Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hi, it's a pleasure to meet you, Powder." was the first thing that came out of the blue-haired devil's mouth. The same devil that took my sister from me, that replaced me. Powder thought the reason she didn’t like her is valid, but she guesses not everyone else, vi says that she isn't replacing me meh meh meh, it's a load of bull crap. Being with vi used to be so much fun, she would teach me how to beat someone up, and play pretend, oh oh! And help me with my bombs...but ever since vi started dating her, she's spending less and less time with me, and all she's doing is cuddling with her piltie girlfriend! I thought she was nice at first but then she started takin all of vi’s time. Well ... at least she doesn’t snitch unlike certain somebodies.

“Powder, not now, you know I'm with Caitlyn!”

“But vi you promised you'd hang out with me today...” powder whined. It wasn’t fair, vi is her sister, not Caitlyn's.

“Sorry powder but maybe another day, Caitlyn's staying over today.”

Powder looked at her sister in shock, not only does she deal with Caitlyn during the day but now she has to at night, great just great.

So here powder is, sitting at the dinner table, Vander and her siblings and then just Caitlyn, clean and well dressed, looking like the pristine piltie she is. Powder giggles as Caitlyn tries to make conversation, her siblings clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable. To be fair, it wasn't everyday you get the piltie daughter of a Kiramman sitting and eating with you.

“So... how was school today?” Vander asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

Maybe this was my chance to tell them how I'm always the #1 target for bullies. Maybe they could help...just like they said they would, like Vander and vi would always protect me. Maybe vi would see that powder wasn’t ok, that she needed her sister. Just as powder was about to reply, Mylo's idiot voice pierced the air with amusement.

“You wouldn’t believe what powder did today,”

Powder felt her heart freeze, felt the air rush out of her lungs. No...no no no, Mylo stop please! She shot him a panicked look, but he just ignored her completely. Powder tried to stop him, but she got interrupted once again.

“She almost got her ass handed to her, lucky she was fast enough to get away.” Mylo continued with a cruel laugh. “I don’t know why she keeps messing with the older kids, like she’s tough or somethin’.”

No- that’s not- that’s not what happened!

“Powder really? You should know better than to start fights you can’t end. I’m not always going to be able to protect you. Be more careful.” Vi scolded.

Vi had said more words right now then she had said to her all week, and it was because powder did something wrong. Her sister that had been too busy coddling her girlfriend, was only talking to her…to scold her, over something that wasn’t her fault.

“But- that- that’s not what happened, it-it wasn’t my fault.” powder struggled to say, to defend herself. Stuttered trying to prove her innocence.

“It doesn’t matter if it was your fault or not, you shouldn’t have started a fight. I swear powder if you get suspended...” Vander said in a tone that meant ‘I’m tired of you’.

Powder clenched her hands hard enough to draw blood, her face felt hot with embarrassment and shame. Not only was she being scolded for something she had no control over, but it all happened in front of her. Caitlyn. It’s not fair. She tries to stand up for herself, to be strong like vi. But it’s like no one cared, no one noticed, no one ever notices. Vi’s attention was already back on Caitlyn, who looked at powder with a sympathetic smile, pity. Powder hated it, hated her and all her piltie sister stealing glory.

“Powder, we just want you to be safe.” Vander said, rubbing a hand over his face, looking and sounding so so tired.

Tired of her.

Powder felt her throat tightened, like it always did when she was about to cry. But she couldn’t, not now, not in front of princess piltie and her irritating brother who was still laughing like it was funny.

“SHUT UP MYLO!” powder screamed, her frustration overpowering her sense.

The laugher stopped and everyone at the table looked at her with faces of shock and disbelief to irritation and anger.

“Powder.” Vi said it like a warning, her voice sharp like a knife.

Just like that all her anger was gone, replaced by a strange emptiness. Tears threatened to pour from her eyes. When powder looked into her sister’s eyes all she saw was anger and disappointment and it shattered her. With a sudden movement and a loud scream of her chair sliding against the floor, powder quick excused herself and left to her and violets shared room.

No one followed, no one's worried.

'Just ignore her, she just having one of her little tantrums'

And with that said, the night went on.

Powder fought hard to keep the tears from escaping her eyes, but they fell anyway. Her whimpers turned into cries and cries turned into sobbing.

No, no no, it’s wrong, it’s all wrong. They were supposed to help, to make it better, to comfort her and tell her it’s alright. But no, they didn’t help, hell, Mylo laughed. Powder just wanted help, she couldn’t do this on her own. Was she undeserving of help? Had she done something wrong?

It's been hours since powder curled into herself, knees to her chest, hands gripping her arms so tightly her nails dug into her skin. It was all she had to ground her as emptiness swelled inside her.

“Just ignore her. She’s just having one of her little tantrums.”

The words echoed in her head, hammering into her skull. Why? Why don't they care? They used too. When she was upset, they used to comfort her and hold her, Vander used to ruffle her hair and tell her ‘The monsters can't get you now’. Her brows burrowed and her thoughts got darker, and the shadows started to shift, the whispers getting louder. The voices are always there, with her, always.

They didn't care about you, they never did

You're just a burden, an annoyance, a mistake

Powder clenched her arms tighter, her nails digging deeper into her skin, but the pain did nothing to silence them. This time it did nothing to calm her, to ground her. Even though her room was dark, that shadows in it shifted in to colorful and violent childlike scribbles, ones she couldn’t ignore.

Powder tried to, she really did, she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against her knees. ‘You’re just tired. It’s just your head playing tricks on you.’ That’s what Vi, Vander, would say. But she wasn’t tired, she was wide awake. And she could hear them.

They finally realized you’re not worth it.

The room felt too small, too cold, too suffocating. She wanted to scream, to punch something, to make someone listen, but she knew how that would go. A tantrum, they said. All powder was having is a tantrum. Thats all anyone saw, all they saw. Powder pressed her hands against her temples, her breathing uneven. Stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking-

The whispers didn’t stop.

They never stopped.

Chapter Text

Powder didn’t sleep last night.

Or at least if she did, she didn't feel refreshed or energized, just the same ol’ emptiness that was there the day before, thank Janna it was the weekend. Vi didn't sleep in their room, she slept on the couch with Caitlyn. She could hear them, giggling in the living room, if she really focused her ears on the sound, away from all the whispers and the ringing. Powder hated that Caitlyn could make vi laugh and she couldn't, not any more at least. Powder hated her, she wasn't sure if she meant Caitlyn or herself...

Both.

Powder had to get up, she couldn’t handle the whispers right now, she needed something to distract herself with. Breakfast, that would distract her. And from the smell of it, it was her favorite.

You ruin everything you touch.

They don’t love you.

They’re just too nice to say it out loud.

But powder can already tell that today would be a bad day. She pushed herself off the bed with a groan turned sob, Go away. please go away. I just want to be happy.

They never went away.

Powder dragged her body to the kitchen and went to go sit and the seat that she always did, until she saw Caitlyn in her seat. What little good mood she had was completely gone now.

Vander sat at the table, his face buried in the morning paper. Claggor was talking about something Powder wasn’t listening to. Mylo was annoying. Vi was smiling and talking to Caitlyn.

“Why is she still here? And why is she in my seat?” The question slipped out of powders mouth with so much disdain and anger that she could see Caitlyn grimace.

“O-oh, I can move- I apologize err I'm didn’t-” Caitlyn stuttered trying to apologize.

Mylo started to snicker, