the melodies of the live orchestra. The noble vampire families were in full attendance, each guest dressed in their finest, their movements graceful, their presence exuding wealth and power.

Then there was Vi.

She adjusted the cuffs of her tailored black suit, the deep red accents along the lapels catching the light as she tugged them into place. The fabric was sleek, form-fitting, emphasizing the sharp angles of her frame while maintaining an effortless edge of rugged charm. Her hair had been trimmed slightly shorter, a subtle yet noticeable change, giving her a more clean-cut, polished look.

And yet, despite looking the part, she still muttered under her breath, her voice low enough for only Caitlyn to hear.

"Am I the only human at this party?"

Caitlyn, standing beside her, glanced at Vi with a smirk, amusement glinting in her blue eyes.

“Don’t be silly” she mused, but her teasing was overshadowed by her own striking presence.

“So we're also working tonight, right?" Vi asked, voice low as they entered the main hall.

Caitlyn, walking beside her with practiced grace, gave her an unreadable look before a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Yes, of course. We can never be too sure with these parties," she said, her voice even. "As Head of Security, it's my job to make sure everything stays in order."

Vi grunted in agreement, subtly adjusting her stance. "Good. I brought my gauntlets—just in case."

Caitlyn’s smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. "Just don’t go breaking any priceless heirlooms this time."

Vi huffed, shaking her head. "No promises."

She glanced at Caitlyn, and for the first time that evening, she really took her in. The way her dark red gown hugged her frame, the fabric rich and velvet-soft. How the deep crimson of the bodice gradually faded into an inky midnight blue toward the bottom, like the sky bleeding into the ocean. Specks of gold embroidery shimmered at the neckline, twinkling like scattered stars. Her hair was swept back in elegant waves, allowing the soft glow of the chandeliers to illuminate the sharp angles of her face, her eyes impossibly blue under the candlelight.

She looked every bit the noble she was born to be and Vi couldn’t stop looking at her.

Vi’s eyes slowly dragged up and down Caitlyn’s figure, her smirk faltering just slightly before she cleared her throat and looked away, pretending she hadn’t just had a moment.

Before Caitlyn could call her out on it, the atmosphere shifted. A ripple of attention spread through the crowd as two new arrivals stepped through the gilded entrance.

Jayce Talis and Seraphine Corvinus.

Jayce was also dressed as extravagantly as expected, draped in a black and gold suit, tailored to perfection. The sharp gold embroidery along the lapels caught the candlelight as he moved, emphasizing the unmistakable air of self-assured confidence he carried. His presence was loud without him needing to say a word. He walked like he belonged, like he was born to stand beside nobility. And tonight, in a way, he was.

Beside him, Seraphine Corvinus was a vision of refinement.

Her gown—a masterpiece of deep red and shimmering silver accents—moved like flowing silk, the fabric catching the light with every step she took. The intricate silver embroidery at the waistline resembled the wings of a bird mid-flight, a subtle nod to her Corvinus heritage. Her hair was half-pinned in elegant waves, a single delicate chain of silver resting against her collarbone.

Unlike Jayce, whose presence naturally drew attention, Seraphine exuded quiet power. Where others flaunted their status, she merely carried hers with effortless grace.

Eyes turned toward them. Some guests exchanged glances, some in intrigue, others in speculation.

Jayce, ever the charmer, flashed his signature grin, but his attention immediately locked onto two familiar figures standing near the grand staircase—Caitlyn and Vi.

His smirk widened. "If you’ll excuse me for a moment," he murmured to Seraphine.

She barely turned her head, already absorbed in a conversation with one of the guests—a high-ranking noble from one of the lesser families.

Jayce took that as his cue to leave, his long strides carrying him toward Caitlyn and Vi with his usual confidence.

The moment he reached them, his grin turned downright smug.

"Now, this is a sight," he mused, eyes flicking between them.

Caitlyn arched a brow.  "Care to explain?" she asked, directing the question at Jayce.

Jayce, ever smug, adjusted his cufflinks and shot her a dazzling grin. "Please, they don’t call me the Man of Progress for nothing."

Before Caitlyn could retort, Jayce suddenly clapped Vi on the back far too hard. Vi stumbled forward slightly, scowling as she shot him a look.

Jayce, completely unbothered, grinned wider. "Come on, of all people, you’d understand, Vi."

He gestured vaguely to the crowd of vampires surrounding them, then leaned in slightly, dropping his voice. "Vampire sex is the best."

Vi froze. Caitlyn nearly choked on her own breath.

"Jayce!" she hissed, horrified. "Do you want to get escorted out?!" Jayce just laughed.

Vi, meanwhile, had recovered. She shook her head, exhaling through her nose before retaliating—

With a single sharp tap on Jayce’s shoulder. Except Vi didn’t hold back. Jayce stumbled sideways, barely catching himself on a nearby pillar.

"What the—Vi!"

Vi grinned, smug as ever. "He’s got a point, though." Caitlyn groaned, rubbing her temples as Jayce gawked between them. Seraphine, who had been silently observing the whole exchange, simply sipped her champagne, watching with quiet amusement.

The night was only just beginning.

___

Caitlyn had momentarily excused herself to speak with the security team, ensuring the event remained under control. She moved effortlessly through the crowd, her sharp gaze sweeping the ballroom for any potential threats.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the ballroom, Vi and Jayce had settled into a more relaxed stance, tucked away from the ever-watchful eyes of the noble elite.

Jayce took a sip from his drink, looking a little too confident, his gold-threaded suit catching the light.

"I mean, she’s older than us, right? A lot older – like a hundred years older?" Vi mused.

Jayce, adjusting his cuffs, raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Vi smirked, swirling his drink. "That makes you a cougar hunter." Vi barked out a laugh, shaking her head.

Jayce shrugged dramatically. "I mean, I don’t hear her complaining."

Vi rolled her eyes, leaning against a nearby pillar. "Right, because you can totally brag about dating someone who has way more knowledge… more experience…" she teased, throwing his own words back at him.

Jayce narrowed his eyes playfully, pointing at her. "See, now you’re getting it."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, golden boy." Vi smirked, taking a sip from her own glass.

But before Jayce could fire back another quip, a voice cut through their conversation—smooth, unimpressed.

"I can’t believe you’re still talking about this."

Both Vi and Jayce turned sharply at the sound of Caitlyn’s voice. She had returned from her security rounds, standing with her arms crossed, a pointed look on her face. Her posture effortlessly elegant despite the exasperation in her expression.

Vi, caught mid-sentence, straightened slightly.

Jayce, ever the troublemaker, also grinned like a man caught red-handed.

"You know, Cupcake, you really do have great timing." Vi muttered, a teasing edge in her tone.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes at her. "Oh, please," she said dryly. "I knew the second I left you two alone, the conversation would spiral."

Jayce, chuckling, raised his glass in a mock toast. "You wound me, Caitlyn. I am the epitome of class." Caitlyn didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she gave Vi a knowing look, shaking her head in amusement.

"Come on, darling," she sighed. "Let’s get back before you let Jayce corrupt you further."

Vi smirked but followed without complaint, while Jayce watched after them, still grinning.

"I regret nothing!" he called after them, raising his drink.

Caitlyn, without turning back, lifted a hand and waved dismissively.

The soft, haunting melody of the orchestra drifted through the grand ballroom, casting an almost dreamlike atmosphere over the swaying figures on the dance floor.  Caitlyn took Vi’s half-empty wine glass and placed it effortlessly onto a passing server’s tray. Before Vi could protest, Caitlyn had already slipped her arms around her neck, pulling her close.

Vi instinctively rested her hands on Caitlyn’s waist, her grip steady but careful. Gray eyes met blue, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded into a distant hum.

Vi smiled, a slow, easy thing, her thumb absently tracing along the fabric of Caitlyn’s dress. “Everyone’s watching us,” she murmured, voice low.

Caitlyn’s lips twitched. “Yeah? Let them.”

Vi huffed a laugh, shaking her head slightly. "I still can't believe I'm the only human in this party... well, and Jayce."

Caitlyn giggled softly, her fingers idly playing with the strands of Vi’s hair at the nape of her neck.

They moved in rhythm with the slow music, rocking gently with each step, Caitlyn’s body pressing closer against Vi’s. Vi’s eyes flicked to the side, scanning the guests, some of whom were whispering behind their glasses, eyes lingering on her.

She scoffed. "They literally look like they want to kill me."

Caitlyn barely spared them a glance, her voice light, amused. "They’re just jealous… of how stunning and handsome you look tonight."

Vi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the way the corner of her lips twitched upward. "Speak for yourself. They probably want to kill me because I’m dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room."

Caitlyn’s gaze softened, always taken off guard of Vi’s complements.

Before Vi could say anything else, Caitlyn spun under Vi’s arm with effortless grace, only to be pulled right back into her embrace. They settled into the dance once more, bodies close.

Vi smirked, her head tilting slightly as a thought crossed her mind. "So… I haven’t asked you this," she mused, her tone almost teasing.

Caitlyn arched a brow, curious. "Oh?"

"I never actually asked how old you are."

Caitlyn laughed, amused. "Guess."

Vi tilted her head, squinting at her playfully. "Eighty?"

Caitlyn gasped dramatically. "Darling, I’m offended."

Vi chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Thirty?"

Caitlyn nodded, her smirk returning. "Close…twenty-six, I grew up with Jayce as a kid, you know."

Vi raised a brow. "Yeah, but like... how does that even work?"

Caitlyn hummed, resting her head slightly against Vi’s temple.

"I looked like this when I was… oh, I don’t know, twenty?" She exhaled softly before continuing. "And I’ll look like this until… well, I don’t really know."

Vi’s brow furrowed slightly. "Wait, so you do age?"

Caitlyn nodded, her gaze shifting to the other nobles across the ballroom.

"Vampires age too," Caitlyn murmured, her voice quiet, thoughtful. Her fingers brushed absently against Vi’s collar as they swayed together, lost in the slow rhythm of the dance.

"Just really, really… slow, if that’s what you meant."

Vi’s brow furrowed slightly, her grip at Caitlyn’s waist tightening just a little. "So, like… what? You just stop aging at some random point?"

Caitlyn nodded. Her gaze drifted, flickering over the noble vampires scattered throughout the ballroom.

"The aging process stops at a certain age," she continued. "And it’s… unpredictable."

Vi arched a brow. "Unpredictable?"

Caitlyn hummed in confirmation, her fingers still at Vi’s neck. “When one is pureblood—born of vampire lineage, as I am—one is brought into the world much like a human child. We are born as infants, we grow as they do, we age as they do… until it stops…then it goes really slow from there…”

Caitlyn shifted on Vi’s warmth and continued, "Then it depends on the blood you consume, the lifestyle you live. Some vampires age faster than the others but still barely recognizable, some look like they’ve barely aged past twenty and stay like that for centuries or more.”

Vi followed her line of sight and caught Seraphine casually chatting with Rhiannon near the far end of the ballroom.

"Seraphine turns three hundred this year," Caitlyn whispered, a hint of amusement in her tone. "And Rhiannon? She’ll be five hundred twenty-eight this winter."

Vi’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze flicking between them. "Okay, but they literally look our age."

Caitlyn smirked, tilting her head. "Exactly."

Vi let out a low whistle, then muttered under her breath, "Shit. Then your mother must be, like—"

Caitlyn sighed dramatically. "She’s somewhere around a thousand, I think. After the Great War."

Vi blinked, then huffed out a small laugh. "Your mother looks exquisite and…young."

Caitlyn arched a brow immediately.

Vi’s eyes widened slightly. "Wait—no, I don’t mean it like that—"

Caitlyn grinned, thoroughly enjoying her flustered reaction.

Caitlyn hesitated for a second, then tilted her head slightly, studying Vi’s expression.

"Does it bother you if…I don’t grow older in quite the same way you will?" Caitlyn asked softly.

Vi’s grin faltered just slightly, but not in discomfort more like she hadn’t actually considered the weight of the question until now. Her gray eyes searched Caitlyn’s, and then, without hesitation, she smiled—small and genuine.

"What? No," Vi said, her voice steady, certain. Then, a smirk crept back onto her lips, and her voice dipped into something more teasing, more familiar.

"If anything, this is a good thing. For me, mostly." She leaned in, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s ear.

"You’ll still look hot for, I don’t know… a hundred years or whatever."

Caitlyn let out a breathless laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

Vi chuckled, a quiet, pleased sound, her arms tightening slightly around Caitlyn’s waist as they continued to sway, effortlessly in sync with the slow, steady rhythm of the music.

"And you know what that means, though?" Vi mused, voice just above a whisper, meant only for Caitlyn to hear.

Caitlyn arched a brow, amused. "Oh? Enlighten me."

Vi smirked. "You’ll have to deal with me old and grumpy… complaining about how hot you still are."

Caitlyn laughed softly, shaking her head. "You say that like I wouldn’t find that ridiculously endearing."

Vi scoffed. "Endearing? Cupcake, I’ll be complaining all the time."

"Oh, I’m sure," Caitlyn teased, her fingers absently gliding her hands on Vi’s shoulder, pulling her a little closer.

Vi’s smirk softened into something quieter, fonder. "You’re laughing now, but just wait. I’ll be all old and wrinkled, and you’ll still look like this. It’s gonna drive me insane."

Caitlyn huffed a soft laugh, amused by how effortlessly Vi could turn this conversation into something light.

Instead of responding right away, she tilted her head slightly, pressing a lingering, feather-light kiss against Vi’s jaw. Vi’s breath hitched ever so slightly, her fingers curling subtly at Caitlyn’s waist. A quiet, satisfied smile ghosted against Vi’s skin before Caitlyn rested her head on Vi’s shoulder, her gaze half-lidded, admiring her.

Vi exhaled slowly, like she hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, and her grip around Caitlyn tightened just a little. Around them, the world continued to exist—the whispers, the glances, the weight of time itself pressing on everything else.

There was only the warmth between them, the quiet rhythm of their bodies moving as one.

____

The lavatory of the Kiramman estate was quiet, the muffled sounds of the grand gala filtering in through the heavy wooden doors. Althea Corvinus stood before the grand mirror, studying her own reflection with a practiced air of vanity. Her gown, a deep, shimmering amethyst, was tailored to perfection, hugging her curves in all the right places. She reached up to adjust the delicate silver chain around her throat, the family crest of Corvinus gleaming softly under the warm lights.

Her lips curved slightly as she admired herself. Even among the noble elite, she was a vision of perfection, one that rivals her sister—her porcelain skin unblemished, her silver eyes sharp, assessing. The party outside bored her, as most social events did, but there was always a game to be played, a strategy to be woven into polite conversation.

She turned slightly, reaching for the crystal decanter of scented water by the counter. Suddenly a whisper of movement caught her, but it was too late. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth from behind, yanking her backward with brutal precision.

Her body tensed instantly, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers clawed at the unseen grip. A spike of panic shot through her as cold steel pressed against her ribcage.

A male voice, low, indifferent. "Quiet now."

Althea’s silver eyes flickered in the mirror, her gaze locking onto the figure behind her—a hooded assassin.

His face was masked in shadows, his form concealed beneath dark, fitted clothing. It was practical, unassuming, meant to blend. His grip on her mouth tightened slightly as he pressed the barrel of a gun against her ribs. She felt the silencer touched her skin. It was a split second, a moment between knowing and dying as the trigger pulled and produced a muffled sound.

Pain. White-hot agony bloomed in her chest.

Her body jerked violently as the impact sent a shockwave through her. The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs, her nails digging into his arm in a final, instinctive act of defiance. She felt her veins burn, something was wrong. Losing all control, her limbs spasmed as the pain twisted into something unnatural. It was searing, acidic fire spreading through her bloodstream. No, it wasn’t just silver.

Her eyes widened in horror, realization dawning even as her vision blurred. She saw her veins pulsed with an eerie violet glow, the luminescent poison crawling beneath her skin like spreading cracks in porcelain.

The assassin held her upright for a few seconds, almost as if ensuring the job was done. Althea’s lips parted, a strangled, wet sound escaping. Her body trembled, the unnatural shimmer corrupting her from the inside out. The hooded figure leaned in slightly, voice calm, almost detached.

"Not so perfect now, are you?" Then, with calculated ease, he released his grip, letting her body crumple onto the cold marble floor. She collapsed in a heap, her once-poised form twisted unnaturally, her gown pooling around her like spilled ink.

Her silver eyes flickered one last time, unfocused, before the glow in them—the life in them—dimmed.

The assassin stepped back, tucking the gun beneath his cloak. With a final glance at her lifeless, trembling body, he turned, disappearing silently into the shadows.

The party outside continued, oblivious to the corpse lying within the lavatory.

____

Despite the countless dignitaries, the whispered conversations of powerful figures, and the carefully curated development of the evening—all eyes seemed to drift toward the dance floor.

There, Caitlyn and Vi moved in perfect synchrony, swaying to the slow melody.

To an outsider, it was a simple dance. To those who watched carefully, it was more. The Caitlyn Kiramman was laughing, not the polite, measured laugh expected of nobility, but something genuine, something bright as Vi murmured something against her ear.

Vi smirked, made a goofy face, but clearly, she was proud with herself, holding Caitlyn close yet effortlessly casual, like they had been doing this for years. Caitlyn, eyes sparkling with amusement, swayed in perfect beat with her. Her hands fleetingly caressing Vi’s jaw, as though she was unaware, she was even doing it.

Cassandra Kiramman stood at a distance, observing her daughter. For a woman known for her cold efficiency, her calculated presence, her smile was rare. And yet, for the briefest moment, as she watched her Caitlyn laughing, light and unburdened—she smiled.

It was nothing grand, it was small and passing, but real. A mother’s quiet acknowledgement of something far more intimate than public status.

“Your daughter has developed quite the attachment to this human. Does that not trouble you?” The voice cut through her thoughts like a blade, smooth and intentional.

Cassandra’s expression froze back into perfect composure before she turned her head.  Veyrin stood beside her, his presence as practiced as it was imposing. His wine glass hung lazily in one hand, but his eyes were piercing and assessing.

Cassandra did not reply immediately.

Instead, she took a slow sip of her own wine, knowing Veyrin did nothing without reason.

"I have no say in my daughter’s private life," she said at last, her voice cool, restrained. "Nor in who she chooses to care for."

Veyrin’s lips curved into something that resembled a smirk but lacked the warmth of real amusement.

"Hmmm… quite a rare sight, for a Kiramman to grow so involved…to a human." His gaze flicked back toward Vi and Caitlyn, still wrapped up in their own little world.

Then, after a calculated pause, he added, his voice almost too casual, "But what can I say… an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

Cassandra’s grip on her glass slightly tightened, the weight of his words settled within her like a carefully placed dagger. She understood the game he was playing. The not-so-subtle reminder of her past.

Of her husband. The man who had once been human before she turned him.

The words were meant to rattle her, to test her footing. But Cassandra had walked through centuries of war, politics, and bloodied history. She did not waver easily. Instead, she slowly turned her gaze back to him, unwavering, poised.

"Lord Veyrin," she said smoothly, as if his remark had been nothing but a passing inconvenience, "I'm quite certain you have better things to indulge in, than my daughter's affairs."

The smirk flickered from Veyrin’s face just for a second. But before he could counter—

A scream shattered the air.

The sound was raw, piercing, a violent contrast to the refined elegance of the evening. Cassandra’s gaze snapped toward the source instantly, her body going rigid with alertness. Veyrin turned his head as well, his expression incomprehensible.

Across the ballroom, Vi and Caitlyn’s laughter had vanished.

Caitlyn’s body had tensed, her smile erased, her hand instinctively moving toward the concealed holster beneath her gown. Vi had already turned toward the disturbance, her stance shifting, all ease gone.

The ballroom, once alive with laughter and whispered conversations, fell into a stunned silence.

Caitlyn’s head snapped toward the sound, her pulse spiking. In the corner of her peripheral vision, a figure slipped through the chaos, fleeing.

“Vi—there!” Caitlyn’s voice was urgent but controlled, her body already in motion.

Vi tensed, ready to charge forward, but before she could, Caitlyn’s hands cupped her face, grounding her.

"I’ll meet you at the courtyard," Caitlyn murmured, her voice low but firm. "Don’t start without me."

“No promises, Cupcake”

Caitlyn arched a brow, tilting her head just slightly. "Vi."

Vi sighed, smirking. "Fine. I’ll wait. But don’t take too long—I hate missing out on the fun."

Caitlyn was already reaching for her radio, pressing a finger against her earpiece as she strode away. "This is Kiramman. Lock down the estate. All exits secured. I want a full sweep—anyone out of place gets detained. Squad One, converge on the main hall. Squad Two, sweep the west wing."

Her voice was sharp, commanding, a stark contrast to the woman who had just been laughing in Vi’s arms minutes ago. Vi watched her go, rolling her shoulders as anticipation thrummed through her.

Vi exhaled sharply, adrenaline surged through her veins. The ballroom was still reeling from the scream, whispers spreading like wildfire. But Vi wasn’t listening anymore as her focus had zeroed in on one thing. The fleeing figure.

Even through the chaotic shuffle of guests, she could see the movement—a dark blur weaving through the crowd, fast, calculated. Vi didn’t hesitate. She moved. The crowd parted instinctively, nobles stepping aside, their gazes shifting between curiosity and fear.

The figure reached the estate’s towering outer wall and didn’t slow. Vi’s breath hitched as she saw them push off the ground, leaping high into the air.

"Oh, come on," she muttered, breaking into a sprint. By the time Vi reached the gates, the assassin had already disappeared into the dense treeline beyond the estate.

Vi cursed under her breath, her hands clenching into fists. Her muscles tensed, ready to chase.

"Vi… let’s go."

Vi turned abruptly, her pulse still hammering, every muscle in her body coiled with anticipation. Caitlyn stood before her, now fully dressed in her uniform, her rifle slung across her back, the soft glow of moonlight catching the edges of her gear. Caitlyn's blue eyes locked onto Vi's.

"Cait… it’s not her."

Caitlyn's brow furrowed, her expression darkening. "Where did it go, then?"

Vi turned, her gaze cutting through the night, toward the looming, dense forest beyond the Kiramman estate walls.

She exhaled sharply. "The forest."

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate, "Then let’s go."

Without another word, they took off, disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

____

The woods were alive with movement. Vi and Caitlyn moved in perfect tandem, their boots crunching against damp leaves as they chased the fleeing figure deeper into the forest. The trees were thick and ancient, their twisted branches forming a tangled canopy above, suffocating the moonlight. Only slivers of silver broke through the gaps, casting eerie streaks over the gnarled roots beneath them.

Ahead, the assassin darted between the trees, their movements impossibly fluid, unnaturally fast.

"Damn it," Vi muttered, pushing herself to run faster.

"Keep on them," Caitlyn ordered, already reaching for her rifle.

Caitlyn felt something, as the air shifted into something darker.  Something wasn’t right.

Vi felt it too, a prickle at the base of her spine, the weight of unseen eyes in the dark. Caitlyn sensed the way the forest had gone too quiet. No rustling leaves, no distant chirping. Only silence.

The first attack came without warning.

A blur of motion from the left.

Caitlyn barely turned in time, ducking as clawed fingers slashed the air where her head had just been. Vi reacted instinctively, grabbing Caitlyn by the waist and pulling her back as a Shimmer-enhanced vampire lunged from the shadows.

It moved like lightning, its eyes burning with unnatural violet light, veins glowing like molten poison beneath its skin. Vi threw herself into it head-on, fists clenched.

She swung hard, fast, direct. Her knuckles cracked against its jaw, sending the creature staggering back—but not down. It snarled, fangs bared, eyes wild with bloodlust.

Vi gritted her teeth and reached to her side, activating the device attached to her wrist.

A surge of blue energy pulsed outward. Metal unfolded, plates shifting, forming around her hands. The nanotech activation was seamless, the gauntlets constructing themselves in real-time, glowing seams of Hextech light sparking to life.  Her knuckles pulsed with power, the enhanced weight settling over her arms like they were made for her.

Vi smirked.

"Alright, let’s do this."

The vampire lunged. Vi swung.

The impact was instantaneously brutal. A thunderous boom echoed through the forest as her fist connected with the vampire’s ribcage, sending the creature flying backward, crashing through trees like a ragdoll.

Caitlyn fired a precise shot, hitting another one in the knee but the creature barely flinched.

"Shit," Caitlyn hissed. More shadows shifted in the trees.

They weren’t alone. Another vampire rushed Vi, moving too fast, its limbs jerking unnaturally as the Shimmer coursed through its body.

Vi dodged, barely, as its claws scraped against her shoulder tearing fabric, grazing skin. She hissed, then grabbed the creature by the collar and drove her knee into its gut. It barely reacted. Too strong. Too enhanced.

Caitlyn, breath steady, hands quick, reloaded in one smooth motion.

She aimed, fired. A clean headshot.

This time, the vampire collapsed.

Vi grinned, breathless. "One down."

Another low growl came from the night as more figures emerged from the trees. Four. Five. Too many.

Caitlyn’s pulse spiked. “Vi, we need to move—”

A thunderous explosion caught their attention, a shockwave of pure force erupted through the battlefield, sending dirt and shattered bark flying. A massive Hextech hammer swung in a devastating arc, slamming into one of the vampires and launching it through the air.

The creature crashed through the trees, snapping them like twigs.

Jayce.

Vi grinned, wiping a blood from her lip. “Golden boy brought toys, this would be fun”

Branches snapped beneath their boots as they raced into the dark forest, the shadows thickening around them. The assassin was fast, dangerously so, slipping through the trees with unnatural precision. Then, another ripple of energy cut through.  Not from Jayce.

A wave of shimmering violet light pulsed through the clearing, droning with unnatural power. One of the vampires stumbled mid-charge, its body convulsing, veins dimming. Its movements became sluggish, the Shimmer inside it draining away. It was Seraphine.

Caitlyn and Vi then moved as one, their coordination effortless—a gunshot cutting through the air, a fist colliding with bone. But for every Shimmer-enhanced vampire they took down, another emerged from the shadows, faster, stronger, more relentless.

"They know the terrain," Caitlyn muttered, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, well, so do we," Vi shot back, her voice low but fierce.

Despite their best efforts, the numbers were overwhelming. Vi turned her head just in time to see Seraphine struggle, her slender frame caught in the grip of a monstrous vampire.

His veins pulsed violently, his irises flickering between black and violet, corrupted by the Shimmer saturating his body. The creature snarled, its glowing violet eyes locking onto Seraphine, fangs bared in a cruel, predatory grin. There was as shift in the air as Seraphine simply stared and touched him. Her fingers curled against the vampire’s wrist, light sparking at the contact.

A ripple of power surged outward, an invisible force slamming into the air itself. The vampire’s confident snarl twisted into something else entirely –fear.

His veins pulsed violently, his irises flickering wildly like his body was rejecting the Shimmer inside him. As his entire body seized, he choked and strangled sound escaped him. His limbs locked up, twitching uncontrollably. Seraphine’s eyes burned with cold fire as she whispered:

"How dare you touch me."

Her grip tightened.

And with a single, effortless motion—she lifted him into the air. The vampire’s feet left the ground, his body rising unnaturally, as if held by some invisible force. The vampire’s arms jerked, his mouth opening in a silent, agonized scream. His irises disappeared completely, swallowed by blinding white light. The vampire’s body convulsed and veins flickered. Seraphine’s expression never wavered. She tilted her head slightly and the vampire’s body shuddered violently in response.

Seraphine simply let go. The monster crashed to the ground in a lifeless heap. There was no wound, no blood, just emptiness. The very essence had been drained away by her power. Seraphine exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders as though nothing had happened. The remaining vampires hesitated.

Seraphine turned her gaze toward them, her expression cold, “Now…” she mused, taking a step forward.

“Who’s next?”

The Shimmer-enhanced vampires halted, instincts overriding their unnatural hunger. They saw what had just happened—the way their kin had fallen without a single wound, without a single chance to fight back.

Without hesitation, they turned and fled, vanishing into the trees in a blur of black and violet. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating.

Caitlyn lowered her rifle, exhaling sharply, pulse still thrumming from the fight. She scanned the treeline, her sharp gaze searching for any sign. Nothing. Gone.

Jayce’s fingers clenched tighter around his hammer. His jaw tensed as he muttered, “They’re getting away.”

Seraphine didn’t move right away. Her body was rigid, her gaze unfocused, not at the vampires, not at the trees, but at something deeper. She knew. Caitlyn saw it in the way Seraphine’s eyes dimmed, the cold fire in them flickering into something raw.

She knew her sister was dead.

Vi, still catching her breath, glanced between them all before running a hand through her hair.

Seraphine finally spoke, but this time, her voice had lost its edge. "That’s enough spectacle for the night."

Everyone understood. Jayce’s stance relaxed just slightly, his own expression dark with realization. He exhaled sharply before motioning to Seraphine, a silent acknowledgment between them.

"Let’s get back," he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Seraphine didn’t reply. She simply turned and walked away. Jayce followed, his hammer resting on his shoulder, the weight of the night heavy in every step.

Vi and Caitlyn remained behind. The rustling leaves whispered around them, the only sound in the now empty battlefield. Caitlyn’s gaze stayed locked on the treeline, her grip tightening around her rifle.

Vi, still watching Seraphine’s retreating form, let out a slow breath.

"You think she’ll be okay?" Vi asked, voice unusually soft.

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, listening to the distant silence of the night.

Then, her fingers unconsciously brushed Vi’s wrist.

"I don’t know," she admitted quietly.

____

Cassandra Kiramman stood near the grand desk of her study, speaking in hushed tones with Veyrin and Rhiannon. Their expressions were grim, their postures stiff—elders who had seen centuries of war, yet even they seemed troubled.

The doors swung open, but they were too engaged in the conversation to even notice Caitlyn stepping in. Caitlyn’s boots feeling heavier than ever. Her hands were still shaking, her grip unsteady on her rifle. Vi was right behind her, her presence ever supporting.

Caitlyn’s breath was shallow, her mind still replaying the events of the forest—the vampires, the way Seraphine had drained that creature with nothing but her touch.

But more than that, she felt the loss. Even though she had barely known Althea Corvinus, she could feel the void left behind, the ripple it would create. Her fingers tightened around the rifle, but she barely noticed.

Vi did.

Without hesitation, Vi’s hand found hers, wrapping around Caitlyn’s trembling fingers. Caitlyn exhaled, the tension in her body loosening just slightly. She turned her head to Vi, and though her smile was weak, it was real.

Cassandra had finally turned, sensing her daughter’s presence, her piercing gaze locking onto Caitlyn.

But for the first time, it wasn’t the gaze of a councilwoman, a noble leader, or even the head of the Kiramman House.

It was the gaze of a mother. Her arms opened instinctively and Caitlyn without thinking, without hesitation fell into her mother’s arms. Her body collided against Cassandra’s, the last of her composure breaking in an instant. She never showed weakness, not to anyone, especially to her mother.

But tonight, she needed her and Cassandra knew.

Cassandra’s arms tightened without hesitation; her grip firm yet soothing. "My darling…"

For just a moment, Caitlyn allowed herself to breathe. To lean into her mother’s warmth, to let her guard slip. But the moment was short-lived.

"Lady Althea Corvinus is dead." Rhiannon’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

Caitlyn’s body stiffened. She inhaled sharply, steadying herself, pulling back just enough to meet her mother’s gaze. The weight of it all sat heavily on her shoulder.

"If only the head of security had been doing her job, instead of enjoying the party a little too much." Veyrin’s tone was almost amused, but beneath it, laced with accusation. His cold gaze flicked toward Vi, pointed.

She simply tilted her head slightly, one brow raising in that signature ‘you’re full of shit’ expression.

"Enough." Cassandra’s voice carried through the study, firm and final.

Caitlyn finally spoke. Her voice was quiet at first, but sure. "There were vampires." She swallowed, exhaling slowly before continuing. "They were different." Veyrin’s smirk faded. Cassandra’s arms remained on Caitlyn’s shoulders, steadying her, encouraging her.

"Explain," Rhiannon said, her voice softer this time, but no less urgent. Caitlyn shifted her grip on her rifle, her fingers still faintly trembling.

"They weren’t just enhanced… they were unstable. Twisted. I’ve never seen anything like it."

Vi finally spoke up, her tone grim. "They took punches like they were nothing." She flexed her hands briefly, the memory of the hits still fresh in her mind. "Caitlyn put bullets in them, and they kept moving."

A trace of concern crossed Cassandra’s face, "Shimmer?" she asked.

Caitlyn nodded. Before she was able to elaborate further, Jayce entered the room, not with his usual confident stride but with his shoulders carrying a heaviness that was unmistakable. His gaze scanned across the gathered council, Cassandra, Rhiannon, Veyrin before settling on Caitlyn.

But before he could speak, Cassandra was the first to ask. "How is Lady Corvinus?"

Jayce let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly.

"She’s devastated." His voice was calm but edged with sorrow.

He looked down for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. "But she knows what this means."

He looked up, meeting each of their gazes. "She understands that this wasn’t just an assassination, it’s a declaration” Caitlyn felt her stomach tighten.

She had known. Of course, she had. But hearing Jayce say it out loud made it feel far more real.

"She needs to grieve first," Jayce added, his voice softer this time.

The council understood. Even Veyrin, who had been so quick to provoke before, remained silent for a beat.

"This is a heavy loss," he said, his tone lacking its usual bite. "And no one should be expected to make sense of it so soon."

For the first time that night, Caitlyn looked at Veyrin not as an adversary but as someone who, even if only for a fleeting moment, understood. She gave him a small nod. Jayce exhaled, then without hesitation, crossed the room. He pulled Caitlyn into a tight, familiar hug. He had always been a brother to her. Caitlyn squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, allowing herself to rest in the familiarity of Jayce’s presence.

Vi stood beside them, watching quietly, respectfully. Because she understood, too.

When Jayce finally pulled back, his hands settled on Caitlyn’s shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze.

"We’ll get through this," he murmured, low enough for only her to hear.

Caitlyn nodded, because despite everything, she wanted to believe that.

And as she looked around the room, at her mother, at Vi, at the council who, for once, all stood on the same side—she knew

The war had already begun.

___

The study was quiet now, the lingering tension from the council’s discussion dissipating as the heavy doors shut behind them. Cassandra, standing tall with the same unshakable authority she always carried, turned toward Vi.

"Ms. Ashbourne," she said smoothly, her tone measured.

Vi straightened instinctively, her hands sliding into her pockets. She had been through fights, through near-death situations, through war and yet, Cassandra Kiramman’s voice still managed to make her feel like she was in a damn courtroom.

"I appreciate how you have assisted my daughter, as always."

Vi blinked. That was… almost a compliment.

Cassandra’s gaze remained steady, unreadable. Vi didn’t falter, she smirked lightly instead, a habit more than anything.

"Yeah, well, you know me. Always a helping hand."

Caitlyn, standing between them, bit back a smile. Cassandra’s expression didn’t shift, but there was the faintest tilt of her head. Then, her voice softened just slightly.

"It’s been a long night. I’m sure you too need rest."

Vi nodded, stretching slightly, exhaling. "Yeah, you could say that."

Cassandra took a slow breath, then looked at Caitlyn. "I wish to talk to my daughter privately."

There was no command in her voice, no underlying demand. Vi glanced at Caitlyn, checking first.

Caitlyn nodded. Before leaving, Vi reached for Caitlyn’s hand, squeezing it gently—warm, reassuring.

Then, Vi released her and turned away, making her way toward the doors. Cassandra watched as Vi stepped out, the doors closing behind her.

And finally, Cassandra spoke.

"Sit, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn watched as her mother turned away, her gaze settling on the crackling fire in the grand hearth. The soft glow of the flames cast long shadows against the richly adorned study, illuminating the deep lines of contemplation etched into Cassandra’s face.

Cassandra’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet but heavy, "It’s terrible… how this has escalated the way it has."

Her fingers traced the edges of the chair’s armrest as she continued, her tone more introspective than commanding.

"But I sensed this was unavoidable."

Caitlyn remained silent, waiting, listening. Cassandra inhaled slowly, her eyes never leaving the fire.

"This was doomed even before now." She exhaled, her tone laced with something akin to resignation. "The Great War… it never truly ended that day. We may have signed treaties, built alliances, but the truth is, everyone, every faction—has been waiting for something to spark."

Caitlyn felt a chill crawl down her spine. She had grown up hearing stories about the Great War, about the bloodshed between humans and vampires, the alliances forged from desperation, and the fragile peace that had followed. But to hear her mother speak of it now, as if it had only been a temporary pause rather than an ending…it unsettled her.

Cassandra finally turned, her gaze, assessing. "You weren’t there to see it, Caitlyn."

Her voice was low, steady, but beneath it was weariness, "You didn’t witness the terrible acts that both vampires and humans committed against each other."

She walked toward the desk, and Caitlyn knew her mother well enough to recognize the weight she carried.

"And I don’t want that to happen again." Cassandra's eyes locked onto Caitlyn's, her eyes filled with rare vulnerability.

"I want to protect everyone from that kind of bloodshed happening all over again—" she hesitated for just a second, before her next words came out softer and more personal, "—especially you, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn felt her throat tighten, but she said nothing. Her mother wasn’t one for grand displays of emotion, but when she spoke like this careful, honest—it meant everything.

"The bodies are already dropping," Cassandra continued, her voice turning grim once more. "And I have no doubt there will be more before this is over." Caitlyn knew that and she felt it in her bones.

"But I also know there is still time," Cassandra added, her gaze steady, resolute.

She took a step forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. "I have you now, Caitlyn. And you’re the only one I can trust."

The weight of those words settled deep inside Caitlyn’s chest. She knew what her mother meant and she did not want to disappoint her. Cassandra slowly stepped back, her posture regaining its usual poise as she continued. "I need you to investigate Veyrin."

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed slightly. She had suspected Veyrin had his own interests, but Cassandra saying this outright? That meant it was more than just political maneuvering. "And anyone else with a motive," her mother added.

"The Hartwells, perhaps." Caitlyn's mind immediately started cycling through possibilities.

The Hartwells had reason to despise every vampire family, especially after Oscar’s assassination. But was that enough? Or was there something more?

Cassandra turned back toward the fire, her expression a bit calmer, as she gave her final words.

"Do what you do best, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn nodded once, absorbing the weight of those words. She was used to responsibility, to expectation—but this wasn’t just an order from her mother, or from the head of the Kiramman family. Her mother trusted her.

Cassandra’s gaze shifted toward the door. "And Violet."

Caitlyn stilled. She had been prepared for instructions, for a strategy but this was different. Cassandra finally acknowledging Vi’s involvement in this.  And more than that, she was trusting Caitlyn to keep Vi by her side. It was a quiet, but an absolute approval.

Caitlyn inhaled deeply, her posture straightening, the corner of her lips pulling into a small, genuine smile. "Of course."

Cassandra watched her for a long moment, then gave a single nod—satisfied.

Her voice softened slightly. "But for now, rest. You need it. And you don’t need to blame yourself for what happened."

She had been carrying that guilt since the moment she had heard the scream. Since she had chased after the assassin, only for them to slip through her fingers. She should have done more.

"I just wish I could have done more." Her voice was silent, but the frustration beneath it was obvious.

Cassandra’s expression didn’t falter, but there was something gentler in her gaze now, "We all do."

The words hung between them, heavier than any command. Caitlyn let out a slow breath, then turned toward the door. Her heartbeat was steady now.

Because she knew one thing for certain.

The fight wasn’t over.

And she wouldn’t face it alone.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn’s patience was razor-thin.

She stood at the center of the warehouse, the warrant still clenched in her hand as she surveyed the room. The towering stacks of crates loomed like silent sentinels, unmarked save for a few coded stamps indicating shipping origins. No sign of Shimmer. No sign of anything illegal. And yet, she knew Silco had scrubbed this place just before their arrival.

Vi adjusted her gloves, her stance loose but alert, the enforcers accompanying them fanned out, sweeping the perimeter.

Nothing.

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened as she scanned the warehouse, her sharp gaze dissecting every inch of the space. She had anticipated resistance—an ambush, a desperate attempt to cover something up, anything that would confirm their suspicions. Instead, the place was pristine. Sterile. As if someone had scrubbed it down in anticipation of their arrival.

It was almost mocking.

A plain contrast to the last time they were here—then, the air had been thick with the acrid stench of chemicals, armed men, and shimmer-enhanced weapons were on display.  

But now? Nothing. Not a single trace of illegal dealings. The warehouse was as clean as a surgical room, as if the filth had never existed.

Silco was already waiting for them.

The crime lord stood near an old metal desk, hands casually resting in his pockets, his single good eye gleaming with quiet amusement. A knowing smirk curling his lips, he exuded confidence as if he had orchestrated the entire scene of his own entertainment.

"Ah, Commander Kiramman and her… loyal companion." His voice was smooth as silk, laced with venom. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Caitlyn didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she stepped forward and unfolded the warrant, holding it between two fingers. "By order of the Council, we have the right to search these premises for any illegal trade operations, including but not limited to the distribution of Shimmer." Her voice was cool, professiona and unshaken. "We know you’ve been moving shipments through here, Silco."

Silco exhaled slowly, feigning boredom. "Do you?" His gaze flickered past her to Vi, lingering for a second too long before returning to Caitlyn. "Then by all means, search away."

Caitlyn ignored the jab, stepping forward with authority. "Open the crates."

Silco barely reacted, just let out a slow, exaggerated sigh before snapping his fingers. His men moved without hesitation, prying open the nearest wooden crate with a crowbar. The lid fell away with a heavy thud.

Inside, neatly packed rows of imported cigars.

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed.

Silco’s smirk deepened. "Is this what you’re looking for, Officer? Illicit Cuban cigars? The horror."

He plucked one from the crate, rolling it between his fingers before tucking it neatly into his breast pocket. Vi crossed her arms, her fingers flexing at the irritation building beneath her skin.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, turning to the rest of the men. "All of them. Open every crate."

And so they did.

One by one, the lids were pried off, revealing nothing but innocuous shipments. Textiles. Bottled wine. Machinery parts.

"Clear."

"Nothing here."

"No trace of Shimmer, Commander."

Caitlyn inhaled sharply, the weight of their failure settling in her gut. Vi’s fingers twitched at her sides, itching for a fight, but she kept herself still. Silco merely tilted his head, his smirk widening, savoring their frustration.

"Shame," he drawled. "You come all this way, paperwork in hand, righteous fury blazing—and yet, nothing to show for it. It must be exhausting, all this effort for nothing."

Caitlyn’s expression darkened. "Whoever you’re protecting, Silco, won’t be able to shield you forever. You’re slipping."

Silco let out a quiet, thoughtful hum. "Oh, Kiramman," he mused, stepping closer, "I don’t need protection." His eye gleamed with something unreadable. "People like me… we don’t slip. We don’t fall. We adapt. We endure." His gaze slid to Vi again, this time slower, deliberate. "Isn’t that right, The Wolf?"

The words hit like a blade gliding just beneath the ribs—silent, precise, meant to wound.

Vi’s breath hitched for just a fraction of a second, a muscle in her jaw ticking. People had called her that, not in a while. Not since the underground pit fights. Not since she was nothing more than raw fists and rage, fighting for survival, fighting to be something more than a product of the system’s cruelty.

Silco took note of the shift, the slight hesitation, and his smirk turned razor-sharp. "Oh, you remember, don’t you?" His voice was almost fond, like a puppeteer tugging at invisible strings. "I must say, I hardly recognized you. You’ve… softened." His eyes flicked toward Caitlyn, then back to Vi. "Tamed."

Vi moved before she even realized it—only for Caitlyn to place a firm hand on her arm, stopping her.

Vi exhaled through her nose, letting the tension settle into her limbs instead of acting on it. She turned sharply, brushing past Silco without another word. Caitlyn followed, her gaze hard, her silence sharp as a blade.

Silco watched them go, amusement flickering in his eye. "Such a disgrace," he murmured, just loud enough for them to hear. "I preferred the Wolf unchained."

Vi didn’t stop walking, but Caitlyn could see the way her fists clenched. They had lost this round.

Silco was always one step ahead and he knew it.

___

Vi stepped into Talis Industries, navigating through the maze of polished steel hallways and high-tech laboratories with the ease. She had walked these halls more times than she could count, yet today, something felt different. Maybe it was the weight of Silco’s words still lingering at the back of her mind, like a whisper that refused to fade. If anything, her past in the pits had been her training ground. The brutal lessons learned in blood and bone had shaped her—her strength, her instincts, her survival skills. But it wasn’t who she was. It never had been.

That version of herself? The one clawing to stay afloat in the underbelly of Zaun? She had to exist. She had to fight. She had to survive

Now? She had something more. There’s a purpose…a direction.

She wasn’t just throwing punches in the dark anymore, she was fighting for something. For someone. Vi exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as she strode deeper into the building. She had better things to do than dwell on the past. She was part of something bigger now—a force trying to prevent this city from collapsing into chaos.

And in the midst of it all, she had found herself. Her background, her true self.

Not the weapon the system had tried to mold her into. She was here to save the people she loved.

Vi shakes off the weight of her thoughts as she neared a familiar door—Powder’s workplace.

The last time she stepped into one of her sister’s hideouts, it had been a mess—scattered blueprints, tools strewn across every surface, wires tangled like a bird’s nest. A place of chaos and brilliance intertwined.

This? This was different.

The moment Vi walked inside, she paused, caught off guard. Gone was the cluttered disaster she had been expecting. The walls were still lined with blueprints and sketches, but they were neatly arranged, pinned up with meticulousness instead of slapped on haphazardly. Workbenches were still stacked with half-built gadgets, but now they were categorized—one station dedicated to mechanics, another to chemistry, another to data analysis.

The whole space felt structured, calculated as if someone had taken her sister’s boundless energy and refined it into something sharper, more efficient.

She’d changed.

A flicker of pride tugged at Vi’s chest.

Vi blinked, taking in the meticulously arranged tools, labeled containers, and the crisp digital readouts neatly stacked on the massive worktable. It was a far cry from the chaotic, explosion-riddled mess Powder used to work in back in Zaun.

For a second, Vi wondered if she'd walked into the wrong lab.

Then, just as she was about to say something, a sharp boom echoed through the room.

A small, smoking contraption fizzled in Powder’s hands, and with a poof, a cloud of purple smoke engulfed her face. She coughed, waving her hand in front of her, blinking through the haze.

Vi exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile.

Nope. Just the same little sister she always loved.

"Ah, damn it," Powder muttered, rubbing her soot-covered cheek with the back of her glove before grinning wide. "Oh, hi sis!" she chirped, as if she hadn't just nearly blown herself up.

Vi smirked, crossing her arms. "Hey, Powder."

Powder’s eyes flicked over to Vi’s side, her grin turning impish. "Ohhh, you didn’t bring Vampire Princess this time?" she teased, resting an elbow on the table like she was genuinely disappointed.

Vi rolled her eyes. "No, I didn’t."

"Boring." Powder sighed dramatically, flopping back into her chair. "I like watching you two make heart eyes at each other. It’s entertaining."

Vi ignored her, stepping closer to the worktable. "Got something for me?"

Powder perked up, instantly slipping into ‘genius scientist mode.’ She reached for a sleek, tablet-like device and tapped a few buttons, pulling up holographic data streams. "Me and Vik have been working on something big—real big. A way to detect Shimmer in the bloodstream faster, before it does all that fun crazy stuff like turning people into mindless monsters."

Vi’s brows lifted slightly. "Yeah? How’s that going?"

Powder’s expression shifted, the playfulness dimming just a little. "It’s… tricky. Shimmer’s not what it used to be. It’s evolved. We used to think it had a stable pattern; a way it reacted to different people—but now?" She huffed, brushing a few strands of blue hair out of her face. "It’s like it’s adapting. Some people transform instantly, some show no symptoms for weeks. Some never break at all."

Vi exhaled sharply, processing that. "So, what? We could be walking around people who are dosed and don’t even know it?"

Powder nodded. "Bingo."

Vi dragged a hand down her face. "Shit."

"Yuuup," Powder drawled, spinning her chair slightly. "Which is why Vik’s been nerding out, trying to track the changes at a cellular level." She gestured vaguely at a far desk, where notes and vials were scattered between stacks of metal components.

Vi let out a low whistle. "Damn. You two are really going all in on this."

"Well, duh," Powder said, tapping the holographic display. "Can’t let my big sis run around punching things without knowing what she’s dealing with, now can I?"

Vi chuckled, then her eyes flickered down to Powder’s hands. More specifically, to the ring she wore—a simple, small thing, one she had since childhood.

She reached out and lightly flicked it with her finger.

Powder blinked at her. "The hell was that for?"

Vi shrugged, something unreadable in her gaze. "Outta nowhere, but… how’re you feeling? We haven’t hung out much lately, and with all this Shimmer mess—have you noticed anything… weird?"

Powder stared at her, then narrowed her eyes. "What’s got into you? Hanging out with cupcake got you all so soft or something?" She smirked, waggling her brows.

Vi huffed, shaking her head. "I’m serious, Powder."

Powder’s smirk faded just a fraction as she studied Vi’s face, realizing there was something genuine in the question. For all her jokes, Vi wasn’t one to get mushy for no reason.

"Nah," Powder finally said, stretching her arms above her head. "Nothing weird—aside from the usual explosions and scientific breakthroughs, of course."

Vi held her gaze for a beat longer, then nodded. "Alright."

Powder flicked her fingers toward her. "But hey, if something does come up, you’ll be the first to know. Sound good?"

Vi nodded again, her lips quirking into a small, crooked smile. "Sounds good."

Powder grinned, then suddenly leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "But seriously, Vi. You gotta bring Cait next time. I miss flustering her."

Vi groaned, already regretting this entire visit.

Same sister. Same chaos.

And honestly? Vi wouldn’t have it any other way.

____

The Hartwells had long stood as one of the most formidable pillar families in Noctalis. Their influence stretched beyond mere nobility. They were power incarnate, woven into the very fabric of Piltover’s foundation. Elias Hartwell, the family’s unbending patriarch, held two of the most commanding positions in the city—Chancellor of Piltover and head of its formidable militia.

His name alone carried the weight of law and order, a man whose presence could silence a room, whose signature could tip the scales of war or peace.

But now, his legacy had been fractured.

The death of his heir was more than just a personal loss—it was a blow to the Hartwell name, a wound to his authority. The once-unshakable dynasty now bore a crack in its foundation, one that whispered of vulnerability.

And in a city where power was everything, vulnerability was an invitation for war.

Which was exactly why Caitlyn and Vi now sat in their car, parked just outside the iron gates of the Hartwell estate, watching the steady flow of vehicles pulling in and out of the compound. The compound loomed ahead, a blunt silhouette against the dusky skyline, its grand entirety polished to perfection.

From their vantage point, they watched the cars coming and going—sleek, black vehicles rolling in through the gates with the ease of routine. The usual guests. The usual staff. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"So," Vi finally said, stretching her arms slightly before rolling her shoulders, getting ready. "I just do my thing, investigate, ask around, poke at stuff that looks too clean?"

Caitlyn, still focused on the estate, nodded. "It’s all been arranged. I’ve spoken to a contact inside, and they’ll permit you entry on the understanding that this is still tied to Oscar’s case."

Vi glanced at her. “Mmm…that’s convincing”

Caitlyn’s expression remained firm. "Technically, it’s still tied to it. Oscar died because of shimmer," she said, her voice steadfast.

Vi smirked, but didn’t push it. She could tell Caitlyn was worried, and it wasn’t just about the investigation.

"Just…" Caitlyn hesitated before turning to face Vi fully, her blue eyes searching hers. "Promise me you won’t do anything stupid, okay?"

Vi’s smirk softened. She reached over, taking Caitlyn’s hand and giving it a small squeeze. "I promise."

She was about to step out of the car when Caitlyn suddenly pulled her back, her fingers curling around Vi’s jacket, tugging her in.

Before Vi could react, Caitlyn’s lips were on hers—slow, enduring, full of something unspoken.

Vi melted into it instantly, her hand slipping to the back of Caitlyn’s neck, holding her there as their breaths mingled, as the world outside faded for a moment.When Caitlyn finally pulled away, her fingers traced along Vi’s jaw, her touch featherlight and conscious.

Vi barely had time to breathe before Caitlyn leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss against her lips, as if she needed to make sure Vi remembered this before letting her go.

Caitlyn rested her forehead against Vi’s for a second, her breath warm against her lips.

"Be careful," she murmured.

Vi exhaled, smiling softly. "Okay, cupcake."

With one last glance, Caitlyn let her go, her fingers reluctantly slipping from Vi’s jacket. Vi lingered for just a second before finally stepping out, shutting the car door behind her.

As she watched Caitlyn drive off into the night, Vi let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders again, shaking off the warmth of Caitlyn’s touch because now, it was time to work.

___

The moment Caitlyn stepped foot into Capemoor, she felt the shift in atmosphere.

The city was immaculate, refined, and eerily silent. Unlike Piltover’s vibrant energy, Capemoor was pristine in its stillness. The streets were paved with polished obsidian, and the towering architecture was an intricate blend of gothic spires and glass-paneled estates. Lanterns glowed with an ethereal blue light, casting elegant shadows along the walkways.

But beneath the beauty lay something else—haunting, watchful, cold.

Every figure she passed was composed, focused in movement, and dressed in the finest tailored suits or flowing velvet gowns. Purebloods. Aristocrats. Vampires who had never known hunger, desperation, or the crude necessities of survival.

And they were all watching her.

Not directly. No one dared to stare outright that would be far too crude for their refined sensibilities but she felt their gazes slide over her, assessing, dismissing. Their expressions barely flickered, but their silence spoke volumes.

Caitlyn had walked among the most powerful families of Piltover, but this was different. Piltover’s elite thrived on influence and reputation, but Capemoor’s nobility? They thrived on bloodline.

And she didn’t belong here, despite her being a vampire.

She exhaled softly, adjusting the weight of her coat as she moved with resolution, keeping her stride confident. Even if she was an outsider here, she would not look like prey.

Her destination was one of the lesser-seen parts of Capemoor—a private manor tucked away from the more public-facing courts, where someone was waiting for her. Vayne.

Caitlyn entered through a side entrance, where a trusted contact had arranged her passage. The halls were quieter here, lined with grand portraits of past rulers, their cold expressions mirroring the atmosphere of the city itself.

Vayne was already there, standing near a tall, arched window that overlooked the courtyard below. Moonlight pooled around her, casting sharp angles over her already angular features. Unlike the nobles who drifted through the halls in silk and embroidered velvet, dripping with opulence and self-importance, Vayne was different. Her attire was made for function, not vanity—dark tactical gear, reinforced but sleek, built for movement. A hunter among kings. A quiet predator in a house of power.

Caitlyn hadn’t seen her in a while, but nothing about Vayne had changed. Still sharp. Still precise. Still holding herself like she was two steps ahead of everyone in the room. They served special ops back in the days and Vayne had always been on her side.

Vayne didn’t turn as Caitlyn approached, her gaze still locked on the courtyard below. “You’re late.”

Caitlyn huffed, stepping closer. “I wasn’t aware I had an appointment.”

Vayne finally turned, a glint of amusement in her cold gray eyes. “You don’t. But I figured you’d show up sooner or later.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms. “And why’s that?”

Vayne smirked faintly. “Because you never could resist a good hunt, Commander.”

That was… fair. Caitlyn had always been relentless, sharp, unwilling to let a mission slip away into failure.

“I need information,” Caitlyn said finally.

Vayne hummed, tapping her fingers against the hilt of the crossbow strapped to her hip. “Figured. I assume this is about Veyrin?”

Caitlyn glanced at her, surprised but not entirely shocked. “You already know?”

Vayne gave her a sideways glance, a knowing smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. “Come on, Cait. You know I keep my ear to the ground.”

Of course she did.

Caitlyn nodded. “Then you know something’s coming. The Caravelles—”

“—are always up to something,” Vayne finished for her. “I know.”

She turned fully now, arms crossing over her chest. “And you also know you shouldn’t be here for too long. People are starting to look at you a little too closely.”

Caitlyn frowned. “I’m aware.”

“Then you also know,” Vayne stepped closer, voice dropping, “that if you keep digging, you’re going to find yourself in the middle of something you might not walk away from.”

Caitlyn held her gaze. “I already am,” she said.

Vayne studied her for a long moment before exhaling through her nose, as if she expected nothing less.

“Then let’s make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

She reached into the desk drawer beside her, pulling out a small black case. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it toward Caitlyn, who caught it easily.

“New gear,” Vayne said. “Tactical suit, weapon modifications. And a change of clothes—because I doubt your usual uniform is going to help you blend in here.”

Caitlyn glanced at the case before looking back up at her, arching a brow. “You came prepared.”

Vayne smirked. “I always do.”

Caitlyn moved to inspect it, flipping the lid open. For the first time that evening, Caitlyn allowed herself a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks, Vayne.” Caitlyn raised a brow, picking up the weapon.

Vayne smirked. "No grand rifles here, Cait. You’ll have to be more discreet."

Caitlyn exhaled, nodding. "It’ll do."

Vayne’s smirk faded slightly, her gaze turning sharp, assessing. "Be careful, Caitlyn. Capemoor plays by different rules. These people don’t fight in the open. They make you think you’re safe. Then they smile while they bleed you dry."

Caitlyn met her gaze, unwavering. "That’s why I’m here."

Vayne gave a slight nod before turning back to the window, her silhouette blending into the shadows. “Just don’t get yourself killed, Cait.”

____

Caitlyn moved through the polished streets of Capemoor, her presence nothing more than a shadow among the nobility. She kept her pace measured, her gaze flickering over the opulent storefronts, the slow-moving carriages, the pureblood elite exchanging pleasantries over blood-infused wine. Everything was too perfect, too well-orchestrated—a city of masks and whispered power plays.

Then, she saw him.

Veyrin.

Dressed in his usual refined manner, he stood at the edge of a terrace, his voice low as he spoke with two other figures—businessmen, perhaps? Diplomats? Or something far less legitimate? His posture was relaxed, his gestures slow and deliberate, exuding the kind of effortless authority that only centuries of power could grant.

Caitlyn slowed her steps, keeping to the shadows of the surrounding buildings, her breath steady, movements calculated.

She followed. She tailed him through the winding streets of Capemoor, weaving between wealthy patrons and servants who barely gave her a second glance. The marbled roads turned narrower, the shops became more discreet, private establishements that catered to exclusivity rathen athan accessibility. She remained unseen, she was actually good at it.

Caitlyn’s final stop was inside the sleek black car she had “borrowed” for the occasion, parked in a discreet corner with an unobstructed view of Veyrin’s movements.

Veyrin veered off from the main street, stepping into a narrow, eerie alleyway where the polished elegance of Capemoor ended.

Caitlyn’s heartbeat quickened. He wasn’t just conducting business anymore.

This was something else. She pushed open the car door, slipping out with quiet efficiency, her hand instinctively grazing the hilt of her hidden dagger.

She followed.

The alleyway was colder, the air thick with a strange kind of stillness. She kept to the walls, moving between the stone columns, listening for every shift in the air, every echo of footsteps. But as she turned the corner—

Veyrin was gone.

Caitlyn cursed under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning the narrow passage. No trace of movement, no lingering shadow.  She stepped deeper into the alley, her senses on high alert, her instincts honed from years of hunting criminals in the depths of Noctalis.

But Veyrin was older than her, faster, more experienced in the art of disappearing.

Her frustration was brief, Caitlyn didn’t waste time. If she couldn’t find him on the ground, she would find him from above.

Her boots pressed against the iron racks lining the alley, and with a sudden burst of speed, she leapt—higher, faster, unseen like lightning. The metal barely groaned beneath her weight as she scaled upward, her body a blur as she propelled herself off one ledge, then another, until—she landed soundlessly on the rooftop.

The city stretched out below her in an endless canvas of twisting roads and towering spires. But she wasn’t looking at the city. She was looking for him. Her gaze scanned every street, every shadowed corner—that’s when she saw him, Veyrin.

Standing just beyond the alley, speaking to someone cloaked in deep black, their features obscured.

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes, pressing forward.

They exchanged words—brief, purposeful. Then, they moved.

"Where are you going…" Caitlyn muttered under her breath as they disappeared around another turn. She lost him again. Her fingers clenched at the cold metal of the rooftop railing. Damn it. She was close—too close to let him slip away.

With one final glance at the empty alley below, she moved again, faster this time.

___

Vi crouched behind the thick cover of overgrown hedges, her breath steady as she observed the old, forgotten manor. The place had an eerie stillness to it, its ivy-covered stone walls and shattered windows whispering of a history long abandoned—yet it wasn’t. Not really.

According to one of the servants, Oscar had spent time here for his art, often retreating into solitude within these walls. But that wasn’t what made Vi’s gut tighten.

Elias Hartwell, his father came here often too.

And now, Vi was about to find out why.

Her patience was rewarded when she spotted movement at the end of the gravel road. A black car. Sleek, expensive. Not the kind that belonged to just anyone. Vi tensed, her enhanced senses sharpening.

Elias Hartwell emerged first. Tall, composed, ever the nobleman with his sharp, well-pressed coat and methodical movements. But he wasn’t alone.

The back door of the car swung open, and a woman stepped out. Vi narrowed her eyes as the figure adjusted her long black veil, the material flowing over her shoulders as she walked with quiet elegance toward the manor’s entrance.

Curiosity pushed Vi forward. She waited just long enough for them to enter before she made her move, slipping through the side, her steps silent as a whisper against the damp earth.

She needed a better vantage point.

____

Vi pressed herself against the cold stone wall, carefully maneuvering her way around the manor’s perimeter. She saw a broken window, perfect. With fluid ease, she pulled herself up, her movements quick and practiced.

Inside, the lights cast elongated shadows against the walls, and from her hidden position, Vi could make out Elias and the woman standing near the grand fireplace.

Then, with one smooth motion, the woman removed her veil.

Vi’s breath hitched.

Seraphine.

What the fuck is she doing here?

Vi barely had time to process it before Seraphine spoke.

“My sister is gone.” Her voice was controlled, but there was a tremor beneath it. The weight of grief still clung to her, even if she masked it well.

Elias sighed, nodding solemnly. “I know what it’s like to lose someone, Lady Corvinus.”

Vi felt something twist in her chest. The way Elias spoke wasn’t just polite acknowledgment—it was genuine. The silence stretched before Seraphine finally broke it. “I don’t trust the way the other council members are handling this.”

Vi frowned. Neither do I.

Elias exhaled, turning slightly toward the fire, the flickering light casting sharp lines across his face. “I have my own investigation, too.” His tone was softer now, more deliberate. “Our families, despite our differences, have always had a strong bond together.”

Seraphine nodded slowly, arms crossing as she considered his words. “I know you had nothing to do with my sister’s death, Elias.” Her voice carried conviction. “But this Shimmer… if it spirals out of control, Caitlyn can only do so much. Out of all the council, you have the authority to stop this.”

Vi’s fists clenched slightly at Caitlyn’s name, though she remained motionless, absorbing every word.

Elias ran a hand over his beard in thought. “We’re looking at the bigger picture here, Seraphine.” His voice was low, firm. “This Shimmer—we don’t even know where it’s coming from. If we act recklessly, we risk exposing more than we can control.”

Seraphine’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue. She knew he was right.

Elias continued. “Let us wait until Caitlyn gathers all the information. Once we have clarity, then we strike.”

Seraphine hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “In the meantime, the silver bullets.”

Vi’s brows furrowed. Silver bullets?

Seraphine’s expression was unreadable as she added, “I have secured enough for my family and yours… in case.”

Vi inhaled sharply. They were preparing for war.

She had heard enough. Carefully, she slipped away from the window, retreating into the shadows before either of them could sense another presence nearby.

As Vi moved swiftly through the night, her mind raced.

Shimmer. Silver bullets. Secret alliances.

Whatever was coming… it was bigger than any of them had realized.

___

Caitlyn sat at a small, round table near the arched windows, where the golden morning light form long shades across the polished wood. A simple breakfast sat untouched before her—a steaming cup of black coffee, a plate of soft-boiled eggs, toasted rye bread, and fresh berries that remained largely ignored.

The inn dining hall was quiet at this hour, the mourning crowd already dispersed, leaving only handful of patrons, nursing their drinks or eating in silence, like her. The establishment was upscale, nothing short of what Capemoor demanded but not too ostentatious to draw unnecessary attention.

Her thoughts weren’t on food. They were on last night.

She had almost had him. Almost.

Veyrin had moved like a ghost, slipping between Capemoor’s high society dealings and disappearing into the deepest part of the city as if he knew he was being watched. She had followed his trail flawlessly—until she hadn’t. Losing him in that alleyway had pissed her off more than she’d like to admit.

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose, rolling the edge of her fork between her fingers, her mind already running through alternative approaches. A different vantage point? A closer disguise? A planted informant? There had to be a way to pin him down again.

She was so lost in thought that she barely registered the approaching footsteps until a familiar voice cut through the haze of frustration.

"Looking not too sharp, Caitlyn."

Caitlyn blinked once, then glanced up.

Vayne stood at the edge of her table, arms crossed over her chest, one brow raised in thinly veiled amusement.

Caitlyn let out a small, tired sigh, finally setting her fork down. She should’ve known Vayne would track her down sooner or later.

Vayne was still dressed in her usual dark attire—black coat, high leather boots, an arsenal of concealed weapons Caitlyn didn’t have to see to know were there. Her violet-tinted glasses perched low on her nose, sharp eyes assessing Caitlyn’s state like a predator watching wounded prey.

Caitlyn gestured lazily to the chair across from her. “Go ahead.”

Vayne didn’t need a second invitation. She sank into the seat with the smooth, effortless grace of someone who never let her guard down.

"How did it go?" Vayne asked, tilting her head as she signaled a passing server for a drink.

Caitlyn picked up her coffee, taking a slow sip before answering. "I lost him."

Vayne’s lips twitched—not quite a smirk, but close. "That’s a first. Did Capemoor get the better of you?"

Caitlyn set the cup down, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Veyrin’s smarter than I gave him credit for. He’s cautious. Maybe he knew he was being followed."

Vayne hummed, drumming her fingers idly against the table. "Cautious is one thing. But slipping away from you? Now that’s something else."

Caitlyn leaned back slightly in her chair, running a hand through her hair. "You have too much faith in me."

Vayne watched her for a moment, then let out a slow exhale. “Of course,”

The tension between Caitlyn and Vayne was thick—Caitlyn’s mind still racing, Vayne watching her with that ever-calculated glint in her eye. They were on the verge of formulating a plan, of figuring out their next move, when—

A sudden commotion near the front of the inn shattered the quiet. Chairs scraped against the floor. A murmur rippled through the room, hushed voices rising in urgency. They both heard whispers—

"Lord Veyrin is dead!"

The words cut through the air like a blade.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her body going rigid. Vayne, who had been leaning back lazily just seconds ago, snapped upright, her sharp gaze locking onto the source of the voice.

An innkeeper’s assistant stood near the doorway, panting, eyes wide with shock. He had just stumbled inside, speaking far louder than he probably intended, but the moment the words left his lips, the entire room fell into a stunned silence.

Dead?

Caitlyn’s pulse spiked. That wasn’t possible. She had just been following him. Watching him. Losing him in the alleys of Capemoor. Veyrin had been alive.

What the hell happened? The murmurs grew. Someone else in the inn pushed their chair back. "How?" another voice demanded.

The assistant swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the counter. "They—They found his body this morning, not far from the harbor. It was..." He hesitated, his face turning an unsettling shade of pale. "It was brutal."

Caitlyn and Vayne exchanged a glance, the weight of unspoken words settling between them.

Vayne was the first to recover, leaning in slightly. Her voice was quiet, measured, but edged with something unreadable. “Looks like you weren’t the only one after him, Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn inhaled slowly, reeling in her emotions, but her grip on the table had tightened, knuckles white against the polished wood.

It didn’t make sense.

Veyrin had been calculated, careful, always maneuvering through the shadows like a man who knew he was being watched. He was a suspect, yes, but a slippery one—too clever to be taken down this easily.

And yet, now he was dead. Her mind ran through every possibility at once, but one thought gnawed at her. Veyrin was a Caravelle, a name that carried weight, power, and influence across Noctalis. He wasn’t just some mid-tier player tangled in the Shimmer trade, he was one of the family’s sharpest minds, their political strategist, their front-facing manipulator.

And now, he was a corpse rotting by the docks.

The Caravelles didn’t die this way. They were predators, not prey.

Unless… someone wanted this.

Caitlyn’s thoughts raced. The Caravelles had been one step ahead every time, dodging her investigations, covering their tracks before she could sink her teeth in. If Veyrin was involved in the very thing she had been hunting, then why eliminate him?

Was this an internal betrayal?

Vayne studied her, arms crossed over her chest. “You were tracking him last night. You said he went somewhere shady, yeah? What if that’s where it happened?”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. I lost him. If I had stayed closer—

No. She forced herself to push that thought away. This wasn’t a moment for self-reproach. She needed facts. Evidence. Something to piece together whatever game was unfolding.

Her voice was steady when she finally spoke. “We need to see the body.”

Vayne nodded once, then turned on her heel, already leading the way.

____

Caitlyn stood at the edge of the alleyway. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered near the perimeter, murmuring amongst themselves, but the presence of guards kept them from coming any closer.

She exhaled slowly, pressing a finger against the earpiece nestled in her ear.

Vi’s voice crackled through the line, steady and warm. "Do you want me up there?"

Caitlyn glanced down at the lifeless form sprawled on the damp ground before her—Lord Veyrin. His corpse was already beginning to stiffen, death settling in his veins like ink bleeding through paper. The eerie glow of Shimmer-tainted blood pulsed beneath his skin, dark and unnatural.

She shook her head slightly, though Vi couldn’t see it. "No, not yet..." she hesitated, her voice quieter now. "Be careful too, Vi. I know you’re looking into something on your end."

Vi let out a small huff, part amused, part exasperated. "Alright, alright. I've got something too. I'll fill you in when I see you."

Caitlyn exhaled, her fingers flexing at her side. "Alright. I’ll be back tonight."

Vi’s voice softened, a quiet, lingering warmth behind it. "See you, Cait."

The comms cut off with a faint click, leaving Caitlyn standing alone in the eerie silence of the crime scene.

She turned her gaze back to the body before her, her expression hardening.

Caitlyn crouched beside the lifeless body of Lord Veyrin, her sharp blue eyes scanning every detail. The bullet wound was unlike any ordinary shot—ragged edges, hollowed out, blackened veins spiraling outward from the impact. His irises, once the piercing gold of the Caravelle bloodline, were now an unnatural glowing violet, the telltale mark of Shimmer contamination.

She inhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus, but her mind was already racing. This happened when she lost him.

The realization settled like lead in her stomach.

Vayne cut through her thoughts. "This is what you’ve been dealing with in Piltover?"

Caitlyn glanced up to Vayne standing over her, arms crossed, her silver eyes cold and calculating.  Caitlyn stood, dusting off her gloves. "Yes," she confirmed, keeping her voice even. "This is why I’m here. In all honesty, I thought Veyrin was behind all of this."

Vayne hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head as she examined the wound. "Then it seems your suspect just became another victim."

Before Caitlyn could reply, footsteps approached from behind—heavy, purposeful.

She turned just in time to see Alec Caravelle, Veyrin’s younger brother, stepping into the scene. Dressed in an immaculate dark suit, his presence was imposing, though it wasn’t the cut of his clothing that made him dangerous. It was the way his eyes locked onto Caitlyn, devious, assessing like a predator sizing up prey.

Vayne, sensing the shift in tension, exhaled through her nose. "I’ll leave you to it," she muttered under her breath, before turning and walking away.

Caitlyn squared her shoulders, preparing for the inevitable confrontation.

Alec approached her with deliberate slowness, his expression unreadable. Then, with a voice that was too calm, too measured, he spoke.

"Seems like an unfortunate coincidence, doesn’t it?" He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "You arrive in my city, and suddenly, my brother ends up dead."

Caitlyn’s jaw tensed, but her expression remained neutral. "I’m here on an official investigation, Lord Caravelle."

"Oh, I know," Alec murmured, his gaze darkening. "But you’ll forgive me if I find it hard to believe in coincidences. After all…" he took a slow step forward, voice dropping into something more menacing, "People seem to be dying around you, Lady Kiramman."

Caitlyn didn’t flinch, but she felt the heft of his words settle over her. Two deaths. Two powerful vampire families.

Althea Corvinus.

Veyrin Caravelle.

Alec leaned in just slightly, voice low, but dripping with quiet fury. "You know what our family stands for. We don’t sit around waiting for your due process."

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched slightly at her side, but she held her ground. "You want justice," she said steadily. "So do I."

Alec scoffed, his expression unreadable as he turned toward Cassandra, who had been observing the exchange in silence.

"Someone will pay, Lady Kiramman," Alec said, his voice like cold steel. "And if your investigation fails to deliver justice— we will."

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.

___

Caitlyn stood by the crime scene, the scent of blood still lingering in the cold air. The body had been taken away, the streets of Capemoor returning to their usual eerie quiet. Yet the death of another vampire Lord remained substantial on her shoulders. She had lost him the night before and now he was dead. And the investigation? A dead end.

The sharp click of heels echoed against the cobblestone streets. Cassandra Kiramman approached, her expression unreadable, but Caitlyn could already sense the exhaustion in her mother’s posture. Even Cassandra, with all her poise and authority, looked weary.

She stopped beside Caitlyn, arms crossed, eyes scanning the now-empty crime scene. Then, after a long silence, she finally spoke. "Everything is a dead end."

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, staring at the spot where Veyrin’s body had once been. The bullet was Shimmer-infused. The same kind that had been appearing in Piltover.

She had no leads. No motive. And the only person who was supposed to be behind all of it was now dead.

Caitlyn stood rigid, her arms crossed tightly as if bracing against the distressing frustration clawing its way up her spine. The walls of the crime scene felt like they were closing in, suffocating her with the weight of unanswered questions. Veyrin Caravelle was gone, his body discarded like an afterthought, and with him, the fragile thread of truth she had been clinging to had unraveled completely.

Cassandra Kiramman watched her daughter with measured scrutiny, her gaze sharp yet unreadable. "It all seems to be very bad timing, don’t you agree?" she mused, her voice carrying that ever-present note of authority. "I sent you here, and yet he’s conveniently gone. So tell me, Caitlyn—who else is left to chase?"

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, the words feeling heavy on her tongue. "I don’t know." It was an admission she loathed, one that settled in her stomach like a stone.

Cassandra’s eyes flickered with something, understanding, maybe. Pity, never. "This isn’t failure, Caitlyn," she said smoothly.

Caitlyn turned her head sharply, blue eyes glinting with an edge of defiance. "It feels like it."

Her mother didn’t recoil. "That’s because you’re not used to being at a loss."

The words struck something deep inside Caitlyn, threading through the exhaustion, the relentless drive, the need to be in control of the situation. Because Cassandra was right—Caitlyn had always been the one with answers, the one with a plan, the one who never allowed herself to be outmaneuvered. And yet, here she was, standing over another dead body, with nothing but shadows and dead ends.

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to recalibrate. "The Caravelles won’t let this go unanswered," she said finally, grounding herself in logic. "Veyrin’s death will be their excuse to retaliate."

Cassandra nodded, her expression betraying nothing. "Which is exactly why you need to be careful. The game is shifting, Caitlyn, and you’re standing at the center of it."

Caitlyn looked away, jaw tightening. Her entire life, she had been able to follow a trail. Find the truth. But now? It was like trying to grasp smoke.

The words cut through Caitlyn’s spiraling thoughts like a blade, halting her in place. The weight of them settled deep.

Who benefited?

Her mind churned, sifting through the events leading up to this moment. Veyrin had always been a suspect, a known manipulator with just enough power to be dangerous but his death wasn’t a victory.

Cassandra took a step closer, lowering her voice. "You do realize there will be no council after this."

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a prediction. It was a certainty.

The council had been fragile before, teetering on the edge of collapse under the weight of conflicting loyalties. Veyrin’s death was the push that would send everything crumbling down. The Caravelles wouldn’t let this go unanswered. Neither would the other families who had spent decades keeping their power balanced on a knife’s edge.

Caitlyn swallowed against the bitterness rising in her throat. She was running out of time.

____

The door to Caitlyn’s office clicked shut, but Caitlyn barely registered it. She stood by the tall glass window, arms crossed, her gaze lost in the endless cityscape beyond.

The investigation was slipping through her fingers like sand, and for the first time in a long time, Caitlyn felt the sting of uncertainty pressing against her ribs.

A familiar warmth entered the room. Boots against the polished floor. A presence she knew before she even turned.

Vi.

Caitlyn turned, and before she could say anything, Vi was already closing the space between them, striding forward with purpose. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I was worried," Vi murmured, voice low, steady.

Caitlyn let out a slow breath, sinking into her. For just a moment, she let herself rest. Let herself feel Vi's warmth, the solid weight of her arms around her. The tension in her body eased, even if only a fraction.

She pressed her face lightly into the crook of Vi’s neck, exhaling against her skin. "I’m fine."

Vi scoffed, but her hold didn’t loosen. "Yeah, and I’m a saint."

Caitlyn let out a quiet, tired chuckle. Vi always knew how to break the heaviness in her chest.

Vi finally pulled back, just enough to search Caitlyn’s face. Gray eyes scanned blue, assessing.

"You didn’t call me when you got back," Vi said, voice softer this time.

Caitlyn sighed, pressing her fingers against her temples. "I got caught up in the report."

Vi tilted her head. "You got caught up blaming yourself."

Caitlyn didn’t respond. Because Vi wasn’t wrong.

Vi let out a breath, then cupped Caitlyn’s jaw gently, her thumb brushing against her cheek. "Hey. You’re doing everything you can."

Caitlyn closed her eyes briefly, grounding herself in the warmth of Vi’s touch. Then, she leaned forward just enough to press a kiss against Vi’s lips.  Vi exhaled into it, her arms tightening around Caitlyn’s waist. She didn’t rush, didn’t push. Just held her there, silent reassurance in the way their lips met.

When they finally parted, Caitlyn’s forehead rested against Vi’s. Her voice was quieter now, steadier.

"I know."

Vi smirked slightly. "Good. ‘Cause I’m not letting you drown in this alone."

Caitlyn’s lips curled into the smallest of smiles. "I never thought you would."

Vi walked across the room, her boots echoing lightly against the wooden floor as she made her way toward their board—the one they had been using to track everything.

Red strings connected faces, locations, and events, a tangled mess of theories and dead ends. Pinned to the center was Veyrin’s name—now crossed out.

Vi exhaled, tilting her head as she studied it. "I think we’re looking at this all wrong."

Caitlyn, who had been quiet since their conversation started, stepped closer. "What do you mean?"

Vi gestured to the board. "Every lead we follow, every suspect we look into, it always ends the same way. A dead end. Everyone’s playing innocent. Veyrin, Althea—two from big vampire families, gone. No clear connections, no one taking the blame. But that’s just it." She turned to Caitlyn, her gray eyes sharp. "The question isn’t who’s responsible anymore. The question is who benefits from these deaths?"

Caitlyn stared at her, the wheels in her mind already turning.

Vi continued, crossing her arms. "Veyrin was powerful, but he was also… difficult. Ruthless, sure, but he had control. Same with Althea. They were both old blood, the type that kept things in balance, whether people liked them or not. Now that they’re gone, things are shifting. Someone is making a move, Caitlyn, and they’re doing it in a way that keeps the attention everywhere but where it should be."

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered with understanding. "Chaos."

Vi nodded. "Exactly. Whoever’s pulling the strings doesn’t want power handed to them. They want everyone scrambling so they can take it before anyone realizes what's happening."

Caitlyn turned to the board, reaching for a marker. She drew a circle around Veyrin’s name and Althea’s, then connected them with a question mark.

"So if it’s not about eliminating threats," Caitlyn murmured, her mind racing, "then it’s about shifting the power structure entirely."

Vi tapped a finger against the board. "And whoever’s left standing at the end of this mess? That’s who we should be watching."

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, stepping back. "We’ve been chasing the killers when we should have been chasing the survivors."

Vi smirked. "Now you’re getting it, Cupcake."

Caitlyn's gaze remained fixed on the board, her mind piecing things together as the weight of Vi’s words settled. Slowly, she capped the marker, stepping back.

"Veyrin’s death isn’t just a murder—it’s an excuse," she said, voice edged with certainty.

Vi arched a brow. "An excuse for what?"

Caitlyn turned to her, crossing her arms. "For the Caravelles to act."

Vi frowned, considering it. "You think they’ll retaliate?"

"They won’t just retaliate," Caitlyn corrected. "They’ll make an announcement. Veyrin was one of the most powerful names on the council. His death is a perfect justification for them to bypass any diplomacy, any restraint. They don’t do due process. They’ll take matters into their own hands, and when they do, it won’t be clean."

Vi ran a hand down her face. "That’s comforting."

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. "The Caravelles have always been the most aggressive when it comes to ‘justice.’ They don’t just go after enemies—they wipe them out. The question is, who will they target first?"

Vi’s eyes flickered with something dark. "Doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, they won’t see it coming."

Caitlyn nodded, her grip tightening against her own arms. "Which means we need to get ahead of this before they set their sights on the wrong people."

Vi exhaled sharply, glancing back at the board. "So what’s our next move, Detective?"

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. "We find out who’s fanning the flames. If the Caravelles are about to start a war, someone made sure it happened this way."

___

Alec Caravelle strode out of the doors of the council chamber, his presence suffocating. His eyes dark and haunting. There was no fury, no outburst, just something cold and waiting, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface. The ‘council’ meeting had finished, though Caitlyn can’t really call it that, as the whole hierarchy and peace have been hanging on a thread.

Vi shifted slightly beside Caitlyn, arms crossed, gaze tracking Alec as he walked past them. “He looks like he’s about to kill someone,” Vi muttered under her breath.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing as she watched him disappear down the corridor. “He’s grieving.” She paused. “And he’s dangerous when grieving.”

Before Caitlyn could respond, Elias Hartwell emerged next, his expression carefully composed. He barely spared a glance at the departing Caravelle before adjusting the cuffs of his coat, seemingly unaffected by the tension suffocating the council halls.

Caitlyn stepped forward, her voice even. “Lord Hartwell.”

Elias turned, a polite, measured smile forming on his lips. “Commander Kiramman.” He gave Vi a nod, “Ms. Ashbourne.”

Vi remained quiet, allowing Caitlyn to take the lead.

Caitlyn returned the smile, just as polite, just as measured. “I thought I’d take a moment of your time.”

Elias lifted a brow. “Of course.”

She reached into her coat, pulling out a thin folder, and extended it to him. “Since you’ve been so keen on my investigation regarding Shimmer, I thought I’d share what we have so far.”

Elias regarded the folder before taking it, his lips twitching slightly as he glanced over the cover. “How generous of you, Commander.” His gaze flickered back to hers. “Is this meant to be a peace offering?”

Caitlyn’s smile didn’t waver. “More like transparency. Something I believe we all need right now.”

Elias hummed, his fingers tapping lightly against the folder before his smile faded, his eyes sharpening slightly. “And I assume this transparency extends both ways?”

Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. “It should.”

Elias studied her for a long moment, before sighing, almost amused. “You really are your mother’s daughter.”

Caitlyn tilted her head slightly. “And you, Lord Hartwell, are full of surprises.”

His smirk remained, but his gaze darkened just slightly as Caitlyn continued. “For instance, have you mentioned to your fellow council members how you and the Corvinus family have been securing enhanced silver bullets?”

Vi arched a brow. “Talis Industries shut down the production of those months ago. How were you able to—”

“I allowed the production.” Elias interrupted smoothly, tucking the folder under his arm. His tone was cool, matter-of-fact. “We are in a security crisis, Commander. War is coming. We don’t have time to wait around for permission.”

Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. “War isn’t inevitable. It’s a choice.”

Elias’s expression didn’t shift. “Then tell me, Commander Kiramman have you prepared your people for what happens next?”

Silence stretched between them for a beat before Elias exhaled, his voice quieter but no less weighted. “I’m sure you know the weight of the Caravelle’s death.” His gaze sharpened. “The council is at the breach of falling. And as soon as the Caravelles stop grieving… you know what comes next.”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw. She knew exactly what came next.

Vi stepped forward, her voice flat. “That’s why you’re stocking up?”

Elias glanced at her, then back at Caitlyn. “I am ensuring survival, Commander.”

Caitlyn’s gaze stayed locked on his, unwavering. “Survival at what cost?”

Elias gave her a knowing look, stepping back. “I suspect we’ll find out soon enough.”

With that, he turned, walking down the hall with the same unshakable confidence he always carried.

___

Vi walked through the winding streets of Zaun, She carried a bag of food in one hand, the familiar scents of fried dumplings and fresh bread wafting through the cool, smoky air. She’d stopped by a few vendors, picking up things she knew Powder liked—stuff she figured Viktor wouldn’t complain about either.

She wasn’t rushing, just moving at an easy pace, blending in with the usual undercity chaos. Zaun was always moving, always breathing. Hawkers shouted from stalls, workers trudged home from long shifts, and the faint thumping of music from underground clubs echoed between the steel beams and rusted pipes above.

Still, something nagged at her.

She couldn’t put her finger on it—just a feeling.

Like an itch at the back of her neck, a weight pressing between her shoulders. She wasn’t even sure why, but the more she walked, the more she felt…watched.

Maybe it was nothing.

She glanced at the reflections in the grimy shop windows, eyes scanning the crowds. Nothing seemed off. Just the usual mix of Zaunites—engineers, workers, low-level gangsters, and street kids running through the alleys.

Still, the feeling didn’t leave.

Vi sighed, shaking it off. She’d spent too many years being paranoid, jumping at ghosts. No use dwelling on something that might not even be real.

Instead, she adjusted her grip on the bag and turned toward the bar.

A quick stop before heading home.

Vi pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the dimly lit space. Behind the counter, Mylo was pouring a drink, his expression unreadable until he glanced up and spotted Vi.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Look what the stray cat dragged in.”

Vi rolled her eyes, tossing the bag of food onto the counter before sliding onto a stool. “Still ugly, Mylo.”

Mylo snorted. “Are these for me?”

Vi just shrugged, resting an elbow on the bar. “Dropped by for some supplies, on my way home.”

The feeling from earlier still lingered—just a whisper now, barely noticeable under the comfortable hum of the bar’s atmosphere. She didn’t mention it. It was probably nothing, just her instincts being overactive again.

She wasn’t about to start acting paranoid.

Mylo grabbed the bag, peeking inside before letting out a low whistle. “Powder’s gonna eat all this in five seconds.”

Vi chuckled. “Yeah, well, figured I’d keep her busy.”

She let her gaze drift around the room, familiar faces here and there. The usual crowd. No one out of place.

She let herself relax.

Leaning against the bar, Vi exhaled and grabbed a glass from the counter. Mylo arched a brow but didn’t say anything as she took a slow sip. Maybe she really was just imagining things.

____

Caitlyn walked side by side with Powder through the polished halls of Talis Industries. Powder, as usual, was in a teasing mood, her hands tucked into her coat pockets as she casually strolled beside Caitlyn.

"You know, I gotta say, Cupcake, you’re kinda growing on me," Powder mused, side-eyeing her with a playful grin. "Not in a ‘besties for life’ kinda way, but like… you don’t suck as much as I thought you did."

Caitlyn huffed, casting her an unimpressed glance. "How generous of you."

Powder grinned, waggling her brows. "I know, right?"

The two had settled into an unexpected rhythm—one built on mutual respect, the occasional verbal sparring, and Powder’s endless ability to poke fun at her. At first, Caitlyn had found her exhausting. Now? It was just… normal.

They reached the main office corridor, where Jayce’s office was located. Caitlyn adjusted her gloves, about to part ways, when Powder smirked and nudged her lightly.

"Alright, later, Cupcake."

Caitlyn halted mid-step and turned to face her, narrowing her eyes. "No. Don’t call me that."

Powder’s grin widened as she tilted her head. "Oh? And why’s that? 'Cause Vi calls you that?"

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, trying (and failing) to suppress the way her face heated up. "That’s not the point."

"That is exactly the point," Powder sing-songed, stepping backward with a knowing look. "Vi calls you Cupcake, and now it’s, what? Sacred? Off-limits?"

Caitlyn pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. "You’re unbelievable."

Powder cackled, shooting her finger guns. "And you’re so easy to mess with. Later, Cupcake—oh, sorry, my bad—Lady Kiramman."

Before Caitlyn could retort, Powder spun on her heel and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Caitlyn standing there, half-annoyed, half-amused.

Shaking her head, she turned toward Jayce’s office, muttering under her breath as she pushed open the door.

"I hate that kid."

But, if the small smirk lingering on her lips was anything to go by… she didn’t mean it.

Caitlyn stepped into Jayce’s office, the scent of ink and refined wood filling the space.  Jayce was hunched over a handwritten report, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He didn’t look up at first, merely signing off on something with a sharp stroke of his pen before setting it aside.

"So," Caitlyn began, her voice even but pointed, "When were you going to tell me you've been supplying the Hartwells and Corvinus those bullets?"

Jayce froze mid-motion. His fingers curled slightly around the edge of his desk before he finally looked up, meeting Caitlyn’s piercing gaze.

"I…" he started, but hesitated.

Caitlyn crossed her arms, her stance rigid. "Jayce."

Jayce exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning back in his chair. "Caitlyn, they’re right. We have to prepare for what’s coming." His voice was firm, but there was a note of weariness beneath it. "You’ve seen what’s happening. The balance is already shifting—war isn’t a possibility anymore, it’s a certainty."

Caitlyn’s jaw tensed, “And here I was trying to figure out what you and Seraphine had in common.” She narrowed her eyes. “This is why you’re in contact with her?”

Jayce met her gaze, silent for a moment, then sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “Seraphine is trying to do the same thing I am— making sure we have something to fight with when the time comes.”

"She came to me," He admitted, finally. "Even before Althea’s death, she… she asked for my help. The Corvinus and the Hartwells don’t trust the Council to act in time. They wanted to ensure their people were protected."

Caitlyn scoffed softly, shaking her head. "And you just went along with it?"

Jayce sat up straighter, his expression hardening slightly. "What else was I supposed to do, Cait? Sit back and wait for more bodies to pile up?" His voice lowered. "These bullets were never meant to be used for open war. They’re a safeguard. A deterrent."

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, stepping closer to his desk. "You should have told me."

Jayce held her gaze, something like guilt flickering in his eyes before he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. "Would it have changed anything?"

Caitlyn hesitated—because truthfully, she wasn’t sure. But the weight of secrecy, of decisions being made in shadows, unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Finally, she sighed, placing a single file down onto his desk. "I think stockpiling weapons isn’t the right answer for this."

Jayce stood abruptly, the scrape of his chair against the floor breaking the silence. “Do you really think I want this, Cait?” His voice was taut, frustration laced in every word. “I’m trying to stop this from being a massacre. And if that means making sure the right people have the means to defend themselves, then so be it.”

Caitlyn’s gaze remained locked on him, unyielding. “And what happens when there’s no one left to defend? When all of this turns into something we can’t come back from?”

Jayce didn’t answer immediately. His hands rested on the desk, fingers pressing into the wood as if grounding himself. “Then we make sure we’re still standing at the end of it.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, his words settling over her. She turned toward the door, pausing only briefly. “I have no intention of allowing this war to take place. But if it does…” She met his gaze, firm. “I will fight for those I love. For those I refuse to lose”

Jayce’s shoulders dropped slightly, something unreadable passing through his expression. “I know.”

Caitlyn lingered for a moment, searching Jayce’s expression for any trace of hesitation, any last attempt to argue, to justify the choices he had made. But there was nothing—just understanding. A quiet resignation that this was the path they were on, whether they wanted it or not.

She tightened her grip on the folder in her hands, her resolve hardening. “Then I hope, for all of our sakes, you’re ready for what comes next.”

Jayce gave a small, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “No one’s ready for what comes next, Cait.” His voice was softer now, touched with something heavier than just responsibility. “But that’s never stopped us before.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, only gave a short nod before turning for the door. But as her hand brushed the handle, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Be careful, Jayce.” It was the closest thing to a plea she would allow herself.

Jayce’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes flickering with something almost protective, almost regretful. “You too.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Jayce leaned back in his chair, staring at the folder she had left behind. His fingers traced the edges of the file absentmindedly before he finally let out a quiet sigh, rubbing at his temples.

Because deep down, he wasn’t sure if any of them could stop what was coming.

_____

Vi could still feel it despite the street being quiet. That subtle, nagging pull at the back of her neck—the kind of instinct that had been honed from years of watching her back.

Someone was following her.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid.

The feeling had been there since she stepped on Zaun, even after seeing Mylo. It wasn’t obvious, nothing as blatant as footsteps echoing to closely. She didn’t turn around, didn’t stop. Just walked at the same steady pace toward her apartment, hands in her pockets, shoulders loose. Casual. But her mind was already mapping the nearest escape routes, every alley, every shadow, every streetlamp that flickered just a little too long.

By the time she reached her apartment, the air felt heavier.

Vi closed the door behind her with a sigh, tossing her keys onto the counter. The weight of the night clung to her shoulders, pressing against her bones.

She grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and took a long sip, trying to shake it off. Maybe she was just paranoid. Maybe it was nothing.

There was knock on the door.

Vi froze, the glass hovering just at her lips.

Slowly, she set it down on the counter, her muscles tensing as she turned toward the door. Silence. She waited, listening.

Another knock. Faster this time.

Vi exhaled sharply, stepping toward the door. Instinctively, she reached for the activation switch on her gauntlet, her fingers brushing against the cool metal. Who the hell—?

But then, a voice.

"Vi, it’s me."

Her breath hitched. The tension in her muscles uncoiled just slightly.

Caitlyn.

Vi unlocked the door in one swift motion, pulling it open just enough to see Caitlyn standing there in the dim light of the hallway. Before she could say anything, Vi grabbed her wrist and yanked her inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.

For a second, they just stood there, inches apart, the quiet hum of the city outside the only sound between them.

Then Vi wrapped her arms around Caitlyn, pulling her close.

"Everything alright?" Vi murmured against Caitlyn’s hair, her voice quieter than usual.

Caitlyn didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she just leaned into her, arms sliding around Vi’s waist, holding onto her as if anchoring them both to the moment.

"I should be asking you that," Caitlyn finally murmured, her breath warm against Vi’s neck.

Vi sighed, pressing her forehead against Caitlyn’s shoulder for a brief second before pulling back just enough to look at her. Those blue eyes sharp, searching. Always seeing too much.

She wanted to say, I’m fine. Wanted to brush it off. But the truth was, that nagging feeling in her gut wouldn’t let her.

Instead, she exhaled and admitted, "I think someone’s been following me."

Caitlyn’s body stiffened slightly. Her gaze darkened. "Who?"

Vi shook her head. "I don’t know. It’s just a feeling, but… it won’t go away."

Caitlyn’s hands tightened on Vi’s arms, her brows furrowing. "Vi, if you think—"

"I know," Vi cut in, her tone softer. "I’ll be careful."

Caitlyn studied her for a long moment before sighing, her fingers tracing small, absentminded patterns against Vi’s arm. "I don’t like this."

Vi smirked, trying to ease the tension. "Yeah, well. I don’t like a lot of things. Like Jayce’s talking voice. Or my favorite bar raising their drink prices."

Caitlyn huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t let go.

"I mean it, Vi."

Vi’s smirk faded just slightly. She reached up, cupping Caitlyn’s face, her thumb brushing against her cheek.

"I know."

For a moment, they just stood there—Vi’s hands cradling Caitlyn’s face, Caitlyn’s fingers still holding onto Vi’s arms. The tension of the night, the weight of the unknown, it all faded for just a second.

Then Caitlyn leaned in, kissing her softly, lingering.

Vi melted into it, sighing against Caitlyn’s lips before pulling her even closer.

She didn’t know what the hell was going on. Didn’t know who was following her, or why.

Vi pulled back and engulfed Caitlyn into a tight embrace, pressing her lips against her temple in a lingering kiss.

"Sorry, I need to go somewhere." Caitlyn’s voice was quiet, steady, but there was something in the way Vi held Caitlyn too—like she needed this moment, this warmth, just as much.

Vi smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind Caitlyn’s ear. "You know you’re always welcome here, cupcake."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes at the nickname, but the softness in her gaze betrayed her fondness.

Then, the high-pitched whistle of the kettle cut through the silence. Vi let out a breath, stepping away reluctantly. "Hold that thought."

She walked toward the stove, switching off the burner, pouring the steaming water into two mismatched mugs. The rich, herbal scent filled the air as she set the teabags to steep. Caitlyn leaned against the counter, watching her.

Vi turned, sliding a cup toward Caitlyn. "Here." She smirked.

Vi sat down beside her, resting her elbows on the counter, hands wrapped around her own mug. The warmth seeped into her fingers, grounding her.

"I know there’s been a lot going on lately," Caitlyn murmured, swirling the tea slightly before taking a careful sip. "And I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess."

Vi shook her head, setting her tea down. "Hey." She met Cailtyn’s gaze, her voice wary. "You didn’t drag me into anything. I chose to be here."

Cailtyn exhaled slowly, nodding once.

"Yeah, I know." Her smirk was softer now, laced with something deeper, more grateful. Vi tapped Caitlyn’s knee gently with the back of her hand. "And I told you—I got your back, right? We’re in this together."

Caitlyn’s lips curved slightly, and she picked up her tea again, taking a slow sip. The heat was comforting, the silence between them easy.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, just sitting side by side, the weight of the night settling around them.

Then, Vi sighed, setting her cup down, turning her body slightly to face Caitlyn more fully.

"Despite everything—and everyone falling apart—I haven’t asked how you are lately." Caitlyn said.

Vi’s breath caught just slightly.

She looked at Vi—really looked at her. The way her brows were knit together, the way her fingers tapped absentmindedly against the ceramic, the way she was actually asking. Not as a distraction. Not as a passing comment.

But because she meant it.

Vi leaned against the counter, staring down at her untouched tea, fingers drumming restlessly against the rim of the cup. There was a weight to her, something she had been carrying—something she hadn’t said out loud yet.

Caitlyn, ever perceptive, tilted her head slightly, sensing the shift in Vi’s demeanor.

"Vi?" Her voice was gentle, encouraging.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head as if trying to shake off hesitation. "Alright, so… there’s something I need to tell you."

Caitlyn’s brows knitted together, concern flickering in her blue eyes. "I’m listening."

Vi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached for the chain around her neck, pulling her pendant from beneath her shirt. The silver emblem caught the vague light of the apartment, its intricate design reflecting faintly.

Caitlyn immediately recognized it—she had seen it before, but now, looking at Vi’s expression, she realized there was more to it than just a sentimental keepsake.

"It’s not just some old necklace," Vi said finally, her voice lower, more serious. "It’s a symbol…my bloodline.”

Caitlyn stilled. "What is it?" she asked, her voice gentle but attentive.

Vi held it with intent. Like it meant something more than just an old piece of silver.

"This symbol…" Vi started, voice steady, "it’s from a forgotten organization, the Ashen Order."

Caitlyn’s brows drew closer together. "The what?"

Vi let out a small, dry chuckle. "Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Never heard of them before, but apparently, it’s some old-ass bloodline of supernatural hunters. And turns out… I’m one of them."

Caitlyn straightened slightly, her sharp mind already working through the implications.

"You’re saying this isn’t just something you inherited—this is…"

Vi nodded, her grip tightening around the pendant. "It explains everything—why I’ve always been stronger, faster. Why I heal faster than I should. And…" Vi exhaled, looking up at Caitlyn now. "Why my blood reacted when you bit me."

Caitlyn froze for a second. The memory flashed in her mind—the taste of Vi’s blood, how something had changed in her the moment it touched her tongue.

"Vi…" Caitlyn started, her voice quieter now. "You think… that wasn't my abilities transferring to you?"

Vi shook her head. "No. It wasn’t you giving me anything. It was already inside me. When you bit me, something just… woke up."

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted. That changed everything.

Vi leaned on the counter, sighing. "I thought at first that maybe it was just because you were a vampire, but then I started looking into it—about my blood, my lineage. That’s when I found out about the Ashen Order."

Caitlyn, still processing, rubbed her fingers against her temple. "And this order… you said they were hunters?"

Vi scoffed, rolling her eyes. "More like the vampires’ worst nightmare. They were wiped out. Every last one. And now I know why."

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes slightly. "Why?"

Vi looked at her for a moment before she answered. "Because our blood does something to your kind. It’s not just any blood—it can either make you stronger or kill you."

Caitlyn felt a chill creep up her spine. Caitlyn was quiet for a long moment, her gaze locked on Vi’s pendant, thoughts racing.

Then something else clicked in Caitlyn’s mind.

"Wait." She looked up, her expression serious. "You said you started looking into this because of the bite. But something else must have pushed you to dig deeper."

Vi let out a slow breath before meeting Caitlyn’s eyes. "The Huntress recognized it."

Caitlyn’s lips parted slightly.

"The Huntress?"

Vi nodded. "Yeah. When we fought, she saw my necklace, and for a second, she hesitated. That’s when I knew—she knew what this was."

Caitlyn’s mind whirled. The Huntress was one of the deadliest fighters they had encountered, and if she recognized the Ashen Order, that meant this history wasn’t as forgotten as Vi had hoped.

Vi studied Caitlyn, the thought of everything they had just discussed still settling between them. The past, the bloodline, the Ashen Order—it was more than she had ever thought she’d have to confront.

But as Caitlyn sat there, looking at her with that steady, untiring gaze, Vi felt something else entirely.

Maybe this wasn’t just about finding out who she was. Maybe this was about finding something more.

She exhaled slowly, then stepped closer, reaching down to take the tea cup from Caitlyn’s hands. Their fingers brushed for a fleeting second before Vi set it aside on the counter.

Caitlyn looked up at her, curious, but she didn’t move away.

Vi’s gray eyes softened, a small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Cait… maybe we were meant to meet in that forest.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched slightly at the certainty in Vi’s voice.

“Maybe we were meant to meet that night.”

She wasn’t talking about fate in the romanticized, naïve way people did. She was talking about something deeper, something that tied them together before either of them even knew it.

Caitlyn swallowed, lips parting slightly, but she found no words.

Vi didn’t need them.

She leaned down, standing close, her frame towering just enough that Caitlyn had to tilt her head slightly. Her voice dropped, quieter now.

“If it weren’t for you…” Vi murmured, her eyes never leaving Caitlyn’s. “…I wouldn’t have known. About my past. About whatever this is.”

Caitlyn’s heart pounded, but her expression remained steady. She reached for Vi’s hand, gripping it gently between her own.

“Vi, we’ll figure it out,” she said, her voice softer now, but sure. “We’ll find answers. Together.”

Vi exhaled, something flickering behind her eyes—gratitude, relief, something deeper. She lifted a hand, gently cupping Caitlyn’s face. Her thumb brushed lightly against Caitlyn’s cheekbone, as if memorizing the moment, reminding herself that she has this and this is one of the things that mattered, truly.

And then, slowly, Vi leaned in.

Caitlyn closed the distance before she could second-guess it, her lips meeting Vi’s in a slow, lingering kiss.

Vi’s fingers tightened slightly against Caitlyn’s skin, tilting her head just enough to deepen the kiss.

Caitlyn sighed against her, her hands sliding up to Vi’s arms, pulling her closer.

And for a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

Vi felt the shift the second Caitlyn stood, her fingers dragging across Vi’s abdomen, slow and delicate. The touch sent a ripple of warmth through her, a sharp contrast to the heaviness of the conversation they had just shared.

Caitlyn’s blue eyes flickered downward as she slowly unfastened Vi’s shirt, her fingers deft, practiced—like she had done this a thousand times before, yet still savored every second. Each button undone revealed more of Vi’s toned skin, warm beneath her fingertips, her breathing growing heavier with each touch.

Vi smirked, amusement flickering in her darkened eyes despite the way Caitlyn had her completely under her spell. “In a hurry, are we?” Her voice was husky, teasing, but there was a rough edge to it like she was already unraveling.

Caitlyn only hummed in response, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she tugged Vi toward the living room, their bodies pressing together, their mouths colliding again in a kiss that deepened with every step. The urgency was there, simmering, but so was something more—something unspoken, tender, consuming.

As they paused, Caitlyn’s hands hovered over Vi’s bare skin, drinking in the warmth she had craved for so long. Her gaze softened as she leaned in, pressing a reverent kiss against the metal of Vi’s necklace. A symbol of Vi’s past, her strength, her identity. But to Caitlyn, it was something else entirely.

It was a symbol of her lover.

Vi exhaled sharply, feeling Caitlyn’s lips against the cold metal of her necklace. It sent a shiver down her spine, not just from the contrast of warmth and steel, but from what it meant—what Caitlyn saw in her. Not just a fighter, not just a survivor, but someone to be cherished.

Caitlyn’s hands smoothed over Vi’s abdomen, fingers tracing over taut muscles, mapping out familiar territory with renewed hunger. Vi tilted her head, watching her with a lopsided smirk, but there was something deeper beneath it—a quiet surrender. She let Caitlyn take her time, let her explore, savor.

“Cait,” Vi murmured, a warning, a plea.

Caitlyn just smiled against her skin. “Bedroom?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the need in it made Vi’s stomach tighten.

Vi chuckled, the sound deep, echoing between them. “Mmm.” That was all the permission Caitlyn needed.

She pulled Vi backward, leading her through the apartment, never once breaking contact. Their kisses grew heavier, deeper, their steps clumsy as they fumbled through the doorway, bumping into furniture, too caught up in the need consuming them.

By the time Vi had Caitlyn on the bed, she was breathless, her pupils blown wide, skin flushed in anticipation. She towered over Caitlyn, hovering for just a second, taking in the way Caitlyn looked beneath her—hair sprawled out, lips swollen, eyes dark and inviting.

“Cait...you’re perfect” Vi’s voice was thick with reverence, like she had been holding back the words for too long.

Vi pulled every piece of fabric off her now, revealing her sculpted frame, bathed in silver moonlight streaming through the window. Caitlyn propped herself up on her elbows, watching her with hunger, her lips slightly parted. Vi was breathtaking—strong and untamed, but hers.

Vi’s fingers traced the curve of Caitlyn’s thigh before crawling up, gripping her hip as she leaned down, brushing her lips over Caitlyn’s neck, her collarbone, her pulse hammering beneath her skin. Caitlyn’s breath hitched as Vi's hand found the hem of her shirt, pushing it up, her palms searing against Caitlyn’s bare skin.

Then, Vi hesitated. Just for a second.

She looked down at Caitlyn beneath her, at the way her dark blue hair spilled over the pillows, at her half-lidded, ocean-deep eyes, so full of warmth and fire all at once. Vi swallowed, something catching in her throat.

“What?” Caitlyn asked softly, fingers ghosting over Vi’s ribs, watching her carefully.

Vi exhaled, her gaze searching Caitlyn’s face, unguarded, full of something so tender, so overwhelming, she couldn’t say it. Not yet.

“I…” Vi faltered, but Caitlyn already knew.

She smiled, that small, knowing smile, the one that always made Vi feel like she was home.

"I know," Caitlyn whispered, lifting a hand to cup Vi’s cheek, pulling her down into another kiss.

This time, it was slow. Deep. Not just hunger, but something more. Vi moaned softly against her lips as Caitlyn’s hands pushed her pants down, fingers skimming over the dips and ridges of her hips, memorizing her, claiming her. Vi let herself be undone beneath Caitlyn’s touch, but she wasn’t about to let Caitlyn have all the control.

With a smirk, Vi pressed Caitlyn deeper into the mattress. Caitlyn gasped softly, her back arching as Vi kissed her way down—her jaw, her throat, the swell of her chest.

Vi licked over Caitlyn’s peaked nipple, earning a quiet moan that shot straight through her, made her body ache with want. She swirled her tongue, slow, intentional, teasing, before sucking lightly, her other hand kneading the soft flesh beneath her palm. Caitlyn tangled her fingers into Vi’s hair, a breathless, "Vi…" escaping her lips.

Vi rolled her hips down, feeling the delicious heat between them, the barest hint of friction making them both groan. Caitlyn whimpered, writhing beneath her, pressing up, wanting more.

"You’re so beautiful," Vi murmured, grinning against her skin.

With a desperate sound, Caitlyn yanked Vi’s face back up to hers, kissing her so deep, so full of need, it left Vi dizzy. Then, she hooked her legs around Vi’s hips, flipping them, straddling her.

Vi let out a low, "Baby," as Caitlyn ground down against her, the sensation searing, electric, setting them both on fire. Their breathing turned ragged, their bodies moving in sync, heat building between them, slick and desperate.

Caitlyn writhed beneath her, her hips rolling instinctively, seeking more.

"Vi, please…" Caitlyn’s voice was wrecked, breathless, desperate.

Vi groaned at the need in her voice, at the way Caitlyn was falling apart just from her touch. She licked her fingers, then dragged them down slowly through Caitlyn’s folds, spreading her wetness, teasing her just enough to make Caitlyn gasp and arch into her hand.

"Cait…" Vi murmured, her voice thick with want.

She pressed a single finger inside, slow, deep, curling just right, and Caitlyn let out a sharp, broken moan. Vi didn’t stop, adding another, moving in a steady, torturous rhythm, matching the slow roll of her hips as she ground against Caitlyn’s thigh.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the quiet, wet sounds of Vi fucking Caitlyn open with her fingers, the soft, desperate whimpers that escaped Caitlyn’s lips. Caitlyn’s grip tightened on Vi’s shoulders, nails digging in, pulling her impossibly closer.

"Baby—please" Caitlyn gasped, her thighs trembling as Vi increased her pace, her fingers moving harder, deeper.

Vi smirked, her own breathing ragged. "Baby, you want more?"

Caitlyn only nodded frantically, words failing her as pleasure coiled tight in her core.

Vi shifted, pressing her forehead against Caitlyn’s, her free hand cupping Caitlyn’s jaw, keeping her close.

Caitlyn’s eyes burned crimson now, her fangs fully bared, the hunger and raw emotion sending Vi over the edge. Because this was Caitlyn at her most undone. No walls, no hesitation, no carefully constructed restraint. Only her, bare and vulnerable, letting herself feel this, letting herself take it. Something between shifted, deepened—an invisible thread tying them closer, binding them in a way neither of them could describe.

"Take me," Vi murmured, tilting her head, offering.

Caitlyn stilled beneath her, breath hitching.

She had smelled the sweetness of Vi’s blood in her veins for so long, lingering just beneath her skin, intoxicating. It called to her, a quiet, insistent whisper in the back of her mind. But she never let herself give in.

Because Vi was precious. Because Caitlyn would never hurt her.

But now, with Vi’s body pressed against hers, the warmth of her skin, the pulse of her heartbeat steady, Caitlyn felt something unravel.

Vi trusted her. Completely. Caitlyn’s gaze flickered, something feral, something unrestrained flashing behind those crimson eyes. Her hands tightened on Vi’s waist, and she felt Vi shudder beneath her touch.

"Caitlyn, take it…" Vi whispered, voice soft but sure, tilting her chin closer, baring the smooth curve of her throat. "I trust you." Her lips pressed gentle kisses along Caitlyn’s shoulder, coaxing, inviting.

And Caitlyn broke.

A growl rumbled in her chest as her fangs grazed Vi’s skin, hesitating, lingering for a breathless second—before she sank them in, a sharp, exquisite bite. Vi gasped, fingers tangling in Caitlyn’s hair as her body arched, a shiver running down her spine.

Vi groaned at the sting, at the intense, intoxicating heat that flooded through her veins, her body shuddering as the pleasure mixed with pain in the most addicting way.

Caitlyn moaned into her skin, the taste of Vi overwhelming, consuming. She could feel everything—Vi’s heartbeat, the way her muscles tensed, the way she was completely coming apart above her.

The moment Vi’s blood touched Caitlyn’s tongue, it was lightning and fire, a rush of warmth that spread through her veins like liquid gold. It wasn’t just the taste—rich, intoxicating, uniquely Vi—it was the way it seeped into her, igniting something deep, something primal.

She felt everything.

The heat of Vi’s skin beneath her touch, the pounding of her heartbeat, the slight, breathless hitch in her throat. But it was more than that—it was Vi herself.

Memories. Fleeting, raw, unguarded.

Caitlyn gasped against Vi’s neck, her grip tightening as flashes of Vi’s life surged through her, both her past and her present.

A younger Vi, sitting on a rooftop, watching the city lights, alone, lost in thought.

Vi standing in the rain, bruised and bleeding, staring at the distant glow of Piltover, wondering if she could ever belong there.

Vi, in a dimly lit bar, nursing a drink, her fingers tracing the rim of the glass, thinking of someone.

Then there was her…she saw herself. Almost in all of it.

The night in the forest, when Caitlyn had first bitten her.

Every glance, every stolen moment between them—how Vi had looked at her, how she had memorized every detail of her face, how her heart had raced every time Caitlyn smiled at her.

Her own laughter, the way Vi looked at her when she thought she wasn’t watching. The warmth in her eyes when Caitlyn said her name. The ache when they were apart. The longing. The undeniable, overwhelming, all-consuming love.

It had always been her.

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped open, her breath shaky, her mind still reeling from the rush of Vi’s memories.

Vi was still moving inside her, her fingers deep, slow, coaxing Caitlyn toward her climax. Her face hovered just inches away, her eyes dark with desire but softened with something more—something tender, something real.

Caitlyn lifted a trembling hand and cupped Vi’s face, her fingers brushing over the sharp edges of her jaw, tracing the lips that had kissed her so many times, but never like this.

Tears welled in Caitlyn’s eyes, unbidden, unstoppable. She could still feel the echoes of Vi’s love reverberating through her, through every memory she had just seen.

She had seen it.

Vi barely had time to react before Caitlyn kissed her, deep and desperate, pouring everything she felt—everything she had seen—into it. Vi moaned against her lips, her hands gripping Caitlyn tighter, as if reminding herself from the way their bond had just shifted into something even more inescapable.

And Vi didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop fucking Caitlyn with deep, relentless strokes, dragging Caitlyn to the edge with her.

"Come for me, baby," Vi whispered, her voice wrecked.

Caitlyn gasped against Vi’s neck, her entire body tensing as the coil inside her snapped, pleasure flooding through her in waves. She came with a broken cry, her body trembling beneath Vi’s.

Vi followed soon after, her hips jerking, her own release tearing through her as Caitlyn’s fangs left her neck but Caitlyn’s mouth lingered drinking her in, her name falling from Caitlyn’s lips like a prayer.

For a long moment, neither of them moved, their breathing uneven.

Vi pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to Caitlyn’s lips, her fingers still tracing slow, languid circles over her sensitive skin, drawing out every aftershock. Caitlyn shivered beneath her, a breathless sigh escaping as the last waves of pleasure rolled through her.

With a satisfied hum, Vi finally let herself collapse against Caitlyn, her weight warm. Caitlyn exhaled a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around Vi, keeping her close. Caitlyn’s fingers threading through Vi’s damp hair, gently massaging her scalp, an unspoken tenderness in the way she held her. Caitlyn moved slightly, pressing a slow, reverent kiss against Vi’s neck, right where her fangs had sunk into her skin. The wound was already healing, but she kissed it anyway, a silent apology, a whispered devotion.

Their bodies were still tangled, skin against skin, the air between them with warmth and something deeper, something neither of them needed to say.

____

Marble columns lined the vast chamber, stretching toward the towering stained-glass windows, their intricate designs creating long, fractured shadows across the floor. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, their golden light dancing, illuminating the polished obsidian floors that reflected everything like a mirror.

And in the very center of it all—the seat of the late Veyrin Caravelle.

The throne-like chair was an imposing thing, carved from dark wood, its armrests adorned with the sigil of the Caravelle family. For centuries, it had been occupied by those who carried the name, those who held power over Capemoor and beyond. But tonight, it was empty.

Until now.

Footsteps echoed through the chamber.

Slow. Measured. Unhurried.

Boots met the marble with careful rhythm. The air itself seemed to still, heavy with expectation, with finality.

As he walked, the torches along the walls flickered in his wake, casting his silhouette in elongated, ghostly shapes against the grand hall. He moved with purpose, with the confidence of a man who had already won—who had simply been waiting for the moment to take what was always meant to be his.

Alec Caravelle stepped into the center of the room.

In his hand, he held a framed portrait—the image of his late brother, Veyrin Caravelle.

For a moment, he looked at it, his expression unreadable. Then without hesitation, he let it fall.

The frame hit the floor with a sharp crack, the glass splintering, shards scattering across the polished stone like broken stars. The picture landed face-down, discarded.

Alec did not spare it another glance.

Instead, he turned, stepping forward, and with all the grace of a man slipping into something that had always belonged to him—he sat down.

The seat of the Caravelle family. His seat.

A slow, satisfied smile curled at the corner of his lips as he leaned back, resting his hands against the armrests, fingers curling around the sigil.

“Finally.”

He had waited long enough.

Chapter Text

A droplet. Then another. A steady, rhythmic sound, like the ticking of a clock.

Vi stirred. A bead of sweat traced a slow path down her temple, mingling with the taste of salt on her lips. Her breath was shallow, uneven. Consciousness crept in like an unwelcome guest, sluggish and heavy, dragging her back from the depths of oblivion.

The cold seeped into her bones, the damp air curling against her skin like unseen fingers. Her senses were sluggish, her body aching with the kind of exhaustion that came from something more than just a fight. The heavy feeling clinging to her skin like a second layer. A dull ache pulsed through her body, her limbs stiff from unnatural stillness. She flexed her fingers, her wrists meeting resistance—cold, stiff metal.

Chains.

The realization sent a jolt through her. Her back pressed against rough stone, the weight of iron shackles anchoring her arms above her head, locked to a thick post. She gritted her teeth, willing herself to focus.

How long had she been out? The answer remained just out of reach, her memories a blur of flickering images and fragmented sensations. She heard footsteps approaching—slow, measured. Someone descending, unhurried, haunting. But it didn’t stir fear in her. Instead, it sparked curiosity.

Vi forced herself upright, ignoring the way her body protested, her muscles screaming in defiance. "Who’s out there?" Her voice was rough, raw.

The footsteps didn’t falter. A figure emerged from the darkness; scarred features half-lit by the weak glow from the lone lantern in the room. His sharp cheekbones cast jagged shadows across his face, the eerie glow of his single eye like embers in the night, locking onto her with something bordering on a smirk curled at his lips.

“Ah,” Silco murmured, his voice silk-smooth, laced with amusement. “You’re finally awake.”

Vi didn’t flinch. Didn’t tense. She just smirked, the corner of her lip curling upward as she let out a breath.

“Figures,” she muttered, voice rough from disuse.

Silco chuckled, a smooth, quiet sound—like someone laughing at a private joke only they understood. He took a slow step forward, his boots clicking lightly against the stone floor.

“You’re shackled to a post in a rotting cellar,” he mused, tilting his head. “Yet you still have the energy to laugh at your own predicament.”

Vi rolled her shoulders, testing the chains. The metal clinked, taut and inflexible, biting into the already raw skin of her wrists. She masked her discomfort behind a sharp exhale, jaw tightening.

“What do you want?” The humor in her voice faded, replaced by something sharper. Frustration edged into her tone, heat building beneath the surface of her skin.

She pulled harder, her muscles tensing with effort. A sharp sting shot up her arms as the narrow cuffs dug in deeper. The pain was immediate, a cruel bite against her flesh, but she forced herself not to react. Not to give him the satisfaction.

Silco caught it. His smirk deepened. “You’re just like your father,” he mused, tilting his head slightly.

“Eager. Relentless.” He exhaled, almost as if he found the thought tiresome. Then, with a slow shake of his head, he added,

“But stupid.”

Silco sighed, almost absentmindedly, as he inspected his gloved fingers, as if this conversation bored him. His tone remained light, mocking.

“You know, Vi,” he mused, casually rolling his wrist as if shaking off dust, “this foolishness of yours will get you killed just like Vander… and your parents.”

Vi stilled. The clinking of chains fell silent as her hands froze mid-struggle, suspended in sudden stillness. The fight in her limbs halted not from defeat but the sudden detour of the conversation.  The words hit her like a hammer to the chest, sinking deep into the cracks she thought she had sealed shut long ago. A slow burn ignited in her veins, anger curling tight in her gut like a coiled spring. Her muscles tensed. Then, with a sudden burst of force, she surged forward, her entire body straining against the chains. The iron post groaned under the pressure, bending slightly from the sheer force of her movement. Dust trickled from the ceiling. The chains rattled violently. For a fleeting moment, it almost seemed as if she’d snap free.

Silco saw it. His smirk faltered but his demeanor showed interest. He observed the warping metal, the way her body trembled with suppressed power, and something dark flickered behind his sharp gaze. Vi heard Silco’s chuckle, like it was meant as an insult. 

“Remarkable…” He exhaled the word like a sigh, as if tasting it on his tongue. His posture remained composed, but the glint in his golden eye gleamed with something more than amusement now.

Fascination. He took a slow step closer, his voice dropping into something almost delighted.

“So… you’re one of the freaks.”. He paused, Vi saw the shift in his expression.

“But of course you are.” His voice lowered, smooth as silk but cold as steel.

He looked at her differently now, as if he should have seen it all along. His smirk returned, but it was thinner, sharper. “I should have known long ago.” He sighed through his nose, shaking his head slightly, as though disappointed in himself. Then, his lips curled, malice written on his expression.

“I would’ve killed you myself.”

Vi’s breath came sharp and unsteady, her muscles still tensed from the failed attempt to break free. The iron post groaned in protest, but it held. She was still bound. Still trapped.

But the moment Silco spoke those words, “I would’ve killed you myself.”—her anger stuttered. Something twisted inside her. She could feel it in the way her body went rigid, the way her stomach hollowed out like something had been ripped from her without warning.

A terrible, sinking realization crawled into the back of her mind. All along, she thought Vander had died in a mining accident. That’s what everyone said. That’s what she believed. The explosion. The collapse. No bodies recovered. Just another tragedy in a long list of Zaun’s losses.

And before that… her parents.

Vi had never known the full story of their deaths. Only that they were gone before she could truly remember them. Vander had never spoken about it, and she had never questioned it, never wanted to pick at wounds that seemed too deep to heal. But now she saw the truth in Silco’s face. He wasn’t saying these things to taunt her. He was telling her what had really happened. Her breath hitched. A tightness coiled in her throat.

No.

Her vision blurred. A sharp sting formed in her eyes, but she refused to let the tears fall. A slow, knowing smirk, full of cruel satisfaction formed on Silco’s face. He had seen the moment she understood.

"See," he said smoothly, stepping closer, "There are vampires who think they can do whatever they want, they think they’re superior." He gestured vaguely, as if the idea itself disgusted him. “They walk around like they own the place, like the world belongs to them. But it doesn’t. It never did.”

His voice remained calm, collected, but there was an edge beneath it.  “In the end, they’re nothing but monsters.”

Vi’s jaw clenched, her pulse roaring in her ears.

“And do you know what brings about these monsters’ undoing?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. His golden eye shone as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Hunger.” He let silence settle for a moment.

“For all their arrogance, for all their power, they can’t live without us.” His lips curled into delight. “They feed. They take. They thrive on the lives of the very people they see as beneath them. Strip that away, and what are they?” He let the question hang, letting her sit in the weight of it.

Then, his gaze darkened. "But then there's your kind.”

Vi barely heard him over the pounding in her skull, over the way her body screamed at her to react—to do something, to fight.

“Your kind,” he repeated, his voice colder now, “Who think they can play God.”

Vi's breath came in short, shallow bursts. She had no idea what he meant. No idea what he was building toward.

But then—he smiled again.

And with all the casual cruelty in the world, he said, “Your parents had it coming.”

Vi snapped. A guttural growl ripped from her throat as she lunged again, every muscle in her body pulling taut. The post groaned dangerously this time, the metal twisting, the chains straining. The pain of the shackles cutting into her wrists was nothing—nothing compared to the white-hot fury that surged through her.

Silco didn’t move. He didn’t even flinch. He just watched. Watched her fight. Watched her break.

And then, with that same detached amusement, he sighed.

“You can fight it all you want,” he mused, his eyes flicking lazily over her. “But I see what you truly are.” His gaze settled on her—assessing, unshaken.

“What your parents were.” he exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

“A freak.” His smirk deepened as he watched the rage flicker in her eyes. He had her now.

Silco lifted a hand, a lazy flick of his fingers. The motion was subtle, but the response was immediate. Two armed men stepped out from the shadows, their heavy boots echoing against the stone floor. Before Vi could react, they grabbed her, iron grips locking around her arms, forcing her down as she thrashed against them.

A third figure moved in swiftly, a syringe plunging deep into her neck. Cold liquid surged into her veins.

Vi’s breath hitched as a burning sensation exploded beneath her skin, spreading like wildfire. Her muscles seized, her vision blurred. She grits her teeth, trying to shake it off, but the heat was relentless, sinking deep, twisting her insides into something foreign.

Silco stepped back, watching the scene unfold with detached amusement.

"Let’s see if you’re truly your parents’ child," he mused, hands clasped behind his back. His golden eye gleamed with cruel delight as he tilted his head. "Not that it matters. You’ll be joining them soon enough." He turned on his heel, walking toward the exit, the sound of his boots fading into the distance.

Vi gasped, her body convulsing as the foreign substance tore through her. Her veins, black at first pulsed and was already shifting into deep, unnatural purple.

The pain was unbearable. She screamed. Her body arched against the restraints, every nerve in her system igniting in agony. She wanted to rip her skin open, tear out whatever was inside of her. Then her eyes snapped open. And they weren’t blue anymore.

Purple.

Dark. Electric. Unfamiliar.

Her breath was ragged, uneven, but something in her had changed.

She heard his fading laughter. Silco’s laughter, echoing from the darkened corridor beyond the cellar. It lingered, twisted with satisfaction.

And Vi—Vi wasn’t sure if she was still herself anymore.

____

The council chamber whirred with hushed voices, a constant murmur that hovered like a storm cloud, heavy with unspoken tension.  At the center of the room, Elias Hartwell, Rhiannon, and Javier stood over a grand oak table, their faces impassive but sharp with calculation. Scattered across the surface were maps, crumpled documents, and sealed letters bearing the wax insignia of noble houses and military factions. Some had already been torn open in haste, their contents debated, dissected, discarded.

Cassandra Kiramman sat nearby, silent but listening, her sharp gaze fixed on Elias. He spoke in low, cautious tones, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table as he outlined their next steps. Plots were unfolding before them, strategies taking shape in ink and blood.

But none of it changed one inescapable truth—

It had been exactly nine hours and seven minutes since Alec Caravelle proclaimed war on everyone.

Nine hours.

Nine hours since the inevitable finally arrived. War had been a shadow lingering at the edges of their world for years, lurking, waiting like a candle left unlit, its flame always on the verge of ignition. But no one, not even the most seasoned generals, had expected the younger Caravelle to strike first.

No one had imagined Alec Caravelle to be this bold. This ruthless. This ominous.

And yet—here they were. The chamber was filled with the scent of parchment, of burning wax, of cold iron. The weight of their implicit fears clung to the air, pressing against their lungs like the coming of a storm.

Decisions had to be made because war was no longer lurking, no longer an imagination.  Javier, once a decorated officer in Piltover’s forces and now Rhiannon’s trusted companion, moved with a soldier’s accuracy as he pointed at key locations on the map. "If we station the enforcers here along the eastern border, we can cut off any possible reinforcement routes. The Caravelles’ influence runs deeper than we thought, but with the right coordination—”

The chamber doors slammed open, the sound cracking through the tense silence like a gunshot. Heavy footsteps rushed inside. The murmurs died instantly. Every head in the room turned toward the entrance as Caitlyn stormed in, her coat billowing behind her like the tail of a storm cloud.

Jayce followed close behind, his expression grim as he absently scratched at the skin where his stubble had been freshly shaved.  The weight of Caitlyn’s emotion was conspicuous, written across her face in bold strokes—restlessness, wariness, frustration, all tangled together into something sharp and persistent. Everyone recognized this Caitlyn, this was the commander who’s imposing, calculated and feared. Cassandra felt her heart tighten. This was the Caitlyn she had always dreaded to see. The one who had stared into the abyss and returned from it. She walked like a soldier who had already made up her mind before stepping onto the battlefield.

Jayce was different. Silent, guarded. His expression was firm, set in stone, yet there was a lingering hesitation in his posture, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was about to unfold. His gaze swept across the room, scanning the gathered councilors. He could feel the burden of their scrutiny, their veiled expectations, their barely concealed exhaustion.

Then, his eyes landed on Cassandra.

And in her eyes—he saw something far heavier than mere worry. She already knew. Maybe not the specifics. Maybe not exactly why Caitlyn had stormed in like a woman ready to command an army. But she knew her daughter.

Jayce was quiet but Caitlyn—Caitlyn was furious. She barely spared a glance at the gathered officials before speaking, not even her own mother. Her voice sharp and commanding, "I want a group to infiltrate the Caravelle estate.”

Silence fell over the room. The weight of her demand sent a ripple through the council, pressing into the chest of every council member around the war table.

From her seat, Cassandra Kiramman’s gaze darkened. She rose slowly, her composure intact. She knew this version of Caitlyn and she knew reasoning with her would be like trying to stop a storm with bare hands.  

"Caitlyn, no.” Cassandra said, her voice even but strained.  “You need to think about this.”

Caitlyn didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer to the map, hands pressing against the table as she continued.

"The Caravelles have been behind this from the beginning. We have evidence—shipments, mercenaries, connections to the silver bullets. We finally know who’s behind all of this. And all I require now is a team—and—I can make this clean, quick and efficien—”

Cassandra shook her head and already interjected, "This isn’t just about strategy, Caitlyn. You know how irresponsible that would be. You’re not thinking clearly."

Caitlyn’s hands tightened into fists.

"I know exactly what I’m doing," she snapped. "You may be willing to sit back and debate, but every second we waste, we lose our chance to act."

A tense silence filled the chamber.

Then—Javier stepped forward. His expression was calm, neutral but the slight tilt of his head, the careful way he approached, made it clear that he was trying to steady the ground beneath them before it fractured completely.

"Caitlyn…” he began, voice steady, cautious. “If this is about Vi, we're not even sure if—"

He never finished his sentence.

Because in the blink of an eye, Caitlyn had already moved. She was no longer at the table. Javier was slammed against the stone wall. The movement was so fast, so sudden, that for a split second, no one reacted. Javier’s back hit the wall with a heavy thud, her grip tight around his collar, securing him in place.

Javier's expression flickered between shock and realization. Her grip was strong—too strong, her knuckles tight, pinning him there with a force that didn’t belong to anyone in this room.

A collective gasp echoed in the room.

Caitlyn’s eyes burned a deep crimson. She growled, low and warning. Not human. Not controlled. A predator standing on the edge of restraint. Javier didn’t struggle. He simply held her gaze, watching—not with fear, but with understanding.

"Caitlyn, stop this!" Cassandra’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and unwavering. Caitlyn froze. The weight of her actions sank in as if she had just realized what she had done. Slowly, she released Javier, her fingers trembling slightly before she let go completely. Javier straightened, rolling his shoulder but not saying a word.

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her voice quieter but no less certain.

"If you refuse to act, I’ll do it myself."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the chamber, the heavy doors slamming shut behind her.

The room remained still.

____

The heavy doors slammed shut behind Caitlyn, the echo reverberating through the marble halls. She stood there for a moment, her breathing sharp, her pulse a hammering drum in her ears. The air outside the war room felt no lighter—it was just as suffocating, just as thick with frustration and fury. Her hands curled into shaking fists. She could still feel the tension in her muscles, the ghost of the heat in her veins, the raw force she had just unleashed on Javier.

And yet none of it was enough. She needed to move. Needed to do something—to keep the walls from closing in. Her boots echoed against the corridor stone, sharp and aimless, pacing in restless loops just outside the war chamber. Her breath came fast, shallow, but she barely registered it.

A voice broke the silence.

“Cait…” It was soft. Familiar.

But not hers.

A flash of Vi's face surged into her mind without warning.

Not the composed Vi—her partner, the fighter. But the version only Caitlyn had seen. The one with sleep-mussed hair and that infuriating half-smile when she pretended not to care. The way she’d say “I’ve got it,” even when she was barely standing. The way her eyes softened whenever she looked at Caitlyn like she was the only steady thing left in the world.

Caitlyn’s chest tightened. She hadn’t realized her vision had blurred. Hadn’t noticed the heat stinging at the corners of her eyes—tears, raw and sharp, threatening to spill without her permission. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Just the ache. Just the fear. The voice called again. Louder this time.

“Caitlyn.”

Powder stood a few feet away, half in shadow, leaning against a stone pillar. Her arms were folded across her chest, but there was a hesitation in her posture, the kind that didn’t come from fear—but from empathy. The way she said Caitlyn’s name, it wasn’t mocking. There was no mischief in her eyes this time just concern. For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. Caitlyn swallowed hard, already trying to pull herself back together, shoulders rising, spine straightening into that rigid, practiced stance. Powder saw the tremble in Caitlyn’s fingers. The subtle way her hands refused to stay still. Still, she didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to because she knew what Caitlyn was feeling.

And Caitlyn—Caitlyn knew she couldn’t afford to fall apart.

Not now. Not until Vi was safe.

Caitlyn’s grip on the banister tightened, her knuckles whitening with the pressure.

“Just a bunch of fucking cowards.” She hissed.

The words slipped from her lips like venom, low and bitter, aimed at no one—and at everyone. Her gaze was fixed on the empty corridor ahead, but she wasn’t seeing it. Brows drawn tight, jaw clenched, she looked like she was trying to burn a hole through the silence.

Not loudly. Not with tears or screams. But in that quiet, terrifying way people unravel when they’ve been holding it together for too long.  Powder watched her break. She pushed off the pillar, approaching carefully, as if Caitlyn might snap in half if she said the wrong thing.

“Hey… look,” she started, keeping her voice lighter, trying to find the right balance. “I get it, alright? But sorry to break it to you, I know my sister. She’s reckless sometimes, yeah, but trust me—she knows how to get out of things. She always does.”

Caitlyn turned to her chest rising and falling too fast.  Her laugh was sharp—bitter.

“That’s what you think, right?” Her voice wasn’t steady anymore. “That she’s just out there? That she’s always fine? That Vi always knows what she’s doing?”

Powder’s brows furrowed slightly. “…Cait.”

But Caitlyn didn’t stop.

“She’s not...” Her voice cracked slightly, her breath coming in short bursts. “She’s not—some untouchable legend who’s going to miraculously walk through the door, unscathed, like she always does.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair, tugging at the roots as if the pressure would somehow pull her back into control.

“You don’t get it,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice severed, breath ragged. “You don’t—”

“Cait.”

Powder’s voice cut in, sharper now. She stepped closer, her expression hardened with something raw—fear, frustration, a flicker of desperation.

“Look at yourself.”

Caitlyn flinched.

“You’re no different right now. You think this is helping her? Charging in, half-unhinged, fueled by rage and guilt?” Powder’s eyes locked onto hers, unblinking. “If you keep going like this, no one’s going to be able to save Vi because you’ll burn the whole fucking city down before we even find her.”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to speak, but Powder didn’t let her.

“And I’m counting on you, Cait.” Her voice dropped, trembling just slightly. “I know Vi too. I know what she means to you. But if you don’t calm the fuck down and start thinking straight, we lose her. You lose her.”

The words hit harder than they should have not because they were cruel, but because they were right. They settled into the space between them like ash after a fire—ugly, bitter, undeniable.

Caitlyn’s fingers dug into her arms, nails biting into flesh, pressing hard enough to bruise. It was the only way she could stay grounded. But despite the chaos twisting inside her, she clung to Powder’s voice because it was the only thing cutting through the noise.

“We could start by looking where you last saw her,” Powder offered, her tone quieter now. Still raw. Still aching. “To hell with the war. Just like you… I just want my sister back.”

Caitlyn's breath hitched. Her throat tightened. “I don’t know where to start,” she snapped, the words tearing from her throat before she could stop them. Her voice cracked—raw, brittle, laced with guilt and helplessness.

“That’s the fucking problem.” She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but it only made the ache worse.

“She told me she was going to see you… that was the last time I heard from her.” Caitlyn’s eyes flicked toward Powder, her brows furrowed. “I was supposed to meet her right after Caravelle made that sudden announcement on the telly. But she never showed.” Her voice faltered, and she ran both hands down her face, dragging frustration across her skin like it might peel the guilt away. She looked exhausted. Fractured.

Without another word, Caitlyn sank down onto the nearest bench, elbows on her knees, hands loosely clasped between them as if she were bracing for impact.

“I’ve tried everything. I couldn’t reach her.” And that, more than anything, was what broke her.

Powder slowly lowered herself onto the bench beside her, the silence between them lingering just a moment longer before she spoke. “How long has it been?” she asked quietly. “Since you last heard from her?”

Caitlyn let out a shaky exhale, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was low, defeated. “Probably longer than the announcement. Maybe longer than I even realized.” Powder leaned back, arms resting on her knees, thinking for a beat before nodding.

“Alright… how about this?” she said, glancing over. “I’ll start looking in Zaun. Ask around—my brothers, my people. Someone’s bound to know something.”

Caitlyn looked at her, eyes rimmed with exhaustion but touched with something close to gratitude.

“You,” Powder went on, “go through whatever you’ve got—reports, leads, instincts. You’ve been around her long enough, Cait. You’ll find something. If anything comes up, I’ll call.”

She paused, then added, more gently:

“But don’t push yourself too far, alright? I mean it. I’m here to help. We all want her back.”

Powder stood, brushing her hands on her coat, then reached out and placed a hand lightly on Caitlyn’s shoulder. It was steady. Reassuring. Caitlyn didn’t move for a second. Then her hand reached up and covered Powder’s.

“You’re right,” she said softly, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “I’d burn the whole city for her.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

Then she turned, and with one last glance, walked off into the corridor’s shadows—leaving Caitlyn behind, steadying herself once more for the fire ahead.

____

Caitlyn

Caitlyn stood at the window; shoulders heavy with exhaustion as if an invisible weight pressed down on every bone. She had lost count of the hours since she took a rest; time had blurred together in her relentless search for Vi. A soft amber lamplight behind her cast long shadows across scattered maps and reports strewn over her desk. Each paper held notes scrawled in her tight handwriting—leads pursued, witnesses questioned, dead ends that only fueled her frustration. It had only been a day, since Vi Vanished.  Despite her fatigue, her mind refused to rest, replaying every detail of Vi’s disappearance in an endless, desperate loop.

Outside, the city slumbered. The usually vibrant streets of Piltover were now hushed and empty at this late hour, buildings outlined by the pale silver of moonlight. The moon hung high and indifferent—a cold, distant disk glowing like a quiet sentinel over the sleeping city.

Its light spilled through the window and painted Caitlyn’s features in ghostly blue white. She pressed a hand to the cool glass, as if touching the night itself. In the silence, her own breathing sounded loud, and the faint thud of her heartbeat in her ears was a constant reminder of time passing time that Vi was still out there, somewhere. She blinked against a burning dryness in her eyes. There was a half-empty cup of coffee growing cold on the sill, forgotten hours ago when it became clear no amount of caffeine could cut through her weariness. The toll of the sleepless search showed in her reflection on the window: taut lines of worry on her brow, eyes ringed with dark shadows, posture slumped from mental and physical fatigue.

But in that reflection, she almost imagined another figure beside her—Vi’s reflection standing just behind, as if the two of them were together again. Caitlyn’s heart squeezed at the thought. The image vanished when she focused, leaving only the emptiness of the room behind her. She let out a shuddering sigh into the quiet, her breath fogging the glass for a moment before clearing to reveal the lonely streets once more.

____

Vi

The world tilted sideways.

Not from movement—there was none—but because nothing felt anchored anymore. Time, pain, breath… everything was slipping out of reach.

Vi lay on the cold stone floor, her back slick with sweat, her arms still chained behind the post. The chill of the stone pressed into her spine, but she barely felt it. Every breath she took scraped down her lungs like smoke and ash, as if the air itself had turned against her.

Her veins burned. Something unnatural pulsed beneath her skin—foreign, chemical, wrong. The liquid Silco had injected into her was spreading like wildfire, turning muscle into molten iron, thought into static. Every heartbeat felt like it cracked her open from the inside.

But beneath that chaos… her blood fought back.

She could feel it, deep in the marrow of her bones—something ancient and unyielding, something that didn’t belong to Silco, or the poison, or even this moment. It was hers. A birthright buried in blood and fire. It pushed back against the corruption invading her, but it was exhausting. Every pulse of resistance cost her more than she had to give.

Her head lolled to the side. The world splintered around her, vision breaking apart into fractured light and shadows that swam. Her breathing was ragged now, shallow and uneven. Every inch of her skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, but her limbs were too heavy to move. The chains had long stopped biting into her wrists—she could no longer feel them. The world around her blurred, drenched in shadows and sickly purple light, but from somewhere deep inside the haze…

A voice.

"Violet, hold my hand and stay close."

Soft. Warm. A whisper from the past. Her mother’s voice.

Vi’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Only air, jagged and thin.

Then came her mother’s smile, gentle and bright, impossibly real. It was like sunlight through cracked glass. Somehow it made it through the narrow crevices of her consciousness, cutting through the storm of poison and pain.

Another voice followed—deeper this time, trembling but strong.

“Stay with me, Violet.”

Vander.

She saw him not how he died, not the broken version lost in Zaun’s ruin, but how he was when he held her hand through the dark, when she was small and scared and he was the only one between her and the end of the world. The one who shielded her from the nightmares when she was too small to fight it alone.

“Stay with me.”

The words weren’t just memory—they were a tether.

Pulling her. Holding her here.

Because she would. Because she had to.

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, trailing down her cheek. Then another. Not from pain. Not from fear.

But from the weight of it all.

She was exhausted. Broken open. Stripped bare. Every reserve of strength felt gone.

And yet was still holding on to something.

To something stubborn. Something sacred.

Powder.

Caitlyn.

The Family she lost. The family she still had.

She had to survive. For them.

____

Caitlyn

Caitlyn stood in front of her evidence board, eyes scanning the chaotic web of pinned maps, photos, and scribbled notes. Threads connected factions, shipping routes, and territories; all converging on a single point—the Caravelles.

She’d been certain. Alec Caravelle had declared war. He had the resources. The power. The audacity.

But as she stared at the timeline at the gaps in it, Javier’s voice echoed in her mind.

“If this is about Vi, we’re not even sure if—”

She exhaled, slow and sharp, frustration flickering beneath her ribs.

“We’re not even sure…”

Her eyes narrowed. Why would Alec want Vi?

There was no logic in it. No personal vendetta. Vi was dangerous, yes—but she wasn’t a political asset. She was a threat. A fighter. A blade, not a bargaining chip.

Caitlyn’s gaze shifted.

From Alec’s portrait on the board… To another face. Lower. Pinned in the shadows beneath a corner of the web.

Silco.

The name practically hissed in her mind. Caitlyn stepped closer, her jaw setting.

Of course. He'd gone quiet. Too quiet.

And now Vi was gone. Her eyes lit with something colder than fire—clarity.

She tore Alec’s pin from the center of the board and replaced it with Silco’s photo.

“You son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

________

Vi

She drifted. Somewhere between pain and memory, between the pull of the drug and the pull of everything that made her human. Her mother’s voice faded into the ether. Vander’s too. But something else surfaced—
a sound she hadn’t heard in so long it made her chest ache.

Powder’s giggle.

That wild, youthful burst of laughter that used to bounce off the rafters of their hideout. The kind of laugh only her little sister could make—free and bright, before the world crushed it. Vi's lips twitched into a tired, broken smile.

If this was the effect of the drug… then so be it.

If she could hear her again, even just for a second, she’d take it. The memory twisted, shifted became something newer. Softer. Warmer. Caitlyn’s voice, quiet and sure, laced with all the things Vi was too afraid to ask for.

“I’ll always come home to you.”

The words wrapped around her like a promise she didn’t deserve but still clung to. She felt her lips tingling, like the ghost of Caitlyn’s kiss had never left them. That warmth of it cut through the agony like a thread of light through smoke. Her throat tightened. Her body trembled. She lifted her head, just barely, her chin

quivering as she bit down hard to stop the tears.

She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

But gods, she wanted to.

Instead, she screamed. A scream of rage. Of grief. Of everything she’d lost, everything she was terrified she might never get back. But the only one who heard it was the moon. High above the broken cellar, past the stone and the chains and the walls that held her. The moon bore silent witness to her sorrow.

____

Caitlyn

At first, Caitlyn thought the chill was simply a draft sneaking in through the old window frame. A sudden shiver skated down her spine, so swift and unexpected that she straightened from her weary lean.

Goosebumps prickled along her arms.

She stepped back from the window, drawing a sharp breath as if the temperature of the whole room had plummeted in an instant. The silence deepened, pressing in on her. In that oppressive quiet, something shifted—an intuition, a presence at the edge of her awareness.

She closed her eyes, heart thudding as she strained to listen for any sound beyond the rush of blood in her ears. And then… she felt it more than heard it. A distant cry, muffled and indistinct, echoed in the hollow of her chest. It wasn’t a sound carried through the air; it resonated from within, a vibration in her very bones.

Caitlyn’s breath hitched. It was a voice without words, raw with emotion—a sensation of Vi’s voice somehow reaching out to her across the void. Her mind reeled at the impossibility, but her soul recognized it all the same.

The feeling struck hard: pain lanced through her core, desperation squeezed her heart, and an overwhelming longing that was not her own flooded her senses. Vi’s pain, Vi’s fear and yearning—it crashed into Caitlyn like a wave. The onslaught nearly buckled her knees, leaving her swaying on her feet as the phantom agony washed over her.

Her eyes flew open as she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest as if to steady the ache there. “Vi…?” she whispered into the emptiness, her voice trembling.

There was no answer in the room—only the quiet hiss of her lamp’s flame and the distant tick of a clock in the hall. Caitlyn’s rational mind fought to dismiss the incident as a cruel trick of exhaustion. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just her longing playing tricks on her frayed mind again.

She had imagined Vi’s voice before in moments of despair, only to feel the crushing disappointment of reality after. But this felt different—more vivid, more real. The echo of that phantom scream still rang inside her, refusing to fade.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she grappled with the impossible idea that Vi was reaching out to her somehow. Some bond deeper than logic or reason was tugging at Caitlyn now, guiding her instincts. And that bond told her one clear thing: Vi was alive, and she was in pain.

As Caitlyn struggled to gather herself, her gaze fell to her hands for the first time in hours. Only now did she realize she’d been clutching Vi’s gloves all along. The worn leather of those fingerless gloves pressed into her palm as if clinging back to her. She lifted them slowly, the moonlight illuminating every faded scratch and stain on the rough fabric. The gloves were a muted purple color, dulled with age and use, with one seam slightly torn at the thumb—just as Caitlyn remembered.

Vi had worn these gloves countless times. They were an extension of her, infused with the energy of every punch she’d thrown and every obstacle she’d overcome. Caitlyn’s fingers trembled as she ran them over the torn seam and the knuckles of the gloves. The material was frayed and softened by sweat and time. In the stillness of the room, she could almost imagine Vi’s hands filling these gloves, strong and warm.

A memory bloomed unbidden: Vi laughing after an old sparring match, tossing these very gloves onto Caitlyn’s desk with a grin. Caitlyn had joked that one day Vi would punch through a wall and leave the gloves behind as souvenirs—and Vi had replied with that cocky smirk that she’d be sure to sign the wall for her. The ghost of that memory brought a half-smile to Caitlyn’s lips before it quivered and fell away.

Now those gloves were all she had left to hold onto. They were a symbol of Vi’s strength and spirit, a tangible piece of her presence. Holding them was like holding Vi’s hand for a fleeting moment, a connection across whatever distance separated them.

A tightness formed in Caitlyn’s throat, and she cradled the gloves to her chest, right above her heart. The leather brushed against the blue fabric of her uniform as she held them close. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She stood bathed in moonlight and silence, a lone figure vowing into the night. Her heart pounded with resolve now, the earlier fear and doubt melting into determination. “I’m coming for you,” she whispered, the words catching slightly as a tear finally escaped down her cheek. Her voice was soft but steady, each word etched with absolute resolve. It was more than a promise—it was a vow sworn under the watch of the moon and stars.

In that moment, something in the air seemed to shift. A gentle night breeze drifted through the cracked window, swirling a few loose papers on the desk and rustling Caitlyn’s dark hair. It was as if the city itself exhaled, acknowledging her oath.

Caitlyn opened her eyes and lifted her chin, gazing at the distant moon with a newfound clarity. The sentinel moon gazed back, its cold light now feeling less indifferent and more like an old friend guiding her path. Whether by fate, intuition, or some deeper connection binding her to Vi, Caitlyn felt certain of the next step. She would follow that feeling, wherever it led, until it reunited her with the woman she refused to give up on. Sleepless nights and haunted hours be damned—she would find Vi, and nothing in this world or beyond would stop her.

______

Vi heard footsteps. Soft at first, muffled by stone and distance, but growing steadily louder approaching.

She flinched, instinct screaming at her to move, to brace but her body refused to obey. Everything ached. Her limbs were lead. Her breath shallow. She felt like she was sinking into the floor, into herself.

She felt a light touch.

Cool. Gentle.

Then Water.

Dripping against her cracked lips.

Her throat seized, but she drank anyway, each swallow painful and desperate “Drink up,” said a voice.

It was low and familiar.  Her eyes fluttered open and was still hazy. Whether it was the drug, the tears, or both, she couldn’t tell. A silhouette crouched beside her, the sound of metal clinking—keys.

A heartbeat later, she realized she couldn’t feel the restraints anymore.

She blinked hard, trying to focus.

Then her eyes dropped to the dagger sheathed at the person’s hip. Instinct moved faster than her thoughts.

Her hand shot out, gripping the hilt, yanking the blade free in a single motion.

She surged upward, staggering to her feet, the dagger raised shakily between them.

But the world tilted violently. Her knees buckled slightly, and she had to steady herself against the wall just to remain upright. Her head pounded with each throb of her heart. She tried to blink the haze away, tried to focus on the figure in front of her.

“Really…?” the voice said, dry and unimpressed. “You’re not in great shape for another fight.”

Vi squinted. The red hair. The sharp, angled face. That unbothered tone.

“You.” Recognition hit like a punch to the ribs.

Her grip on the dagger slackened, and the blade clattered to the floor. Vi’s breath hitched. Her hands came up to her face, not to fight. She covered her eyes, pressing her palms into them as if she could block out the entire world. Her voice didn’t come. Only the sound of her ragged breathing and the burning sensation in behind her lids. Her shoulders were trembling whether from pain or the sudden, crushing of emotion, she didn’t know.

“We have to act fast. I need to get you out of here.”

Vi slowly lowered her hands, her fingers dragging down her face as if peeling away the last layer of fog. Her breath came in shallow pulls, her body fighting her every movement, but her eyes red-rimmed, half-lidded found Katarina’s.

Even blurred, she knew that face—cold precision, fiery hair, always five steps ahead of everyone. The dagger she dropped moments ago was already back in Katarina’s hand, spinning once between her fingers before disappearing beneath her cloak.

“Why are you—” Vi tried, but her voice broke into a rasp. She coughed, her throat still raw.

Katarina didn’t flinch. She was already moving, slipping a shoulder beneath Vi’s arm.

“No time. They’ll know I tampered with the locks soon. If you can stand, you can walk. If you can walk, you can fight. Let’s go.”

Vi stumbled, her body uncooperative, but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward.

Because whatever this was—whatever Katarina was doing, it was her only shot.

____

Powder sat cross-legged on the rickety wooden table in her dimly lit apartment, blue-tinted hair falling into her eyes as she pored over a mess of half-drawn maps and flickering datapad screens. The glow from the screens painted shifting patterns of light across her face, highlighting the furrow in her brow and the anxious bounce of her foot against the table leg. She chewed absently on a pen cap, frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw. "Still nothing concrete," she muttered around the pen cap, voice tinged with irritation and fatigue. “Makes me wanna throw something."

Across from her, Claggor leaned against a peeling brick wall, arms folded over his broad chest. He was a solid, steady presence in the cluttered room—towering yet calm, the kind of calm that had gravity. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he studied the same maps from afar, dark eyes tracking the lines and notes Powder had scrawled. The light overhead cast a harsh light that swung slightly, causing shadows to dance over Claggor’s face. He took a slow breath before speaking, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of the datapads. "Could be nothing," he said in a low, thoughtful rumble. There was a pause as he weighed his words, gaze flicking to Powder’s restless form, before he finished the thought, "Or could be someone really smart. Smart and dangerous." These were the last places Vi had been too, mostly in Zaun—Caitlyn gave Powder a glimpse of what they were doing for the past few months.

Powder huffed and tossed the pen onto one of the maps, sending a few paper scraps fluttering. Her frustration was palpable—cheeks flushed, fingers drumming a rapid pattern on the table’s scarred surface. Claggor watched her with a calm, brotherly concern, his presence reminding Powder to breathe. He didn’t need to say more; his earlier words hung in the air, and Powder knew he was right. If someone was covering their tracks this well, it meant trouble and potentially the kind that got people hurt. She exhaled slowly, trying to rein in the urge to fling the nearest datapad against the wall. The room fell into an uneasy silence, filled only by the electric buzz of equipment and Powder’s tapping fingers, as they both lost themselves in tense thought.

Suddenly, a heavy knock rattled the wooden door on the far side of the room. It wasn’t a polite tap or a tentative rap—it was three hard, purposeful thuds that resonated through the floorboards and straight up Powder’s spine. Both Powder and Claggor jolted at the sudden noise. Powder’s hand darted instinctively toward a small pistol lying next to her maps, while across the room Claggor uncrossed his arms and reached for the battered shotgun propped against the counter. For an instant, their eyes met in silent communication: trouble?

Claggor moved with composed efficiency, positioning himself just out of direct line of sight of the door, shotgun now gripped firmly in his large hands. His expression was steely but composed, like a coiled spring ready to snap only if needed. Powder’s heart thudded in her chest as she slid off the table, landing on the balls of her feet without a sound. She held up her free hand toward Claggor, a signal to wait. Whoever was outside had knocked with authority, not stealth. If it were an enforcer raid, some soldier or even Silco’s goons, they likely wouldn’t knock at all.

The knocks came again, impatient and unyielding. Powder swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and moved to the door. Each step she took was cautious, the floorboards creaking under her load. She could feel Claggor’s watchful eyes on her back and the subtle shift of air as he raised the shotgun a fraction higher. With her left hand, Powder flipped the rusted latch and cracked the door open, pistol tucked behind her thigh.

A rush of cool night air and city sounds flooded in as Powder pulled the door wide. Standing there, framed by the flickering fluorescent streetlight, was Caitlyn. Her chest rose and fell quickly as if she’d been running, and her usually neat dark blue hair was wind-tossed, a few strands stuck to her forehead with perspiration. The tails of her long coat were still settling around her, billowing dramatically as she caught her breath. But what struck Powder most were Caitlyn’s eyes—fierce and urgent, blazing with a determination that made Powder unconsciously tighten her grip on the door.

Caitlyn didn’t wait for an invitation. She swept inside with brisk strides, boots echoing on the wooden floor. As she passed Powder, Caitlyn’s gaze locked onto her, a mix of resolve and barely contained panic swirling in those ice-blue irises. Powder shut the door quickly, throwing a glance to Claggor; he lowered the shotgun slightly but kept it in hand, eyes sharp and wary.

Caitlyn’s voice came out in a breathless demand, a single, charged word, “Silco."

Powder blinked, momentarily thrown off by the name hitting her like a physical blow. She wasn’t sure she’d heard right. "...What?" she managed, heart skipping at the mention of the undercity’s most notorious crime lord.

Caitlyn pivoted to face them fully, the floorboards groaning under her determined pace as she began to stride across the room. "Silco," she repeated, her tone edged with urgency and a hint of anger. Her eyes flicked between Powder and Claggor as if assessing how much she needed to explain. "I think he has Vi."

For a beat, silence swallowed the room. Powder stood rooted by the door, Caitlyn’s words echoing in her ears. Silco... has Vi?

Her mind raced, refusing to process the implication that her sister was in the clutches of that snake. Claggor’s stance stiffened in the corner; at the mention of Vi, his jaw tightened, but his eyes remained on Caitlyn, calm but intent, urging her to continue.

Caitlyn raked a hand through her disheveled hair, her gloved fingers trembling almost imperceptibly as adrenaline coursed through her. "I’ve been chasing leads all night," she said, voice low and controlled despite the fire in her eyes.

She began pacing the length of the room, boots thumping softly against the wooden floor. "I don’t see any connection between Vi and Alec." Caitlyn’s words came quick, clipped—her investigative mind clearly in overdrive. "No personal motive, no strategic gain that I can pin on him." She shook her head sharply, as if irritated by the dead-end.

The name Alec was spit out with disdain. "But Silco? My gut tells me it’s that nasty motherfucker." Her polished Piltover accent lent a stark, jarring clarity to the curse, revealing just how personal this had become for her.

Powder had inched away from the door now, abandoning her pistol on a side table without taking her eyes off Caitlyn. Her heart was hammering for Vi, her big sister who had been missing. Worry and confusion warred on Powder’s face. "Okay... so what would Silco want with her?" she asked, voice pitching higher than she intended.

As the question left her lips, she realized her hands were balled into fists at her sides. Powder forced herself to relax her fingers, the prickle of her nails leaving half-moon indents in her palms. She knew Silco only by reputation—a shadowy boogeyman of the undercity, slow to anger but vicious when crossed. If he truly had Vi, it meant they were all standing on the edge of something very dangerous.

Caitlyn paused mid-stride and whirled to face Powder. "I don’t know," she admitted, frustration and worry warring in her tone. Her coat flared slightly with the abrupt stop, and for a moment her composure cracked, a flash of raw fear for Vi shining through. She quickly masked it behind a determined scowl.

"But Alec’s entire play is political—messy, loud. Silco’s different." Caitlyn’s voice lowered as she spoke Silco’s name, as if invoking a curse. She stepped closer to Powder and Claggor, speaking fervently now.

"Slower. Smarter. Meaner." Each word was punctuated by a brief pause, Caitlyn’s gaze boring into Powder’s with an intensity that made the smaller girl swallow hard. The air in the room felt charged, buzzing with the implications of what she was saying. Silco operated from the shadows; if he had taken Vi, there was a calculated reason behind it, and that terrified Caitlyn more than any of Alec’s grandstanding.

In the corner, Claggor had been silently absorbing every word, his steady presence almost forgotten in the heat of Caitlyn and Powder’s exchange. Now, he shifted, the wooden floor creaking under his weight as he took one step out of the shadows. "Our father knew Silco," he said quietly.

The statement landed in the room like a grenade with the pin pulled. Caitlyn stopped speaking, eyes widening as she turned toward Claggor. Powder whipped her head around to stare at him, blue eyes wide with disbelief.

"...What?" Powder’s voice was barely above a whisper, the question laden with confusion. She felt a jolt in her stomach. Father knew Silco? It was as if an unseen thread from their past had suddenly pulled taut, yanking the present moment into stark focus.

Claggor stepped fully into the light now, lowering the shotgun to rest its butt on the floor. His broad face was serious, shadowed with an old memory. "I mean, it was a long time ago," he continued, his tone measured and calm, though his gaze grew distant as he recalled the past. "You were too young back then, Pow. But I remember." He glanced at Powder, offering her a faint, reassuring nod before continuing. "They talked. Not like friends or maybe I don’t know… but there was something there." Claggor’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, the weight of this recollection heavy on everyone in the room.

For a long moment, none of them spoke. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker. Powder’s mind raced as puzzle pieces from years ago clicked into place—half-remembered snippets of conversations, the tension in their father’s voice on nights when an undercity kingpin was mentioned. Caitlyn’s eyes flickered with dawning realization and concern; she knew enough of Zaun’s history to grasp the gravity of what Claggor hinted at. Silco wasn’t just another criminal to them, he was entwined with their family’s past.

Claggor crossed his arms, brow furrowing. “Silco’s been moving around more than usual, actually. Word is, he’s broadening his shimmer empire. Not just here in Zaun—outside the borders too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Powder waved him off with a scoff, “Old news, brother. He’s always had delusions of grandeur. Still doesn’t explain why he’d snatch up Vi.”

“Exactly,” Claggor said with a shrug. “The same way I still don’t see why he’d have any interest in our organization. It doesn’t line up.”

That’s when Caitlyn’s head snapped up. “Wait. What do you mean—your organization?”

Claggor blinked, hesitating a second before replying. “I mean... I’ve heard he’s been poking around. Eyeing some recruits in the hunter network. Quiet, discreet. Nothing confirmed but it’s weird. Hunters don’t get involved in shimmer runs. We don’t deal in that kind of filth.”

Powder frowned now, her expression shifting from dismissive to serious. “You’re saying Silco’s trying to get his claws into your people?”

Claggor nodded. “Or worse already has.”

A flash. Red hair. Precision strikes. Vanishing into the dark like smoke.

Her mind spun back—to the Huntress. The one she’d been chasing for months. Always just out of reach. Ruthless. Efficient. A ghost in the dark, dressed in the uniform of a hunter but fighting with the flair of someone who didn’t answer to any known faction. Her eyes widened, the pieces falling into place.

“Red hair… she was a hunter.”

Powder looked up, confused. “Who?”

“The woman we encountered during the shipment raid, the one who almost killed me. She had hunter training—no doubt about it but her tactics were different. Refined.”

Caitlyn’s voice dropped, her pulse quickening. “She’s not just anyone. She’s one of Silco’s hands. Maybe his most trusted one.”

“Wait…” Powder leaned forward. “You think she’s the one who took Vi?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened but she just nodded.

Powder drew in a slow breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside her: fear for Vi, fury at Silco, and now the gnawing unease that their father’s old dealings might be coming back to haunt them. In the taut silence, she caught Claggor’s eye. He gave her another small nod, as if to say we’ll handle this.

That slight gesture and Caitlyn’s unwavering stance reminded Powder that she wasn’t alone in this. She squared her shoulders and turned back to Caitlyn, her expression hardening from shock into resolve. There was a new intensity in Powder’s eyes now—a spark that mirrored Vi’s own stubborn defiance whenever her family was at stake. "Then let’s find out what he wants," Powder said, her voice firm and clear in the hush.

"Fast."

The word hung in the air, and for an instant, the three of them shared a unified glance—Caitlyn with her fierce resolve, Powder with her fiery determination, and Claggor with his steady conviction. The tension in the room had coalesced into a single purpose. Whatever Silco’s game was, they would unravel it together, one taut thread at a time.

____

The woods were quiet, the silence almost unnatural. Sparse moonlight slipped through the canopy, painting faint silver patches on the forest floor. Ancient trees stood like silent sentinels around them, their gnarled branches twisting into black shapes against the night sky. A chill breeze whispered through the leaves, but otherwise everything was eerily still, as if the forest was holding its breath.

Vi stumbled forward, her vision swimming. Her boots caught on an exposed root, and without warning her legs finally gave out beneath her. She crashed to her knees, then fell onto her hands with a dull thud. A sharp groan escaped her clenched teeth as pain jolted up her arms, and her forehead pressed against the cool, damp earth. The scent of moss and wet leaves filled her nose. The world tilted and threatened to go dark, but Vi fought it—breathing hard, face against the dirt, willing herself not to black out.

Katarina was at her side in an instant. The red-haired assassin seemed to appear from nowhere, one hand already hovering near the blade at her hip as her eyes darted through the darkness. She scanned the trees and the path behind them, keenly alert for any sign of pursuers. Every rustle of foliage and every whisper of wind set her on edge, muscles coiled tight and ready to spring. The moonlight caught a flash of steel as she shifted, her dagger partially drawn. Only when she was satisfied that no threat lurked in the gloom did Katarina turn her attention to Vi, crouching beside her fallen companion.

Without a word, Katarina slid an arm under Vi’s shoulders and hauled her up, half-dragging her to the base of a large oak. Vi gasped as her back hit the rough bark of the gnarled trunk, but at least the tree held her upright when her own muscles could not. Her head lolled back against the wood and she panted, each breath shaky. Every part of her ached. She fought to keep her eyes open, but they kept threatening to slip shut.

Katarina crouched next to her, face tight with determination. “Okay,” she murmured, still catching her breath from their escape, “I think we’re clear — for now. But we can’t stay long.”  Even as she spoke, her gaze flickered over Vi’s shoulder into the surrounding dark, ever vigilant. The woods remained deathly quiet, offering no sign of immediate danger, yet Katarina’s posture stayed tense and ready.

She shrugged a leather satchel off her shoulder and pulled free a canteen. With brisk efficiency, Katarina pressed it into Vi’s trembling hands. “Drink,” she ordered. “There’s a place ahead,” she added in a low, urgent voice, trying to encourage without coddling. “Not far now. We’ll make it.”

Vi’s fingers barely closed around the canteen; they shook so badly that when she raised it to her lips, water sloshed out and dribbled down her chin. The cool trickle against her skin was a shock of reality. She tried again and managed a few gulps on the second attempt. The lukewarm water tasted sweeter than anything she could remember, soothing her parched throat. She hadn’t realized how dry her mouth was until relief flooded in with each swallow. A soft cough escaped her as she caught her breath.

As Vi drank, Katarina remained by her side on one knee in the dirt. The assassin’s hand hovered protectively near Vi’s arm—not quite touching, but ready to grab hold if Vi started to slump. Katarina’s eyes never stopped roving over their moonlit surroundings. She didn’t rush Vi, and she didn’t offer pity or comfort either; she was simply there, steady as stone, a silent guardian in the dark. Under Katarina’s vigilant watch, Vi finally dared to take a fuller breath. For the first time in hours, she felt a tiny spark of relief as air filled her lungs. Her chest rose and fell in a more even rhythm, the panic of constant flight easing just enough to let her feel human again.

The respite was fleeting. As soon as Vi stopped drinking, a wave of dizziness threatened to pull her under. The adrenaline that had carried her this far ebbed, and the poison still burning in her veins seized its chance. Her heartbeat thudded dully in her ears, each pulse draining strength from her battered body. A cold, prickling numbness crept along her limbs and up into her fingertips. Vi’s entire body trembled, muscles quivering from exhaustion and toxin. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy.

The quiet woods around her began to blur at the edges. Dark shapes of tree trunks and tangled brush merged into an indistinct haze. Even the faint night sounds of the forest—distant croaks of frogs, the whisper of wind through needles and leaves—faded to a muffled drone. Vi’s head nodded forward; she caught herself just before slumping, jerking her chin up again. No… stay awake… She pressed the back of her head against the tree trunk, the bark’s roughness biting into her scalp, using the jolt of pain to stave off unconsciousness. But the darkness was closing in, a black vignette creeping into her vision.

Vi’s mind fought desperately against the seductive pull of oblivion. Caitlyn. The name burst into her thoughts like a flare of light in a dark room. Vi latched onto it with everything she had. Caitlyn. The one person she couldn’t leave behind. The one person who gave her the strength to resist when nothing else was left.

In the silence and shadows, Caitlyn’s image flickered through Vi’s fractured memory. She pictured Caitlyn’s face as she last saw it—brave, beautiful, and concerned. In Vi’s mind’s eye, a hazy vision played out: Caitlyn’s cool hand against her fevered brow, brushing aside a sweat-damp strand of pink hair. Gentle fingers, calloused from years of handling a rifle, yet so tender on Vi’s skin. Vi could almost hear her voice, low and steady, cutting through the fog of pain: “Stay with me, Vi… just a little longer. I’ve got you.”

The memory was so vivid that for a heartbeat the quiet woods around her fell away, replaced by the warm reassurance of that moment. Vi remembered how Caitlyn’s midnight-blue eyes had gazed at her with unwavering promise, and how that gaze alone had made her believe she could survive anything.

A lump rose in Vi’s throat as the ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. She clung to that vision of Caitlyn—her Caitlyn—with every ounce of will she had left. The thought of never seeing Caitlyn again was more terrifying than any assassin’s blade or toxic venom. Caitlyn was waiting for her. Vi had promised she’d come back. She would keep that promise.

Vi’s dirt-caked fingers dug into the soil at her sides, curling into fists of resolve. She forced herself to take one slow, shuddering breath, then another, imagining Caitlyn beside her doing it with her. The love and concern in Caitlyn’s eyes in her memory fueled Vi’s heart. It was salvation, a tether made of hope and memory that Vi gripped with everything she had. As long as she held onto Caitlyn in her mind, she wasn’t going to fall into the dark.

Not here. Not yet.

A sharp snap of fingers cut through Vi’s trance, shattering the spectral embrace of her memory. Vi blinked rapidly and refocused on the present to find Katarina leaning close, her gloved fingers just withdrawn from in front of Vi’s face.

“Hey. Stay with me,” Katarina hissed, voice knife-edged but quiet. The assassin’s green eyes bore into Vi’s, catching a glint of moonlight.

“Don’t you pass out now. I didn’t drag you this far just for you to collapse.” Her tone was brusque, almost annoyed, but there was an undercurrent of urgency that belied her harsh words. Katarina needed Vi conscious just as much as Vi needed to see Caitlyn again.

Vi managed a faint, tired smirk at Katarina’s rough brand of encouragement. “Wasn’t planning on it,” she rasped, though her voice was barely more than a whisper. Even in exhaustion, Vi mustered a flicker of her old defiance. It was enough to show Katarina that she was still in the fight.

Satisfied, Katarina pushed back to her feet with feline grace. She moved a couple of steps away to get a wider view of their surroundings, every sense on high alert. Her shadow stretched long in the pale light as she stood guard. The forest remained as silent as a graveyard, the canopy above swaying gently as a cold breeze passed through. Katarina’s red hair fluttered against her cloak with that gust, and she narrowed her eyes, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. The quiet was oppressive; even the insects and night critters seemed to have fallen hushed, as if they too sensed predators in their midst. It put every instinct Katarina had on edge. Better the lively din of a city or the clamor of battle than this—this unsettling silence where unseen eyes might be watching.

Somewhere in the distance, a dry branch cracked. Katarina’s head snapped in that direction, a blade instantly appearing in her hand. She stood poised to throw, body angled protectively in front of Vi. A long second passed. Nothing emerged from the trees; the sound did not repeat. Perhaps a deer roaming beyond sight, or a dead limb finally giving way under the breeze. Katarina’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t about to relax, but time was slipping away. They needed to move before fate tested them again.

She sheathed the dagger and turned back to Vi. In two strides Katarina was looming over her, all business. Vi had managed to keep her eyes open, though she was clearly still on the verge of collapse—her head leaned back against the trunk, breaths shallow but steady. Sweat and grime-streaked Vi’s pale face, and her auburn hair hung limp around her cheeks. But in those tired eyes there burned a flicker of determination that hadn’t been there a moment ago. Katarina didn’t know what had sparked it, but she wasn’t about to question good fortune.

“Think you can stand?” Katarina asked gruffly. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t unkind either—just a challenge, a prod to the fighter she knew Vi to be. In response, Vi gritted her teeth and nodded once. She braced her forearms on the ground and tried to push up. Her first attempt was feeble; her arms shook, and she barely lifted herself an inch before her strength gave out. Immediately, Katarina hooked an arm under Vi’s and hoisted. “Up you go,” she urged.

Vi swallowed her pride and accepted the help, leaning heavily into Katarina as she staggered to her feet. Her legs wobbled, nearly buckling again, but Katarina was prepared—she caught Vi around the waist, holding her upright. The contact was firm and matter-of-fact, the embrace of a comrade-in-arms rather than a friend, but in that moment it was everything Vi needed. For a few breaths, Vi sagged against Katarina’s side, regaining balance. Katarina bore the weight without complaint, a pillar of iron keeping Vi from toppling. The instant Vi found her footing, Katarina released her and stepped back, ever conscious of maintaining vigilance.

Vi swayed, dizzy from the sudden vertical position. The forest seemed to tilt around her, and she blinked hard to steady it. A wave of nausea rolled through her and she almost sank back down, but she thought of Caitlyn and locked her knees. Not yet. Keep it together. She forced herself to stand tall—well, as tall as possible while trembling head to

toe. Her fists clenched at her sides until her gauntlets creaked. The bite of her own nails against her palms grounded her in her body. If she had to fight her own weakness like an enemy, so be it. Caitlyn was counting on her.

Katarina watched Vi regain a tenuous balance. A shadow of respect flickered in the assassin’s eyes. In true Katarina fashion, she merely gave a curt nod. “Let’s go,” she said, voice back to a cool, focused monotone. There was no praise for Vi’s effort, but none was needed; the look in Katarina’s eyes was acknowledgment enough. They both understood the situation. They would survive or fall together, and lingering here meant death.

Without another word, Katarina turned and slipped back onto the overgrown path, her footsteps practically soundless on the leaf-littered ground. One blade remained drawn in her right hand, glinting as it caught a sliver of moonlight filtering down. She moved ahead, scouting the way but never straying more than a couple of paces from Vi. Her entire stance radiated readiness—a sharp, survivalist edge. If anything moved in those shadows now, it would meet the point of Katarina’s knife.

Vi drew a slow breath and willed her feet to move. One step. Then another. Her legs protested with each shuffle, muscles threatening to seize, but she kept on. The narrow trail ahead was barely visible, a tunnel through the thickets and looming trunks. Katarina navigated it swiftly, pausing now and then to make sure Vi was still with her. Vi’s world had narrowed to two things: the faint crunch of her boots following Katarina, and the bright, stubborn flame of Caitlyn’s memory in her mind. She held that image of Caitlyn like a lantern lighting her way. Each time her vision blurred or her strength wavered, she imagined Caitlyn’s smile, the sound of her laugh, or the promise in her eyes. It kept Vi moving when nothing else could.

The woods remained quiet and eerie around them as they pressed on. Gnarled branches clawed at the sky above, and the moon cast distorted shadows along their path. In the distance, a lone owl hooted—an echo of life in an otherwise lifeless-seeming night. Vi’s breath came in ragged puffs, and a sheen of cold sweat clung to her skin, but she refused to slow down. Step by step, the two women advanced through the darkness.

Katarina’s silhouette was a lithe ghost just ahead, expertly slipping between twisted trunks and low-hanging limbs. Vi stumbled after her, determined not to fall behind. Her mind drifted in and out of focus, teetering on the brink of delirium, but she forced it back each time with that single thought: Caitlyn. Vi could almost sense Caitlyn at the end of this ordeal, like a light beckoning her forward through the gloom. She imagined Caitlyn’s arms wrapping her up in a fierce hug when this was over, hearing Caitlyn scold her for being reckless even as tears of relief shone in her eyes. The fantasy was so comforting it brought a sting of moisture to Vi’s own eyes.

A low branch whipped across Vi’s arm as she trailed Katarina, the sting cutting through her reverie. She hissed at the sudden pain, but strangely, it helped sharpen her resolve. Pain meant she was still alive, still awake. Vi drew in another breath of the cold night air, tasting the damp earth and moss on the back of her tongue. Her lungs burned, but she welcomed the sensation—anything was better than the creeping numbness.

They trudged on for what felt like an eternity, though it was only minutes. Each footfall was a small victory for Vi, each yard gained a triumph over the poison sapping her strength. Katarina glanced back frequently with a hard, assessing gaze, and Vi would respond with the faintest nod or a glare that said Keep going. In those exchanges, an understanding passed between them: Katarina would get Vi to safety, and Vi would not quit before then.

At last, Katarina raised a closed fist—a signal for Vi to stop. They paused at the edge of a moonlit clearing where the trees thinned out. Katarina listened intently, ensuring they were truly alone. Satisfied, she sheathed her dagger and turned to Vi, one eyebrow arched. “This is it,” she whispered, tipping her head toward a dark shape just visible among the trees ahead. Perhaps the outline of a small cabin or ruin—hard to tell in the dim light, but it meant shelter. They had reached the place Katarina had mentioned.

Relief and anticipation fluttered in Vi’s chest. She mustered the last dregs of her strength to straighten up. The promise of rest and the promise of eventually making it back home—was almost within reach. Katarina stepped forward, but before following, Vi allowed herself one more heartbeat to savor the sensation of hope. She closed her eyes briefly and pictured Caitlyn’s face one last time, as clearly as if she stood before her.

“Almost,” Vi whispered, not sure if she meant it for herself or as a message carried on the wind to Caitlyn far away. Her lips curved in a ghost of a smile.

Vi opened her eyes and trudged after Katarina into the clearing. The night seemed a fraction less dark now. Though the trees loomed tall and the shadows deep, Vi no longer felt lost in them. In the quiet of the eerie woods, she had found a guiding light within. She wouldn’t let the darkness claim her—not when Caitlyn’s light awaited on the other side of this night.

____

Caitlyn sat alone at the edge of her bunk, meticulously cleaning her rifle in the dim light. Her movements were calm and thoughtful—each component polished and slotted back in place with quiet intensity. The soft clicks of metal against metal echoed in the small room, a steady rhythm that matched the measured cadence of her breath. With every click and snap of a reassembled part, her racing thoughts slowed a fraction. This ritual of maintenance was more than routine; it was her anchor in the storm, grounding her amidst the uncertainty.

She focused on the steel in her hands, letting its familiar weight and cool touch steady her. A smear of oil on a cloth, a careful swipe along the barrel—these simple actions kept her from drowning in fear.

Only a day had passed since Vi vanished, yet the hours had stretched mercilessly. Each minute without a word felt like an eternity.

At least she had a lead now, she reminded herself as she inspected the rifle’s scope for the third time. A fragment of information – the huntress. Claggor promised her information about the huntress, the organization. It wasn’t much, but it was something to move toward, something to fight for. Without that, she might have already spiraled into despair.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly and reattached the scope, the click echoing loudly in the silence. Only a day, she thought, sliding a round into the chamber with a firm shove. Only a day, but it felt like a lifetime. How could twenty-four hours without Vi feel so unbearably long?

In the silence, her worry threatened to swell, but she forced it back down. She had to stay composed. Panicking would not bring Vi home. Checking the rifle’s action one last time, Caitlyn pressed her lips into a thin line of determination. The weapon was ready and so was she.

Despite the harrowing uncertainty, something lingered deep in Caitlyn’s chest—a quiet, unshakable conviction. It thrummed beneath her breastbone, a thread of certainty she couldn’t explain or shake. As she rested the rifle across her lap, her gloved hand unconsciously brushed over her heart.

Vi is still alive. The thought wasn’t just wishful thinking; it resonated within her with the strength of instinct.

Every logical part of her knew she had no proof, yet some part of her soul refused to accept anything else. It felt as if an invisible tether connected her to Vi, tugging gently whenever despair threatened to creep in.

Maybe this faith was born of the bond they’d forged over their turbulent journey together. They had learned to trust each other in ways neither had trusted anyone before—brick by brick, they had built that trust from the ruins of their once-guarded hearts. Caitlyn allowed herself a rare, small smile as she recalled Vi’s warm grin or the fearless light in her eyes.

That connection between them had survived so much: near-death escapes, long nights of confessions and comfort, promises spoken and unspoken. It would survive this, too. It had to.

Or maybe… it was the blood.

Caitlyn’s breath caught as memory washed over her. A few nights before, in a moment too raw and intimate to speak of in daylight, Vi had offered a piece of herself—literally. Caitlyn could still picture the dim glow of that night: a moment of bared hearts, bodies and soul.  It was not just about the blood, it’s about vulnerability, trust and surrender. Vi gave herself in every way and Caitlyn tasting that offering not as a monster, but as a lover gave a whole new meaning to her existence.

There were whispers in old texts about such a ritual—a Soulbind, an oath said to link two lives. At the time, Caitlyn wasn’t sure if she believed the old legends. Yet she had felt the gravity of that gesture all the same. Vi’s blood on her skin, in her mouth, in her veins had sent a strange electricity through the air, as if sealing a pact older than either of them.

Now, with Vi missing, Caitlyn felt the weight of that soulbind more than ever. It wasn’t a burden, but a substantial reassurance, heavy with meaning. When she closed her eyes, she swore she could feel a faint echo of Vi’s heartbeat alongside her own. Hope, fragile but persistent, pulsed like a second heartbeat in her chest—tethering her to Vi even in the silence and distance.

Caitlyn opened her eyes and straightened her back, conviction hardening her features. If the soulbind was real, then Vi was out there—hurt or lost, maybe, but alive. And if by some miracle it was just a fanciful notion, Caitlyn’s love for Vi was real enough to bridge any distance. Either way, she would not give up. Not until Vi was safe in her arms again.

___

The quiet was broken by the soft creak of the door swinging open. Caitlyn’s head snapped up, her fingers instinctively stilling on her rifle. Mel Medarda stepped into the room without hesitation, her elegant features drawn taut with concern.

The normally poised councilor wore a rare expression of anxious urgency. She didn’t need to ask permission; one look at Caitlyn’s face was enough. Mel crossed the room in swift strides and pulled Caitlyn into a hug—tight, solid, and unexpectedly warm.

For a moment, Caitlyn went rigid in surprise; displays of affection, especially from someone as composed as Mel, were uncommon. But then she allowed herself to lean in, shutting her eyes as the scent of Mel’s perfume and the reassurance of a friend’s embrace enveloped her. Mel’s arms around her offered a brief sanctuary, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this. “I heard what happened,” Mel murmured, her voice low and brimming with sympathy. “Jayce told me everything.”

Caitlyn swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded against Mel’s shoulder. Just for a second, she let herself feel the fear and exhaustion she’d been holding at bay. Her free hand clutched a fold of Mel’s robe, the trembling in her fingers betraying the turmoil beneath her calm exterior.

Then, with a slow breath, Caitlyn pulled back gently. Mel’s hands lingered on her arms, as if reluctant to let go. Concern shone in Mel’s dark eyes—she was searching Caitlyn’s face for cracks, for any sign that she was falling apart.

“We’ll find her, Cait,” Mel said firmly, squeezing Caitlyn’s arms in solidarity. There was an iron resolve in Mel’s tone that managed to steady Caitlyn further. Mel was a woman who moved mountains in Noctalis’ political landscape; if she said Vi would be found, Caitlyn wanted to believe her.

Caitlyn mustered a small, tired smile—one that didn’t reach her eyes, but conveyed gratitude, nonetheless. It wasn’t a smile of hope or relief, not yet. It was simply determination.

“I know,” Caitlyn replied softly. Her voice was hoarse from a day of shouting Vi’s name into the void and a night of silence that followed, but it didn’t waver. “And thank you… for being here.”

Mel nodded and stepped back as Caitlyn steadied her feet. The young officer—no, Caitlyn reminded herself, she wasn’t acting as Piltover’s Sheriff today or act as a disposable warrior for anyone. She reached for the final piece of her gear. She grabbed the dark navy chest plate that bore her family crest and the enforcer insignia and secured it over her battle suit with a decisive click. The familiar weight pressed against her shoulders, a reminder of duty, but this mission was personal.

Next, Caitlyn fastened the last strap on her tactical suit, pulling it snug. Every buckle and strap was tightened with purpose, transforming her from a weary woman into a soldier on a mission.

Silently, she picked up a compact sidearm from the table and slid it into the holster at her thigh. The motion was practiced, almost automatic.

Mel watched her carefully, noting the quiet fury simmering beneath Caitlyn’s composed facade. “Cait…”

Mel began gently, breaking the silence, her tone laced with worry. She didn’t finish the thought, but Caitlyn knew what Mel meant to say: Are you all right? Don’t push yourself too far. All those concerned sentiments were wrapped in that one word.

Caitlyn met Mel’s gaze and managed another faint smile.

“I’m okay, Mel. Really.” Her voice was calm, carrying a steadiness that belied the storm inside. “Thank you.”

There was nothing else to say—Mel understood. Today, Caitlyn’s heartache was a flame forging her resolve, and all that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other toward Vi.

Before either woman could speak again, the door burst open a second time. Jayce Talis strode in, his usually confident posture edged with tension. He held a tablet in one hand, the screen casting a flickering light across his troubled face. “You two need to see this,” he said, voice tight with urgency. Without preamble, he extended the tablet toward them, already playing a live news feed.

Caitlyn and Mel moved to either side of Jayce, their eyes locking onto the screen. The broadcast was coming from Capemoor, a region far north from Piltover. The video quality wavered in and out, static dancing at the edges, but the images were unmistakable.

 Columns of armored soldiers marched through mountain passes blanketed in snow, their figures stark against the white backdrop. The camera panned across a broad ravine flanked by sheer cliffs, the ground trembling with the cadence of hundreds of boots. Banners snapped in the icy wind—dark flags emblazoned with a crimson emblem that Caitlyn didn’t recognize. The distant sound of drums and marching feet filtered through the tablet’s tiny speakers, a muffled echo of impending war.

At the center of it all stood Alec Caravelle, a figure clad in a black military coat and standing atop a makeshift stage of timber and stone. He addressed the gathered forces with one gloved fist raised. Though the audio crackled, his voice cut through—chilling in its clarity.

Caravelle was speaking to the crowd. The words were indistinct at first, but his tone was fervent. Each sentence rose and fell in a deliberate rallying cry. As the feed stabilized for a moment, his words became clear:

“...will reclaim what is ours. No more will we bow. Tonight, we rise and take back our future!”

His voice carried over the roar of a cold mountain wind, each syllable landing like a war drum in the night air. The soldiers punctuated his speech with a unified shout, their breath visible as fog in the frigid air.

Caitlyn felt Mel stiffen beside her, and Jayce muttered a curse under his breath. The footage was damning—war had already begun.

Capemoor’s narrow passes were strategic; if Caravelle controlled them, Piltover and the surrounding regions would soon feel the squeeze of his ambition. On the screen, the camera zoomed in on Caravelle’s face. His sharp features illuminated by torchlight, eyes alight with the zeal of someone who had everything to gain and no qualms about the cost.

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched as she watched the scene unfold. Under normal circumstances, this news would have seized her full attention. As an officer of Piltover and once a commander in its forces, she’d be preparing strategies, rallying enforcers, and sending word to allies. This threat was not abstract—it could burn down everything she had sworn to protect. This wasn’t just about Vi anymore; it was about everything, and everyone caught in the crossfire of Caravelle’s aggression.

Yet as the soldiers on screen cheered and the feed cut back to a grim-faced reporter, Caitlyn realized her heartbeat had not spiked with fear or panic.

It thudded steady and unyielding. She stood with shoulders squared, eyes still fixed on the now-frozen frame of Alec Caravelle’s raised fist. Her expression was unreadable, a mask of cool control that hid the turmoil within.

In that instant, one truth crystallized in Caitlyn’s mind: right now, the war on the screen wasn’t her war to fight. Not at this moment. Her war—her personal battle—was finding Vi.

Caitlyn handed the tablet back to Jayce with a curt nod. “Thank you for showing us,” she said quietly. There was no dismissiveness in her tone, but no fear either. Only resolve.

Let Caravelle come with his armies and his mad dreams of conquest; none of it mattered if she lost Vi.

First Vi, then everything else, she told herself.

The thought was clear, almost loud in her head: she had to save the woman she loved, and only then could she turn to face the larger fires raging in the world.

Mel’s concerned gaze darted between the screen and Caitlyn. “Piltover will convene with another emergency council session,” Mel said, thinking aloud. “We’ll need to respond…The Hartwells already mobiliz—” She trailed off as she noticed Caitlyn’s attention already drifting, her focus pulling inward. Mel understood—Caitlyn had made her choice of priority.

With a gentle touch, Mel placed her hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Go,” she urged softly.

“Do what you need to do for Vi. Jayce and I will handle things here for now.”

Caitlyn looked at Mel and Jayce, gratitude and relief washing through her. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she needed their blessing to step away from duty. Without another word, Caitlyn inclined her head in thanks. That singular focus in her eyes only sharpened—she was like an arrow loosed from a bow, honed in on one target.

Suddenly, the muffled silence was interrupted by a low buzz against Caitlyn’s hip. Her phone was vibrating insistently in its pouch. All three of them froze, a flicker of hope passing through the room like a current.

Caitlyn’s heart leapt into her throat as she snatched up the device. Only a handful of people had this number and right now, any call could be the call.

She accepted the call and brought the phone to her ear, her other hand unconsciously gripping the strap of her rifle. “Caitlyn here,” she answered, voice clipped and controlled, though her pulse quickened. There was a voice on the other end, too faint for Mel or Jayce to overhear. Caitlyn’s eyes widened a fraction as she listened, her entire body going very still.

“Are you certain?” she asked sharply, the quiet intensity of her tone causing Jayce and Mel to exchange quick, hopeful glances.

A pause. The voice on the line murmured something in return. Caitlyn’s jaw set, and then her features shifted. Something between profound relief and fierce determination lit in her eyes, chasing away the exhaustion.

“Okay,” she said firmly. “Text me the location. I’ll be there.” Her voice gained a new energy, an urgency that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She barely waited for the confirmation beep of a message received before ending the call.

For a heartbeat, Caitlyn stood there, phone in hand, as the relief and adrenaline coursed through her veins. That call had given her exactly what she needed: a direction. Vi was alive—she had to be, Claggor’s intel could be wrong, but she’ll take it. The coil of fear that had been wrapped around her chest all day loosened just slightly, enough for her to draw a deeper breath.

She slid the phone back into a compartment on her gear and looked up to find Jayce and Mel watching her intently. Jayce’s brow was furrowed with curiosity and concern. It had been a long time since he’d seen Caitlyn like this—eyes blazing with purpose, posture rigid with resolve. In that moment, she looked more like the fearless enforcer who used to patrol the streets, or a commander always called to charge a battle, than the diplomatic peacekeeper she’d been at council meetings.

Dressed in full field gear, the deep navy of her uniform hugged her form, and every piece of equipment on her was secured for combat. Her rifle was slung across her back, fully assembled and gleaming. Caitlyn wasn’t just heading out on an investigation; she was going to war.

Not a war of nations, not the grand conflict playing out on the newsreel in Capemoor’s frozen valleys. This was a personal war, fought for the highest stakes in Caitlyn’s world. She was prepared to storm whatever stronghold, face any enemy, and break any law if it meant bringing Vi back safely. The quiet, focused fury in her eyes was unmistakable. She was no longer acting as an enforcer bound by duty or protocol—she was acting as a woman who flat-out refused to lose the woman she loves.

“I need to go,” Caitlyn said, her voice steady but brimming with the urgency of someone who has just been given a lifeline. There was no apology in her tone for leaving, no doubt or hesitation. Mel gave a single nod, eyes shining with encouragement, and Jayce stepped aside immediately, understanding in his face.

Without another word, Caitlyn pivoted on her heel and strode out of the room. Her footsteps rang in the corridor—each step measured, confident, and relentless, echoing with purpose down the hall. Mel and Jayce watched her depart, a united front of quiet support standing in her wake. They both knew Caitlyn was walking into danger, but they also knew nothing could turn her aside now.

As the sound of Caitlyn’s footsteps faded into the distance, a steely calm settled in her chest. The path before her was clear at last. Hope had been reignited, and with it, Caitlyn’s resolve burned hotter than ever. She would follow that spark of hope through the coming darkness, no matter where it led. She had lost too much already—she would not lose Vi, not now, not ever.

____

Vi woke with a sting in her ribs. She winced, shifting slightly on the makeshift bed. The pain flared sharp and immediate—but not unmanageable. Her wrists, once bruised and raw from chains, were smooth now. The skin already healed. Guess her regeneration still worked after all. She blinked into the dim light, taking in the space. Concrete walls, broken beams, a faint draft slipping through the cracks in the old metal siding.

An abandoned warehouse, by the looks of it. Of course.

“Great. You’re awake.” Vi’s head turned toward the voice. The red-haired huntress. She was leaning against the wall, arms folded, sharp-eyed as ever. Vi’s body tensed instinctively, a flicker of heat flaring in her gut.

She remembered. This woman had tried to kill her. Had nearly gutted Caitlyn in Ravensreach.

“What do you want from me?” Vi snapped, her voice rough, but solid.

The woman smirked. “Still feisty. That’s good. Means it’s working.”

Vi narrowed her eyes. “What’s working?”

The redhead flicked something into the air, catching it between two fingers—a small vial, the glass glinting in the low light. “Antidote.” She stepped closer, rolling the vial casually in her palm.

“Whatever Silco pumped into you, it wasn’t meant to kill you fast. It was meant to eat you from the inside out. I gave you a counteragent before you passed out.”

Vi blinked. She remembered… something. Water. Bitterness. A blur of hands. A voice telling her to drink.

Her gaze dropped. Her fingers flexed, slow and testing. Her body still ached, but her vision was clear, and the fire in her blood had dulled.

It worked but that didn’t answer the bigger question.

“Why are you helping me?”

The woman didn’t respond immediately. She dragged a nearby stool closer with her foot and sat down, her eyes never leaving Vi’s.

“Honestly?” she said after a long pause, “I actually don’t know.”

Vi scoffed. “Humor me.”

The huntress tilted her head, red strands falling across her cheek.

“I just fuckin’ hate Silco’s face.”

Vi let out a short laugh, but it turned into a cough halfway through. “That’s hard to believe. You worked for him.”

The woman shook her head, looking away for the first time. “Or maybe…” she muttered, voice softer now, “…maybe I owed your old man. Vander.”

Vi froze. The name landed heavy in the space between them. And for the first time since waking up—Vi wasn’t sure what to say.

“Or maybe,” Katarina said, her voice low, thoughtful, almost hesitant, “because somehow… we’re the same.”

Her gaze dropped, not to Vi’s face, but to the silver pendant resting against her chest. A small thing, dulled by age and grime, yet unmistakable. The symbol etched into it was worn from years of wear—but to Katarina, it still burned like a brand.

Vi’s fingers moved instinctively to it, brushing the cool metal with a feather-light touch. She’d worn it all her life. In the chaos of their last fight—when the Huntress had paused, eyes caught on the necklace mid-swing—Vi had felt something shift. Recognition. Not of her, but of this. The chain. The insignia.

This pendant had saved her more times than she could count. Her mother’s. Her father’s. Vander’s.

Her origin.

It was a relic of everything she didn’t fully understand, and yet—it had always felt like armor. Even when she didn’t know what it meant, it knew her. It protected her.

Katarina’s stare didn’t waver. There was no malice in it, but no softness either—just sharp clarity. Her voice dropped lower, laced with a weight she rarely showed.

“We were all part of the same organization, Violet. Me. Your parents. Vander.”

She leaned back slightly, like the confession itself made her spine heavier. Her posture remained guarded, yet her eyes betrayed something deeper.

“I didn’t know them personally,” she admitted. “But your mother…”

She paused. Her jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking with restraint.

“…She once gave me food. During a mission. No questions. No hesitation. Just—offered it to me. A small thing, but… I never forgot.”

Vi blinked. Her throat tightened. Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper. “You knew my mother?”

Katarina shook her head, but not dismissively. “Not well. Just… enough to remember her face.” She exhaled slowly. “Enough to remember kindness.”

The air between them thickened—silent, charged. Then Katarina’s tone shifted, cutting sharper, like a blade sliding from its sheath. “But it didn’t matter,” she said, her voice clipped, cold now. “They wiped out everyone with our blood. Your parents. Mine. People like us.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “They hunted us like monsters.”

Vi’s breath caught. “Who?”

Katarina met her eyes. No hesitation. No ambiguity.

“Vampires,” she said, the word a snarl. “They tortured us. Burned us alive. Dissected us. Because they were afraid of what we could become. Because they knew what we were capable of.”

Vi’s brows drew together slowly. Her body still ached, but something in her chest clenched tighter. She wanted to deny it, to throw back some kind of protest—but something deeper stopped her. A quiet part of her that knew—somehow—that what Katarina was saying held truth.

Her gaze dropped to the dirt. Her voice came out hoarse. “Not all of them.”

That made Katarina freeze.

Vi’s breath was unsteady now, her pulse flickering in her throat. “It wasn’t vampires who killed Vander,” she said softly. “It was Silco.”

Katarina’s expression flickered. Just for a heartbeat. Pain flared in Vi’s side again. She winced, one hand flying to her ribs, breath stuttering. Her body trembled with the effort of staying upright. Katarina stepped forward instinctively but stopped herself. Hovering, unsure. She didn’t offer a hand. She didn’t retreat either.

Vi’s voice was barely audible now, trembling with something beyond pain. “He told me,” she muttered. “And I don’t think he said it to hurt me.”

Her jaw tightened. Her eyes burned, staring into something far beyond the trees. “I felt it,” she said. “He was telling the truth.” The words hovered between them like smoke—slow, curling, heavy with grief.

And for the first time since they met, Katarina didn’t speak.

She didn’t offer a quip or a threat.

She just stood there—quiet, still—and looked at Vi like she was seeing her for the first time.

“It wouldn’t matter,” Katarina muttered. Her jaw clenched tight as she rose to her feet, the sharp scrape of the stool legs echoing in the silence. “Everyone’s gone.” She turned her back to Vi, pacing toward the far end of the warehouse—her movements suddenly sharper. Restless.

Vi’s brow furrowed, the ache returning to her chest, low and coiling.

“What are you on about?” Katarina exhaled, then turned, her gaze sweeping over Vi’s posture, the tremble in her hand, the strain behind her eyes. “You’re feeling it again, aren’t you?”

Vi’s breath caught. The pain was creeping back in—hot, sharp, and all too familiar. “What’s happening?” she asked, panic starting to seep in. “What the hell is happening?”

Katarina’s expression darkened. “The antidote I gave you— it was only temporary,” she said. “Silco’s perfected Shimmer. He’s refined different formulas for different outcomes, tailored poisons. The one he gave you? It latches onto your blood like it knows what it is. What you are.”

Vi’s throat went dry. “And the one you gave me?” “It bought you time,” Katarina admitted. “But not enough. We need the second dose. The real one. The one that’ll purge the poison for good.”

Vi’s eyes widened. “Wait—what? You’re just gonna leave me here?”

Katarina grabbed her gear, already strapping a blade to her thigh. “You got another idea?” she shot back. “I can’t drag you through half of Zaun in your condition. You’d slow me down, and I’d get caught. Then we’re both dead.” She paused, before striding away from her. 

“Look, you have no choice but to trust me.” She said. “I’ll be back. Just stay alive.” That was her last words before she reached the door at the far end, echoes of her footsteps swallowed by the vast room.

Vi stared after her, the pain rising like a tide in her body again, but beneath it all was something else—a flicker of trust she didn’t want to have but she was right…she had no choice.

____

The night air was unnervingly still as Caitlyn’s vehicle rolled to a stop on the deserted road. Up ahead, the warehouse loomed in silence, an enormous husk of corrugated metal and broken glass half-illuminated by the moonlight filtering through thin clouds. The structure’s rusted walls and shattered windows glinted with ghostly reflections, standing like a dark sentinel at the very edge of the city. Caitlyn cut the headlights and killed the engine, plunging herself into darkness. For a moment she sat there, listening to her own breathing in the quiet car, heart thudding with a mix of hope and dread – this was the last location on her list, the final hope of finding Vi.

As she gripped the steering wheel, memory overtook her. In her mind she could still see Claggor’s grease-smudged face in the warm glow of morning light, the moment he pressed a crumpled piece of paper into her hand. “Are you sure you’re doing this alone?” Claggor had asked, his voice weighted with concern. His question hung in the air between them in the flashback, and Caitlyn remembered the steely resolve that had risen in her chest. She had met his eyes and answered with a firm nod, “I will do everything to bring her back.” Her own words echoed now in her ears, a vow and a plea all at once.

Claggor’s eyebrows had knit together as he hesitated, then he had voiced the worry they both shared: “And Powder?” The name had struck Caitlyn’s heart. She recalled glancing toward the next room where Powder couldn’t overhear. In the flashback, Caitlyn’s voice was quiet but determined as she replied, “It’s better this way. It’s too dangerous to bring her with me. I know Vi would agree with me on this.” Even now, alone in the dark car, Caitlyn felt the burden of those words. Guilt and resolve warred within her – guilt for leaving Powder behind, but resolve because she truly believed it was necessary. Vi’s sister had already been through so much; Caitlyn wouldn’t risk her in a confrontation with a deadly huntress like Katarina.

The memory faded as Caitlyn exhaled slowly. Her focus returned to the present, to the hulking shadow of the warehouse ahead. This was it. She finally had a name – Katarina, the red-haired assassin who had snatched Vi away and left a trail of chaos in her wake. Every lead, every clue on that list Claggor gave her had led Caitlyn here. A chill wind swept through the silence, rattling a loose sheet of metal on the warehouse exterior. The clang made Caitlyn flinch instinctively, hand darting to the rifle at her side. There was no turning back now. “For Vi,” she whispered to herself, barely a breath, steadying her pounding heart.

Caitlyn stepped out of the vehicle, moving with practiced quiet. Dressed in deep blue tactical gear, she all but melted into the shadows of the night. She reached over her shoulder and unslung her rifle, clicking it securely onto the magnetic clasp on her back. The weapon’s weight was a reassuring presence against her spine. With a final glance around the empty lot, Caitlyn pushed the car door shut with the gentlest nudge of her fingertips, not letting it slam. The soft click of the latch was swallowed by the vast quiet. Alone and alert, she began her approach on foot.

Each step was slow, cautious. Caitlyn kept to the darkest patches, skirting the cones of light cast by a few distant streetlamps. Gravel crunched softly under her boots, and she winced at even that slight noise. The warehouse towered larger with every yard she closed between them. Its massive sliding door was slightly ajar, a gaping mouth leading into blackness. High above, the broken windowpanes looked like watchful eyes; the sensation of being watched prickled on the back of Caitlyn’s neck. She paused behind an old stack of wooden pallets, scanning her surroundings. Nothing moved. Only the distant hum of the city and the whisper of the breeze kept her company. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was not entirely alone out here.

Unbeknownst to Caitlyn, across the yard on the opposite side of the warehouse, shadows flitted between piles of crates and debris. A group of Silco’s men – armed and dangerous – were silently converging on the building from the other side. Their dark silhouettes merged with the gloom as they crept closer, boots echoing faintly against concrete. They communicated in hushed gestures, closing in with deadly intent. Neither Caitlyn nor Vi had any idea that a new threat was drawing near, pincering the warehouse from multiple directions.

Oblivious to the approaching mercenaries, Caitlyn kept her attention forward, eyes on the warehouse’s side entrance. She took a deep breath, then slipped out from behind the pallets, crossing the last stretch of open ground. The air was colder here, carrying the smell of salt and oil – perhaps the river or harbor was not far off. As she neared the metal walls, she ran a gloved fingertip over a fresh bullet hole in the steel siding, the edges still shiny. Her pulse quickened at the sight – a sign of a recent shootout or at least target practice. Something had happened here. Was it Katarina? Was Vi involved? Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. Please be alive… she thought, her heart squeezing painfully at the prospect of finding Vi hurt or worse.

She slipped through a narrow gap where the main door had been left slightly open. Inside, the darkness was thick and almost absolute. Caitlyn’s eyes took a moment to adjust. The interior was vast, filled with towering shelves and stacks of dusty crates. Overhead, a few weak shafts of moonlight pierced through holes in the roof, illuminating floating motes of dust. Every nerve in Caitlyn’s body was on edge as she stepped further in, drawing her rifle now and cradling it at the ready. Her finger rested alongside the trigger guard, not quite on it – safety first, Just like Vi taught her. The memory surfaced unbidden: Vi standing behind her, arms loosely guiding her stance, her voice low and confident in Caitlyn’s ear. Caitlyn, already a master marksman, trained in everything from precision rifles to experimental pistols had humored her at first. But somehow, she’d let Vi talk her through it anyway.

Because with Vi, it wasn’t just about the technique. It was about trust.

And now, with that memory burning in her mind like a promise, Caitlyn’s grip tightened. She was ready.

A sudden clatter in the darkness made Caitlyn freeze. It sounded like a tin can being kicked across the concrete floor, echoing hollowly through the cavernous space. She pressed her back to a pillar, adrenaline surging hot in her veins. Somewhere in this warehouse, Vi was here – she could feel it now, a faint sense of her presence, or perhaps it was just desperate hope. Caitlyn’s breaths were shallow and silent. She strained to listen, and caught the faintest hint of movement up ahead, beyond the rows of crates... maybe a muffled voice? It was too indistinct to be sure. Tension coiled within her like a spring about to snap.

Outside, a low whistle signaled Silco’s crew to fan out around the perimeter, but Caitlyn heard nothing except the blood rushing in her ears. She was solely focused on the path ahead. With her rifle raised halfway and her heart in her throat, Caitlyn inched toward the center of the warehouse. Each footstep was a test of her discipline, demanding patience when every part of her wanted to break into a run and call out Vi’s name. But she knew better – stealth was her ally tonight.

The warehouse interior seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with every step. Tall stacks of crates cast looming shadows that danced with every slight tilt of her head. Caitlyn felt as if unseen eyes lingered just beyond the edge of her vision. Her mouth was dry. Sweat beaded on her brow beneath her dark cap, despite the chill. She silently rounded a corner of an aisle between pallets of old machinery. Just then, a distant scrape of a boot against concrete reached her ears from somewhere to her left. Her stomach clenched. That was not her own footstep. For a split second she wondered if Katarina was here, lying in wait. Or was it Vi?

Caitlyn’s mind raced. If it was Vi wandering free, she would have revealed herself by now... which meant it was likely someone else. She flattened herself against the cold metal side of a large storage container, tightening her grip on the rifle. The darkness ahead was impenetrable. Slowly, carefully, she peered around the edge, holding her breath. She could make out vague shapes – the outline of a staircase, some scattered barrels – but no people. Still, that noise had been real. She was certain she wasn’t alone anymore.

From outside, faint beams of light began to bob through the grimy windows on the far side – flashlights, slicing through the dark. Caitlyn didn’t see them yet, but the sense of urgency inside her spiked. Somewhere in this labyrinthine warehouse, Vi was inside – Caitlyn’s instincts screamed it. And closing in from the shadows, danger was about to collide from all sides.

Caitlyn steadied herself, mustering every ounce of courage. She took another step forward into the unknown, the warehouse seeming to hold its breath with her. In the darkness ahead, fate waited – Vi’s fate, and her own. And as the night deepened and the silence grew heavy, Caitlyn moved toward whatever awaited, determined and unafraid of the coming storm, every sense on high alert.

She had promised to do everything to bring Vi back, and she meant to keep that promise. Somewhere in the shadows, destiny was watching – and the next moment could change everything. Caitlyn pressed on, not yet realizing how close she was to what she sought, nor how perilously the strands of fate were drawing taut around them all. The quiet of the night was about to shatter. The huntress and the protector were on a collision course, and Caitlyn was walking straight into the heart of danger, guided by love and unrelenting hope.

The darkness ahead seemed to beckon, and Caitlyn disappeared into it without a sound, resolute and ready for whatever awaited inside the warehouse. The stage was set, the tension razor-sharp. In that breathless moment before chaos, the only thing that mattered was Vi, somewhere in the shadows, waiting to be found.

___

Epilogue

[38 hours earlier]

The screen flickered to life—crackling with low static before sharpening into focus.
Stone battlements. Snow-laced wind. And at the center of it all— Alec Caravelle.

He stood tall beneath the gray Capemoor sky, the ancestral crest of the Caravelle bloodline carved into the marble behind him. The oldest vampire family. The purest. The most feared. And now—unchained.

He didn’t scream. He didn’t roar. He spoke.

Calm. Precise. And cold.

“We were never meant to live beneath them.”

The camera slowly pulled in, catching the glint of his blood-red brooch, the sharp cut of his tailored coat, and the conviction burning in his eyes.

“We’ve lived in restraint. In silence. Beneath councils, treaties, and false civility. Feeding under the table like beggars while our true nature was whispered about like a disease.”

He turned slightly, his voice growing darker with every syllable.

“But we are not sickness. We are not shame. We are apex. Born to rule. Born to be feared.”

Behind him, a massive iron gate creaked open—revealing legions of vampires in uniform, standing in disciplined silence. Pale. Unblinking. Unmoved.

Alec continued. “The Caravelle legacy has endured for centuries. But legacies are not preserved through obedience. They are preserved through dominion.”

His voice lowered. “To those who will kneel—we offer mercy. To those who resist… we offer extinction.”

The wind caught his coat as he stepped forward, the camera framing him beneath the Caravelle banner—black stitched with crimson thread.

“Let this be the last day you mistake peace for weakness.” He nodded once. And the broadcast cut to black.

The datapad dimmed in Caitlyn’s hand. The only light in the room was the faint screen-glow reflecting off her pale features. She hadn’t blinked. The chair beneath her creaked as she leaned back slowly, her eyes still fixed on the now-black display. The weight of Alec’s words coiled like a vice around her ribs.

A war had begun.

No subtle threats. No veiled ambitions. Just pure doctrine.

Caitlyn exhaled, slow and quiet, then reached for her phone. Her thumb hovered over one name, the only one that mattered.

Vi.

She tapped. One ring. Two. Three. Vi is unreachable. That never happens.  Caitlyn froze. She called again. And again. Nothing.

The tension in her jaw spread across her whole body like ice. She set the datapad down, her hand trembling just slightly.

Something was wrong.

She could feel it deep in her bones, like the pull of a storm long before the sky breaks. She looked toward the window, and outside—under the same cold, pale, sky, Alec had stood beneath—the first fires of war were already burning. She just didn’t know how close it had already come.

Chapter Text

A low hangar lamp flickers inside the abandoned warehouse, casting long, jittery shadows over crates and concrete. Silco’s enforcers fan out across the dusty floor, rifles bristling with shimmer-laden canisters. At the center of their formation, Vi lies on her knees, hands bound tightly behind her back once again.

She strains to raise her head, but the poison coursing through her veins saps her strength. Dark blotches swim at the edge of her vision. A burly henchman grips her shoulder to keep her upright. Vi’s breaths come shallow and ragged, sweat beading on her pale skin.

One of the enforcers presses two fingers to his comm device and speaks gruffly, his voice echoing in the vast space. “Affirmative... but she’s not here,” he reports, scanning the dim corners of the warehouse as if expecting someone else. His words crackle through the silence.

Vi forces her heavy eyelids open at the sound, heart sinking. They were looking for Caitlyn or Katarina. The thought barely forms before Vi’s head lolls forward again, dizziness threatening to pull her under.

High above on a metal mezzanine at the warehouse’s edge, Caitlyn watches the group through the scope of her rifle, hidden in the gloom. From her vantage in the rafters, she can see the purplish gleam emanating from the soldiers’ weapons. Shimmer-enhanced rifles, she notes silently. Caitlyn recognizes Silco’s brutal signature technology at once.

The sight confirms she’s in the right place. Caitlyn’s pulse quickens with both relief and dread as she surveys the scene below. Through the crosshairs, she tracks each movement, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of the layout — crates stacked in erratic rows, flickering neon signs leaking in from high windows, and the number of hostile men.

Caitlyn’s whisper barely stirs the dust motes in the air: “Where are you…” she breathes, tone taut with worry. She sweeps the scope urgently from one shadowy corner to another, searching for any sign of the one person she’s here for. Her heart hammers against her ribcage. Then, amid the shifting flashlights and dim shapes, she catches a flash of vibrant red hair being dragged across the concrete by two of Silco’s men. Her breath hitches. A figure, half-hidden behind a stack of crates, seizes her attention. A figure with hair in a familiar shade of pink, slumped and barely moving. Caitlyn adjusts the scope, and relief floods through her: it’s Vi. She’s alive. Vi’s head is bowed and her body limp, not resisting the thug who holds her bound arms.

A mix of fury and relief ignites in Caitlyn’s chest. Seeing Vi battered but breathing sends a surge of adrenaline through her veins. Her gloved finger moves from the trigger guard to the trigger itself, caressing it with deadly intent. The anxious quiver in her breathing steadies into cold resolve. In that moment, Caitlyn channels every ounce of fear and love into focused purpose. The faint creak of metal under her knee is lost beneath the distant hum of machinery as she braces her rifle. Hold on, Vi. I’m here.

___

Keeping to the thick shadows of the rafters, Caitlyn inhales slowly, forcing calm over her racing heart. She silently counts the enemies; two flanking Vi, one pacing near a pallet of barrels, another by the shuttered loading bay and two more tagging along from behind.  Six… no, seven hostiles visible. More could be lurking beyond her sight, but it’s now or never. Vi’s life hangs in the balance.

Caitlyn shifts position with feline grace, her dark attire blending into the steel beams overhead. She lines up her first target through the scope – a thug lingering at the edge of the group, rifle lazily pointed downward. The suppressor on her rifle will make this kill no louder than a whisper. Exhaling, Caitlyn squeezes the trigger. Pfft.

The silenced shot spits out. In her scope, the man’s head snaps back, a fine red mist spraying as he crumples to the floor. His collapse is obscured by the maze of crates, unseen by his comrades. Caitlyn is already shifting her aim to the next target.

A guard on an elevated catwalk starts to turn, perhaps sensing something amiss. Caitlyn slips into even deeper shadow, climbing a ladder to his level with swift, silent movements. Before the guard can complete his scan, she glides up behind him. In one smooth motion, Caitlyn claps a hand over his mouth and drives the butt of her pistol into the base of his skull. Thud.

The man goes limp in her arms with barely a whimper. She eases his unconscious body onto the catwalk grate quietly, his weapon clattering softly at his side.

No time to waste. Caitlyn’s eyes lock onto the guard near the barrels below, who is stepping away from the group to investigate a darker corner. She drops to one knee on the catwalk, steadies her rifle and fires another hushed round. Pfft.

The guard emits a choked grunt as the bullet finds his neck. He collapses against the barrels, knocking one over with a hollow clang before slumping to the ground.

The metallic noise cuts through the quiet. “Oi, what was that?” barks one of the men by Vi. He spins around, alert, and the other immediately grabs Vi’s arm, yanking her closer as a potential shield. The fallen barrel rolls into the open, drawing their attention. They haven’t spotted Caitlyn yet, but their suspicion is raised.

Caitlyn clenches her jaw. One stray sound, and the advantage of surprise is slipping away. In the distance, she hears the roar of an engine — possibly another truck arriving with reinforcements. Her window is closing.

By the far exit, the two men already have drawn their guns, alarmed by the commotion. Caitlyn reacts instantly. Still hidden in shadow on the high catwalk, she double-taps the trigger. Two quick, muffled shots leave the rifle. Pfft—pfft.

Down below, both men jerk and collapse before they can even aim – one sprawled on his back, the other face-first beside a barrel.

“Shit! We’ve got a shooter!” one of the remaining enforcers hollers, finally catching sight of his fallen allies at the exit. Panic edges into his voice. The remaining three men tighten their circle, one dragging Vi fully behind a crate for cover. Vi is barely conscious, but she dimly registers being pulled across the concrete. Her head rolls, vision swimming with shadows and blurred flashes.

Above them, Caitlyn ducks back and quickly descends the ladder, moving to a new firing angle. Her stealthy takedown has already thinned the ranks, but from the echoing boot stomps and shouted orders beyond the loading bay, she can tell more of Silco’s soldiers are about to flood in. She’s outnumbered and soon will be outflanked. Every logical instinct in her training screams at her to fall back, to retreat and find a better advantage. But one look at Vi — collapsed and vulnerable in their grasp — and Caitlyn knows she will not retreat. If it costs her life, so be it. She will not leave Vi again. Not this time. Determination hardens in her gut as she slips between stacks of crates, repositioning for the coming fight.

___

As Caitlyn takes cover behind a concrete pillar, a sweeping flashlight beam suddenly slices through the dark and lands on a flicker of movement — on her. “There! Up there on the left!” a soldier shouts. In that heartbeat, Caitlyn’s cover is blown.

A split-second later, gunfire erupts in a deafening cacophony. The quiet is shattered by the thunder of automatic weapons. Muzzle flashes strobe the gloom, lighting up towering shelves and rusted machinery in bursts of white and purple. Bullets rip into the pillar and crates around Caitlyn, showering her with splinters and concrete dust. She presses her back hard against the pillar, heart pounding in her throat as debris rains down. The acrid smell of gunpowder floods the air.

Caitlyn’s mind is focused, ice-calm despite the chaos. She waits for a lull in the firing — a half-second’s hesitation — then swings out from cover, low to the ground. Her rifle comes up, and she snaps off a trio of shots in quick succession. Shot after shot after shot. 

Down on the floor, one of the advancing gunmen howls and drops, clutching a shattered knee as Caitlyn’s bullets find their mark. Another staggers back as a round punches through his shoulder. But to Caitlyn’s astonishment, he doesn’t go down; with a rabid grin, the man steadies himself and keeps firing. A faint violet shimmer pulses under his skin where he’s wounded. The damned shimmer is coursing through him, numbing his pain, pushing his body beyond its limits.

A hail of return fire forces Caitlyn to duck back. Bullets chew through the metal railing behind her with a shriek of sparks. She grits her teeth — they’re hopped up on shimmer and armed to the teeth, which means she needs to hit harder.

She vaults over the railing to the ground, landing in a roll behind an overturned forklift. The instant her shoulder hits concrete, she’s already discarding her sniper rifle and drawing her sidearm with practiced ease. A soldier rounds the corner of a crate, ten paces from her. Caitlyn fires two shots without hesitation. The man’s body jerks, one bullet in his sternum, the other between his eyes, and he collapses mid-stride.

Another attacker charges from the right, a serrated blade in hand that glistens with a coat of shimmer, the toxin dripping from it in neon rivulets. He swings at Caitlyn in a wide arc. She twists away, the knife narrowly missing her midsection. Using his overextended momentum, Caitlyn slams her pistol hard into the side of his skull. Cartilage cracks; the man crumples with a grunt of agony. Caitlyn spins and plants a final shot in his chest for good measure before he hits the ground.

Above, the last remaining lightbulb sputters and pops, plunging half the warehouse into near-total darkness. Now the only light comes in erratic flashes from gunfire and the eerie purple glow of shimmer vials strewn from broken weapons. In the strobing light-and-shadow, the battle unfolds like a disorienting dance. Caitlyn becomes a phantom figure, moving swiftly from cover to cover. Her silhouette flickers in and out of view with each muzzle flash — here crouched behind a crate, there rolling across the floor to a new position — a relentless, untouchable force.

Not far away, Vi fights to stay conscious. The world around her is a confusing storm of sound and light. She makes out a lithe shadow weaving through the chaos, picking off Silco’s men one by one. Vi’s heart thuds with a mix of hope and disbelief. She hears a voice cut through the gunfire — Caitlyn’s voice, commanding and urgent. It has to be real. Vi’s head lulls to the side, eyes searching through the blur. A brilliant muzzle flash illuminates the face of the shooter for a split second: dark blue hair, fierce eyes focused in determination. It is Caitlyn. Vi’s lips part in a frail attempt to call her name, but only a whisper of a breath comes out. The poison has her in its grip; her limbs won’t obey. Still, a faint smile finds Vi’s lips even as her vision dims. Caitlyn came for her. She’s here...

Caitlyn vaults over the forklift, advancing toward Vi’s position even as she trades gunfire with the last of the reinforcements. Two more of Silco’s soldiers remain standing, their features twisted in desperation. They fan out to flank her, muzzles flashing. Caitlyn ducks low, a bullet searing past her shoulder. She pops up on one knee and returns fire. One man goes down with a bullet to the throat, gargling as he collapses. The last soldier lets out a ragged battle cry and rushes her head-on, firing wildly. A round grazes Caitlyn’s thigh with a hot slice of pain, but she holds her ground. Gritting through the sting, Caitlyn levels her pistol and squeezes the trigger on her final shot. The report echoes like thunder. The charging man’s chest explodes in a mist of blood as the bullet pierces his heart. His momentum carries him forward a few more steps before he crashes to the concrete at her feet, lifeless.

Suddenly, the firefight is over as abruptly as it began. Silence reclaims the warehouse, broken only by the drip of leaking fuel and the ringing in Caitlyn’s ears. A thick haze of Gunsmoke lingers in the air, its sharp odor mixing with the metallic scent of blood. Caitlyn stands amid scattered bodies and spent shells, her chest heaving. She winces at the burning graze on her arm and the sharp throb in her thigh, but the pain is secondary. Blinking sweat and dust from her eyes, she scans for Vi.

There — behind an overturned crate, Vi lies crumpled on her side. In an instant Caitlyn is sprinting and stumbling toward her. “Vi!” Caitlyn’s voice echoes in the cavernous space, hoarse with concern. She drops to her knees at Vi’s side, barely aware of the warm blood trickling down her own leg. Her hands shake as she reaches out to touch Vi’s face, fingertips ghosting over a fresh bruise on Vi’s cheek. Vi’s eyes are closed, and for one terrifying moment Caitlyn thinks she might be too late.

“Vi, please,” Caitlyn begs, her voice cracking. She fumbles for the ropes biting into Vi’s wrists and saws at them with a small knife from her belt. The coarse fibers finally give way. Freed, Vi slumps forward, and Caitlyn catches her, easing Vi’s head gently into her lap.

After a heartbeat, Vi’s lashes flutter and her unfocused eyes open a crack. She sees a familiar face hovering above, framed by wisps of dark hair. “C-Cait…lyn,” Vi rasps, barely audible. Relief crashes over Caitlyn so hard she nearly sobs. Vi recognizes her.

“I’m here, love. I’ve got you,” Caitlyn whispers, brushing a damp strand of hair from Vi’s forehead. Her voice trembles despite her attempt to sound soothing. She squeezes Vi’s hand, which is frighteningly cold.

Vi manages a weak smile. With obvious effort, she lifts her hand to lightly grip Caitlyn’s forearm. “I’m… okay,” Vi wheezes, her stubbornness shining through even now. The words are barely out when a violent cough racks her body. Vi turns her head and spits blood, crimson droplets splattering the concrete. Her body shudders with each cough.

Caitlyn’s blood runs cold at the sight. “No… no, you’re not okay,” she protests in a panicked whisper. A metallic tang hits Caitlyn’s nose — Vi is coughing up blood. That poison is ravaging her from the inside. Caitlyn presses a hand to Vi’s cheek; it’s clammy and hot. A tear slips down Caitlyn’s face as terror grips her. After everything, to lose Vi now…

____

A ragged, wheezing laugh cuts through the heavy air. Caitlyn’s head whips around toward the sound. One of Silco’s men is somehow still alive, propped against a crate a few yards away. Blood leaks from a gunshot wound in his abdomen as he watches Caitlyn and Vi with a spiteful grin.

“You… you think you’ve won?” the man gasps, chuckling even as he coughs wetly. Caitlyn’s eyes narrow to slits. Gently, she lays Vi back against the crate and rises to her feet, every muscle in her body taut. The soldier’s smile is a red smear of blood across his teeth. “Stupid Piltie… That poison in her veins? It’s gonna kill her in minutes,” he croaks out. “Vi’s as good as dead already.” A sick, gurgling laugh bubbles from his throat.

Caitlyn’s vision blurs at the edges with red. Her heart, which moments ago pounded with fear, now beats with pure hatred. “What did you do to her?” she snarls, taking a menacing step toward the wounded man. Her voice echoes, low and dangerous, through the silent hall.

The man only laughs again, delirious and cruel. Caitlyn can barely think past the roar of rage in her ears. Behind her, Vi’s hand weakly finds Caitlyn’s calf, trying to ground her, but Caitlyn is already stepping forward, fists clenched.

Vi summons the strength to speak, her voice a faint whisper: “Poison…” It’s all she manages, but that single word from Vi’s lips is the final spark on Caitlyn’s volatile emotions. Poison. Vi is dying. Something snaps inside Caitlyn.

In an eye-blink, Caitlyn crosses the distance to the soldier. One moment he’s grinning through bloody teeth; the next, Caitlyn’s gloved fist has twisted into the front of his jacket and she hoists him clean off the ground. He gives a startled yelp as his back hits the side of a crate with a dull thud. The man dangles in the air, boots kicking uselessly a foot above the floor.

“W-what the—?!” he sputters, fear flooding his eyes for the first time. Caitlyn’s face is mere inches from his now, and the look in her eyes chills him more than the pain in his gut. She’s gone deathly pale, and her eyes… they glow a murderous, unnatural crimson in the gloom.

“The antidote,” Caitlyn growls, each word vibrating with a feral timbre. Her lips peel back in a snarl, revealing her sharp canine fangs, her true nature. “Give. It. To. Me.” She slams him harder against the crate with each word, wood splintering behind his back. The man claws at her wrist, gurgling, as her strength crushes his windpipe bit by bit.

“I-I don’t know anything about an antidote!” he chokes out desperately. His voice is barely a rasp; Caitlyn’s grip is closing his airway. He tries to shake his head. “I just follow—orders,” he manages, eyes bulging in panic. He has no idea what kind of monster he’s dealing with, and his terror only fuels Caitlyn’s rage.

Vi, slumped a short distance away, blinks in disbelief at the sight. Through her woozy haze, she sees Caitlyn pinning a man effortlessly with one hand. The red glow of Caitlyn’s eyes cuts through the darkness like demonic embers. Vi’s heart lurches. “Cait…?” Vi croaks, her voice shaking not from weakness this time, but from confusion and fear.

Caitlyn doesn’t seem to hear Vi at all. The soldier’s words confirm what she dreaded: he can’t save Vi. There’s no help coming from him — he’s useless to her. And Vi is slipping away with every passing second. A snarl of frustration rips from Caitlyn’s throat. The hunger she’s kept buried for so long rises, sharpened by fury and despair. Her fangs ache with need; the hot scent of the man’s blood is overwhelming. “You don’t need to tell me anything, I shall get it from you.”

With a feral cry, Caitlyn gives in to the darkness. She lunges and sinks her fangs deep into the soldier’s neck. His flesh yields with a sickening crunch, and a torrent of blood spills into Caitlyn’s mouth. The man’s scream is shrill, echoing off the high rafters as he thrashes in her iron grip. Caitlyn clutches him tighter, one hand fisted in his collar, the other vise-like on his throat as she feeds. Warm blood coats her tongue and slides down her throat, and she drinks deeply, driven by an agonized fury and a desperate need for strength.

As the thick, coppery liquid floods her senses, Caitlyn’s mind is hit by a barrage of alien memories. Snippets of the soldier’s life flash behind her eyes: he recalls a scientist handing him a vial of purple toxin with a warning that it’s lethal; Silco’s cold voice echoing, “Make sure she suffers”; an image of Vi collapsing while these men laughed; perhaps a rumor of an antidote locked away somewhere far from here. The images are disjointed and fast, a lifetime of experiences not her own. They swirl with Caitlyn’s own rage and fear, fueling the savage intensity with which she drains the man’s life. A low, animalistic growl reverberates from her chest as she feeds harder, lost in the bloodrush.

The soldier’s struggles weaken, his boots scraping feebly at Caitlyn’s legs. His screams have long since withered to wet gurgles. Finally, his body falls slack, all strength and life extinguished. Caitlyn rips her fangs free, breathing hard. She lets the corpse slip from her grasp. It hits the floor in a heap, neck torn and eyes glassy.

Caitlyn staggers back a step, the taste of blood still warm on her lips. Her chest heaves with exertion and the vestiges of wrath. A crimson haze tints her vision; her veins hum with fresh vitality from the feed. She stands amid the dim light and carnage, blood dripping from her chin to the concrete. In that moment, she is every bit a monster – eyes aglow with predatory light, lips curled over blood-stained fangs, posture coiled and ready to pounce. She snaps her head toward the slightest sound, feral instincts on high alert for any remaining threat.

___

A faint voice, fragile but familiar, cuts through Caitlyn’s blood-fueled haze. “Cait…?” Vi calls weakly, her tone both fearful and tender. She has managed to pull herself halfway upright, leaning against a crate. Though Vi’s vision is foggy, she can clearly see Caitlyn’s silhouette standing amid the wreckage — and the horrifying details: Caitlyn’s eyes glowing an unnatural red in the dark, her stance predatory, and a dark stain of blood smeared down her chin. It’s a sight that would send most running in terror, yet Vi doesn’t flinch. She knows the woman beneath the blood. She knows Caitlyn is still in there.

Caitlyn whirls at the sound of her name, a snarl on her lips, eyes wild. For a split second she remains in a crouch, as if deciding whether this new voice is another foe to eliminate. Her gaze locks onto Vi. There is no mistaking Vi’s form — even battered and weak, Vi’s presence calls out to Caitlyn like a beacon. Caitlyn’s head tilts, feral eyes narrowing in confusion. The beast inside her roars to remain on guard, but something about Vi’s voice holds her in place.

Vi musters a shaky smile, though tears brim in her eyes. Summoning strength she doesn’t have, she stretches a hand out toward Caitlyn. Her knuckles gently lift in a gesture of trust. “Cait… it’s me,” Vi whispers, her voice a soft croon in the dark. She takes a slow, trembling step forward, out of the crate’s shadow and into a shaft of pale light. Her knees threaten to buckle, but she keeps her hand extended. “Come back to me.” Vi’s words are laden with quiet pleading and love.

Caitlyn’s chest heaves, ragged breaths sawing in and out. The crimson glow in her eyes flickers as she struggles internally. Vi’s scent — blood and sweat and Vi — fills Caitlyn’s nostrils, and the predator in her snarls, tempted. But Vi’s eyes glisten with tears and unwavering faith. Caitlyn’s gaze falls to that outstretched hand, noting how it shakes with effort, and then back to Vi’s face. She recognizes the freckles on Vi’s nose, the stubborn set of her jaw even in weakness, the concern overriding fear in her eyes. These are not the features of an enemy or prey. These belong to the woman she loves.

A ragged sob breaks from Caitlyn’s throat. The feral snarl melts from her face, twisting into an expression of anguish. Her glowing eyes dim, shifting back to their familiar deep-blue hue as tears well up. She stumbles forward, arms dropping limply to her sides. “Vi…” she whispers, voice cracked and filled with guilt and hurt.

Vi closes the remaining distance between them, catching Caitlyn as her legs give out. They sink to the dirty floor together. Caitlyn collapses against Vi’s chest, her blood-streaked face burrowing into the crook of Vi’s neck. Sobs wrack Caitlyn’s body — all the adrenaline and terror and fury now pouring out in tears. She clings to Vi’s jacket, fingers fisting the fabric as though afraid Vi might slip away if she lets go. “I-I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Caitlyn cries brokenly. She isn’t even sure what she’s apologizing for — for the violence Vi just witnessed, for being too late to prevent Vi’s suffering, for the monster she fears Vi might see her as.

Vi winces at the pain flaring in her wounded body, but she ignores it and wraps her arms around Caitlyn with all the strength she can muster. One hand cradles the back of Caitlyn’s head, fingers tangling gently in her hair. “Shh, it’s okay,” Vi whispers into Caitlyn’s ear, her voice weak but steady with conviction. She pulls Caitlyn closer, feeling the other woman’s trembling form pressed to hers. Despite the blood (some of it Vi’s own) and the horror of the last few minutes, Vi’s grip is comforting, protective even. “It’s okay. I’m here.” Vi soothes, her own tears slipping free to mingle with the grime on her cheeks.

Caitlyn lifts her face, which is streaked with tears and smeared with the soldier’s blood. She looks at Vi with a heartbreaking expression of tenderness mixed with self-loathing. “I thought I lost you,” she manages to whisper. Her fingers stroke a strand of Vi’s pink hair, as if to reassure herself that Vi is real and alive. The words carry a world of fear and relief.

Vi gently wipes a tear from Caitlyn’s cheek with her thumb, smudging a bit of blood in the process. Her vision blurs, but she forces a small smile.  Caitlyn lets out a tearful laugh at that, a fragile, hiccupped sound, and presses her forehead to Vi’s. They stay like that for a moment, breathing each other’s air. Caitlyn can feel Vi’s pulse fluttering beneath the clammy skin of her neck — unsteady, but there. Alive. She closes her eyes, sending a silent prayer of thanks to any power that might be listening.

Around them, the warehouse is a graveyard of fallen men and shattered crates. The air is thick with the smell of spent gunpowder and blood, and the only sounds are Caitlyn’s gradually slowing sobs and Vi’s labored breathing. A distant drip of water echoes somewhere in the rafters. The chaos of battle has given way to an eerie stillness.

With great effort, Vi shifts, easing both herself and Caitlyn until they are sitting side by side against a crate. Caitlyn immediately shrugs off her coat and wraps it around Vi’s shoulders, trying to ward off her shaking chills. Vi doesn’t protest, though her eyes never leave Caitlyn’s face. Even drained and feverish, Vi is more worried about Caitlyn in this moment than herself. She saw the monstrous side of Caitlyn, but all she feels is love and concern. Gently, Vi brushes back a lock of Caitlyn’s hair sticky with blood. “Are you hurt?” she asks softly, noticing for the first time Caitlyn’s bleeding arm and the red stain on her thigh.

“It’s nothing,” Caitlyn assures, quickly wiping her own tears with the back of her hand. The wounds burn, but she genuinely doesn’t care. Not about herself. Carefully, she reaches to wipe the blood from Vi’s chin with her thumb. Her hand lingers against Vi’s cheek, feeling the warmth there. “We need to get you out of here… get you help,” Caitlyn says, voice thick with worry. Now that the immediate danger has passed, the reality of the poison returns to the forefront of her mind.

Vi leans into Caitlyn’s touch, eyes drifting half-closed. The adrenaline that kept her conscious is ebbing, replaced by exhaustion. “Just… hold on a minute,” Vi whispers. She rests her head on Caitlyn’s shoulder, utterly spent.

Caitlyn wraps an arm around Vi, holding her securely. She presses a gentle kiss to Vi’s temple, her lips coming away salty with sweat and tears. “Vi, I didn’t see an antidote, in his memories. We need the antidote,” Caitlyn panics. She will find a way to save Vi — she has to. But for this fleeting moment, she allows herself to simply hold Vi close.

They sit amidst the ruins of the fight, clinging to each other as the adrenaline fades. The harsh fluorescent lamp buzzes overhead, casting a cold light on the scene: dozens of Silco’s men lay scattered, the pungent smell of shimmer mixing with blood on the concrete. Yet in one corner, bathed in the soft glow of a failing light, two women embrace as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Vi’s breaths are shallow against Caitlyn’s neck, and Caitlyn rubs circles on Vi’s back, whispering soothing words neither is fully aware of.

In the quiet that follows, Caitlyn blinks away the last of the crimson from her vision. The monster within her has retreated into whatever corner of her soul it dwells in. What remains is just Caitlyn — a frightened, determined woman cradling the love of her life, willing her to hold on.

____

Katarina slipped into the warehouse’s loading bay, boots crunching on shattered glass. The scene was a chaotic mess: toppled crates spilling their contents, bullet casings glinting on the concrete and the acrid smell of smoke hanging in the air. In the midst of it all, Caitlyn crouched beside Vi’s slumped form. Vi’s usually vibrant face was now ashen, her breaths shallow. Caitlyn’s heart thundered in her chest at the sight of her partner in such peril, but the instant she registered a new presence, her instinct kicked in. She sprang to her feet and whirled, long rifle already in hand and aimed squarely at the intruder. The intruder was Katarina and she had just arrived to find the aftermath.

“Don’t move!” Caitlyn barked, her voice sharpened by adrenaline and the ragged edge of madness. Her finger tightened on the trigger—too late. A shot cracked through the warehouse, the muzzle flash briefly igniting the fierce, wild glint in Caitlyn’s eyes.But Katarina was no longer where she had been a heartbeat before. The bullet tore into a wooden panel behind her, exploding it into a shower of splinters. In a blur of motion, Katarina vanished from Caitlyn’s line of sight, only to reappear an instant later, perched effortlessly atop a nearby crate.

Balanced with predatory grace, twin daggers glinting in her hands, Katarina stared down the length of Caitlyn’s rifle. Her emerald eyes were narrowed, calculating—not attacking, not retreating—simply ready.

"You don’t want to do this, Kiramman," Katarina called out, her voice low and edged with warning. From her higher vantage point, she cast a quick glance around the wreckage below, noting the lifeless bodies of Silco’s men strewn across the floor.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth—familiar, taunting. "I see you’ve given in to your true nature after all..." she added, her words curling with challenge, the glint in her eye daring Caitlyn to prove her wrong.

Caitlyn’s pulse pounded in her ears. She kept her rifle trained on Katarina, shifting her stance to track the assassin’s movement. Fury and fear warred within her. The memory of Vi collapsing, gasping in pain, was fresh in Caitlyn’s mind and she felt a surge of protective anger. She took a step to shield Vi’s body behind her, her aim steady on Katarina’s chest. “Give me one reason not to put a bullet through you,” Caitlyn growled, voice low and taut as a bowstring.

“Cait…” Vi said with a weak voice.

“…she saved me” Vi cried out. She had pushed herself up to a half sitting position, one arm trembling as it held her weight. VI’s usually strong voice was weakened, strained with pain, but it carried desperate resolve. Caitlyn’s eyes flickered confusion and didn’t leave Katarina, but her finger eased away from the trigger. “What?” Caitlyn snickered, risked a quick glance down at Vi.

Vi winced, pressing her hand on her sides. Caitlyn’s stomach dropped. “Silco, he…poisoned me. I was fading and…” she drew a shaky breath, “She saved me. She kept the poison from killing me and she helped us escape.” Vi’s eyes were glassy with pain, but earnest. “I’d be dead if not for her.”

Caitlyn’s mind spun as she processed Vi’s words. Katarina, of all people, had saved Vi’s life? It was almost unthinkable. She tightened her jaw, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless assassin she knew with this unexpected act. The tension in the air still crackled. Catilyn did not lower her gun, but her aim wavered slightly as doubt and hope tangled inside her. Caitlyn swallowed; her throat dry. Vi’s condition was worsening before her eyes; Caitlyn could see the faint purple tracery spreading from Vi’s skin. They were running out of time.

High on the stack of crates, Katarina observed the two silently. A lock of her red hair fell across her cheek, and she absentmindedly twirled one of her daggers before sheathing it. IN her other hand, now visible, was a small glass vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid. Catching Caitlyn’s eye, Katarina raised the vial slightly. Her voice sliced through the hush with cool confidence. “I got the antidote, and it will surely save your precious girlfriend’s life,” Katarina said, enunciating the word ‘girlfriend’ with a sly twist of her lips. The taunt in her tone was unmistakable.

Caitlyn bristled at Katarina’s phrasing, instinctively wanting to snap back, but VI’s labored groan behind her kept her focused. This was not the time for pride or embarrassment. Vi’s life was on the line. Caitlyn’s eyes flicked from the vial to Katarina’s smirking face. The assassin’s posture remained relaxed, but her gaze was intense. She truly had an antidote? Or was this a cruel trick? Caitlyn’s stomach clenched. She had seen Katarina’s deceptions and intentions before, the deadly traps she could lay. For all Caitlyn knew, that vial could contain more poison, or nothing at all.

Katarina seemed to read her hesitation. With a soft, derisive snort, she spoke again, more seriously this time. “No catch. No tricks. You need to decide now Kiramman, or it will cost her life.”

Without another word, Katarina tossed the vial in a gentle arc toward Caitlyn. The glass glinted under the flickering warehouse lights as it tumbled end over end. Caitlyn sucked in a breath and lunged forward, slinging her rifle over her shoulder in one swift motion. She caught the vial in her gloved hand just before it would have hit the ground. For a second, she stood there, heart pounding, the cool glass squeezed tightly in her fist.

She knelt beside Vi again, cradling Vi’s shoulders to steady her. The conflict was clear on Caitlyn’s face as she stared at the antidote in her hand. Trust Katarina? It went against every ounce of training and every scrap of caution she had. Her gaze darted up toward Katarina on the crate. The assassin had lowered her weapons and simply watched, one booted foot tapping impatiently on the wooden crate as if to say your move. Katarina’s expression was unreadable now, the earlier hint of amusement gone. Perhaps, Caitlyn thought, she genuinely wanted to help… or at least, she wasn’t currently acting like an enemy.

Caitlyn exhaled slowly, resolve solidifying in her eyes. With a curt nod, more to herself than anyone else, she made her choice. She slid an arm behind Vi’s back to support her and gently pressed the vial to Vi’s lips. “Hang on, Vi,” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady despite the tremor of worry. “This will help… it has to.” Caitlyn uncorked the vial and carefully poured the antidote into Vi’s mouth. Vi dutifully swallowed the bitter draught, coughing a bit as it went down. Almost immediately, Vi gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Caitlyn’s breath caught—was that a good sign or a bad one?

For a terrifying moment, nothing happened. Vi’s eyes fluttered closed and Caitlyn feared the worst, her hands shaking as she held Vi close. But then Vi’s labored breathing began to steady. The lines of pain etched on Vi’s face eased slightly. Color started returning to Vi’s pallid cheeks, the dreadful purple tinge around her wound slowly receding. “That’s it… easy,” Caitlyn whispered, relief washing through her voice. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath until a shaky laugh of hope escaped her. The antidote was working. Vi’s eyes opened again, clearer now, and she managed a weak grin. Caitlyn felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she brushed a sweat-damp strand of pink hair from Vi’s forehead. Relief and gratitude flooded her, nearly overwhelming in its intensity.

Still half-kneeling, Caitlyn looked up toward Katarina, who remained poised above them. The fierce standoff atmosphere had ebbed, replaced by an awkward, uncertain quiet. Caitlyn’s rifle hung forgotten at her side now. Vi was going to be okay—that was all that mattered. But Katarina’s involvement, her unexpected heroics, raised so many questions. Caitlyn met Katarina’s gaze across the dim, wrecked warehouse. She struggled to find words. Thank you was on the tip of her tongue, but the words felt heavy and strange considering their history. Instead, Caitlyn just gave a small, sincere nod of acknowledgement. Her blue eyes, still wary but softer now, conveyed what she couldn’t yet say aloud.

Above them, Katarina straightened up. She rolled her shoulders and flipped a dagger idly between her fingers. “Well,” Katarina called down, voice echoing slightly in the vast space, “She’ll be fine.” She gave Vi a quick, almost imperceptible once-over—as if assuring herself the antidote had indeed worked—then her gray eyes locked onto Caitlyn one last time. “Take care of her,” Katarina added in a quieter tone, losing the mocking edge. For a flicker of a second, her hardened assassin’s demeanor softened. Then, with a swift, fluid motion, she hopped down from the stack of crates.

Caitlyn instinctively tensed as Katarina approached, but the redhead only closed the distance enough to retrieve a fallen blade from the ground and sheathe it at her hip. Katarina paused, standing a few paces from the two partners.

As Vi’s breathing steadied, the worst of the poison flushed from her system, a fragile calm settled over the wreckage of the warehouse. Caitlyn still cradled her protectively, her heart hammering painfully in her chest.

"This will definitely anger Silco," Katarina said grimly, voice low but steady. "We don't have time... more of his men are coming." The air shifted around them—heavy, electric—as if the night itself was holding its breath. Somewhere beyond the shattered warehouse walls, Caitlyn caught faint sounds from a distance: the scrape of boots against gravel, distant voices barking orders. Reinforcements.

"You need to go," Katarina pressed, her tone leaving no room for argument. She glanced toward the broken entrance where shadows flickered under the ruined lights. "I'll take it from here. Go."

For a beat, Caitlyn hesitated, torn between instinct and survival. Her rifle still hung from her shoulder, but her hand curled around Vi instead, feeling the steady thud of her heartbeat under her palm. Vi stirred weakly, her head resting against Caitlyn’s chest, still too drained to fight but conscious enough to hear.

Without another word, Caitlyn nodded. She helped Vi to her feet, slinging Vi’s arm over her shoulder to support her weight. Together, they stumbled toward the warehouse exit, Caitlyn shooting one last wary glance over her shoulder. Katarina stood alone, framed by the jagged ruins of the crates and debris, her posture loose but ready like a storm about to break.

As they reached the gaping exit, Vi paused, her body leaning heavily against Caitlyn’s side. She turned her head, catching Katarina’s eye. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the blood and the distrust, Vi managed the ghost of a grin.

Katarina’s lips quirked in return—half smirk, half something almost sincere. Her voice, when it came, carried easily through the night. "We'll see each other again."

It wasn't a threat. It wasn’t even quite a promise. It was something heavier, something inevitable and though she spoke to them both, her eyes lingered mostly on Vi. Caitlyn tightened her grip around Vi’s waist and urged her forward. They made it to the car hidden in the shadows outside, barely. Caitlyn yanked open the passenger door and helped Vi inside before sliding behind the wheel.

As she jammed the keys into the ignition, a sudden, violent explosion ripped through the night, rocking the ground beneath them. Caitlyn whipped her head around just in time to see a bloom of fire and smoke rising from the warehouse. The windshield shuddered with the force of it. Somewhere inside that inferno, Katarina had lit the fuse.

Heart hammering, Caitlyn reached blindly across the seat, her hand finding Vi’s. Their fingers tangled together tight, unyielding as Caitlyn pressed her foot hard on the accelerator.

The car sped away into the darkness, the smoke from the explosion curling into the sky behind them.
They didn’t speak—not yet. But the message was clear in the way Caitlyn clutched Vi’s hand like an anchor, and in the way Vi squeezed back, weak but unbreakable.

They had survived.

____

The grand hall of Rindor, a small town circling Ravensworth, now lay draped in shadow. Cracked marble tiles glimmered faintly under the dim torchlight of the old keep, and the banners of the Caravelle bloodline hung limp and heavy from the vaulted ceiling as if weighted down by the gravity of the moment.

Alec stood at the head of the war room, a vast table spread with maps, missives, and bloodstained plans. Beyond the stained-glass windows, the night bled into the mountains like ink into parchment. Snow-laced winds howled against the stone, but within the keep, the air was still unnervingly so.

The first movements of war had already begun. Alec strategically pressures small towns like Rindor to persuade elders to join his side. Ravensworth outer villages lay in ruin, wiped out by vampire forces enhanced with shimmer. Their ashes now marked Alec’s slow, deliberate tightening around the city’s throat. He would strangle Ravensworth and soon Piltover, and after Piltover, the whole nation of Noctalis would follow.

It was inevitable. Or so he thought.

The heavy iron doors creaked open behind him. Bootsteps approaches slow and unhurried. Alec didn’t turn as he didn’t need to. Silco’s arrival always carried a particular chill—not in temperature but in atmosphere, a thread of something poisonous weaving through the air. His presence slithered into the hall like smoke under a locked door.

“You’re late,” Alec said without looking up.

Silco’s soft chuckle rolled across the marble like lazy tide. “You’ve made yourself difficult to catch, Alec” he paused, taking in the surroundings. “Busy sending half-breeds and soldiers to erase another town, I imagine.”

Alec finally lifted his gaze, regarding Silco with a disdainful flick of his golden eyes. His voice remained calm, clipped. “It’s called progress…Sacrifices must be made if we are to shape the future.”

Silco smiled—sharp, thin and humorless. “Ah yes. The future. Always just another pile of corpses away, isn’t it?” For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them.

Then Alec spoke, voice colder than the stone beneath their feet. “Soon, even Rhiannon will see there’s no point in resisting me…her loyalty to the old accords will rot like everything else.”

He turned fully now, facing Silco across the breadth of the table. “And once the Kirammans fall, the human families…”Alec said, voice lowering into something near a whisper. “The world will finally belong to us.”

He leaned over the map, eyes gleaming with feverish conviction. “No more treaties. No more restraint. No more threats polluting the natural order of things—” he stopped. Because Silco was smiling at him strangely.

Alec straightened, an uneasy flicker threading through his chest. “What?” he demanded.

Silco smiled, widened, lazy and cruel. His voice dropped to velvet whisper, “The Ashen Order…lives”

Silco’s words struck like a hammer blow. For a moment Alec simply stared at him, as if the words hadn’t registered. Then a tremor—barely perceptible, but there. A muscle twitched along Alec’s jaw. His hands flexed once at his sides, curling into fists  tight enough to blanch the knuckles. He took a single step forward, and when he spoke, it was a low snarl dragged from the depths of something primal.

“What did you say?”

Silco tilted his head, almost pitying him. “You heard me,” he said.

“The blood you thought extinct…still runs.”

Alec’s chest rose and fell faster now. The polished calm he wore like an armor cracked at the edges, revealing something raw beneath. “That’s impossible.” Alec rasped.

“My brother made certain—every last one of them was slaughtered.”

Silco’s eyes gleamed, a fox watching a wounded wolf bleed. “Clearly,” he lightly said. “Your brother failed.”

Alec moved with a speed that blurred the air. In an instant, he was across the table, his hand fisting the front of Silco’s coat, lifting him clean off the ground with supernatural strength. The torches guttered in the sudden surge of energy.  

“You knew,” Alec hissed, voice low and shaking with rage.

“You knew and you kept this from me?”

Silco didn’t resist.He simply smiled—calm, untouched. Like a man watching the fuse of a bomb he had just lit. “I suspected…” he murmured, smoothing the front of his coat with meticulous care, as if Alec’s fury had been nothing more than a breeze.

Alec gripped him tighter, muscles straining, the hunger to tear Silco apart burning like molten iron beneath the ice of his self-control. "Suspicion is not proof," Alec growled, the words scraping from deep in his chest.

For a long, suffocating second, Alec held him there — breathing hard, trembling on the knife's edge of restraint. Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, he released him. Silco landed lightly on the stone floor. He straightened with maddening leisure, smoothing imaginary dust from his sleeves. His smile did not waver. He took his time before speaking again, voice dropping into something softer, almost… taunting.

"The human companion of the Kiramman princess," he said.

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Violet. Violet Ashbourne."

The name hit Alec like a blade to the gut. He staggered back half a step — a small thing, almost imperceptible but on Alec Caravelle, even a crack that small was monstrous.

"No," he breathed.

"That's impossible." His mind raced, colliding with memory. Violet Ashbourne — the human tethered to Kirramman's heir. It all made sense now. The careful protections. The uncharacteristic secrecy of Cassandra’s house. The whispered anomalies. Silco’s voice slithered through the silence, low and careful,

"Yes. And she has already awakened."

Alec’s heart pounded a war drum against his ribs. For the first time in decades, genuine fear threaded through the iron of his soul. If the Ashen blood had awakened — if this human truly carried it — the war would not be as simple as crushing armies.

It would be a reckoning. "And the Kiramman heir," Alec rasped, voice barely human. "Does she know?"

"I don't know," Silco replied simply, seating himself on the edge of the battered table. His casualness was infuriating.

"Perhaps Cassandra knows," Alec mused, "Why else would they shield her so fiercely? House Kiramman—careful, proud—suddenly raising a human?" disgust laced every words.

Silco shrugged. "It should have been more suspicious."

Alec snarled and seized the dagger lying nearby. Without hesitation, he stabbed it deep into the wooden table. The wood splintered with a sickening crack, shards flying.

"No," he growled.

"Maybe they don't know yet." His hands trembled with restrained rage. "But if this is true… it could unravel everything. Everything I have planned."

Silco’s cold smile widened, a slow baring of teeth. "Or," he said, voice silken, coaxing, "it could make you unstoppable."

Alec’s head snapped toward him, fury boiling just beneath his skin. Silco leaned forward, eyes gleaming like coals.

"The Ashen blood," he said softly. "It’s written in the old scriptures. You know as well as I do… their blood offers strength beyond any vampire's reach. Power over life. Power over death."

Alec’s mouth twisted into a snarl. "I know that!" he spat.

"It’s why my family bled themselves dry hunting them. Why my brother…" He broke off, trembling with the memory. "Why he tore the world apart to exterminate them." He turned away, pacing like a caged predator, raking a hand through his hair. His movements were jagged, unhinged. His shadow stretched tall and violent across the stone walls.

"And it nearly destroyed us," Alec whispered, voice splintering with old rage.

"One mistake. One miscalculation—and the Ashen blood would not be our salvation. It would be our extinction."

Silco said nothing. He merely watched — patient, coiled, waiting.

Alec closed his eyes. For a moment, the only sound was his ragged breathing. When he opened them again, they burned with a cold certainty — the light of a man willing to do anything to hold onto his empire.

He turned back toward Silco, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath. "Bring her to me."

Silco exhaled a long, lazy breath, like a man watching a trap spring shut.

"I’ve already tried that," he said. "The girl... she knows what she carries. I saw it in her eyes. And the Kiramman protects her."

Alec’s hands fisted at his sides, nails biting into his palms. "This is why you don't act on impulse!" he thundered.

"If you had told me—if you had mentioned this to me, I would have torn the Ashen blood from her veins myself!"

The dagger in the table trembled from the force of his shout.

Silco only smiled. And in the suffocating stillness that followed, Alec realized —the war he had so carefully orchestrated was no longer a war of nations.

It was a war against fate itself.

_____

The rain came down in sheets, slicing through the smoke-choked sky like knives. It hit the blood-soaked earth with a sound like whispers—constant, relentless, drowning out even the screams.

Beyond the ruined outskirts of the town, fires burned unchecked. They licked up into the storm clouds, casting the shattered buildings in an eerie, flickering glow. The stone streets were slick with water and blood, reflecting a hellish kaleidoscope of orange flame and cold, silver rain. Jayce’s hammer swung wide, blue arcs of Hextech energy cracking the air with every strike. His coat clung to him, soaked and heavy, his breath coming in ragged bursts. Each swing cost him more. His muscles screamed with the effort of holding the line.

Ahead, the shimmer-enhanced soldiers of House Caravelle surged through the rubble—humans and vampires alike, their bodies twitching with unnatural strength, eyes glowing with feral hunger. Their shrieks cut through the storm.

Beside Jayce, Rhiannon carved through the chaos like a wraith. Her shadow soldiers—dark, spectral figures conjured from her bloodline's magic—flanked her, moving as one. With a flick of her wrist and a word muttered under her breath, she sent them lunging forward, tearing into a cluster of shimmering monstrosities with ruthless precision. The Ravensworth banners, dark crimson stitched with silver, fought against the driving wind—torn but defiant.

"Hold the line!" Rhiannon shouted; her voice sharp enough to cut the rain itself.

She turned to strike another wave—but too late. A shimmer-enhanced vampire, faster than the eye could track, materialized behind her, seizing her in a brutal grip. His claws dug into her throat, a cruel smile slashing across his pale face as he wrenched her backward.

Jayce saw it happen. "Rhiannon!" he roared, hurling his hammer forward like a thunderbolt. It slammed into a shimmer soldier barreling toward him, but it was too late to reach her. Javier, not far away, fought two vampires at once, his sword flashing silver in the rain but he couldn’t get to her either.

The vampire’s claws bared at Rhiannon’s neck.

And then—a shot split the air. The vampire’s head jerked violently then exploded in a mist of blood and bone, his body crumpling bonelessly at Rhiannon’s feet. She gasped, stumbling free, whirling to see her attacker dead and somewhere beyond the smoke and fire, she caught the faintest gleam of a sniper scope vanishing into the mist.

Before Jayce could react, a blur of motion tore into the battlefield beside him.

A shimmer-enhanced vampire lunged at Jayce’s exposed side—claws flashing— but it never reached him. A flash of pink hair, a blur of bare hands, and the vampire was ripped off his feet thrown like a mindless toy into the wreckage of a burning carriage. Jayce staggered back, wide-eyed.

Vi stood there, grinning through the rain, her hair plastered to her forehead, her fists slick with blood. "Miss me?" she drawled, winking.

"Vi?!" Jayce gasped, barely believing it.

Vi cracked her knuckles, her grin feral. Another vampire lunged and she met him head-on, no hesitation. Her punch caved in his chest plate with a sickening crack, sending him skidding backward into a crumbling wall.

Above them, high on the broken rooftops, Caitlyn finally revealed herself.

Silent. Deadly.

One by one, vampires fell—clean shots, precise as clockwork.

No wasted movement. No missed shots. Caitlyn moved like a ghost, slipping through the rain-slick ruins, the glint of her rifle's barrel briefly flashing before every kill. Every squeeze of the trigger dropped another threat.

No hesitation. No mercy.

She was the storm hidden within the storm—a trained killer with the focus of a blade honed to perfection. Jayce, panting, struggling to catch up to the chaos, looked between Vi and Caitlyn with a kind of stunned awe. Even Rhiannon, regaining her footing and wiping blood from her chin, caught Vi’s smirk as she slammed another vampire’s head into the broken cobblestones.

"You always did have terrible timing," Jayce muttered—but there was no mistaking the relief in his voice.

The tide of battle, for the first time in what felt like hours, shifted. The shimmer monsters recoiled, sensing it instinctively—something had entered the field that could not be outmatched by numbers alone.

Vi wiped rain and blood from her cheek, flashing Jayce a grin.

"Well," she said, rolling her shoulders as another vampire foolishly charged, "let’s get to work."

Another vampire, faster this time, darted in from Vi’s blind side. Fangs flashing, claws poised for the kill. Vi’s fingers darted to the side of her belt, her thumb slamming into a compact trigger. A low whir answered—a surge of blue light and her nano-Hextech gauntlet erupted over her bare hands in a cascade of energy and armor plating. The metal locked into place with a thunderous clang.

The vampire never even touched her. Vi’s newly gauntleted fist shot forward like a battering ram and the creature’s skull shattered on impact, his body hurled backward through a smoldering wall, stone exploding outward like a cannon blast. The Hextech core on her wrist pulsed, steam hissing into the rain.

Vi flexed her fingers once, feeling the hum of power coil through the reinforced plates.

Behind her, Caitlyn moved like a silent wraith on the rooftops. One by one, every threat near Vi was cleared with surgical precision. Caitlyn’s rifle sang in the rain and each shot timed to perfection, felling any vampire that so much as breathed near Vi’s path. The shimmer beasts dropped mid-charge, their heads snapping back in a spray of silver mist, leaving Vi a clean trail to carve her way further through the enemy ranks.

Vi ducked, rolled, pivoted and another vampire lunged toward her, snarling. Without missing a beat, she grabbed him by the throat, lifted him one-handed off the ground, and hurled him into a burning wreckage.

The creature didn’t get up.

Vi surged forward, steam pouring from her gauntlet, the ground quaking under her sprint. Her free hand seized another shimmer vampire, and with a grunt of effort, she threw him like a ragdoll—straight into a pack of Caravelle soldiers trying to regroup as they now scattered like bowling pins.

The battlefield was still chaos incarnate —rain pouring in sheets, flames flickering at the edges of shattered buildings, the air thick with the acrid stench of blood, smoke, and Shimmer.

But amidst the ruin, Vi moved like something born from war itself.

Then another shimmer-enhanced vampire lunged—and Vi caught him mid-air. Her bare hands seized his torso—and with a roar that drowned even the storm, she tore him clean in half, the two halves of his body flung in opposite directions, lifeless before they hit the ground. Jayce, watching in awe between hammer strikes, couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh.

Caitlyn continued to move across the broken rooftops. Vi never looked up but she knew Caitlyn was there, watching her back. Covering her. Guiding her path forward like a shadow with a sniper’s touch. Their bond now deeper than strategy, older than logic throbbed like a second heartbeat in their chest.

A vampire tried to grab Vi and another single shot was fired, dead center between its eyes, dropped it mid-pounce. Vi didn’t glance up, she simply sprinted on. Jayce recovered his swing and kept fighting beside Javier, the two men watching with rising hope as Vi cleaved a brutal path straight through the hostile monsters.

Vi, rain-slicked, bloodied, breathing hard, was unstoppable and Caitlyn could feel the same fire burning inside her own veins, an echo of Vi’s strength thrumming faintly under her skin, keeping her steady, keeping her deadly.

Their bond. Forged in blood.

Forged in Love.

The clash of steel and screams of dying soldiers faded into the storm. The fires burning through the small town guttered low, hissing under the relentless downpour. The broken streets, once a seething battlefield of blood and rage, were now strewn with bodies—both vampire and human alike. The Caravelle forces—once overwhelming, brutal, monstrous—were retreating.

Their shimmer-enhanced warriors, those who hadn’t been cleaved apart by Vi’s fists or dropped by Caitlyn’s rifle, were fleeing back into the night, a fractured tide beaten down by grit, by desperation... and by something they could not name. Across the cracked cobblestones, Jayce wiped rain from his brow, breathing heavily. His massive Hextech hammer sparked weakly in his grasp, the once-proud weapon heavy as lead in his arms.

“They're pushing back,” Jayce said, voice rough with exhaustion but threaded with something that had been absent all night, hope.

Rhiannon stood a few paces away, her black coat whipping around her in the wind, the eerie glow of her summoned shadows dimming. She watched silently as the last of her spectral warriors—those silent, dark figures of smoke and vengeance melted into the ground, absorbed back into the earth.

“For now,” she murmured, her voice barely louder than the rain, but carrying the weight of grim certainty.

The war was far from over. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the wreckage of the town and in the flash, a figure moved.

Caitlyn.

She leapt down from the ruined rooftop with the ease of a born hunter, landing beside Vi in a crouch, the impact sending a splash of muddy water from beneath her boots. She rose smoothly, rifle still gripped in her hands, her coat darkened with rain, her expression sharp and unwavering.

Vi, bloodied and breathing hard, turned slightly at the sound and there they stood, side by side.

Undeniable. Unbreakable.
 A force the world was no longer prepared for.

Rain beaded along the line of Caitlyn’s jaw, slicking her hair back, but her gaze never wavered. Vi's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the gauntlet on her right arm still steaming faintly, her fingers flexing once in silent readiness.

They exchanged no words. They didn’t need to.

Their presence alone shifted the weight of the battlefield, as if the storm itself bent around them.

Javier lurched toward them, bloodied but alive, his blade dragging slightly through the muck. His armor bore the scars of brutal combat, and fatigue lined his face, but his smile broke through—raw, genuine, full of relief at the sight before him.

He stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, and gave a tired, lopsided salute.

“Welcome back, Commander,” Javier said with a smile, voice hoarse but light, like the first break of sunlight through a storm.

Caitlyn, for once, didn’t correct him. She simply nodded as she lowered her rifle across her back. Vi, still breathing hard, turned her head toward Caitlyn and when Caitlyn met her gaze, a smile pulled at Vi’s lips too.

And then from the broken wreckage of the town—figures began to emerge. From the burned-out husks of shattered homes, from beneath fallen beams and crumbling stone, the survivors stepped forward. Vampires, humans, some still clutching bleeding wounds, others dragging their loved ones behind them. Children peered out from the rubble with wide, tearful eyes. Families huddled together against the cold rain.

Their expressions, despite the ruin, despite the horror they had witnessed, were not marked by fear.
They were marked by hope. One by one, the survivors looked to their defenders and smiled.

Tired, grateful, aching smiles. Hope was written on every battered face. Rhiannon’s mouth curved faintly upward as she took a small child’s hand and pressed a steadying palm to his shoulder. Jayce, ever the giant with a soft heart, crouched low and scooped up a small boy who had been clinging to the leg of a toppled fence. The boy clung to him tightly, and Jayce ruffled his soaked hair with a quiet, comforting chuckle.

And for Caitlyn—for Caitlyn, standing amid the rain and ruins something shifted inside her chest. A warmth bloomed through the lingering ache. A small, unguarded, genuine smile broke across her face. The kind of smile born from the knowledge that tonight, even in the heart of darkness they had made a difference.
That tonight, they had saved lives. Beside her, Vi tilted her head slightly, catching the smile and mirroring it with a grin of her own—wild, irreverent, and full of stubborn, unkillable life.

They stood together in the rain, amidst the ruins of battle.

Victorious. Bruised. Unbroken.

A force not even destiny itself could turn away from. And in the quiet between heartbeats, even the storm seemed to still, bowing for just a moment before the rise of something greater.

The war was far from over.

But Vi and Caitlyn—

had only just begun.

Chapter Text

The clang of metal against metal rang through the training grounds of Talis Industries.

Even under the harsh bite of floodlights, Vi was a blur in motion—fists slamming into reinforced steel targets, each strike sending a sharp jolt through the air. Her new gauntlets—Hextech-enhanced, freshly stabilized by Jayce—crackled with arcs of blue energy, the metal around her knuckles gleaming with each impact.

She drew back with a grunt, chest heaving, sweat clinging to her collarbones and dampening the fabric of her training shirt. Her arms trembled slightly from exertion. She wasn’t fully healed yet—not from the last fight, and not from the poison but still, something in her refused to stay still.

She needed to be ready.

For Caitlyn. For Everyone. For the next threat. For whatever came next.

“Don’t tire yourself out, dumbass.”

The familiar voice carried across the room, light and teasing. Vi turned her head, a breathless smirk curling her lips. Powder strolled toward her with casual ease, tossing a bottled water underhand. Vi caught it with a clumsy swipe, nearly fumbling thanks to the bulky gauntlets still humming at her wrists. Powder dropped onto the bench beside her with a thud, legs swinging like a restless child.

“You just came back from the dead,” she said, nudging Vi with her elbow. “Maybe don’t die again before breakfast.”

Vi huffed a tired laugh and cracked the bottle open. “I won’t,” she rasped, taking a long drink. The water was ice-cold, and it helped settle the heat in her chest.

For a while, they just sat there. Powder hummed something tuneless under her breath, fingers drumming on her thigh. Vi held the bottle between her palms, letting the gauntlets hum softly as they adjusted to her grip.

Then, quieter this time, Powder asked, “Do you really have to go to the next front?”

Vi didn’t answer at first. Powder leaned against her shoulder. “You’ve only been back for a couple of days,” she murmured. “And I miss you.”

Vi sighed, tipping her head back to stare at the steel-ribbed ceiling above. The light swam slightly in her vision. She reached over without a word and squeezed Powder’s shoulder, pulling her in. Powder leaned in without resistance, cheek pressing to Vi’s damp sleeve. The warmth between them was old and familiar—like the memory of childhood, stubborn and soft.

"You know," Powder mumbled against her arm, "we were all going crazy when you were gone."

Vi blinked down at her.

"Especially vampire princess,” she added slyly.

Vi snorted, the corner of her mouth twitching.

Powder grinned wider, mischievous as ever. “Which reminds me…”

She sat up straighter with a dramatic flourish. “That bitc—” Powder caught herself mid-sentence, then glanced sideways with mock innocence. “I mean, your girlfriend—left me.”

Vi raised a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“She promised she’d bring me along when she went to find you!” Powder huffed, hands flailing for effect. “But nooo, she just went full-on vampire rage mode and forgot about poor little me! I could’ve been your backup!”

Vi chuckled and reached out, slinging an arm around Powder’s neck and dragging her into a loose headlock.

“You would’ve blown something up,” Vi said fondly, ruffling her hair. “You little menace.”

“Exactly!” Powder wheezed between giggles. “It would've been awesome!”

Vi grinned and let her go. They both slumped back against the bench, shoulders bumping. Their laughter faded, but the warmth remained. Then, after a long beat, Vi spoke again—quieter now. “I’m not leaving for good, Pow.” Powder didn’t answer right away. She was watching the field in front of them—at the dented targets, the cracked tile, the heavy stillness that always followed a fight. The scent of ozone clung to the air.

Vi squeezed her hand and it was a silent promise. Powder smiled faintly. But then her fingers fidgeted at the hem of her sleeve. Vi noticed the twitch instantly. It was an old tell—one Vi hadn’t seen since they were kids.

“I saw the video logs,” Powder said suddenly.

Vi turned toward her. “What video logs?”

Powder squirmed. “So uh… Viktor and I might’ve rigged some tiny recording devices onto Jayce’s armor.”

Vi narrowed her eyes.

“Y’know,” Powder went on, shrugging like it was the most casual thing in the world, “for science-y stuff. It was Jayce’s idea. Studying enemy movement. Shimmer effects. Troop behavior. Blah blah blah. You know nerd stuff”

Vi stared. “Powder…” A sinking weight settled in her gut. Powder gave her a sheepish smile—the exact same one she used to flash after blowing up one of Vander’s radios.

“I saw you,” she said quietly. “On the battlefield.”

Vi’s heart skipped. She looked away.

“You weren’t… normal,” Powder said.

Vi exhaled through her nose. She should’ve known Powder would figure it out. She was blood, after all. Family always knew when something was wrong—when something had changed.

Still, Vi said nothing.

Powder leaned in, voice soft. “Vi?”

Her eyes were wide now, worried. “Did Caitlyn… turn you?” she whispered.

Vi choked on her water, coughing violently. “What?!”

Powder raised her hands in defense. “I mean, you two are like… attached at the hip now! It’s logical, sis!”

“It doesn’t work that way!” Vi hissed, half-laughing, half-mortified.

Powder gave her a narrow look. “What does that mean? Did she try—?”

“OH MY GOD, NO!” Vi covered her face with both bare hands. “Powder, stop!”

Powder snorted and broke into cackling laughter. “I’m just saying!” she wheezed. “She cares about you! I figured maybe she pulled a dramatic vampire bite when you were dying—like some twisted romance novel!”

Vi dropped her hands and gave her the flattest glare she could manage.

“I promise,” she said slowly, “that’s not what happened.”

Powder’s grin softened but her gaze didn’t waver. She studied Vi carefully now. “But something did happen, didn’t it?” Vi hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the bottle she’d forgotten she was holding. The tension crept into her shoulders, stiffening her posture.

Powder was quiet now. No more teasing. Just watching her with quiet worry.

"Powder..." Vi began, her voice low, cautious. “There’s something you need to know. About me. About us.”

Powder sat up straighter. “Us?” she echoed.

Vi nodded, slowly.

___

Caitlyn stood at the head of the council chamber’s long table, fists braced against the polished wood. Maps and reports lay scattered before her, some curling at the edges from hurried handling. The stained-glass windows of Piltover’s hall cast fractured light across the room, painting everyone in anxious hues of gold and blue. She could feel every eye on her, waiting. A dull ache throbbed in her temples, but when she spoke her voice was steady as steel.

A sprawling map of the continent covered the war table, pinned at the corners by heavy iron weights. Colored markers littered its surface — red for losses, blue for allied camps, black for enemy movement. Frostmere was marked in bold black ink, a grim symbol of what was already slipping from their hands.

Caitlyn stood rigid at the edge of the table, her hand hovering near the name “Frostmere” on the map, her eyes narrowing as she traced the lines of Alec’s movements. Jayce paced near the windows, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, a dark cloud of frustration settling over him. Mel sat composed, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, her fingers steepled beneath her chin as she observed the room. Elias lingered near the back, silent but observant, his keen eyes never leaving the map or the people in the room.

“We’ve confirmed it,” Jayce finally spoke, his voice low and tense, slicing through the silence. “Alec’s forces have fortified Frostmere.” He jabbed a finger at the map, his frustration palpable. “He’s dug trenches, built supply lines... he’s not just passing through. He’s camping—he’s settling in.”

Mel nodded, adding with an air of cool confidence, “I’ve already informed Seraphine. Security in Cravenwell and the surrounding towns is being heightened.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened as her gaze flicked to the map, her brow furrowing. "Still, Frostmere should’ve been part of our watch. It’s a neutral zone, and it just slipped through our fingers." The irritation in her voice was unmistakable.

Mel’s voice sliced sharply through the room, a quiet but firm demand for clarity. “Do we know where he’ll strike next?”

Elias shifted, speaking for the first time, his tone pragmatic. "There’s a pattern," he said. "Despite his army's enhancements, Alec doesn't waste resources. He’s strategic, something he no doubt inherited from his late brother."

Mel’s golden eyes narrowed, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "He's not just attacking to conquer," she mused, her voice cool and measured. "He's cutting supply chains, splintering our allies one by one."

“To pressure them, obviously,” Caitlyn added, her tone sharp with realization.

A heavy silence fell over the chamber. Caitlyn leaned closer to the map, her finger tracing a faint line from Frostmere to Cliffworth. The distance was short. Too short. If they waited too long, Cliffworth would fall before they could mount a defense.

Her voice was quiet but firm, "We need to move before he does."

___

Powder stared at Vi, her breath catching in her throat. Thin wisps of smoke still curled from the scorched training dummy behind them, the only movement in the quiet that followed Vi’s training. She clutched a spent gadget shell in her hand to keep it from trembling as she tried to process what her sister had just said. Ashen Order. Their bloodline. The words felt foreign and heavy, hanging in the air between them like a cloud of dust that refused to settle.

“What... what do you mean?” Powder managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her wide blue eyes searched Vi’s face for any hint that this was some kind of joke. But Vi’s expression was uncharacteristically serious—guarded, even. Powder could see the faint rise and fall of her sister’s chest as Vi took a slow, steady breath.

Vi stepped closer and placed a steady hand on Powder’s shoulder. “It means,” she said slowly, “that Mom and Dad were part of something... something called the Ashen Order. And that means somehow we’re part of it too.” Her tone was gentle, but each word landed with a dull weight in Powder’s chest. Vi gave a slight squeeze, as if to brace her for the impact of the truth.

Powder shook her head, a few strands of blue hair falling loose from her braids. She remembered Mama’s laugh and Papa’s strong arms lifting her onto his shoulders. That’s the only thing she remembers about them.  She remembered mostly, the sight of Vander carrying her, while Vi clung to her hand. They had lost everything. Her parents had been ordinary people in her mind, died on an accident. How could there have been more to it? How could there be some secret lineage, an order, entwined with those memories of love and loss?

 “I... I don’t understand,” Powder whispered, voice trembling. “They never told us. Why wouldn’t they tell us?” Her eyes stung with sudden tears of confusion. If her parents had kept this secret, it meant they’d lived and died with it unspoken. It even made her wonder if Vander—who had taken them in—had known something all along. The thought made her stomach twist.

Vi’s face softened. She knelt down, bringing herself level with Powder’s gaze. “They wanted to protect us,” she said quietly. Her thumb brushed a tear from Powder’s cheek. “When we were little... it was safer that we didn’t know. Vander thought so too.” Vi paused, swallowing hard. “I’m telling you now because I promised myself, I’d never keep secrets from you. And... because I don’t think we can hide from this much longer.” Her voice faltered just enough that Powder heard the tremor in it.

 Powder’s heart drummed in her chest. If Vi felt even a hint of fear, then whatever this was must be serious. She wiped at her damp eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to steady herself. “Are we in danger?” she asked, barely audible. The idea that their bloodline could put them in peril made her voice catch on the last word.

Vi opened her arms, and Powder fell into them without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around Vi’s waist and buried her face against her sister’s shoulder. Vi held her close, one hand cradling the back of Powder’s head. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” Vi murmured into her hair. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. I promise.” The words were spoken softly, but Powder felt them reverberate through Vi’s chest, solid and certain.

 They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled in the hush. Powder shut her eyes and listened to Vi’s heartbeat—steady and strong, a familiar rhythm that gradually slowed her breathing. In Vi’s arms, she felt shielded, as if nothing bad could reach them here in this forgotten corner of the training ground. But she could also feel the faint tension in Vi’s embrace, a slight tremor that belied the calm words. Vi was holding her tightly, as if warding off something unseen, and Powder realized her sister was being brave for her sake.

Gently, Powder loosened her grip and tilted her head up. Vi looked down at her with a small, encouraging smile — the kind she used to chase away Powder’s nightmares. It quivered just a little at the corners. Powder sniffled and rubbed at her nose. “Together,” she echoed softly. The word felt a little steadier now, like a promise she could almost believe.

“Together,” Vi agreed, brushing a stray lock of blue hair away from Powder’s face. She rose to her feet, still keeping an arm protectively around her sister.

She swallowed, finding her voice again. “Vi... if we’re really part of this…Ashen Order,” she began tentatively, “does it mean we’re... different?” The word hung uneasily between them. “Do we have... I don’t know, powers or something? ”

Powder bit her lip. Part of her had always dreamed of being extraordinary—having a secret talent or importance no one else did. A spark of that hope flickered to life now. But at the same time, the thought terrified her. Being “special” might mean being a target or having a responsibility she wasn’t ready for. It was hard enough just keeping up in their ordinary life; how could she handle it if the whole world suddenly expected something from her?

Vi exhaled slowly, her brows knitting as she considered. “Honestly? I don’t know,” she admitted. There was a hint of frustration in her voice at not having all the answers. “Maybe it means there’s something in our blood... something that people care about. Maybe Mom and Dad fought for something important, and now it’s on us too.” Gently, Vi reached over and closed Powder’s fingers around the little metal shell, stilling their nervous fidgeting. “But whatever it is, it doesn’t change who you are right now. You’re still my sister.” She offered a reassuring smile. “We’ll protect each other.” All the fear and uncertainty were still there, but Vi’s words were like a lantern in the dark, keeping them at bay.

____

"Based on the captured reports and the latest movement logs," Caitlyn said, voice steady but urgent, "Alec’s forces indeed have already set camp at Frostmere." She pointed to the glowing map where Frostmere located the edge of Cravenwell’s northeastern border. "It’s the most strategic point between Ravensworth and Cravenwell. If Alec controls Frostmere, he can choke supply lines as he corners neutral territories."

Javier grunted in agreement. "He'll move from Frostmere to Cliffworth. It's the closest fortified town before the Cravenwell proper. If he takes it, he'll have a clear path to the heartland."

Jayce rubbed his chin, grimacing. "So Cliffworth would be his next logical target."

"Exactly," Caitlyn said, nodding. She tapped the marker on the map with emphasis. "It’s the town next to Frostmere, within Cravenwell territory. But we need to be absolutely sure before we commit forces. Cliffworth is important, yes — but if we move too soon or misread him, we’ll leave another flank exposed."

Mel leaned forward, one brow raised. "You doubt the intel?"

"I trust the pattern," Caitlyn said calmly. "Alec is not reckless. Like Elias said, he learned from his brother — every advance he makes is calculated. There may be more at play here than just territorial control."

Elias, who had been silent until now, murmured, "You're suggesting a feint."

Caitlyn nodded grimly. "Possibly. That’s why I recommend we cross-reference everything. Review all the video logs from the battlefield — every scrap of data. If Alec’s hiding something in his movements, we’ll find it." There was a brief silence but no one argued, because everyone knew she was right.

“I’ll have Viktor organize the data pull.” Jayce sighed, exhausted but compliant.

Caitlyn spoke again, she straightened and her shoulders squaring. “Zaun is suffering just as much,” she said softly. Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “Silco’s involvement is too deep.” She continued. “We need to monitor Zaun. This isn’t just a Piltover crisis. It’s Noctalis-wide and Zaun is still a neutral zone under protection treaties. I don’t want them becoming collateral damage in this war”

A heavy silence followed. The only sound was the distant hum of Piltover’s machinery and a lone siren wailing somewhere in the city. Finally, Elias cleared his throat. The silver-haired man had been quiet until now, fingers steepled under his chin as he listened. When he spoke, his voice was calm and thoughtful, each word measured. “You think Silco’s aiding Alec’s war?”

Caitlyn gave Elias a curt nod. “I know he is,” she replied. “But we have to be smarter than him. Zaun’s people are already struggling. If Zaun falls into chaos, we lose more than a city—we lose a neutral bridge between factions.”

Jayce ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, exhaling a long breath. “She’s right.”

Mel offered a small, approving smile. “I’ll draft some terms of cooperation—simple and nothing binding beyond the crisis. Shared medical aid, coordinated defense, that sort of thing,” she said. “Zaun stays protected and I’ll inform the border forces.”

Caitlyn glanced around at her companions: Mel’s eyes were steady and resolute; Jayce’s stance was tense but determined; Elias’s gaze brimmed with quiet confidence. Despite the uncertainty ahead, they were united in purpose now.

“But for now, we set scouts around Cliffworth and confirm the next frontline.”

“Alright,” Caitlyn said, her voice cutting through the hush. “Let’s get to work.”

Without another word, they dispersed. Mel swept out, already calling for an aide; Jayce strode off to inform Viktor; Elias lingered only long enough to give Caitlyn an encouraging nod. For a moment, Caitlyn remained alone in the quiet chamber. She unclenched her fingers and realized she’d been gripping the rolled map so tightly her knuckles had gone white. In the stillness, she allowed herself one deep, steadying breath.

___

Just outside the corridor, Jayce and Mel lingered in the quiet, the soft glow from the hallway casting amber hues across the clean marble floor. Caitlyn had already gathered her notes with methodical care, slinging her rifle case over her shoulder. She was about to leave, boots scuffing quietly against the polished path.

“I’m going to check on Vi,” she said, her voice low but certain.

“Cait…” Mel’s voice softened, losing the sharp-edged tone she usually wore during meetings. Caitlyn paused, glancing back over her shoulder.

Before Caitlyn could respond, Mel closed the distance between them in a few quick strides and pulled her into an unexpected, tight hug.

It wasn’t formal, nor performative. It felt real.

“We’re glad you’re back,” Mel murmured, her voice muffled against Caitlyn’s shoulder. Pulling back just enough to meet Caitlyn’s tired blue eyes, she added with genuine emotion, “I’m glad you’re back.”

Mel brushed a damp lock of hair from Caitlyn’s temple, her hand lingering there for a moment—just a small gesture.

“Look at you,” Mel said with a soft, proud smile. “Back to being the mighty commander I know.”

Caitlyn laughed under her breath, the sound light but frayed at the edges. There was exhaustion in her gaze, the kind that went deeper than sleepless nights — but there was something else too: a flinty determination that hadn’t been there before. Stronger. Sharper.

"Not quite," Caitlyn said lightly, the corners of her mouth lifting.

Before Mel could reply, Jayce stepped in, his hands shoved into his coat pockets.

"You should’ve seen her out there," Jayce said, shaking his head with a grin.

"Ghost in the field. Dead silent. Sharp as hell. I swear, half of Alec’s forces probably think the Reaper herself came for them." He gave Caitlyn a mock-salute, his smile warming the room for a brief, much-needed second.

"I’m happy you're with us, Cait, truly" Jayce added, quieter this time, sincerity cutting through the banter.

For a moment, none of them said anything more. The three stood there — bruised, weathered, but alive.

A small, fragile piece of peace in the storm. Caitlyn smiled — a real smile this time, tired but genuine and gave a short nod. Then, without another word, she turned and disappeared down the hall, her footsteps steady and sure.

Toward Vi.

Toward Home.

___

The sharp snap of the tent’s canvas flapping against the cold night wind was the only sound breaking the silence. Outside, the dark expanse of Frostmere stretched endlessly, its misty woods cloaking them from sight. Inside the command tent, a lantern burned low, casting long, shifting shadows across the battered map pinned to the center table. Caitlyn stood over it, hands braced against the edges, her blue eyes scanning the fresh markings that outlined Alec’s camp. Her coat was still dusted with the pale frost of outside, and the tension in her shoulders had yet to ease.

Across from her, Vi sat on a low stool, delicately cleaning her new gauntlets with an oil cloth, the rhythmic motion soothing, familiar. She said nothing, but Caitlyn could feel her attention—quiet, watchful as always.

Steb, one of Caitlyn’s sharpest scouts, finished scratching a few hurried notes onto a parchment and straightened. “It’s confirmed, Commander,” Steb said, voice low but certain. “Cliffworth’s their target. At dawn.” Caitlyn exhaled slowly, the confirmation solidifying the plan in her mind. She glanced at the map, tracing their likely approach paths in her head.

“Good work,” she said. She folded the parchment neatly and pressed it into Steb’s hands.

“Take this to Jayce. Tell him the attack will be sooner than expected. We’ll rendezvous at Frostmere crossroads by sunrise. Vi and I will brief Seraphine’s unit ourselves.”

Steb nodded crisply. “Understood”

He threw a glance at Vi—who lifted two fingers in a casual salute without looking up from her gauntlet and then slipped out into the frigid dark. The tent fell silent again, save for the faint squeak of metal as Vi finished wiping down the plates of her armor. Caitlyn watched her for a moment, then crossed the space between them. She crouched slightly to meet Vi’s eye level, her tone shifting from command to something far more personal.

"Vi," Caitlyn asked, voice softer now, "What do you think?"

Vi flicked her eyes up at her, considering.

“I think…” she started, rolling her shoulder to ease the tension, “If we move Seraphine’s team through the East Ridge, not the valley like they’re expecting, we’ll catch Alec’s flank clean. He’s guarding the obvious paths, not the ones that look like death traps.”

A grin tugged at the corner of Vi’s mouth. “And you know me. I love a good death trap."

Caitlyn smiled at that, warmth threading through the cold. Without hesitation, she nodded. “Alright. East Ridge it is.”

She didn’t second-guess. She trusted Vi. Always had. Always would.

As Vi tightened the last strap on her waist, Caitlyn stayed crouched there a heartbeat longer, studying her. The weight of the coming battle hung heavy between them—but so did something else. Something stronger.

Caitlyn reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Vi’s knuckles.

“Will you be alright out there?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. A rare crack of vulnerability.

Vi leaned forward slightly, their foreheads almost touching.

“You got my back, right?” Vi said, her voice rough, teasing—but beneath it, something raw and real.

Caitlyn’s answer came without hesitation. “Always.”

And then without thinking, without ceremony, she leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that was nothing like the frantic ones stolen during chaos or desperation. This one was slow and unhurried. Heavy with the promise of what they were fighting for, with everything unspoken. Caitlyn cupped Vi’s face with both hands, feeling the warmth of her skin against the cold bite of her gloves. Vi slowly stood up, and her hands found Caitlyn’s hips, anchoring her there, like she never wanted her to move again. The kiss deepened naturally, mouths moving in sync — a familiar dance of love, relief, fear, and fierce hope.
They tasted of rain, of iron, of all the battles fought and yet to come.

When they finally pulled apart, breathing each other’s air, Caitlyn pressed her forehead to Vi’s. Both their eyes closed, both smiling — small, tired, but real smiles that said: I’m still here. I’m with you.

Vi let out a soft chuckle, her breath warm against Caitlyn’s cheek. “God, I missed you,” she murmured, her voice low and filled with emotion.

Caitlyn couldn’t help but laugh softly too. She leaned in to kiss Vi once more—this time a lighter, softer kiss, but just as full of heart—before she pulled back slightly and wrapped her arms around Vi’s shoulders, holding her tight. “It’s such a relief having you here... you can’t even imagine.”

Vi’s smile turned playful, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, I might have an inkling…”

Caitlyn pulled back just enough to look at Vi, lips tugging up in amusement. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Powder might’ve mentioned something…” Vi’s voice dropped into a teasing tone.

“Mentioned what?” Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern creeping in.

“How you went all crazy mode…” Vi grinned, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“I did not!” Caitlyn's eyes widened in mock indignation, but the embarrassment was clear on her face.

“Mmm.” Vi pulled Caitlyn back into her arms, her grip reassuring and warm. “Come here, you big baby.”

Caitlyn chuckled softly, melting into Vi’s embrace, closing her eyes as she smiled into Vi’s neck, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of her. “I’m not going anywhere.” They stayed like that, tucked into the quiet corner of the storm, letting the world slip away for a few stolen moments longer.

Outside, the night stretched endless and cold.

But inside that tent, between them—

There was nothing but warmth.

___

Vi’s boots hit the ground with a thunderous slam as she charged forward, her movements a blur of speed and force. The battle at Cliffworth had already erupted into chaos, the distant rumble of war echoing through the streets as the first wave of Alec’s enhanced soldiers stormed through the town. The sky above was bruised, dark clouds swirling in ominous patterns, the storm mirroring the ferocity of the fighting below.

Her enhanced gauntlets crackled with raw energy, the heat of her every punch sending shockwaves through the air. A soldier lunged at her with a sword, his movements fast, precise. But Vi was faster. She sidestepped with a fluidity that defied reason, grabbing the soldier by the wrist and twisting it until the sword clattered to the ground. Without hesitation, she brought her fist down hard into his chest, the sound of bone snapping under the force ringing through the chaos.

"Is that the best you’ve got?" Vi growled, her voice a mix of challenge and adrenaline, her grin wild and untamed.

Another soldier, this one enhanced with shimmer, rushed toward her, claws extended and glowing violet. But Vi was already moving, ducking beneath the swipe and sweeping her leg out, sending him tumbling into the dirt. She didn’t wait to see him hit the ground. Her fist came down, each blow like a battering ram, each soldier dropping in her wake.

Caitlyn was right beside her, a perfect counterpoint to Vi’s physical force. Her sniper rifle flashed in the air as she fired, each shot perfectly timed, each bullet finding its target with ruthless efficiency. She was a ghost on the battlefield, moving from cover to cover, her agility and precision making her a nightmare for Alec’s forces. A soldier with a shimmer-infused rifle aimed at her, but Caitlyn was already gone, a blur of motion, her arm shooting out to grab a nearby barrel and use it for cover. The bullet that should’ve pierced her chest hit nothing but air.

“You missed.” Caitlyn muttered to herself with a smirk, before pivoting and sending a deadly shot through the head of the soldier who had fired at her. His body collapsed before he even had a chance to react.

She didn’t slow down. Another soldier rushed at her, his claws shining with deadly intent. But Caitlyn was already sidestepping, grabbing him by the wrist, using his own momentum against him as she twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him into the cobblestone. The sound of his spine snapping echoed in the air, and Caitlyn moved on, unfazed.

Vi’s wild laughter echoed nearby as she tore through another soldier, her gauntlets glowing with the intensity of each punch. “I’m heading straight to the canons!”

A sudden explosion rocked the ground beneath them, sending dust and debris flying through the air. Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. Alec’s forces were relentless, but they weren’t the only ones fighting. The air shimmered, and Caitlyn caught sight of Seraphine, her bloodline magic swirling around her in ethereal tendrils. Seraphine sent shockwaves of glowing light that drained the monsters’ energy. Seraphine’s magic was a force unto itself, slicing through soldiers with an intensity that rivaled the storm overhead.

“Seraphine, move right!” Caitlyn called, even as she dropped down into a roll to dodge a barrage of bullets from an approaching group. The moment she hit the ground, she popped back up, using a metal post as leverage to launch herself into the air, landing on a nearby rooftop where she could take in the battlefield.

The chaos raged on below. Soldiers with enhanced strength and speed, their bodies rippling with shimmer, were everywhere. But Caitlyn and Vi moved like a well-oiled machine, each watching the other’s back, each anticipating the other’s next move. The battlefield was no longer a place of confusion for them—it was a dance, a choreography of death and survival.

Vi slammed another soldier into the wall, her arm already cocked back to deliver the finishing blow. But she stopped as she caught sight of Caitlyn, her eyes flashing with a dangerous gleam. “Cait!” Vi shouted, drawing Caitlyn’s attention.

Caitlyn had just dropped down from the rooftop, a soldier rushing toward her with a sword raised high. But Caitlyn was already moving, her sidearm whipping out with lightning speed. One shot. Then another. The soldier dropped before he could even swing. Caitlyn turned, her eyes locking with Vi’s, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Keep up, love,” Caitlyn called, winking as she dove into the fray again.

Vi grinned back, her energy a whirlwind of punches and kicks. She slammed another soldier into the ground, her gauntlets crackling with power. The jolt of her punch sent soldiers flying, their bodies tumbling through the air like toys. “I’m right behind you, babe,” she shouted, her voice ringing with exhilaration.

But the fight was far from over. The more soldiers they dropped, the more seemed to replace them. The ground trembled as a massive vehicle, shimmer-infused and bristling with canons, rolled into view. Caitlyn’s eyes narrowed. Alec wasn’t pulling any punches. This would be a battle to the death.

Vi was already moving toward the vehicle, her gauntlets glowing bright. “Cait, cover me!” she shouted, rushing forward, her body a blur of motion as she weaved through enemy lines. Caitlyn’s finger tightened on the trigger. She fired, picking off soldiers one by one, clearing a path for Vi.

With a snarl, Vi leapt onto the vehicle, her gauntlets lighting up with raw power. Her feet hit the metal with a loud clang, and she ripped through the armor like paper, sending sparks flying. She tore through the vehicle’s outer shell, her strength amplified by the gauntlets and the blood that coursed through her veins.

The battle continued to rage around them, the sounds of clashing steel, crackling energy, and gunfire mixing into a symphony of destruction. But Caitlyn and Vi weren’t backing down.

____

The battle in Cliffworth escalated to a fever pitch as the sky above churned with the fury of the storm. Vi and Caitlyn continued to cut through the mass of Alec’s shimmer-enhanced vampire forces, their moves synchronized, but even their combined power couldn’t stop the overwhelming numbers. The Corvinus army and Caitlyn’s elite taskforce were engaged on all fronts, pushing back the vampire ranks, but the shimmer bullets and the impossible strength of the vampire forces were taking their toll.

Vi’s gauntlets pulsed with energy as she tore through enemy after enemy, her movements quicker, stronger. Each swing was a devastating blow. But then—a sharp sting.

Vi stumbled as a shimmer-infused silver bullet tore into her side, its cold metallic poison sinking deep into her flesh. She barely flinched, but Caitlyn’s eyes were on her the moment it happened.

“Vi!” Caitlyn shouted, her voice tinged with panic as she dropped low, lining up her shot to cover Vi. She watched in horror as the bullet lodged deep into Vi’s abdomen, the silver bullet doing its work to slow her regeneration, the skin around the wound starting to darken as the poison spread.

For a heart-stopping moment, Caitlyn froze, her eyes locked on Vi’s face, searching for any sign of pain or distress. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she watched Vi, her body moving with deadly precision, taking down vampire after vampire without hesitation. But Caitlyn couldn’t tear her gaze away, her focus split between the carnage around her and the subtle shift in Vi’s expression. Every movement, every action Vi took, Caitlyn was watching — her heart in her throat.

But Vi didn’t flinch. Instead, her expression hardened with focus, and slowly, the dark veins under her skin began to recede, the bullet’s path being rejected by the enhanced regeneration. Caitlyn watched, wide-eyed, as the bullet slowly began to emerge, pushed out by Vi’s healing.

“Vi?” Caitlyn called again, voice frantic, but Vi simply smirked despite the wound, her voice still steady.

“I know... focus, babe. We’ll talk about it later,” Vi winked, as if she hadn't just taken a bullet.

Caitlyn, her heart hammering in her chest, nodded, pushing her panic down and focusing back on the battlefield.

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped to Seraphine, who was charging across the battlefield with her abilities amplifying the force of Caitlyn’s army. "Seraphine unleashed her Soulflux, a force that drained the life from the soldiers on the frontlines, their strength slipping away as though their very souls were being consumed by her will. Meanwhile, Caitlyn's team methodically took them down, each shot echoing in the chaos, one after another, each crashing into the terrain with bone-shattering force. Caitlyn caught her gaze for a brief moment.

Seraphine shot her a wink, then turned, her energy aura enveloping two vampires into the air, their bodies becoming helpless as they collided with the rocky terrain.

As Caitlyn twisted to fire another shot, she caught the gleam of movement at the edge of her vision—a vampire charging at her from the left. Normally, she would’ve reacted just in time, using her agility to duck or dodge. But this time, Caitlyn felt the power surge through her muscles, faster and stronger than she had ever been before. Before she even fully registered it, her arm shot out, grabbing the vampire’s wrist with an unnatural force, twisting it until it snapped.

The vampire barely had time to react before Caitlyn’s fist collided with its face, sending it crashing into the ground. She froze for a moment, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Caitlyn snapped herself back into the moment as another vampire lunged at her from the shadows. This time, Caitlyn didn’t wait. With a fluid, controlled movement, she launched herself forward, kicking the vampire in the chest so hard its ribs cracked, sending it tumbling backward. The force of her strike was enough to send it flying into the debris.

Vi, battling side by side with Caitlyn, slashed through another group of vampires, her gauntlets glowing with each strike. But Caitlyn didn’t look at her partner; she didn’t need to. She knew Vi was there, the two of them moving as one. Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice that Vi’s power had only increased, too. The gauntlets seemed to amplify her strength, but Caitlyn felt something deeper than that. Something connected, something shared between them.

They didn’t need to speak—Caitlyn could feel it as much as she could see it.

The realization struck Caitlyn even as she pushed through the battle, her movements getting faster, more lethal. Her strength surged again when a vampire lunged at her from behind. But this time, Caitlyn was ready. She spun, grabbing the vampire by the throat with both hands, her fingers tightening with a force that crushed its windpipe. The vampire struggled for a moment, but it was no match for Caitlyn's newfound strength. She slammed its body into the ground, leaving it limp and lifeless.

Seraphine not too far from them, her powers pushing through the lines, scattering vampires in her wake. Her abilities were more than just a tool for offense—they were a weapon of control. Caitlyn quickly adjusted to her presence, knowing that Seraphine’s attacks would help break the vampire lines. Caitlyn glanced over at her with a determined smile, but Seraphine only nodded in response, her focus unwavering.

The shimmer-enhanced soldiers, sensing the shift in momentum, began retreating, their once-solid formation faltering under the relentless onslaught. But they weren’t finished yet. Caitlyn’s eyes darted through the battlefield, and then she saw him—the shimmer-enhanced vampire leader, stepping forward with cold confidence. His glowing eyes locked onto hers, and his rifle shifted toward Vi.

A rush of protectiveness surged through Caitlyn, her heartbeat steadying with focus. “Not today,” she muttered.

With a fluid motion, before the vampire could even take aim, Caitlyn was already behind him. In one smooth move, she gripped his neck from behind, twisting sharply. There was a sickening crack as his neck snapped under her grip. Without hesitation, she detached his head with brutal accuracy, sending it tumbling to the ground with a soft thud, leaving his body to collapse in a heap.

Caitlyn stood over him, breathing heavily but composed, her eyes scanning the battlefield once more, already preparing for the next threat.

Vi grinned at Caitlyn’s back as she continued to charge forward.

The battle was far from over, but Caitlyn knew one thing—together, they were unstoppable. Their bond had awakened something inside them both, and with it, they would tear through this army, just like they always had.

___

The Corvinus Estate was quieter than usual after the chaos of the battlefield. In the room, Seraphine stood near a large, polished window, her eyes focused on the moonlit horizon. She was still catching her breath, the adrenaline of the battle slowly dissipating.

But as the dust settled, her thoughts were already on what she had witnessed.

Vi leaned against the table near the hearth, quietly cleaning her gauntlet, the metal humming with residual energy. She was tired, but the look in her eyes—determined, sharp—was still there, a fierce spirit that refused to back down. Seraphine turned to her, her lips curving into a smile of awe.

“You know, it’s my first time witnessing such strength coming from a human,” Seraphine said, her voice soft but full of wonder. “You’re a fascination, Vi. No wonder Caitlyn has her eyes for you.”

Vi's eyes flickered toward Seraphine, a faint blush creeping up her neck. She stuttered slightly, not used to receiving such praise. "Well, Cait’s a good partner,” she said, shrugging with a nonchalant air, though there was a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Seraphine stepped closer, her gaze never leaving Vi as she leaned against the back of a nearby chair. “It’s more than that. You’re special, Vi. You’ve got something… something different. Caitlyn’s a force on her own, but with you, there’s a synergy. I see it when you fight together."

Vi felt the heat of Seraphine’s gaze and scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. She didn’t quite know how to respond, so she kept it simple. “We just make good team. I guess…” She didn’t want Seraphine to know that there was something more to it.

Seraphine’s smile didn’t fade. "No, it’s more than that," she said, her voice dropping slightly, carrying an edge of something like admiration, not suspicion. “I truly believe that.”

Vi shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling exposed in a way she wasn’t used to, so she simply nodded. Seraphine didn’t seem to notice or care, her thoughts drifting to the war ahead. “Soon, Alec will be overwhelmed,” she continued. “The battlefronts are spreading, but I have no doubt we’ll push back. This war he started… we’ll end it. And we’ll make sure he never wins.”

Before Vi could respond, the heavy door to the chamber swung open, cutting through the conversation with its sudden motion. Both Vi and Seraphine looked up, their eyes instinctively shifting toward the door.

Standing in the doorway, her silhouette bathed in the soft light of the hall, was Caitlyn. Her expression was hard, her features set in grim determination. The weight of the battlefield still hung heavy on her, but there was a unevenness in her gaze.

“They attacked Ebonshire,” Caitlyn’s voice was tight with frustration, the edges of her words sharp. “It wasn’t in the intel. I knew he would pull something like this. Alec’s too unpredictable...no—calculated.”

Seraphine watched her for a beat, her expression a mixture of concern and calm understanding. She didn’t respond immediately, allowing Caitlyn to vent her frustration. Caitlyn’s voice grew louder, her steps almost matching the rhythm of her mounting anger. “We were too confident. We didn’t cover every angle. We didn’t—”

“Caitlyn…” Seraphine’s voice was gentle, but it broke through the storm of Caitlyn’s thoughts, a soft anchor in the rising tide. She stepped forward, her hand almost instinctively reaching out in Caitlyn’s direction, but she stopped herself. “Don’t blame yourself, Caitlyn. Things like this happen.” Her eyes softened, the weight of their battles and decisions passing between them.

But Caitlyn wasn’t ready to let go. Her jaw tightened, and her eyes scanned the room, like she was searching for a solution to the pieces that weren’t fitting. The defeat felt heavy in her chest. She needed to do better. They all did.

“I should’ve thought of it. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve prepared for every possible outcome.” Caitlyn’s voice dropped, a rare moment of self-doubt creeping in. It wasn’t something she often allowed, but in that moment, it felt real. The responsibility weighed on her like armor she couldn’t take off.

But Vi was there, stepping forward, her hand reaching out to gently rest on Caitlyn’s shoulder, grounding her.

“It’s fine,” Vi’s voice was steady, her tone unwavering. She wasn’t just reassuring Caitlyn—she was grounding herself too. “We’ll do better.” The warmth in her words contrasted with the storm still churning in Caitlyn’s chest, a reminder that, despite the chaos around them, they were in this together.

Seraphine glanced between the two, watching the exchange in silence. There was a soft understanding between them that Seraphine couldn’t help but admire. The bond that they shared was clear, but it was more than just that—it was a sense of determination they both carried, each pushing the other to be better.

Caitlyn managed a meek smile, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “I suppose you’re right. We did win something today. We’re still standing, after all.”

Vi squeezed Caitlyn’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch like a quiet promise. “Exactly. We’ll keep going. And next time… we’ll be more prepared.”

Caitlyn met her gaze, the trust in Vi’s eyes settling something in Caitlyn’s heart. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The weight of responsibility didn’t disappear, but the comfort of having Vi beside her made it bearable.

Seraphine, still watching them, allowed herself a soft smile. She could feel the change in the room, the subtle shift in Caitlyn’s resolve, and the quiet strength of Vi’s presence. For now, they stood together in the quiet aftermath, the storm of battle passing as they gathered their strength, preparing for what came next.

___

Alec slammed his fist down onto the table, the sound reverberating throughout the dimly lit war room. His piercing eyes flashed with fury, and the room went silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

One of his commanders, startled by the violent outburst, shifted nervously. “What do you mean, they're too strong?” Alec’s voice was low but laced with deadly anger. “Are you telling me that a vampire and a human combined are more powerful than my men, enhanced with shimmer?” His tone was mocking, as if he couldn't believe the idea that anyone could be stronger than his own soldiers.

One of the lieutenants, a younger officer with a nervous edge to his voice, cleared his throat. “Well, sir... it’s... it's not just them. One of the armored vehicles was taken down by Vi alone. She’s incredibly strong... and fast. And the Commander Sir,—she beheaded one of our lieutenants like it was nothing. No weapon, just her bare hands.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed, the anger in his gaze growing sharper. “Kiramman…” He let out a sharp breath, pacing across the room as if the idea itself was too much to process.

The lieutenant hesitated but spoke up again, his voice more careful now. “Maybe... maybe they’ve been enhanced as well, sir. We know little about them. They could have access to a weapon we don't know about.”

Alec’s patience snapped. His hand shot out, grabbing the map from the table and throwing it across the room in a fit of rage. The corners of the map fluttered as it hit the ground with a loud thud. “Don’t give me excuses for your incompetence!” His voice thundered through the room, each word biting into the silence. “I don’t care about theories. I care about results!”

He turned to Remus, one of the Caravelles' most trusted operatives, who stood in the corner with his usual cold composure. “Give me the reports on Ebonshire, now,” Alec demanded. Remus, ever obedient, nodded and stepped forward with the requested data. Alec didn’t even look at him as he took the report, his eyes still burning with frustration.

“It’s time for your team to head to the frontline for the next battle, Remus. No excuses. I expect results. I don’t want to hear about failure again.” His words were clear, each syllable laced with menace.

Remus gave a sharp nod, acknowledging Alec’s order.

Alec turned to the other lieutenant, his gaze icy and calculating. “And you,” he snarled. “Get me the fight logs on Cliffworth. I want them delivered to me immediately. Now go.”

The room was charged with a palpable tension as his orders resounded through the walls. The lieutenants, now on edge, nodded quickly and began to file out, avoiding Alec’s intense gaze. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Alec alone in the stillness, his expression still tight with anger and frustration.

_____

The walk through the halls was quiet, save for the soft, distant crackle of torches lining the Kiramman walls. Neither of them spoke. When they reached Caitlyn’s door, Vi hesitated for just a second. Not from uncertainty, but because stepping inside always felt like stepping into another life—one untouched by bloodshed, war or impossible choices. Caitlyn turned the handle, pushing the door open with a quiet creak.

Inside, the room welcomed them with familiar, muted warmth. The fireplace in the corner was still burning low, casting lazy, amber glow over the thick, dark curtains and the heavy, carved wood furniture. Caitlyn’s bed—their bed, now, in so many ways sat tucked against the far wall, the covers slightly rumpled from the rushed mornings they barely had time to make it. Vi let out a slow breath she hadn’t realize she was holding. Back here, in Caitlyn’s room, the war outside didn’t seem as close. The walls felt thicker, and the world felt smaller, safer.

Caitlyn turned in Vi’s arms, capturing her mouth in a slow, desperate kiss. It wasn’t rushed. Nothing frantic. It was just deep, consuming need.  Vi groaned softly, her hands sliding up Caitlyn’s sides, feeling the tremble beneath her skin. Caitlyn kissed her harder, gasping into her mouth, as if trying to pour every unspoken fear and gratitude and love into Vi.

Clothes were discarded with slow, careful hands—an unspoken agreement between them to savor this, not rush. Caitlyn pushed Vi gently onto the bed, climbing onto her lap, their bare skin colliding, setting fire to every nerve. Caitlyn exhaled for a moment, searching for Vi’s eyes.

Vi’s thumb traced idle circles along Caitlyn’s hip as the room settled into quiet, fire filling the space between them. Her gaze lingered on Caitlyn’s flushed cheeks, the faint rise and fall of her breath. Though Vi noticed it, the hesitation in Caitlyn’s touch. The tremble in her fingertips. Vi’s voice was low, careful. Like she didn’t want to break the moment.

“What’s wrong?” Vi asked.

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away. She simply lifted a hand and dragged her fingers lightly across Vi’s clavicle, tracing the dip and curve like it held a secret. Like she needed to memorize it all over again. Her touch was tender, worshipful even. Then with a shaky breath, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss where her fingers had touched.

“I just…” she swallowed, her voice soft, cracking slightly with emotion. “…I dread to know what I’d do without you…” The words weren’t dramatic and weren’t said to elicit comfort. They were simply honest. Bared like a nerve between heartbeats. Caitlyn didn’t look away when she said it. Her eyes locked on Vi’s deep and vulnerable, like the weight of everything they’d survived together had finally crested into this one quiet confession.

Vi didn’t speak. Instead, she leaned in and captured Caitlyn’s lips in a slow, aching kiss. Caitlyn melted into it, one hand sliding up the back of Vi’s neck, the other resting over her heart like she was steadying herself in Vi’s presence. Vi’s arms were still loose around Caitlyn’s waist, but the way she held her now—delicate, steady, worshipful—said everything her words didn’t.

___

The room is dim, shadows dancing lazily across the walls. The sheets are tangled around them, their bodies pressed close, warmth radiating between them.  Vi sat up against the pillows, her body relaxed but buzzing with tension, her legs spread slightly to anchor Caitlyn against her. One of Vi’s hands splayed wide across Caitlyn’s back, fingers dragging slowly down the curve of her spine feeling every arch, every tremble. The other hand rested on Caitlyn’s thigh, holding steady as she moved. Caitlyn straddled her, her slick heat dragging slow, steady circles over Vi’s stomach and lower—grinding against her, unhurried but devastating, leaving both of them gasping. 

Every roll of Caitlyn’s hips sent a jolt through Vi’s body—wetness smearing between them, heat coiling tighter and tighter in their bellies.

Caitlyn’s lips parted on a moan, “Oh…Vi—”

The sound of it—wrecked, breathless, needy—shot straight through Vi’s core. Her fingers dug in slightly, guiding Caitlyn’s rhythm, but never taking control. Letting Caitlyn claim her at her own pace. Caitlyn’s movements grew faster, more desperate, more hungry. Her nails scraped lightly over Vi’s shoulders as she leaned in, her body sliding flush against Vi’s chests, skin to burning skin.

Caitlyn kissed the curve of Vi’s shoulder, her mouth soft, open, tasting the salt of her skin. Then—lower.

Tracing a line with her lips and tongue, finding, the faint scars where her fangs had pierced before. She pressed a slow, lingering kiss there, lips trembling slightly. Vi shuddered beneath her, her breathing uneven. The wounds were already healed under Caitlyn’s mouth, but the memory of the bite still thrummed between them, fresh and electric. A spark of energy rose between their bodies. It wasn’t arousal—it was something sacred and blood-deep.

Caitlyn’s eyes flickered with a faint glow, the deep, ancient red of vampire blood awakening, responding to the bond singing between them. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbled in Caitlyn’s throat—Possession. Devotion.

Vi felt the change immediately and she didn’t flinch. She tilted her head to the side, baring her neck fully. Offering herself without a word. Trust so absolute that it stole Caitlyn’s breath. It hollowed her chest, flooded her lungs, made her dizzy with the gravity of it. Her hands trembled where they touched Vi—one at her jaw, the other steadying herself against her shoulder. Caitlyn's mouth hovered above Vi’s pulse, feeling it race against her lips—not in fear, but in anticipation.

Vi’s hand slid up her back again, a silent encouragement. And Caitlyn, shuddering from the need crashing through her, finally gave in –sinking her fangs into Vi’s neck with slow, devastating passion. Vi gasps, her hands gripping Caitlyn’s thighs with bruising force, grounding herself as pleasure and pain merged into one overwhelming tide.

The taste of Vi’s blood flooded Caitlyn’s mouth—hot, electric, intoxicating— the flavor of her strength, her trust, her love. It sent a violent shudder through Caitlyn’s body, her hands trembling against Vi’s skin. Vi’s nails lightly scraping Caitlyn’s back, pulling her closer, until they crashed into a kiss— messy, desperate, brutal. Caitlyn pulled back just enough—blood glistening on her lips and Vi didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Caitlyn’s jaw, surging forward, their mouths colliding in a clash of teeth and blood and hunger.

Vi’s tongue chased her own blood on Caitlyn’s lips, greedy and reckless, moaning against her, swallowing Caitlyn’s soft, wrecked noises.

“Fu—Cait” Their hips rocked together instinctively, a primal rhythm, slick and urgent, grinding against each other in frantic, desperate movements.

Their breathing turned ragged, uneven, breaking apart between kisses and frantic rolls of their hips, until the tension coiled too tight to bear, and they came together—Caitlyn’s fangs still sunk shallow in Vi’s neck, Vi’s hands clawing at Caitlyn’s back—grinding, gasping, moaning each other’s names like prayers against the dark.

Coming undone, as one.

__

Caitlyn and Vi lay, their bodies still warm from their shared moment. Vi on her stomach, her skin flushed, still catching her breath as Caitlyn traced gentle patterns on her back. The battle from earlier felt like it was a distant memory, forgotten in the quiet warmth between them. Caitlyn’s fingers danced over the tattoos on Vi’s back, the familiar ink under her touch was beyond comforting.

“You were amazing today, darling,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice husky from the intensity of their earlier connection. Vi turned and was now laying on her back, as she gives a gentle peck on Caitlyn’s lips. Caitlyn let her fingers linger on Vi’s toned, stomach, tracing where the bullet had supposedly pierced her earlier.

Vi, still half-lidded with sleep, smiled softly, her face still flushed. “You’re not bad yourself,” she replied, her voice a low murmur as she turned to face Caitlyn, her eyes soft but filled with affection. She reached out, her hand brushing against Caitlyn’s cheek, a silent affirmation of the love that bloomed between them.

Caitlyn smiled, her heart swelling with warmth at Vi’s words. “I meant it,” she said, voice quiet but sincere. She leaned in, kissing Vi’s cheeks, then moving to her lips. The kiss was slow, lingering, a kiss of reassurance after the chaos of the battle, a reminder that they were here, in this moment, together.

As they broke apart, Caitlyn’s gaze softened, studying Vi’s face. “You said, we’ll talk about it…” she said, her voice uncertain, though there was a flicker of worry in her eyes. She could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken weight of what had happened on the battlefield and what it meant for both of them.

Vi’s eyes flickered down to where Caitlyn’s fingers were tracing the spot on her abdomen, where the bullet had almost penetrated. The healing was remarkable, but she knew Caitlyn had been watching her closely, had noticed the regeneration, the way her body was responding faster than ever before.

Vi let out a soft breath, her voice a little rough as she turned to face Caitlyn fully. “Really? now?” she said, her hand gently cupping Caitlyn’s face, her thumb brushing across her cheek. “Right now... I just want to be here with you.”

Caitlyn’s heart ached with tenderness as she let her head fall against Vi’s shoulder. “But you promised...,” she whispered, her voice filled with a promise that only Vi could understand.

Vi smiled, and for a moment, it felt like the world had slowed around them. There was no war, no danger, no struggle. Just the two of them, sharing the quiet after the storm, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Caitlyn pressed a soft kiss to Vi’s chest, lips lingering over the steady beat of her heart. The tension she’d carried for days—tight and gnawing, finally began to slip from her body, drawn out by the rhythm beneath her ear.

“You know,” Caitlyn murmured, voice low and raw, “While you were gone…I was absolutely terrified.”

Vi’s arms tightened around her without hesitation. “I didn’t know what to do,” Caitlyn continued.

“I didn’t know where to start…Everything just stopped.” She shook her head against Vi’s skin, voice trembling now. “I thought I lost you. And for a while…I think a part of me started to believe it…but then”

Vi tilted her head, brushing her cheek against Caitlyn’s hair. “Then what?” she asked gently. Caitlyn closed her eyes.

“I was alone,” she whispered. “And then I heard it—no… I felt it. Like something deep inside me pulling taut. A scream, not with sound, but through everything I am. And I knew it was you…”

Vi’s breath caught. Caitlyn’s words weren’t poetic—they were real. “I wasn’t sure what it meant,” Caitlyn went on, “but in that moment, I knew you were still out there. Alive. Reaching for me. Like something between us wouldn’t let go, even across all that silence.”

She looked up at her, eyes shining with something both fragile and unshakable. “That’s how I found the strength to keep going. You were screaming. And I heard you.”

Vi stared down at her, heart thudding hard against her ribs. What Caitlyn described… it wasn’t just emotion. That pull between them—it was something more. Something deeper. A thread that had always been there, invisible but constant, now thrumming with power, with recognition.

Not just love.

Something ancient. Something alive.

Vi leaned in, pressing her forehead gently to Caitlyn’s. “I felt it too,” she whispered.

They stayed like that, unmoving, the quiet stretching between them like a held breath. Whatever this was—it wasn’t spoken anymore. It was felt. It pulsed through every heartbeat, every inhale. A bond neither of them could explain, but neither could deny.

“Do you think maybe it’s because of…” Vi began, voice tentative.

Caitlyn looked up at her, brows drawing together. “I honestly don’t know. But… back on the battlefield, I felt something.” Her voice dropped, almost unsure. “I mean—I know what I’m capable of. I’m a vampire. But this was different. It was like something else... took over me.”

She hesitated. “It felt like you. Like your strength.”

Vi’s hand cupped Caitlyn’s cheek as she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips—quiet, reassuring.

“I don’t know how it happened either,” Vi said. “But my regeneration—it got faster. What you saw... the bullet? That wasn’t normal. Those weren’t just regular rounds. Something changed.”

Caitlyn pulled her knees up slightly, eyes dark with worry. “I’m scared, Vi. What if it’s because I’ve been feeding on you? What if this is… Soulbind? Or something worse? I don’t know…”

“Hey,” Vi said quickly, brushing her thumb over Caitlyn’s cheek. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But what if it’s dangerous?” Caitlyn insisted. “What if it does get worse? What if you end up hurt because of this? I couldn’t—, I won’t forgive myself if something terrible ever happens to you.”

“Cait—baby—hey.” Vi caught her face with both hands, grounding her. “Nothing’s gonna happen. We’ll figure it out. And look at us ... we’re unstoppable right now.”

Caitlyn huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, but what if we lose control of it? What if the changes keep happening, and we don’t even realize it until it’s too late?”

Vi rested her forehead against Caitlyn’s again. “Then we deal with it—together. And maybe... maybe it’s my blood doing this. We don’t know for sure. It could be the Ashen side of me reacting to you.”

Caitlyn paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “Speaking of... Katarina saved you.”

Vi gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment. “Yeah. I guess because we share the same blood. She was part of the Order too—her family, wiped out like mine. She thought she was the last one left.”

Caitlyn, almost without thinking, muttered, “Sounds like you know an awful lot about her.”

Vi blinked. Then tilted her head slowly. “Wait. Are you… jealous?”

“I am not!” Caitlyn snapped, far too quickly.

Vi’s smirk grew instantly. “You so are.”

Caitlyn tightened her arms around Vi, holding her close, possessive in the quietest way. “I’m just saying…” she murmured, voice low against Vi’s collarbone, “I’m very glad that antidote worked.”

Then she leaned back just enough to meet Vi’s eyes, her own narrowing with a sharp, deadly glint. “Because if it hadn’t,” she said calmly, “I would’ve put a bullet between her eyes.”

Vi burst out laughing—loud, full, and utterly unguarded. The sound filled the space between them, warm and delighted, as she leaned in and kissed Caitlyn’s cheek.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and gave her a playful shove, but Vi only laughed harder, tightening her arms around her until their bodies were flush again. Their lips met in another kiss—slow and full of the things they didn’t need to say out loud.

And when they finally settled, tangled together in the quiet, the warmth of their bodies pressed close, there was nothing left but silence. The steady rhythm of their heartbeats. The weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

___

Alec stepped into the grand foyer of his mansion, the sound of his boots echoing across the polished floors. His servants immediately bowed at his arrival, their faces filled with subdued reverence. He ignored them, striding past and heading toward the living room, his mind already preoccupied with the latest developments on the battlefield.

One of his lieutenants trailed behind him, carrying a datapad loaded with reports and files. Alec shot him a glance, his voice sharp and dismissive. “Get those in my office before you leave.”

The lieutenant nodded, walking off toward the corridor as Alec made his way toward the jar of treats resting on a marble table in the center of the room. He twisted the lid off with a casual flick of his wrist and grabbed one of the sweets, popping it into his mouth. His sharp eyes drifted to the newspaper resting nearby, and as he chewed, he began scanning the headlines, the soft rustle of pages the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

A servant approached silently, holding a tray with a glass of dark liquor. Alec, barely glancing up, took the drink without a word, his fingers brushing against the cool glass. The servant bowed and withdrew.

Time passed. Alec, still leaning against the table, sipped the drink absentmindedly, his thoughts wandering to the troubling situation with Caitlyn and Vi. But as minutes ticked by and the lieutenant still hadn’t returned, a creeping suspicion began to gnaw at him. He straightened, setting the glass down, and decided to check his office.

The door to the office was ajar. Alec pushed it open with little thought, but what greeted him caused his blood to freeze.

His lieutenant hung lifelessly from the curtain rod, the body limp, swaying gently with the motion of the air. A sickening trail of blood marred the floor beneath him. Alec’s eyes narrowed in horror, but what made his stomach drop further was the message scrawled in crimson across the wall behind the body:

“You’re next.”

Alec’s blood ran cold. His gaze flicked to the body, the brutal message, his stomach tightening in a mix of rage and confusion. With a growl of frustration, he looked back at the room, but his eyes quickly scanned the space—there was no one else. No one in sight. The figure who had committed this act had already disappeared. The faint sound of a distant, deliberate step echoed through the mansion’s corridors. But Alec didn’t notice, his attention still consumed by the grisly sight before him.

Alec’s thoughts raced. The attack on his lieutenant, the cryptic message. His hands balled into fists. He had no idea who was behind this, but he would find out.

Thunder struck, and the mansion seemed to tremble under the weight of the storm outside. Alec stood still for a moment; his thoughts consumed by the mystery of it all—who had done this? And more importantly, why?

But the one thing Alec did know for sure was that whoever it was, they had made a grave mistake.

Outside the mansion, cloaked in the deep shadows cast by the blinking moonlight, Katarina walked slowly, deliberately, away from the scene she had orchestrated. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at her lips, her expression filled with pride.

She could still hear the echoes of Alec’s anger, the fury she knew would bubble over once he found the message. He wouldn’t see her coming, not until it was too late. She had planted the seed of doubt and fear, and now all she had to do was wait for him to fall into her trap. Katarina pulled her hood down just a fraction, her smirk widening as she reveled in her success. The stormy night hid her departure, as silent and swift as the shadow she had become.

As she disappeared into the darkness, the mansion behind her seemed colder, its halls echoing with the ominous weight of what had just occurred.

Chapter Text

Hi sorry for the delay guys, I had to finish my thesis. also had my long awaited vacation. I will be dropping new chapters this week :) So stay tuned.

Chapter Text

Vi eyes fluttered open to darkness, the cold stillness of a dark hallway pressing in from all sides. Her breath came shallow and uneven, fogging faintly in the parched air. She struggled to focus on anything, and then slowly lowered her gaze. Her hand was outstretched before her, trembling slightly, as she smelled something burnt. The faint pulse beneath her fingers was slow and steady but it reminded her that she was still alive.

As she rose unsteadily to her feet, a faint chill crawled over her skin. The hallway stretched before her. The cracked stone walls were stained with age and neglect. It was cramped and cloaked in the shadows. She felt the cold floor beneath as she started to move, dust gathering thickly in the corners where the light barely reached. Somewhere ahead, Vi hears a low, crackling sound like the breath of a dying fire.

Vi steps echoed softly as she moved forward, each footfall hesitant but purposeful. The scent of smoke grew warm, sharp and it drowned her senses.  At the end of the cramped hallway was a heavy wooden door, slightly ajar. Vi reached out, her fingers brushing against the worn, splintered wood. The heat beyond seeped through the gap, prickling her skin like the touch of a thousand flames. She pushed the door open with slow resolve.

The room was engulfed in fire. Flames licked the ceiling hungrily, painting the walls in flickers of orange and crimson. Smoke curled upward and everywhere in serpentine tendrils. Yet amidst the destruction, Vi’s gaze was drawn to a solitary figure standing in the center of the wreckage, her mother. Dressed in a simple gown, her face calm but distant, the woman stood bathe in the firelight, untouched by the flames that roared all around.

Her eyes, soft and filled with sadness, met Vi’s. Silence hung between them, etched with memories and things left unsaid. Vi reached out instinctively, but the fire crackled louder, growing into a wall of flame that barred her way. The heat was unbearable, the barrier was impenetrable. Desperation twisted in her chest, as she screamed silently and her voice was swallowed by the inferno.

“No!” Vi’s mind screamed, hands pounding against the fiery veil, but it held firm.

The image of her mother blurred then faded into smoke, leaving Vi alone in the heavy choking dark.

Vi’s eyes snapped open and was welcomed by a flickering lantern hanging from the low ceiling of the bunker room. She lay on a narrow cot with a coarse blanket tangled around her legs. She felt her muscles ache in exhaustion. Her hand instinctively rose, fingers closing around the familiar weight resting against her collarbone— the necklace, cool and solid, acquainting her of present. For a long moment, Vi stared at the ceiling, her breathing ragged and uneven whilst the echoes of the dream still clinging like smoke in her mind.

Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, boots meeting the cold floor with a soft thud. Soft footsteps approached. A gentle touch brushed over her cheek, warm and steady. Vi turned her head, meeting the calm, concerned eyes of Caitlyn. The soft curve of her jaw, the worry furrowing her brow that Vi felt like the first breath of fresh air after the suffocating nightmare.

“Hey,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice low and soothing as she lowered herself beside Vi. Her arms wrapped carefully around Vi’s shoulders, pulling her into a protective embrace.

“It’s okay…you’re safe.”

Vi closed her eyes, leaning into the comfort and letting the tension in her muscles slowly unwind. Caitlyn’s presence was a balm. It was constantly fierce and gentle all at once.

“What’s wrong?” Caitlyn asked softly, her fingers gently threading through Vi’s damp hair.

Vi hesitated, then whispered, “It’s… my mother. There was fire… and I saw her.”

Caitlyn’s eyes darkened with understanding, her embrace tightening.

“A nightmare?” she asked quietly.

Vi shook her head slowly, meeting Caitlyn’s steady, reassuring gaze. “More than that. It felt like a memory… but I couldn’t reach her. The flames kept me away. I couldn’t save her.”

A shadow crossed Caitlyn’s brow. “You don’t have to carry the weight of what was never yours to bear… you weren’t there because they were protecting you. You were just a child.”

Vi’s voice faltered. “I know. It’s foolish… just a dream. But it felt like she was trying to tell me something.”

Caitlyn’s tone softened, “Hey… it’s not foolish. It’s your mother. That has to mean something.”

Vi’s gaze drifted downward, tracing the sharp lines of Caitlyn’s tactical gear. Her voice held a quiet curiosity. “You’re up early.”

“I”m heading to the front lines,” Caitlyn replied without hesitation. “Check on the training grounds, see how everyone’s holding up. You should rest, regain your strength.”

Vi nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle deeper in her bones. “Alright,” she whispered.

Caitlyn pressed a final kiss to Vi’s temple before rising. As Caitlyn disappeared down the hall, Vi curled to herself, clutching her necklace close. The fire, the vision, the loss— they were still there, smoldering beneath her skin. But so was the warmth of Caitlyn’s embrace.

____

Caitlyn stood with her arms crossed, her eyes scanning the assembled soldiers in formation across the uneven stone field. Rows of Piltovian enforcers stood shoulder-to-shoulder with vampire allies, an unlikely sight just months ago. They all bore the weight of exhaustion in their eyes, but their postures remained rigid and disciplined.

A commander gave the signal. The first unit marched forward, each step striking clean and precise against the frostbitten ground. Caitlyn moved down the line, inspecting each set of armor, every rifle, every slight hesitation in their movements. She spoke little, but they all stood straighter when her gaze landed on them.

She looked every inch the woman you didn’t dare challenge. Caitlyn’s presence struck first—poised, tall, and sharpened like a rifle held just beneath the skin. Her uniform was custom blend of Piltovian command structure and battlefield utility, made to move with her but never soften her silhouette. She didn’t even need to announce her rank, not when she wore that uniform. The soldiers at Cravenwell recognized it instantly- the deep midnight blue coat, structured with high shoulders and tailored to her exact frame.

The fabric shimmered subtly, woven with Hextech-thread and bloodhound seals—old enchantments from the Noctalis archives. It was said to resist silver and fire both. No one knew how much of that was true, only that no one wearing it had never fallen in battle or maybe it’s just her entirely.  Beneath the coat, she wore the Noctalis tactical cuirass, matte-black and reinforced with overlapping metal plates over her chest and abdomen. Intricate patterns were engraved at the seams. There’s vampiric scripture etched in silver, repurposed not to bless, but to bind. Her family’s crest was no longer over her heart, replaced with a black phoenix, the symbol of the fallen elite.

Across her back was her folding Hextech rifle, older than any weapon currently in field circulation. It was modified, then modified again but still carried marks of kill, memories that show how deadly it is in her hands.

She wore no cape and regalia only her hair pulled in a firm ponytail, and a single silver clasp behind her ear, the Noctalis insignia. She wore silver so close to her skin as a sign of discipline and defiance. A constant symbol of her mastery over pain and a warning to others. And when she stood at the edge of the grounds, one hand on her rifle strap, it was clear to anyone watching:

Commander Kiramman was not just back. She had chosen to step into the armor again.

Her mind, however, wasn’t entirely here.

Vi…

She hadn’t been able to shake the image of her lover’s haunted eyes this morning. She remembered the way Vi had clung to her, shaken not from pain, but from something profound. Something even Caitlyn can’t help her with.

“I haven’t seen you wear that since the siege on Duskforth.” Jayce muttered, half in awe. He glanced at the rookies watching Caitlyn with wide eyes.

Caitlyn turned to him. Jayce, dressed in layered command leathers with his coat slung over one shoulder, was striding up the path, his smile weary but genuine.

“And look at you, far more the dashing soldier these days than the brilliant scientist. Quite the transformation, wouldn’t you say?” Caitlyn replied, her tone crisp but faintly amused as smile ghosted her lips. “I manage to do both, thank you very much…”

“Still scaring the rookies, I see.” Jayce smirked and witnessed the rookies scramble just by how Caitlyn was watching them.

Caitlyn turned her gaze back to the group of soldiers. “Good, soldiers know I’m not the scary one.” She added.

Jayce huffed, coming to stand beside her. “I don’t know. You’ve got that Kiramman stare. One look and half the camp straightens up.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, watching the second unit take their position in the field.

Jayce eventually broke the quiet. “How are they holding up?”

“Tired. Undersupplied. But disciplined,” Caitlyn said, her gaze steady. “We’ll need to rotate the night patrols more. Some of them are pushing past their limits.”

Jayce nodded. “We’ll shift the units. I’ve already sent Javi to reinforce the east flank. One of Alec’s lieutenants was spotted two nights ago. He’s probably testing our perimeter.”

Caitlyn’s expression hardened. “And Alec?”

Jayce sighed. “He’s moving slowly, circling closer toward the capital. Rallying support village by village. He’s avoiding direct confrontation, waiting for his army to soften our lines.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s his game, bleed us out before he ever crosses the threshold.”

Jayce nodded grimly.

Then Jayce’s voice softened. “…And how are you, Cait?”

She didn’t answer right away.Instead, she focused her eyes on the steam rising from the soldier’s breath across the field. Then down at her gloved hands, where specks of dried blood from the last battle still lingered in the seams of her knuckles.

“I’m fine,” she said quietly.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “You always say that when you’re not.”

She gave him a sideways look, but it lacked bite.

He nudged her shoulder. “You forget I’ve known you since you were six and refused to cry after skinning your entire arm on a fence post.”

“I didn’t cry.”

“You absolutely cried. You just did it silently and glared at the medic.”

That earned a small, reluctant smile from her.

Jayce’s voice dipped lower. “Look… I know you’re trying to carry more than anyone here. You always do. But you don’t have to carry her, too.”

Caitlyn’s gaze flicked to him, she studied him, waiting for him to continue.

Jayce didn’t flinch. “Vi’s strong. She’ll come through. But don’t burn yourself out trying to fight for her and lead all this alone.”

Caitlyn looked away, out toward the distant watchtowers.

“I’m not trying to carry her,” she murmured. “I’m trying to protect what matters before it’s too late.”

Jayce sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Then don’t forget, you matter too.”

She didn’t answer, didn’t pull away either. Another messenger approached across the field, saluting both of them.

“Scouting unit reports movement east of the ravine. Fast. Could be Alec’s testing the fog lines.”

Caitlyn’s demeanor shifted in an instant. “Sound the bell. I want sharpshooters in the towers and alchemic wards checked. We’re not letting them breach that side.”

The messenger nodded and sprinted off.

Jayce gave her a knowing look as she turned back toward the camp.

“See? Still scary.”

Caitlyn didn’t smile this time but her voice was calm and cold steel.

“Good.”

___

The war room groaned open, and Caitlyn strode in with the force of command, her coat still dusted with frost from the training grounds.

“Commander.” Mel greeted, coolly but not unkindly. “Your presence brings weight to the hour. I assume you have something to discuss.”

Mel stood at the central table of the war room, already reviewing a spread of open maps and arcane-laced scouting charts. Her golden jewelry glinted like coiled serpents beneath the low lights. Seraphine was there too, robes marked with the sigils of the Accord, and Elias just seemingly studying the map.

Caitlyn didn’t waste time. “One of Alec’s lieutenants  is on the move,” she said, approaching the table. “Scouting parties confirm bloodcraft manipulation near the eastern ravine. They are likely testing our outer wards. He’s looking for weak spots before Alec makes a move on the capital.”

Seraphine exhaled slowly. “They’re close.”

Elias adjusted in his seat, eyes narrowing as he traced a finger along the curved borders of the map, “We reinforced the ravine’s lower access point with wards yesterday, but the cliffs above remain vulnerable to winged carrier.”

“Then double the rotations and seal the upper ridgeline with flame runes.” Caitlyn replied smoothly. “If he’s testing gaps, we’ll give him none.” She paused scanning the map, then looked up. Her tone shifted, composed but more direct.

“What’s the latest on the surrounding cities?” She asked. “I want updates on every stronghold under the Accord, especially Zaun. If Alec’s smart which he is, this might be a distraction, just like the last one. We need to ensure he’s not moving pieces behind our backs.”

Mel’s gaze sharpened at that, but she nodded. “We received transmisison from Zaun an hour ago, just before sunrise. Their patrols report no irregularities. Security’s tense, though. They’re on edge.”

Caitlyn leaned in slightly. “And Silco?”

Mel’s voice hardened. “No trace of him there now. Silco’s withdrawn anything loyal to him from Zaun’s surface. The city is trying to stabilize on its own, but it’s fragmented.”

“So it’s vulnerable.” Caitlyn said, jaw tightening. “Have them tighten their rotations. We can’t afford an oversight.”

Mel gave her a curt nod.

Caitlyn continued, “I want every blind spot accounted for. I need my mind on the battlefield not wondering if we’ll be stabbed from behind.”

Everyone was still, the room was quiet for a moment. Then her voice softened just a fraction. “Vi’s en route. She’ll reinforce the eastern front with me.”

Mel’s looked at her, showing a sign of concern. “Then be careful,” she said. “If Alec knows what you two can do together…he’ll aim to separate you.”

Caitlyn nodded once but she felt the gravity of what Mel said. “He can try.” She murmured. “But he won’t succeed.”

Seraphine stepped forward gently. “I’ll inform the border troupes and strengthen the wards. Elias, can you work on enhancing the blind zone scans?”

“Already on it.” Elias replied. Mel studied Caitlyn for a moment longer, then added with uncharacteristic softness, “If the time comes, don’t hesitate to pull back.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “And leave my people to be slaughtered?”

“And live to save them another day,” Mel countered.

Their gazes held for a moment; two leaders bound by logic, ambition, and a shared dread neither wanted to speak aloud. Finally, Caitlyn turned toward the table again, laying a gloved hand over the eastern section of the map.

“Prepare the southern towers. Ready the long-range artillery. No distractions. No cracks in the line. If this is our battle to win, then we win it clean.” She stepped away without waiting for response, coat flaring behind her like the shadow of war itself.

_____

Powder was born with ink-stained fingers and sparks behind her eyes. She loved invention the way some people loved music. She loved it chaotically, instinctively and obsessively. Every wire, every gear misfired bomb was a conversation with the world she never quite trusted. But science? Machines? They all just made sense to her.

Vi was different. Her mind was built on observation and chaos in harmony. People mistook her muscles for simplicity, but Vi was sharp. She remembered patrol routes without writing them down. One of the few reasons why Caitlyn and her work with ease. She could scan a battlefield in seconds and calculate angles ,exit points maybe not using formulas like Caitlyn would, but using her instinct honed by survival.

Powder and Vi are different. Wildly so.

But both of them together didn’t fear unpredictability. They grew into their genius side by side. They understand each other in a way no one else ever could because underneath all the layers, they were always two halves of the same spark.

Powder grew up and was wired to love, to invent, to belong, until grief rewired everything for both of them. Vi found strength in her fists, Powder unraveled in noise and color, just like now.

Powder, legs kicked up on a desk. She held a soldering torch in one hand and a lollipop in the other. Sparks flared as she welded seam shut on a compact black device that looked far too dangerous to be unsupervised.

“Okay, okay.” She said, voice half-sing-song, “What if we don’t blow them up…but break them? Like, pull the plug on their shimmer party. One pulse, no more monster juice.”

Viktor, hunched over a series of battle footage feeds on a large wall display didn’t even look up. “A theoretical pulse that can disarm alchemically enhanced vampires without igniting every living thing in a fifty-foot radius?”

“Not theoretical anymore,” Powder grinned, one of her leather bracelets slipping on her arm as she raised her lollipop. “Just…not field tested. Kinda like love. Or poison.”

Then an explosion came out of nowhere. A distant pop rocked the sealed testing chamber.

Viktor sighed. “That was ‘Blue Widow Beta 2, wasn’t it?”

“Technically Beta 3. But who’s counting?”

She spun the black canister on the desk with glowing glyphs etched into its surface: Blue Widow and it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Viktor paused the footage he was watching. A new clip flickered into full screen. There were soldiers falling against a vampire enhanced with shimmer. The creature bled violet energy, skin pulsing with unnatural veins.

Powder narrowed her eyes. She was already beside Viktor. “Wait…there— stop!”

Viktor rewound, playing it frame by frame. As one vampire died, the shimmer flared and nearby, another solider convulsed and then came back up.

“…they’re linked,” Powder muttered. “If one dies, it spikes into the next. It’s like an energy network. A shimmer chain network!” Her eyes widened.

Viktor blinks slowly. “That would mean they’re connected by blood resonance and feeding each other’s power. Ofcourse it’s different how they utilize shimmer from humans.”

“No wonder, Alec got Silco on board.” Her gaze fell to the canister again. “That’s why the pulse matters. If we break the link for even a few seconds…”

Viktor looked at her now. “Powder, that’s brilliant!” He shut the console straightening his posture. “You’re onto something here. I’ll coordinate with Elias and Jayce and run theoretical dampening simulations for the battlefield use. “But this…” he nodded toward the canister. “This could very well tip the balance and significantly undermine their strength.”

Powder’s grin faded into something more thoughtful. She turned back to the workbench, already reaching for a new casing. “Yeah. Let’s just make sure we’re the ones who set it off.”

Viktor lingered for a second longer. “You’ll keep me updated then?”

Powder didn’t look up, she was already back to her focus, already tinkering, “Always do. I need to update Vi and Vampire princess too.”

He left her in her workspace as the heavy doors hissing shut behind him. Powder leaned in, goggles sliding over her eyes as sparks flared again.

____

The Deadwatch Pass, the ravine that forms a natural border between Piltover’s fortified eastern edge and the fog-choked highlands of Cravenwell, Seraphine’s homeland. It was a region known for its traditions, old spiritual bloodlines, and fragile loyalty to the pact, to the Accord.

The ravine yawned like a wound between Piltover’s engineered world on one side and the ancient, mystic wrapped wilds of Cravenwell on the other. The stone walls rose in uneven towers, jagged and split like fractured bone. The faint crimson moss clung to the cracks, pulsing with a strange light when touched. Some say it was a leftover from the Great War. The ground was dry and the air hung heavy with mist, coiling through the cliffs, always watchful.

The fog came silent and soft, curling around the boots of the forward scouts like ghost fingers brushing a warning. Even after all these years, Deadwatch Pass still looked the same, Caitlyn thought. She stood at the edge of the ravine, staring down into its gaping throat. The stone ridges hadn’t shifted. The cliffs still leaned inward like jagged teeth. The mist still hovered in patient whorls.

Her body reacted before her mind could. She felt her breath slow. Her fingers flex instinctively, ghosting over her sidearm. The faintest tension gathered at the base of her neck, as if some invisible tether had drawn tight.

She’d been here a long time ago.

Back then when she wore the same uniform like a second skin, and the world still whispered her name with reverence and fear. She had memorized every slope of this pass, every hiding place along the ridge, every line of retreat that could become a trap. This terrain was once her hunting ground.

But it was also where she’d bled. Where she’d lost some of her men.

Caitlyn took one step forward, boot striking the edge of the ravine’s sloping path. The mist recoiled, then settled again as if it remembered her too. Behind her, Vi’s footsteps approached, slower than usual watching her.

“You alright?” Vi asked, voice quiet.

Caitlyn didn’t answer, her eyes swept the Ridgeline again, mapping it out from memory.

“I used to command missions here,” she said finally. “When I was…”

Vi tilted her head slightly. “Let me guess. It wasn’t warm memory.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tensed. Caitlyn looked at her sideways and gave her a wary smile.

“I lost people here…. Good ones.” She exhaled, the fog stealing half her breath. “This place…it doesn’t care how skilled you are, you slip once and it will eat you whole.”

Vi was quiet beside her, gaze scanning the narrowing path ahead.

“I hate this place…” Caitlyn whispered. Vi gently touched her shoulder, grounding her. Caitlyn nodded once and stepped forward, her hand brushing the cold rock wall as they descended.

___

Caitlyn walks around, her boots were near silent on the uneven stone. She moved past each soldier slowly. Some were veterans and hardened. Eyes forward, jaws set. But others were new. Fresh recruits. Their hands twitched around their rifles. One boy had forgotten to breathe until Caitlyn’s shadow passed over him. She gave him a nod.

It was enough for them. To them, it meant something.

She would protect them. She promised herself that she would never again lose people to this ravine. As she reached the end of the formation, a familiar figure broke the eastern flank, Javier. His armor bore the same matte black as hers, just like the old days. He gave her a wry half- smile beneath the hooded mist.

“Commander,” he said simply.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Lieutenant.”

He lifted his fist to his chest in a salute. She returned it this time. The silence between them was a reminder of what they’ve been through together as warriors of the same team with shared scars.

A soft hiss-clack of nano plates locking into place caught her attention.

Vi.

Her matching gear wasn’t as regal as Caitlyn’s but it was every bit dangerous. Vi wore reinforced black vest, buckled snug over her core, with soft armor pads wrapped at her shoulders and ribs. Her long sleeves were rolled halfway up, revealing interlocking nano thread veins that glowed blue across her forearms—tech fused with the bone beneath that would activate her gauntlets, tuned to her bioelectric signal, it was something Powder added.

She knelt by a rock near the edge, one knee propped up, focused on calibrating the gauntlet’s pressure with a tiny adjustment tool clenched between her teeth. Her brow furrowed, red strands tucked beneath her hood, eyes locked in concentration.

Caitlyn watched her with quiet smile curled at the corner of her lips.

“You’ve never looked more dangerous.” She said softly.

Vi glanced up, flashing a grin. “You say that like it’s new.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, crouching slightly to meet her eye level. Her gloved hand gently brushed a bit of dust from Vi’s shoulder.

“Be careful out there,” Caitlyn said, voice low and warm.

Vi locked the last piece into place with a satisfying click, then stood dusting her hands, Caitlyn followed. She gave Caitlyn a long steady, confident look and then softened, just a bit.

“We got this.”

She bumped her forehead lightly against Caitlyn, the gesture tender and unspoken. Caitlyn closed her eyes for half a second.

“Alright.” She whispered. “Let’s go make sure we bring everyone home.”

____

Their further descent into Deadwatch Pass, was nearly silent, except for the static hum of Vi’s gauntlets charging low against her wrists. Caitlyn moved like a shadow through the formation, her rifle slung tight, senses on full alert. The terrain hadn’t changed in years. She cast a glance to the squad trailing behind her. There were eight of them, their eyes darting through the fog like it might reach out and pull them under.

“Steady,” she murmured into her comm, her voice cool and clear. “Fog’s natural in this region but that doesn’t mean it’s innocent.”

Caitlyn stopped at her tracks. “Hold position,” she said sharply, raising one hand.

But it was too late.

The fog at the front line twisted inward like a throat clearing and one of the soldiers, the youngest among them, stepped directly onto a bloodward sigil etched faintly into the stone. The symbol had been dormant, faded to nearly nothing and no one had seen it.

Until it lit up.

A pulse of crimson light surged from the stone into his body. His scream was immediate, short cut off like a light switch.

His blood erupted from his mouth and eyes, lifting into the air like liquid metal. It swirled, spiraled, coiled and shaped itself into a blade. It was a curved, breathing weapon of pure blood, hovering in the mist between them.

Caitlyn barely had time to aim before a voice cut through the fog like a wire through flesh, “It seems you’ve brought children through the dark, Kiramman”

It was Remus, one of Alec’s high rank commanders.

He stood above them, high on a ridge halfway cloaked in smoke, his eyes glowing with soft red heat. Around him, three other flanked his silhouette— his Bloodcraft Elite, cloaked, watching.

Another caravelle vampire blinked into existence behind them, her body warping out of a wound in the air itself. He lunged for the second scout.

Remus moved behind one of the soldiers. He raised his hand, not a weapon on it. Just long fingers, bloodstained. The soldier was too afraid to scream. The boy’s pulse fluttered visibly under the skin of his neck. Remus inhaled, slow.

Caitlyn raised her rifle.

“Where’s your team, Commander?” His voice echoed low through the gulch.

“Oh wait…you left them behind. In this very ravine.” His hold on the soldier was tight, not letting him go but he continued. “You’ve killed and you’re willing to kill your own kind…for these?” He tilted his head, fangs glinting. “These weak humans?”

A slick click beneath his skin as his forearm muscle contracted unnaturally. From the small crease in his wrist, single thread of blood slid forward, pulled by pressure alone. It hardened mid-air, shaped by a thin, gleaming, needlepoint edge hovering just beside the soldier’s throat.

“Do you feel that?” Remus whispered to the soldier. “That’s your blood…calling mine.”

“Let him go.” Caitlyn unmoving. Her rifle remained steady. Her eyes didn’t blink.

“You were always so loyal to the dead.” Remus replied with a slow smile.

Caitlyn’s pupils narrowed. The whites of her eyes slowly bled to black and then her irises, once ocean blue, began to shift. Crimson crept in from the edges like ink in water.

Her voice dropped, ice cold, “I’ll make damn sure every one of yours dies in this ravine” She took a step forward, tone sharpening.

“I’ll bury your entire squad right here, Remus.” She continued.

Remus raised a brow, just slightly with intrigue and recognition.

“And I’ll watch the light leave your eyes last.” Caitlyn spoke again with finality.

The bloodblade in his hand collapsed, slithering back into his palm with a quiet hiss. He stepped away from the soldier, eyes still locked on hers.

“Fine,” he murmured. “We’ll see about that.”

And then the ambush struck. Caravelle bloodblades forming from split wrists mid-sprint, a silent elite sliding down the cliffs, carving weapons from themselves in motion.

Vi roared, slamming her gauntlet into the ground, launching two attackers back as blood shattered in the air like glass.

Steel met bone.

From the cliffs above, shadows continued to pour like liquid death. The caravelle vampires’ movements were nearly silent, a black tide of precision and hunger. They leapt down the jagged rockface, split wrists gaping open mid-flight. Blood arced from their veins, coiling mid air, hardening into serrated blades as they landed.

They hit the rocky floor with inhuman agility, a dozen killers sliding into formation like knives unsheathed from shadow. Caitlyn called for backup through her comms, as they were clearly outnumbered. Seraphine’s forces began their descent into the ravine the moment their commander’s order came through.

Vi pivoted with on instinct, her gauntlet slamming into the ground with a seismic crack. Shockwaves tore through the gravel, launching two attackers skyward. One shattered mid-flip, his bloodblade fracturing like glass. The other hit the wall hard, spine first, collapsing in a broken heap.

Caitlyn was already gone from where she stood.

She moved like lightning, she always does. The pure blur and motion, phasing between the flanks with sniper-like precision. Her cloak flared behind her as her feet barely touched the earth. She slid beneath a caravelle’s lunge, her elbow slamming upward into the vampire’s jaw, then twisted mid-air, landing a double-shot into his chest before he hit the ground.

One shot to another. One dropped and this time her heel driving into a neck. Every moment was calculated, fluid and terrifyingly fast.

The rest of the squad fought bravely, Javier locking blades with a screeching vampire, sparks flying from steel against blood-forged weapons. Screams echoed. Steel clanged. The ravine, once quiet and cursed, now sang with chaos.

“On your left!” Vi shouted, her voice clear through the clash. Caitlyn twisted, ducked and in a blink, her rifle pivoted, discrharging a burst straight into a leaping attacker’s temple. The vampire thrown mid-air, skull detonated.

Vi’s boots hit the ground, fast as she ran towards a Caravelle elite armed with twin bloodblades. The vampire was fast, striking in blurs of crimson steel, cutting deep across Vi’s shoulder and thigh. Blood splattered. But Vi only grinned, eyes burning. Her wounds began to stitch themselves back together, flesh knitting before his eyes. The vampire froze, wide-eyed. Before he could react, her gauntlets flared blue—nanite plates locking into place with a high-pitched whirr as she lunged slamming into the vampire, elbowing him hard in the ribs before driving him through the side wall of the ravine. Stone shattered. Both of them vanished into the smoke.

Remus moved and the ravine itself shivered. Blood rose around him in spirals as threads drawn from fallen Caravelles and the very air. He walked like he had time, crimson spears forming at his side, rotating like the orbit of a deadly moon.

“You’re still the beast I know.” He said to Caitlyn.

Caitlyn didn’t answer, she raised her rifle. No fear in her stance, only fire.

Remus was fast but Caitlyn was faster. The moment he blinked to her left, she was already twisting, kicking off the wall to flip over him mid-strike, landing behind with a snap-shot that grazed his temple. He spun, blood curling into a whip that cracked toward her. She ducked under, firing again— this time it was straight into his shoulder.

He staggered, smiling. “There she is. The Kiramman weapon.”

He then raised both arms and dozens of bloodshards rising like crown behind him. They shot toward Caitlyn like bullets but Caitlyn dashed, faster than the eye could track, vanishing and reappearing behind a boulder as the impact shredded the rock.

Elsewhere, Vi and the vampire were tearing each other apart. The vampire’s bloodblades changed shape constantly; shifting from daggers to chains to jagged glaives. He swung wide and was able to hook vi by the gauntlet and dragged her through the mud, but she caught herself, launched upward with a twist and headbutted the bastard mid-air.

They tumbled. She screamed and drove her knee into his gut twice, then grabbed his face and slammed him into the cliff wall with all her force. The rock cracked. His skull did too.

“Try again,” she spat.

Back in the center, Caitlyn emerged from the smoke, her rifle humming low. Remus stepped forward again, and the two of them circled like deadly predators in a storm of blood and grit.

The battle fractured into chaos. Blades clashing, screams echoing, the Deadwatch Pass alive again, trembling with every impact.

Caitlyn turned just in time to see Vi hurled across the battlefield. Vi was against a grittier Caravelle elite. Vi’s body slammed into the stone wall with a sickening crack, dust and shards raining around her crumpled form. Caitlyn’s breath hitched, eyes going wide.

“Vi!”

That single second was all Remus needed. Blood rose like threadbare smoke, snaking through the dust toward Caitlyn’s boots. She didn’t notice it at first because she was too focused on Vi stirring weakly in the rubble.

But the moment she moved to sprint, threads snapped up around her ankle, and then her wrist…then her waist.

The cold touch of Caravelle blood wrapped around her like a web, crawling under her coat, slipping along her skin like leeches. She snarled, wrenching her body, trying to tear it off but the threads reacted, hardening into pulsing cords. One wrapped up her arm like a phyton and snapped around her rifle, disarming her. Another wrapped around her throat.

“No—!”

Her scream barely made it out before blood slipped over her lips, silencing her. Her eyes burned crimson, her muscles straining against the restraints, but she couldn’t break them. Across the ravine, Remus walked toward Vi calmly, his boots cracking over shattered stone. Vi stirred with a ragged cough, spitting blood as she struggled to push herself upright. She looked up, one eye already bruised. Her gauntlet sparked as it rebooted. She smirked, wiping the blood from her cheek with her arm. Her gaze flicked to Caitlyn who was still bound, still fighting desperately trying to tear herself free from the tightening bloodchains.

“You’re…going to regret that,” Vi hissed.

Remus crouched beside her, expression one of mock sympathy. He brushed a hand along her jaw, breathing in. “They say your blood is special,” he whispered, his fangs glinting as they extended. “Let’s find out.”

No!” Caitlyn thrashed, blood slick cords tightening, muffling her scream, her eyes blazed. Remus didn’t even look at her.

His fangs pierced Vi’s skin. Vi’s body arched, trembling beneath him as he drank. His lips curled as the blood hit his tongue. There was no elegance in it, just greed.He then released Vi, with a laugh, letting her body slump into the dirt.

He stood tall, blood staining his mouth, his skin beginning to gleam. “Ah…yes,” he breathed. “ I can feel it. This…this is power. Wait till Alec hears this.”

He turned, walking slowly back toward Caitlyn.

Caitlyn struggled harder, shoulders trembling beneath the crushing grip of the bloodchains. Her breath caught in her throat. Everything around her slowed like time itself was mourning.

Her eyes swept the battlefield. Javier was still standing, blade flashing through crimson haze, his stance unyielding despite the gash across his shoulder. Her soldiers—outnumbered but still fought like hellhounds, bloodied and unbroken. Steel clashed against blood-forged weapons. The world roared but around her was silence.

Caitlyn could feel the tremor of every heartbeat. Every desperate cry. Every sacrifice being made in her name. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.

Remus loomed in front of her, grinning like a god descending from his altar. Caitlyn’s eyes locked onto his, glowing with madness.

That’s when his smile faltered.

“Wha—what?”

A sudden tremor rocked through his chest. He staggered, and his smirk vanished entirely. Dark veins began to pulse beneath his skin, slithering like poisoned ink spreading through porcelain. His eyes widened in horror as the corruption spread writhing tendrils blackening his once pristine skin.

“What’s…happening?” He rasped.

Dropping to one knee before Caitlyn, he clutched at his throat as if trying to rip the foreign entity from within. His body convulsed, fingers trembling, claws digging into his own flesh.

“NO—no! This isn’t…her blood…it’s supposed to—!”

A sudden chill crawled up his spine, deaths breath whispering behind him. A gust of wind swept past and in its wake, a glint of crimson light cut through the fog.

Remus turned only to meet Vi’s eyes.

She stood tall behind him, breath ragged, blood still smeared on her lips. Her eyes blazed. Her entire frame trembled from the aftermath but her presence was thunderous in its stillness. From her palm, a blade of blood bloomed— fluid forged into steel by sheer rage.

With a vicious snarl, Vi gripped Remus by the scalp with one hand, yanked his head back and swung. The bloodblade sliced clean through his neck, severing bone and sinew in one arc.

Remus’s head fell silently. His body remained upright for a moment kneeling before Caitlyn, then it crumpled forward like a puppet with cut strings.

The bloodchains that had bound Caitlyn unraveled at once, slithering back into the earth like serpents defeated. She dropped to her knees, gasping coughing, the air finally filling her lungs again.

Vi was already beside her. Knees hitting the ground. Grabbing her face with trembling hands, eyes frantic but alive. Caitlyn looked up at her, breathless.

Vi smiled as her arms wrapped around Caitlyn like she’d never let go again.

Chapter Text

The fires had long since died. What remained were the thick tendrils of smoke, curling up into the pale morning sky like ghosts finding their way home. Cravenwell’s temporary field camp stood just beyond the ravine. It was hastily erected between frostbitten trees and the scattered bones of once sacred watchpoint. Tents lined the clearing like makeshift shelters of defiance, their canvas sides still fluttering with the night’s wind. The medic stations had been constructed overnight, nothing too fancy just salvaged wood, nailed iron and a few sheets of enchantment cloth borrowed from the Kiramman vaults.

Wounded soldiers lay in careful rows, their groans faint but present like a quiet hymn of suffering. Some were silent, too tired or too proud to make a sound. Others clutched their bandages with white knuckles, eyes glazed and faraway. Everything reeked of blood, burnt sigils and frost.

Vi sat at the edge of one of the medic stations, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her gauntlets discarded beside her like dormant beasts. Her hands were bare, bloodied and it moved in the quiet. The blood wasn’t hers this time. It belonged to others, some of it belonged to Caitlyn.

“You’re lucky it didn’t go deeper…. that Remus is a tough one.” Vi muttered, her voice tight with remaining adrenaline. She was crouched just behind Caitlyn, fingers ghosting over the torn seam beneath her shoulder blade. A long cut had carved through the back of Caitlyn’s cuirass, slicing into flesh beneath the silver threaded plating. Vi dabbed the wound with a damp cloth, each motion delicate but firm. The usual banter in her voice had dulled. Caitlyn sat still on the edge of the cot, her uniform half-unzipped and pooled at her waist.

“I’ve had worse,” Caitlyn murmured, trying to sound indifferent. “It’ll heal soon enough.”

Vi didn’t answer at first. Her eyes remained on the faint impressions along Caitlyn’s neck reddened with marks, almost ghost-like now, where the chains had bitten into her skin. The bruises were fading, healing faster than they should have. Evidence of her vampire blood at work. But even so, Vi hated the sight of them.

She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly along the curve of Caitlyn’s neck, tracing the healing skin with a reverence that belied her usual bravado. Her thumb hovered just beneath Caitlyn’s jaw, feeling the quiet pulse there.

“You say that like I’m supposed to be okay with it,” Vi muttered, her voice low and laced with something unspoken. “Like watching you bleed doesn’t gut me every time.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched at the contact, but she didn’t pull away.

Then, Vi leaned in. Without a word, she pressed a slow, careful kiss to the nape of Caitlyn’s neck just above her spine, where her skin was warm and unguarded. Her lips lingered there, soft against the fading marks.

She pulled back only slightly, murmuring against her skin, “And you get to say that and I don’t?”

Caitlyn gave a quiet, breathy laugh. “It’s different.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “How?”

“Because when you say it, it usually involves running headfirst into danger, punching your way through a monster twice your size, and coming out with at least three broken ribs.”

Vi smirked. “Still standing though, aren’t I?”

Caitlyn turned her head just enough to meet her gaze. “Barely.”

Their eyes held for a moment longer, quiet and full of truth that they still lived and loved.

“Vi…” Caitlyn began softly, her voice faltering. “What happened back there…”

Vi didn’t answer right away. She wrung out the cloth with one hand, the other resting against the curve of Caitlyn’s back. A long breath escaped her lips.

“I honestly don’t know,” she said at last. Her voice was raw. “I just knew I had to protect you. Then I felt it… like a rush and then everything else felt like instinct.”

Caitlyn turned her head slightly, watching her.

“You saw it,” Vi continued, “You saw what I did. I shouldn’t be able to do that right?”

Caitlyn didn’t look away. “I did. And I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. Whatever it is you have. It saved me. It saved all of us.”

Vi’s brows drew together, tension pulling at her features. She knew Caitlyn was just trying to reassure her, trying to comfort her but the questions wouldn’t stop. She knew something had changed and with it came a creeping fear she didn’t want to name. Caitlyn saw it. Caitlyn always saw right through her—through the calm Vi wore like an armor. Saw the unease behind her eyes.

“Hey,” Caitlyn murmured. “I know you. And whatever this is…it’s part of you now. Part of us. You’re still in control and you’re not alone in this, Vi.”

Behind them, the camp murmured. There were rations passed quietly, weapons being reset. Someone laughed a little too loudly, and it felt wrong, like a firework in a graveyard.

Before either of them could speak again, the flap of the tent rustled. A pair of Cravenwell soldiers stepped aside, shoulders stiff, spines straight as they held the canvas open. Through the smoke-streaked light, Cassandra stepped in. For a moment, even the groans from the medic cots seemed to quiet. She was no longer in her refined council robes. Instead, she wore the old war garments of House Kiramman. It was a deep obsidian coat reinforced with arcane-stitched leather, worn at the edges from a time long past. The collar stood high, lined with muted crimson, the same color as the dried blood once spilled on battlefields now lost to history. Her coat marked with navy blue and gold inlay, the family sigil faint but unmistakable, jaded by soot and memory.

A utility belt hugged her hips, holstering a sleek but aged pistol, polished despite its wear, the barrel long and engraved, the old family insignia etched along its side in delicate gold filigree. Caitlyn recognized it instantly. Her breath caught for just a moment. The gun had sat, untouched, behind a glass case in her family’s weapons gallery for as long as she could remember. It was a custom Hex-pistol, once wielded by her mother during the Great War. Cassandra’s gloved fingers hovered near the holster even now, a quiet reminder that despite her elegance and poise, she had once been one of the most feared marksman in Noctalis.

The room seemed to still. Cassandra’s eyes found Caitlyn’s.

“Caitlyn,” she said softly, relief breaking through her usually composed voice. Caitlyn stood, the cot creaking behind her but she didn’t get a word in before her mother wrapped her arms around her. The embrace was firm, protective, and wordless, just the way Caitlyn remembered it from childhood.

“I’m…fine,” Caitlyn whispered, she melted into her, eyes briefly shut, breathing in the scent of home.

“No you’re not.” Cassandra replied, her chin resting briefly on her daughter’s shoulder. “But you’re here. And that’s what matters.”

When they finally separated, Cassandra’s gaze drifted to Vi. Vi straightened, caught off guard by the weight of that look. For a heartbeat, she expected formality and judgement. Unexpectedly, Cassandra stepped forward, and without warning, pulled her in too. Vi blinked, startled as Cassandra wrapped an arm around her shoulders not as tightly as she had Caitlyn, but firm and warm, nonetheless.

“You too,” Cassandra said, voice steady. “You brought her back to me.”

Vi didn’t know what to say. Her throat tightened. She only nodded and let herself be held.

Cassandra finally stepped back, the warmth of her embrace giving way to gravity etched into her posture.  Her expression sobered as she glanced between Vi and Caitlyn. Her coat shifted as she turned, offering a better view of the Hex-pistol and some ornate ammunitions.

Cassandra noticed Caitlyn’s glance, her gaze softening for the briefest moment. “Old habits,” she said quietly. “And older enemies.”

Then, turning her attention to both women, she continued, her voice regaining its edge. “The battle at the Ravine is over…for now. You both held the line. Remus, Alec’s second-in-command…well—he’s gone. That alone has shaken their formation. I know he’s furious. You’ve damaged more than his numbers. And a wounded ego makes a reckless commander.”

She retrieved a tactical disc from her belt, sliding it onto the surface of a supply crate beside them. “Recon is still confirming the extent of it, but Elias believes the blow forced Alec to retreat back across Cravenwell boundary. His numbers are fractured and probably needs time to recover.”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “We’ve bought time.”

“Not enough,” Cassandra said sharply. “Because we’ve also suffered.”

She looked to Caitlyn now, her tone more reserved and heavier. “The Council is barely holding together. Most of the outer cities aren’t responding to envoy calls. Elias and the remaining members are exhausted. And…” she hesitated, then let the weight fall,

“We’ve lost Gildhaven.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “How?”

“The Archibald Family.” Cassandra said grimly. “They’ve defected.”

Vi exhaled sharply, the sound cutting through the quiet. Caitlyn and Cassandra both looked her way.

“They’ve pledged their resources, territory and militia to Alec.” Cassandra continued. “All in exchange for what he calls ‘stability’.” She practically spat the word, as If it tasted foul.

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. “Seraphine was right, she warned us…The Archibalds were opportunist long before this war began.” Her voice was low and steady. “They control the Gildhaven trade ports…and now Alec has them.”

“Exactly.” Cassandra nodded.

Vi muttered a curse under her breath, her fists curling.

“That gives him a direct land route into the eastern spine of Piltover,” she added.

Cassandra’s eyes flicked downward, noticing the slow knit of skin along Vi’s left arm. The wound had torn through the fabric, jagged and red, but even now it pulsed with unnatural speed as it began to close. Vi didn’t notice it at first but Caitlyn did. She followed her mother’s gaze, then quickly turned to Vi. The edges of the wound were already fusing back together, sinew pulling taut beneath flushed skin.

Cassandra’s voice was inquisitive, “How long have you been sharing blood?” Her words landed like a stone.

Vi’s body stilled. Caitlyn opened her mouth but couldn’t find an immediate answer.

“Mother—“she began, instinctively stepping forward.

Cassandra held up a hand. ‘Don’t mistake me,” she said calmly, though her eyes were strict.

“What’s between you two is none of my business. Truly. But when it comes to safety, you both need to be completely honest with me.” She stepped closer, her eyes searching theirs.

Caitlyn and Vi exchanged look, the kind that held everything and implication.

Caitlyn had never truly opened up to her mother. Not in the way daughters were meant to, not in the way stories liked to pretend they could. There had always been a distance. It was a reverent sort of space carved out of discipline and command. Cassandra didn’t need to raise her voice to assert authority; she was that kind of woman. A woman whose silence spoke louder than lectures, whose expectations arrived before words ever did. And Caitlyn, for all her pride and quiet rebellion, had grown up walking a tightrope of obedience and restraint.

She loved her mother. Respected her. But she’s feared disappointing her even more. It was her father who had balanced the weight—his laughter, his stories, the way he pulled her away from the pressure of their name, their legacy and into something warmer. He softened the sharp lines of her childhood.

But war had a strange way of peeling things back, tearing down walls. Stripping everyone down to who they really were, until only raw truth remained. And lately, Caitlyn had begun to see her mother more clearly. Not as the towering matriarch of House Kiramman. But as someone who still looked at her, first and foremost, as a daughter. Which is why this kind of conversation felt like uncharted territory.

Cassandra cleared her throat.

“You don’t have to hide it,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “I’ve seen the fight logs. Vi…you moved with abnormal speed. Reflexes beyond any trained enforcer. Your gauntlets didn’t activate before impact, but even then, the wall cracked.”

“Ma’am…”

Caitlyn reaches for Vi’s hand, and nodded before she spoke. “We’ve kept it quiet because we didn’t know what it was or what it meant. Not fully…After we…after we shared blood, things changed.”

Vi looked down at her hand, flexing it unconsciously. The skin there faintly shimmered where veins had surged during the fight.

“I felt it immediately,” Vi admitted. “My body reacted. I started healing faster. Moving sharper. Thinking…clearer. I thought it was temporary. But it didn’t go away.”

Cassandra’s expression became even more curious. “A human absorbing a vampire’s abilities…that’s unheard of. It breaks every law of nature, every known principle of bloodline balance. Unless…”

She let the word hang. Vi lifted her gaze. Her voice wavered and lacks certainty, “Because I’m not just…human.” She glances toward Caitlyn, who gave a small, steady nod of encouragement.

“I’m part of an ancient bloodline,” Vi said. “The Ashen Order.”

Cassandra paused mid-step. “Of course you are…” she murmured, circling the map table slowly, her eyes never leaving Vi.

Vi continued, “I didn’t know at first. Not until recently. But I started digging. Viktor helped me and…Caitlyn. I found a book, in the forgotten archives and it confirmed everything.”

Her voice dropped slightly. “The sigil I wear—this one,” she touched the pendant at her chest, “It’s the same crest as the Order. My mother…she died protecting it. Protecting me.”

Silence fell like a shroud.

“I hadn’t heard of anyone surviving that massacre,” Cassandra said quietly, almost to herself and hands clenched at her sides. “The Ashen were hunted to extinction.”

She inhaled sharply, then looked Vi in the eye.

“I want you to know how truly sorry I am…for what my kind did to yours. Not just to your family, but to all who were lost. That is why the Pact was created. I know there are those who call it a coping mechanism. A way for vampires to feel absolved after the Great War. But it was never about atonement.”

Her expression hardened with conviction. “It was about survival. Rebuilding and for me, it was always about peace. I have spent my life trying to uphold that fragile balance. I know it will never bring your family back Violet…but I swore, long ago, that I would protect what was left of that hope.”

Vi held Cassandra’s gaze, then gave her a slow, respectful nod. “I believe you.” She turned her eyes to Caitlyn, who offered her a faint, tired smile –one that said everything without words.

Cassandra exhaled, then folded her hands behind her back. “Very well. That explains…a great deal.” Her eyes moved between them, landing on Caitlyn a moment longer before she spoke again.

“The blood of an Ashen isn’t like that of mortals. It carries something…Abilities beyond what most can comprehend. Strength, speed, unnatural regeneration.” Her tone changed. “It’s always been feared by our kind. And for good reason. To many, it is poison.”

She looked at Caitlyn purposefully. “But some don’t fear it. Some seek it for power. They take the risk, hoping they’ll be the exception. Because with Ashen blood, you never know. You may die or you may become something else entirely.”

A shadow passed through her face. “I’ve seen it myself…Vampires who thought they could master it…corrupted from the inside out. Twisted…addicted.” She shook her head slowly and looked at Vi. “They hunted your kind like wolves not out of survival or hate…but hunger and greed. A desire to feel invincible, even if only for a moment.”

She turned slightly, her statement cooling with the burden of recollection.

“For reasons we still don’t fully understand, Ashen blood can do more than kill. In some rare cases…it amplifies. I’ve seen a vampire burn from within by a single drop. And I’ve seen another tear through five men in seconds after the same.”

Her regard returned to VI. “That is why your people were hunted. Not just because you were a threat, it’s because you were coveted.

Cassandra’s gaze drifted to the entrance, as if checking for shadows beyond the canvas.

“I was one of the few scholars who helped decode the Ashen blood centuries ago,” she began. “When the war ended, and the Accord was formed, some of us believed understanding the Ashen was vital to prevent another genocide and to comprehend what we feared so deeply.”

She looked at Vi. “I read their old texts. Their battle scripts. I spoke with the few relatives of the Ashen that survived, the first wave of extermination…and all that time, I never once heard of an Ashen absorbing vampire abilities.”

She paused for a moment; Caitlyn, who was still seated, was silent and watchful. Vi, standing rigid, letting the heft of the truth reside.

“But perhaps…” Cassandra continued carefully, “It’s not the Ashen blood in you. Perhaps it’s synergy. The bond between you two.”

Cassandra’s eyes settled on Caitlyn now, “Soulbind was never meant for hunger. It was never about consumption,” she began. “The Kiramman legacy was built on discipline and preservation. On protecting power, not exploiting it.”

Cassandra’s hand drifted to the weapon holstered at her hip, her fingers grazing the worn grip like a reminiscence, her thoughts momentarily elsewhere.

“There are records,” she continued. “Accounts of Soulbind passing on more than just strength. Memories. Emotions. Instinct. Abilities. The very essence of another being. It’s a connection so intimate; it becomes irreversible.”

She paused.  “And that’s why we protected it,” she said softly. “Why we never allowed those who possess Soulbind be consumed by our very own nature.”

Vi took in Cassandra’s change in posture. Her shoulders drawn in with grief, but her tone softened nonetheless, almost imperceptibly.

“I knew someone with a quiet kind of kindness. He always tried to carry more than his share of pain if it meant others didn’t have to. But Soulbind…” she paused. “It overwhelmed him. And he bonded too deeply; it began to devour him from the inside.”

She stared past them now, fixed on something long gone. The crackling of the tent’s canvas in the wind was the only sound. “He told me he couldn’t hear his own thoughts anymore. That the memories weren’t his. The urges, the anger…it didn’t matter who they belonged to. He felt them all the same.” Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the holster. “He said it was too loud. That he didn’t want to become what was left.”

Caitlyn felt the chill of it settle in her chest. The quiet ache behind her mother’s confession, the way she carried that memory like an old scar. She understood now. Cassandra hadn’t named him but Caitlyn knew. She spoke of her brother.

And after all these years…she still mourned him.

“I did what he asked,” Cassandra finished, she was a bit distant now. “I helped him find peace. I’ve never spoken of it.

Cassandra turned back to Caitlyn; her composure returned like a cloak draped over old grief. “Soulbind is beautiful,” she said, calm but resolute. “But it can consume, if not understood. And what you share with Violet… it’s unlike anything I’ve seen. Tread carefully, daughter. For both your sakes.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond at once. But when she finally nodded, it was sure. “I will.”

Cassandra exhaled, the gesture quiet with trust. “With Soulbind’s nature, you now carry the potential to take on more than just memory or feeling. You can inherit functional power. That is its heart. The gift and the curse.”

“And since you’ve shared blood…” she looked between them, “I presume you’ve adapted to hers as well.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn answered.

“What happened with Remus…it wasn’t just Ashen blood that overwhelmed him. It was Soulbind. You didn’t take his bloodcraft alone. Both of you did.”

She continued, “Maybe the Ashen blood amplified it. But somehow, when he fed on you, and for whatever reason, I don’t know how, Souldbind…turned it back on him and it absorbed him.”

There was no accusation to her statement, only temperate with understanding of the power her daughter now carried.

Caitlyln stepped closer to her, “That would mean I could…if I wanted to…could also wield Bloodcraft?”

Cassandra didn’t falter. She looked at her for a long moment as if weighing the truth against the cost of it but in finality she nodded.

“Yes.”

“The same power the Caravelles have mastered… the same weapon that slaughtered the Ashen Order… it now runs in your veins, Caitlyn. But more than that, you have control over it. You weren’t born into it. You both claimed it. And that makes it far more dangerous.”

“Dangerous for who?” Vi interrupted.

“For anyone who threatens what you love.”

Dangerous for anyone who threatens what you love.

Vi’s jaw clenched as she turned her gaze downward, her palm instinctively rising to her chest. Fingers found the cold, worn edges of the pendant — the sigil she’d worn her entire life without ever knowing its meaning. Now, it felt heavier. Familiar in a way it hadn’t been before.

Her thumb brushed over the carved surface, and a memory unfurled behind her eyes. A warm and golden, fragile at the edges like an old photograph. Her mother’s hands, rough from work but always gentle with her. The scent of firewood and rain in her cloak. The soft hum of a lullaby that made the storms outside feel small. And her smile, a quiet one, the one that said you’re safe now, even when the world outside was anything but.

Vi didn’t know then how special she was.

She didn’t know how special her mother was that every kind act, every shielded secret, every hurried escape was part of a lineage buried beneath ashes and silence.
The Ashen weren’t just hunters. They were guardians. Martyrs. Shadows who stood so others didn’t have to.

And her mother had died protecting her…this part of her.

A part Vi had only just begun to understand.

She inhaled slowly, the scent of old parchment and dried blood still thick in the tent. Her eyes lifted back toward Cassandra, then to Caitlyn, who was already watching her.

The moment shattered with a sudden rustle at the tent’s entrance. A soldier stepped in without ceremony, breathless from urgency, his coat still dusted with soot and frost. He made a direct line toward Caitlyn, leaning in to whisper something into her ear, it was too low for the others to catch.

Caitlyn froze, eyes widened.

Her gaze flickered to her mother, then landed on Vi. Vi didn’t miss it. The constriction in Caitlyn’s jaw. The subtle tremor in her fingers. “What is it?” Vi asked, already bracing herself. Caitlyn looked at her for a long, silent second. Her expression didn’t falter, but Vi knew her too well. Knew the exact kind of stillness that meant something had gone terribly wrong. Caitlyn gave her a look but not panicked,

“It’s Powder.”

___

The soldier’s whisper still echoed in Caitlyn’s ear, but the sound had already started to fade because all that came next was movement. Heavy boots slammed against stone floors. The sharp rhythm of Vi’s steps thundered through the corridor of Talis Industries; it was fast and relentless.

Each stride reverberated off chrome walls like distant drums of war.  She passed startled the employees in white coats, blurred faces turning toward the blur of muscle and fury that was Vi. Alarms hadn’t been raised yet, but the silence was its own kind of warning. The hallways narrowed the deeper she ran, framed with cold metal and fluorescent lights that buzzed.  The lab wings were ahead, and she turned a corner.

Doors flung open.

Tables overturned. Papers scattered like feathers after a kill. Vials shattered, liquid gleaming across tile like blood. The scent of burnt circuitry and cold metal clung onto her senses. Emergency lights pulsed in sullen red hues overhead like a heartbeat skipping in agitation.

And All Vi could hear was her pulse, the blood roaring in her ears. The moment Vi entered, the room stilled.

Screens blared, consoles whirred. Enforcers scrambled to contain the fallout, there were chatter in confusion and fear. But all exhausted beneath the sheer gravity of Vi’s arrival.

Caitlyn followed seconds behind, her coat snapping at her boots, face carved in steel. “How did this happen? Where’s Jayce?” she demanded, cutting through the room like a blade. “This wing was under layered lockdown protocols. I want to know how someone breached a level three corridor without tripping a single alarm.” No one answered despite the menacing tone she rarely had to summon.

Across the room, Viktor stood in the corner, half-lit by the glow of the monitors. He didn’t speak. His cane rested loosely in one hand, his other trembling slightly by his side. His expression was unreadable. His eyes hollow, jaw tensed; bracing from the horrific thing that transpired.

Vi barely noticed him. Her blood was already screaming.

“There’s something you need to see.” An officer approached carefully.

He led them to the largest terminal. With a few keystrokes, the main screen whined to life. Static danced for a moment before the feed stabilized.

Alec.

Dressed in midnight black, his silhouette framed by firelight and smoke. Shadows coiled behind him. His eyes—crimson, soulless, glistened with cold delight.

“Hello, Violet.”

The sound of his voice hit like a blade dragged across Vi’s bone. “I trust my visit was memorable. I imagine you’ve already realized she’s gone.”

Vi stepped closer, fists clenched at her sides. Her knuckles were white and her pulse, thunder.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Alec said with a smirk, “Not yet…she was rather cooperative…she was well…docile. A little sedated. A pity. I was hoping she’d fight at least just like her big ol’ sister.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, she looked at Vi, who hadn’t moved. She can hear Vi’s shallow breaths, measured and restrained.

“I don’t want war,” Alec continued. “Not with you…But debts…debts must be paid. And Violet, yours are long…overdue.”

His smirk faded, just enough to reveal the truth buried beneath the theatrics. “You want your sister back? Then come to me. Alone. No weapons. No Vampire girlfriend. Just you and whatever strength you think you have left.”

The screen crackled then fell into darkness. Silence expanded like a chasm in the room. Vi’s eyes were locked on the now-dead monitor. Jaw drawn together so tightly the tendons in her neck stood taut. Caitlyn stepped toward her carefully, “Vi…”

Vi’s fist flew forward and shattered the screen, glass and circuitry exploding in a burst of sparks. The impact echoed through the room like a gunshot. Shards scattered across the floor, some embedding into her knuckles. Blood dripped from her hand but only for a second. The torn flesh began to close in real time, stitching itself back together in jerky, unnatural pulses. Bone, muscle, flesh. The slow, stubborn regeneration of something that refused to stay broken.

Vi didn’t look at Caitlyn, her head was bowed, shoulders trembling and her eyes were squeezed shut. She felt raw helpless fury and fire, the kind that clawed its way out only when someone you love was taken from you. And it burned behind her clutched lids, hot and unbearable, tears threatening to fall but never given the permission.

Caitlyn was hesitant to reach for her. “We’ll get her back.”

“She needs me, Cait.”

Caitlyn nodded, swallowing the ache in her chest. “I know. But you know damn well this is a trap. Alec planned this—”

Caitlyn turned sharply toward the officers still hovering the doorway. “Clear the room.”

The soldiers hesitated for a half second. Then one by one, they exited without a word, Viktor followed them.

Vi’s voice cracked as she spoke again, softer this time.

“There’s no time… don’t you see?”

She turned toward Caitlyn, eyes still glassy with guilt. “They’ll hurt her and Powder’s not like me.” She broke on the last word.

She stepped back, running a shaking hand over her mouth, her face quivering.

“I promised to protect her. From all of it. From the monsters. From the ones like me. I always have.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She watched Vi with careful eyes, her hand still at her side. Then finally she stepped forward.

“And you still will. But not like this. Not by walking to a trap, alone and giving them exactly what they want.”

Vi didn’t argue. She just stared at Powder’s goggles on the wrecked floor, the lollipop still slowly sticking to the tile beside them. Her whole body vibrated with the kind of anguish that had no place to land.

___

Darkness swam at the edges of her mind. It was thick and viscous like oil smeared across shattered glass. Voices pierced the haze, faint and fractured as though they were underwater.

“…tolerance still holding?”

“…Not the point. She’s viable. That’s what matters.”

Powder’s fingers twitched.

There was a low strum beneath her, mechanical and steady like the familiar breathing of machines. The surface beneath her body was cold and sterile, vibrating faintly with alchemical energy. She smelled disinfectant and iron, sharp with the bite of something not meant for the human body.

Powder tried to move but she couldn’t. There was a sudden sting…

Her arm jerked reflexivel, restrained by thick leather straps.  A cold prick slipped under her skin. Her eyes flew open and lights blinded her.

Above her, blurred shapes moved—white coats, glinting vials, masked mouths that didn’t match their eyes. One of them leaned down into view, a man in his late fifties, wearing thin spectacles and a calm, clinical expression and his eyes…it held nothing.

“You’re alright,” he said softly, but detached reassurance and it meant more for control than comfort.

He slid the needle from her arm and carefully set the vial filled with her blood into a chrome rack without even looking at her. Powder’s breath hitched, chest rising in panic, her pulse thudded in her ears.

“Ah. Our guest is awake.” A man muttered with smooth tone bright like polished glass. It was Alec.

He emerged from the light, summoned, the crescent moon sigil clasps of his coat gleaming under the sterile glow. His smile was poised and never reached his eyes. Silco stood beside him, silent, arms crossed his one visible eye, curious.

Powder lifted her head toward them with great effort. Her body felt foreign, sluggish like it had been weighed down from the inside.

“Vi…” it came out as a whisper.

Alec’s smile stretched wider. “Oh, she’s coming, dear.” He murmured.

He stepped closer, crouching beside her. With the softest motion, he brushed a strand of hair from her damp forehead. “We made sure of that.”

Chapter Text

 Vi moved through the moonlit forest calmy. Silver light dripped through the marquee, illuminating her path in patches as she approached the outskirts of the Caravelle estate. Her thoughts drifting back to the years before all this—back when survival meant taking odd jobs and scraping by. She was proud of how she’d handled herself, of how she’d learned to move through the world on her own terms, slipping in and out of places like this forest as if she belonged there. It was the same resilience that had led her, once upon a time, to cross paths with Caitlyn, in a place not so different from this.

 Ancient oaks and pines stood like silent sentries around her, their gnarled branches reaching out to her. Capemoor loomed somewhere beyond the terrain, the estate’s dark silhouette barely visible between swaying black pine boughs. Vi’s heart thudded steadily in her chest, each step measured and quiet on the carpet of fallen leaves. She knew this was reckless.  I mean Caitlyn would have called it suicidal, she thought. But she had left Caitlyn behind for a reason. This was for Powder. For her sister, she would walk into any darkness without hesitation.

A cool night breeze brushed past, carrying the forest’s damp and earthy scent. Vi’s nose wrinkled; beneath the pine and moss lay the unmistakable odor of blood and decay. Her senses sharpened, adrenaline lightning up her veins. Vampires.

She could smell them before she heard or saw anything. It was that familiar acrid, sour-sweet stench that set her teeth on edge. It was the only warning she got. Vi flexed her fingers inside her heavy gauntlets as she continued forward, every muscle coiled, ready. I’m coming for you, Powder, she reminded herself. Hang on just a little longer.

A sudden crack of twig off to her left. Vi halted, head snapping toward the sound. For a moment, all was silent again. Even the insects and night birds had fallen quiet. Vi’s pulse drummed in her ears as she scanned the shadow draped trunks and thorny undergrowth. The estate’s lights glimmered faintly through the distant trees, but here darkness reigned. She took a slow breath, steadying herself and that’s when she sensed it. Suddenly, a flicker of movement at the corner of her vision and the metallic gleam of an object raised pointing at her.

Instinct screamed and Vi moved before the thought even finished. She dived to the side, boots, skidding through loam and leaves as muzzle flashes strobed in the dark. A burst of gunfire shattered the silence. The bullets slicing through the space where she’d stood an instant before. Splinters exploded from a tree trunk behind her in a shower of bark. Vi hit the ground on one shoulder, rolling back to her feet in one fluid motion. Vi moved unnaturally faster than any ordinary human could as she spun to face her attacker without pause.

A pale figure emerged from behind a broad oak, moonlight catching on a bald head and grin full of fangs. The vampire hissed in frustration at missing his mark, glowing crimson eyes narrowing. In his clawed hands, he held a pistol with a bulky, modified barrel where smoke curled from its muzzle and Vi glimpsed a faint purplish luminescence tracing the edges of the weapon. It was shimmer enhanced rounds, she realized. That weapon was designed to tear through even heavily armored targets. If she’d reacted a second later, those bullets might have ripped her apart. The vampire raised the pistol again, finger tightening on the trigger once more.

Vi was done giving him the chance. Her gauntlets came to life with a soft blue glow along the engraved lines of their Hextech core. Power thrummed up her arms. With a roar, she lunged forward as the next shot rang out. This time she didn’t dodge, the muzzle was pointed straight at her chest. Instead, she threw up her left gauntlet in an instinctive guard. The bullet struck the gauntlet plate. The impact of it was like a sledgehammer hitting her arm, jarring all the way her shoulder, but Vi gritted her teeth and absorbed it.

Before the vampire could fire again, she closed the distance in a flash, “Too slow,” Vi growled. Her right gauntlet slammed forward with a devastating force. She drove a punch directly into the vampire’s chest. She could hear ribs shattering like dry kindling beneath hextech powered steel. The vampire’s eyes bulged, with a strangled wheeze, he crumpled around Vi’s fist and his body slid off Vi’s gauntlet and onto the forest floor.

She barely had a moment to catch her breath before more crackles sounded in the darkness around her. The night seemed to come alive with movements. Their silhouettes detaching from the shadows beneath the trees, creeping out from behind thickets of bramble. The vampires surrounded her. She pivoted in a slow circle, raising her fists, her boots shifting into a wider stance on instinct. She had to count, one…three…no…that’s five, figures emerged into the pale shafts of moonlight that pierced the shade. There must be more of Alec’s men, the watchdogs of the Caravelle estate. Her heart was thudding faster now, just more thugs to crush.

“Look what we have here…” one of them rapsed, voice like dead leaves. A tall vampire with stringy hair stepped forward, twirling a dagger in one hand. His lips peeled into a sneer, revealing elongated canines. “The infamous Vi, all on her own. I don’t see your girlfriend with ya…Alec will reward us well for your head!”

Vi felt a snarl curl at the edge of her mouth, but she forced a smirk instead, lifting her chin in defiance. “You boys really picked the wrong night,” she shot back, tone sharper than the vampire’s knife. Alec has taken Powder and now he sent these low-life monsters to slow her down.

Another vampire, shorter but hunched with corded muscle, sniffed the air and let out a hiss. “She smells alive,” he spat, licking his lips. “Warm blood…we’ll enjoy this…” his voice broke into a feral chuckle. Vi took note of the purple hue veining his neck and forearms, shimmer, just like the gunman. That one could be strong…maybe stronger as she was. The others fanned out, claws gleaming, two of them brandishing firearms and the rest armed with simple brutality.

Vi’s heart hammered, but her mind was cold and clear. She remembered Vander’s teachings from long ago on the street,

“Keep moving…Control the fight” Vander said.

A quick glance around showed her the spacing of the trees, the unveven ground, the positions of each vampire. Fear tried to creep in at the edges of consciousness. She was clearly outnumbered but Vi shoved the thought aside fiercely. Powder’s face flashed in her mind, blue eyes wide and terrified. She then bared her teeth in a ferocious grin at the encircling vampires.

“Come on then, I’m on tight schedule” she taunted, beckoning with two fingers. The metal of her gauntlet gleamed, smeared with the first vampire’s blood.  “Who wants to go first?”

None of them moved for a moment, just predators sizing up prey. Then with a collective snarl, the circle of vampires collapsed inward, and the forest erupted into chaos.

The first to reach Vi was the knife-wielder with the stringy hair. He lunged with supernatural speed, blade arching toward Vi’s throat in a blur. But Vi was quicker. She sidestepped smoothly at the last second, his knife slicing nothing but a few loose red strands of her hair. In the same motion, she brought her elbow up and smashed it across his face. Bone crunched; the vampire yelped as he staggered past her, clutching a ruined nose. Vi let him tumble aside….she’d deal with him in a moment. Already, the next attacker was upon her.

Two came at once from opposite sides—one swinging a rusted machete at her head, the other lunging low with claws outstretched. Vi ducked under the wild swing of the machete, feeling the whoosh of air over her head. She threw her leg out in a sweeping kick, catching the clawed vampire in the knee. He howled as the joint snapped backward with a sick pop, his charge faltering. Using the momentum of her spin, Vi rose and delivered a tight, arching uppercut with her left gauntlet directly into his midsection. The land of the blow was fatal, and lifted the thug clear off his feet and sent him hurtling back into a tree trunk. He hit with a bone-shattering impact and collapsed in a heap, machete falling from limp fingers. He did not rise again.

A gunshot burst through the night—one of the remaining vampires had hung back a few paces and now fired his weapon frantically in Vi’s direction. The muzzle flare briefly illuminated his hate-filled face. Vi darted behind a thick oak as the first bullet whizzed past, bouncing off her gauntlet. Woodchips flew from the tree trunk where a second shot struck, inches from her side.

She had enough of that.

Vi swiveled out from cover and charged the gunman in a blur, zigzagging to throw off his aim. He managed one more panicked shot – it grazed her cheek with a hot kiss of pain, but Vi didn’t slow. She plowed into him full force. Her shoulder drove into his chest and they hit the ground together, Vi on top. With a snarl, she seized the front of his jacket with one hand and slammed her opposite fist into his skull. Blow by blow landed with a wet crunch. The vampire’s laughter turned to a gurgle and then silence, his pistol dropping from his fingers. Vi stood, breathing hard, the gunman’s blood dripping from her knuckles. A stinging warmth trickled down her cheek where the graze had marked her, though the skin was already stitching itself back together.

“What…are you—” were the vampire’s last words, as his eyes slid shut. 

A furious rumble drew her attention behind her. The shimmer-enhanced vampire was barreling toward Vi, eyes wild, saliva flying from bared fangs. Despite his shorter stature, he was built like an ox, muscles swollen grotesquely by shimmer. He closed the distance frighteningly fast, arms spread wide to tackle her to the ground. Vi had only an instant to react. She planted her feet and met him head-on.

He slammed into her raised forearms with brutal force, actually sliding her back a foot through the dirt. Pain jolted up her arms at the sheer strength of his charge. The vampire snarled in triumph, thinking he had her on the back foot as he grappled at her, long claws scrabbling against the metal of her gauntlets and the leather of her jacket. He was immensely strong – Vi’s muscles strained as she struggled to hold him off, his fanged maw snapping inches from her face.

“Get… off!” Vi growled through clenched teeth. She twisted, using his own momentum. With a grunt of effort, Vi broke the grapple and shoved to the side, sending him stumbling past her. As he stumbled, she delivered a savage kick to the back of his knee, toppling the vampire to a kneel. In the same heartbeat, Vi drew back both gauntleted fists together. The hextech cores whined as they charged, gears clicking. Vi brought her twin fists down like a hammer on his back and made the ground shook. The vampire’s spine cracked audibly under the blow, driving him flat into the dirt. He let out a choking gasp, body twitching once before going still.

Silence fell as the last echo of violence faded among the trees. The night creatures remained hushed, as if even they dared not break the quiet that descended on the blood-strewn clearing. Vi stood in the center of the carnage, surrounded by the remains of Alec’s men. Five bodies (or what was left of them) lay scattered on the forest floor amid scuffs of torn earth and splintered wood. A few heartbeats passed, Vi’s senses still on high alert, but no new attackers emerged from the darkness.

She exhaled slowly and rolled her shoulders, allowing some tension to bleed off her muscles. A ragged strand of pink hair had come loose and now fell across her brow; Vi brushed it back with a trembling hand Blood, dark and viscous coated her gauntlets and spattered her leather vest. None of it was hers. Aside from the dull ache in her left forearm from blocking that bullet, Vi was essentially unscathed.

The vampires had been fast and deadly, but she had been faster, deadlier. She couldn’t afford to feel triumph or relief just yet even after she surveyed the gruesome scene. If anything, each fallen foe was just another delay, another precious minute lost. Powder was still out there, somewhere beyond the trees, and Vi had no idea what might be happening to her right now. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, took a calming breath and stepped away from the nearest corpse. They got what they deserved, she thought coldly. These men had chosen to follow a monster like Alec; they had helped him tear Powder away from her.

A gentle wind whispered through the clearing then, stirring the leaves and carrying away the stench of death. It brought Vi’s gaze upward, through the gaps of the towering trees. Between the silhouettes of swaying branches, she could see the distant outline of the Caravelle estate, perched on the hill like a slumbering beast.

Behind her, the clearing of broken vampires faded into the night, left for the crows and dawn’s judgment. Vi didn’t look back. Her smirk had long since vanished, replaced by a hardened, determined glare toward her destination. Every sense was straining for the next sign of danger, every step bringing her closer to the estate grounds.

As Vi disappeared deeper into the forest, moonlight trailed after her like an unseen ally, guiding her toward the looming manor. She had passed the first test of this night unscathed, but she knew it was only going to get harder from here. Wrapping her fingers tighter inside the blood-slick gauntlets, Vi pressed on, utterly focused. Powder’s life hung in the balance, and nothing in the world, not even death itself would stop Vi from bringing her sister back.

____

Flashback

The room was serene, the moon pouring pale light through the tall windows on Caitlyn’s room. Caitlyn slept on her side, her face softened in slumber, lips parted just slightly as she breathed. For a moment, Vi just stood there, her shadow stretching across the floorboards, unwilling to disturb the fragile stillness.

Vi was dressed in her usual gear—sturdy trousers, scuffed boots, and the old leather jacket worn soft through years of hard use. Caitlyn had always loved that jacket. A plain satchel hung at her hip, packed light; she couldn’t afford the weight of hesitation. On her wrist rested the dormant band of her nano-gauntlet, no more than a brushed metal bracelet, thin and unremarkable to the eye. Yet Vi knew what it could become in an instant. Jayce and Viktor had rebuilt it countless times, each tweak making it faster, stronger, deadlier.

She stepped closer to Caitlyn’s bed, her chest tight with everything she couldn’t say. For few moments she let herself brush a loose strand of dark-blue hair from Caitlyn’s face. The light fell across her features just so, and Vi thought she looked ethereal. Her fingers lingered, the way they always did when she forgot how dangerous her hands could be.

The war had drained everyone, but none more than Caitlyn. And yet that was what Vi loved about her most—the way she carried that weight, the way her heart never wavered. It was where they always found common ground: in their care for the people who mattered. The people they loved. Caitlyn had shown her that love wasn’t just feeling.

It was duty, a choice made again and again. To protect and endure.

Leaning down, her voice dropped to a whisper only the night sky could hear. “I’m sorry, Caitlyn…but I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

Her lips brushed Caitlyn’s temple—soft and reverent. She breathed her in like a promise, then forced herself to straighten, every step toward the door with a heavy heart.

The latch clicked as she eased it closed behind her. Silence stretched through the night. Caitlyn’s eyes opened, catching the faint spill of moonlight across the sheets. They were calm, blank in their composure. She had known all along.

___

A marble ball skitters across the cobblestones of a deserted Piltover street. Under the pale radiance of a full moon and the soft hum of hextech lanterns, a lone child crouches, fascinated by the way the moonlight dances on the glass orb. The street is unusually quiet; distant machinery clicks and whirs far away, but here only the faint scrape of the marble and the child's gentle giggle disturb the silence. Each polished cobblestone glints with a silver sheen, the air is cool and still as if the city itself is holding its breath.

The child pauses when a flicker of movement crosses the night sky. A dark shape drifts in front to the moon for an instant, elongating the child’s shadow. The child curiously tilts his head upward. Several more shapes emerge from the night clouds. There were winged figures gliding silently down toward the rooftops. The marble slips from the child’s fingers and rolls away as sudden chill washes over the street.

Without warning, the first vampire drops onto the pavement with grace. Cloaked in tattered darkness, it hisses and lunges at a passerby who had just emerged from a nearby doorway, driving them to the round with force. A scream follows and it shatters the quiet…then another. All at once the street erupts in panic. The merchants closing up their stalls stumble back in terror and pedestrians scatter in every direction. The calmness of the night turns into a cacophony of shrieks and pounding footsteps.

Brass streetlamps sway and cast frantic, swinging shadows. More vampires descend like murderous flock, their eyes gleaming and fangs bared in wicked grins. An older man trips and overturns a fruit cart. A mother clutches her child to her chest and rushes for the cover of an alleyway while the creatures’ silhouettes streak over the pavement.

Enforcers sprint onto the scene. One blows a shrill whistle that cuts through the din, while others scramble to aim their rifles at the swooping monsters. A bolt of crackling energy lights up the night as an Enforcer fires a shot. It illuminates a pale, gaunt face with blood-red eyes before the creature darts out of sight to a high ledge. Orders are shouted in desperate voices,

“Get cover! Relay to command! Sound the bell!—” one shouts but confusion reigns as dark shapes dart between rooftops and drop onto their victims with unimaginable speed. Civilians scramble for any refuge they can find. A pair of Enforcers manage to drag a wounded colleague away from a vampire’s reach, their hearts pounding as they form an unstable defensive line in the street. The smell of fear and blood begins to taint the cool night air.

Moments ago, the street was a picture of tranquility, now it’s a battleground of screams and shadows. Overhead, the serene moon slips behind a haze of clouds and smoke, its gentle light drowned by the horror unfolding below.

____

Dawn crept pale across Ashwynd, staining the Kiramman estate in faint gold. From her chamber, Caitlyn could just make out the spires of Piltover in the distance. It was sharp silhouettes against the horizon.

Then the world shook.

A thunderclap split the air as one of Piltover’s high spires erupted in fire. Glass and still rained down, the bloom of smoke climbing fast into the newborn sky. The shockwave reached Ashwynd seconds later, rattling the windowpanes and sending a vibration through the floorboards.

Caitlyn jolted upright, the echo still in her chest. Her hair tumbled loose around her shoulders, deep navy strands falling across her face as she caught her breath. The remnants of a dream clung to her. She remembers the warmth of Vi’s lips brushing her temple, the whisper of a promise left behind. Her hand went instinctively to her side searching the same warmth that should have been there.

But the space beside her was cold, the sheets undisturbed. It hadn’t been a dream at all. Vi was gone.

Another blast had shaken the walls, rattling the glass in its panes. Caitlyn rose at once, pulling her robe across her shoulders, and stepped into the corridor. The estate was already stirring. One of the Kiramman guards was waiting just outside her chamber, posture straight despite the faint tremor in his hands. Across his arm lay Caitlyn’s uniform, belt and holster already fastened, rifle case in his other hand. He bowed quickly as she approached.

“My lady,” he said. “There’s no time. A message from Councilor Medarda—” He held out a sealed note, the ink still fresh.

Caitlyn broke it, eyes skimming the few lines. She hardly needed to finish before the guard’s quiet words confirmed it,

“They need you at the Capital. Your mother wished not to wake you, but…there has been an attack.”

Caitlyn drew a steady breath, nodded once, and took the gear from his hands. The robe slipped from her shoulders, forgotten.

“Ready the transport,” she ordered softly.

_____

Boots hammered against the marble steps as Jayce barreled down the grand staircase of Piltover’s Capitol Hall, breath sharp, adrenaline burning in his veins. The air smelt faintly of smoke already carried in from the city, alarms shrieking in the distance.

At the base of the stairs, Elias strode forward in full tactical gear, his voice ringing like steel.
“Get the weaponries ready! Arm every officer on standby!”

Jayce nodded, though his jaw was tight. “I’ll see to it but I need to get in contact with Caitlyn first.” His words clipped out as he pushed past, his hammer already slung across his back.

From the side corridor, Viktor fell into step with him, cane tapping a sharp rhythm against the stone, “I’ve got the new ammunition prepped,” Viktor said.

Jayce blinked, thrown off by the phrasing. “New?”

A flicker of pride ghosted across Viktor’s face. “Powder and I have been working on something. If there was ever a time to test it, it’s now.”

Jayce exhaled through his teeth, half running, half listening, “Alright…show me on the way. But first, I need Caitlyn. We won’t hold Piltover without her.”

____

Caitlyn strode through the sliding doors at the tactical chamber, her coat snapping at her heels. She looked every bit the commander now. Her shoulders squared, eyes cold as steel despite the smoke already clouding the horizon behind her.

Viktor stood hunched over a projection of Piltover districts, his cane tapping in quick bursts agains the floor as he gestured. Jayce was beside him, hammer leaning against the wall within easy reach, his jaw set in frustration.

“Finally,” Jayce started, but Viktor cut him off with a raised hand, his voice urgent.

“Just in time. Caitlyn, listen.” He tapped a glowing sigil on the central table and a new projection bloomed into the air—a device no larged than a satchel charge, hextech runes carved into its casing, wires glowing faintly violet. “Powder and I have engineered something…before she—” His voice caught. Jayce’s hand nudged his arm. Viktor exhaled and pressed on. “Anyway, it’s an anti-shimmer resonance device. When triggered, it unleashes a wave tuned to shimmer’s frequency. It creates an explosion that destroy the ripple effect of shimmer. It cascades through every shimmer-enhanced body in its range. It halts them. Stops the chain before it spreads.”

Jayce’s fist tightened on the edge of the table. “It’s untested.” he said flatly. “And dangerous.”

“Everything is dangerous,” Caitlyn replied, her voice firm. She leaned forward, eyes locked on the device as if she could already see it in the field. “We’ve no time to squander. We use it... No matter the cost.”

The room went silent. Even the whir of the screens seemed to recede, as if Piltover itself was waiting for her decision.

Jayce cleared his throat, forcing himself back to business. He swiped the map outward, showing the spreading lines of enemy forces pressing into Piltover’s streets. “Seraphine’s sending reinforcements from her quarter, but she’s under attack herself. Rhiannon too. Their regions are bleeding. That leaves us holding the line here.”

“Elias? What did he think?” Caitlyn asked staring blankly at the device.

"Elias believes you'll do the right thing."

Caitlyn’s gaze remained on the violet glow of the projection, her expression unreadable. If it truly works…it could turn the tide. If it fails, the city burns twice over. She drew a slow breath, her tone steady. “The weight of this doesn’t fall on what we build…it falls on what we save. If this device does what you say, the outcome will outweigh the risk.”

Her eyes flicked up, sharp. “But we prepare for both. Evacuate the city. Get Mel to organize the escape routes and keep them clear.”

She straightened, pulling her coat tight across her shoulders, “I shall call my former unit. They shall provide the necessary support.”

____

The iron gates of Capemoor groaned open with a long, aching cry, and Vi stepped through without hesitation. The courtyard beyond spread wide beneath the cold stone face of the Caravelle estate. Moonlight cut sharp lines across the army, catching the gleam of hundreds of eyes. They were waiting for her.

Ranks of soldiers stood in flawless formation, stretching in perfect symmetry along either side of the path. Vampires in obsidian coats, their sigils stitched in silver thread. Humans twisted by shimmer, veins glowing faintly beneath pale skin. Corrupted husks whose gazes were empty, unblinking. Every one of them clad in black, marked with the crescent of Caravelle. None moved. None breathed. As Vi advanced, the army shifted like a single organism, parting to open a pathway for her steps.  The silence pressed in heavier than any roar, broken only by the steady tap of her boots against the stone.

At the far end of the corridor of bodies stood Alec. Cloaked in shadow, tall and unhurried, he carried himself like a sovereign on his dais. Beside him, Silco lingered with his arms folded, one eye gleaming faintly in the dark, his expression indifferent.

When Vi stopped, Alec’s smile stretched thin. “Just in time…” His voice carried easily across the courtyard. He tilted his head, eyes gleaming crimson. “But I must admit—I am impressed. You came unscathed.”

Vi only a few feet away from the threshold of their reach, her gauntlets hissing low at her sides. Her lips curved into a smirk, eyes hard. “Always the sound of surprise,” she said evenly, voice cutting through the air. “Your lieutenant didn’t stand a chance, remember?”

A ripple moved through the assembled ranks, a murmur of restrained hostility. Alec only chuckled softly, as though she had told a private joke. The army around them shifted ever so slightly, as though the word lieutenant had cracked the perfect stillness. Silco narrowed his eyes faintly, but his expression remained scrawled.

Vi took another step forward, “Now,” she said. “Where’s my sister?”

Alec’s smirk returned, sharper this time, his eyes glinting crimson in the torchlight.
“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” His voice dripped with theatrical ease. “You know I won’t let you nor your sister leave this place alive. And I know…” he tilted his head, savoring the pause, “you won’t give me your blood willingly.”

Vi’s jaw tightened, her fists curling, the hum of her gauntlets rising like a growl. Alec raised one hand, almost casually.

“So,” he continued smoothly, his smile widened, teeth gleaming like a blade unsheathed. “I have a surprise for you.”

At that, the soldiers aligned in the courtyard shifted in eerie unison, stepping back as if to make room. A hollow silence fell, broken only by the hiss of torches against the cold night.

Vi narrowed her eyes, her breath steady but her pulse hammering.

Whatever was coming, it wasn’t Powder.

_____

The heart of Piltover was unrecognizable.

Shops smoldered, banners burned, and streets were strewn with shattered glass and spent casings. Enforcers fought shoulder to shoulder behind hastily erected barricades, their rifles spitting hex-bolts into the advancing horde. Vampires cut through the lines with feral precision, shimmer-corrupted husks lumbered like mindless beasts, and the air was thick with the metallic stench of blood.

Elias strode into the chaos fully armored, his greatcoat reinforced with steel plates, his blade already drawn. His voice rang like iron above the din as he barked orders, commanding the officers to hold formation, to bring the heavy rifles forward, to keep the frontline alive.

Elias halted mid-step, as he saw him approaching. Across the battlefield, standing amidst the advancing Caravelle ranks as though he belonged there, was a familiar figure. The Archibald patriarch, once a man who had sat beside Elias at the Accord table, now clad in blackened steel with the Caravelle sigil gleaming at his chest. Human soldiers flanked him—Archibald’s own bannermen, weapons turned against their own people.

Elias’s breath caught. Rage surged hot through his veins as he cut his way toward the traitor, sparks flying with every clash of his blade. At last they met in the smoke and fire, steel against steel, the battlefield closing in around them.

“How could you betray us like this?” Elias roared, his strike forcing Archibald back a step.

The patriarch sneered, teeth flashing as he parried and shoved forward with surprising strength. “Elias don’t be a fool, the pact had always been sign of weakness not peace! It’s all a lie!,” he spat, his voice carrying venom. “You still have a chance...Join us, Elias! Alec offers dominion.”

Elias grip tightened on his sword, his voice breaking with fury. “He murdered my son! I will never forgive him for that!”

Gideon’s sneer hardened into a cold smile. “Then so be it”

He raised his hand in a swift command. At once, the Archibald soldiers surged forward, black-clad ranks charging without hesitation, their war cries swallowed by the roar of battle. All around them, the battle screamed on. Piltover was filled with enforcers firing, civilians fleeing, vampires descending from rooftops.

____

Jayce swung his hammer in a wide arc, the weapon sparking as it smashed through a shimmer-beast’s chest. The streets roared, soldiers shouting, steel clashing civilians crying out. His lungs burned, sweat stinging his eyes but still he pressed forward.

Then he felt a shadow moved behind him, he felt him close. A Caravelle soldier, blade raised, poised to drive it straight into his back.

But the strike never landed. The world seemed to slow.

A thunderous shot tore through the air, sharper than the clash of steel, louder than the roar of battle. The air itself shuddered as the round split it clearly, a streak of blue light cutting the smoke. In the heartbeat that followed, the Caravelle soldier froze mid-lunge; his eyes wide, blade inches from Jayce’s back. Then he collapsed bonelessly to the ground, a neat hole drilled between his eyes, blood spilling into the crevices of the street.

Jayce spun, chest heaving, the echo of the shot still ringing in his ears. His gaze finally swept the burning rooftops. He sees a flash of navy catching the dawn light, a silhouette steady and unshaken against the smoke. The long barrel of a golden Hex-tech rifle gleamed in her hands. Relief surged hot through his veins, cutting through the adrenaline. His lips twitched into a quick, grateful smile, Caitlyn.

“Thanks for that,” he breathed into the comms. “I owe you one.”

Only static answered. Caitlyn already focused on the next target, as she offered no answer. Jayce smirked despite himself. Of course she said nothing.

High above the street, Caitlyn slid back into position. Her rifle settled against her shoulder, the scope catching the first gold of dawn. She drew in a steady breath, finger resting lightly on the trigger as she adjusted the dial, the battlefield sharpening beneath her lens.

Through the glass, she found her first mark.

Diana crouched atop a ledge, the wind tugging at her dark coat. She turned her head so slightly toward the scope, as if she could feel Caitlyn watching. And as cheeky as ever, Diana gave a quick wink before vaulting from the rooftop. She descended in a blur of motion, like a blade from the heavens, cutting through two vampires in one sweeping motion, their bodies collapsing before their snarls fully left their throats.

“You’ve gotten slower, Cait,” Diana teased over the comms, voice bright with adrenaline.

Another crack split the air, the sharp thunder of Caitlyn’s rifle. The vampire lunging for Diana from behind dropped instantly.

Diana glanced back at the corpse, then chuckled. “Or not. Thanks for that.”

Caitlyn scope shifted. A tremor in the rubble, then Cristoph appeared, hefting a canister and hurling it into a cluster of shimmer-husks. The blast lit the street in a brief inferno. Wulfric crashed down beside him, covering his flank, the two of them exchanging a high-five amidst the smoke.

Caitlyn angled the sight again. On a distant rooftop, Vayne stood loosing a crossbow bolt that skewered a vampire mid-charge before reloading in one fluid motion. Wulfric cheered at him down below, another high five with Cristoph.

Vayne positioned her crossbow again, her voice crackling over the channel, “Ugh, I forgot how those two are always so loud.”

The scope traced higher. A streak of light screamed across the skyline. Ekko, riding the whine of his hoverboard as he slashed through enemy ranks below. His laughter bled through the comms. “Oh, how I’ve missed this K!”

Caitlyn’s finger steadied on the trigger, her eyes narrowing through the glass. Another target, another shot lined. Her voice finally answered, “Just don’t get too cocky, E.”

She settled back against the cold metal of her perch, one eye to the scope, and let her vision sweep across the battlefield. Each of them was a familiar note in a chorus she had conducted before. They possessed different rhythms, different voices, yet all moving in deadly harmony.

This was her old team. An elite force, forged for operations no one else could survive. There had been nine once. One brother was lost along the way. Caitlyn still carried that weight; she always had a way of blaming herself for every name carved into memory. Responsibility came with the title, but with her it was personal. She bore the burden for those she cared for.

Time had softened the edge of that wound. She had seen more than most ever would since meeting Vi, and in that, learned something she had never let herself believe before. That what mattered wasn’t the ghosts behind her, but the ones she stood with now. That only thing she could carry was the present and the choice to do better tomorrow. Together.

Diana. Grace incarnate, though Caitlyn knew better than to mistake it for elegance. Diana fought like a dancer armed with razors. She was fluid, precise, every strike already calculated two steps ahead. She’s also very playful, so was her blades carving arcs of silver light. Her enemies never had the chance to scream.

Cristoph and Wulfric were the opposite—no finesse, just impact. A pair of sledgehammers swung in tandem. Cristoph’s explosives lit the street in thunder and flame, scattering Caravelle’s troops. Wulfric followed through like the earth itself answering, his axe breaking bones with each strike. Together they were noise, fire and destruction.

Vayne was shadow and silence where they were thunder. A distant relative to the Caravelles, a vampire. But just like Caitlyn, she fights for justice, for honor. Perched high, her crossbow whispered death across the battlefield, each bolt striking with accuracy. Caitlyn adjusted the dial and saw her reload without hurry, lips tight in her usual scowl. No wasted movement, no wasted words. Her distain carried even over the comms, but Caitlyn knew better. Vayne’s irritation was just another mask for loyalty. She didn’t miss. She never had.

Then there was Ekko—a streak of brilliance across the sky. His hoverboard carved a glowing arc through the sky, weaving between crossfire. He laughed as he flew, light and unbothered, as if war itself were nothing more than another street chase in Zaun.

Ekko was the only Zaunite among them, and Caitlyn had always seen him as a younger brother. Sometimes, Vi reminded her of him. They carry the same grit, the same unshakable confidence. But beneath the bravado, Caitlyn knew his mind was a machine of timing and angles. Every loop, every dive had purpose. Soldiers who thought him reckless never realized they’d already lost to his clockwork instincts.

Caitlyn exhaled, steadying her rifle, letting herself absorb the chaos below. To any outsider they were noise and fire. To her, they were the pack she had forged, the family she could trust to follow her into hell and back. Each piece different, each one flawed in their own way. But together? Together they were the blade she would drive through Alec’s throat.

She adjusted her scope, lined up her next shot, and squeezed the trigger. One more soldier fell. Her voice was calm as stone when it slid across the comms: “Piltover still stands because of you. Hold the line.” Caitlyn spoke with conviction.

___

The soldiers parted with mechanical exactitude, their boots scraping stone in unison. From the shadows at the far end of the courtyard, a figure emerged. Vi thought it was familiar.

At first, Vi thought it was hallucination. Broad-shouldered, tall, the same wolfish features twisted into a familiar snarl. For a heartbeat her chest tightened, “Remus.”.

But no, Vi studied him better, his eyes were colder and more calculating. His presence steadier. Her fists clenched, breath sharp. “—what the hell”

Alec’s smile spread, savoring her shock, “Surprised?” his voice rang like polished steel. He gestured lazily toward the man. “Remus was never my only blade. Meet his twin. Blood of Caravelle, and yes…quite gifted in the art you’ve already witnessed.” 

The man’s eyes gleamed emerald, a shimmer of bloodcraft along his veins. His glove weren’t iron, but flesh itself. His skin hardened, claws extended, pulsing with crimson light as if blood had been forged into weapon. The resemblance was uncanny; the same sharp features, the same eyes burning with that Caravelle fury. There was something colder about this one, something stripped of restraint.

Alec stepped back, cloak shifting like ink the wind. “You see, Severin was wasn’t very happy after what you did to his brother.” He drawled. “the forest was just a warm up, Violet. I hope you’ve sharpened your senses enough to defeat him.”

Alec’s smirk widened, cruel and hungry. “Now…give me a show.”

___

The courtyard seemed to shrink around them. Smoke curled between the torches, painting everything in restless shadow as Vi and Severin began to circle.

Severin stood across from her, posture unnervingly relaxed, as though the mess around them were of no consequence. His face was carved in indifference. He was expressionless and gave no smirk to betray arrogance, no snarl to hint anger, only the vacant stare fixed on her.

Where Remus had burned with rage, teeth bared and temper flaring in every strike, Severin was his opposite: cold where his brother was fire, restraint where Remus was fury. He moved with the calm of a man who believed resistance was pointless. And somehow for Vi, his composure was far more terrifying than Remus’s wrath had ever been.

He lifted his arms slowly, deliberately, as though conducting an orchestra only he could hear.

Blood gathered in the air around him, drawn from shallow cuts along his forearms. The droplets didn’t fall as they rose, orbiting, shaping. Dozens of crimson shards sharpened into gleaming points, suspended like a halo of knives.

Vi’s pulse spiked. She braced, gauntlets hissing, while Severin’s fingers twitched.

The shards screamed through the air.

Vi stumbled back, body twisting as the projectiles ripped past her shoulders, slamming into stone with the force of bullets. Sparks flared as a few ricocheted off her gauntlets, showering the courtyard in red light.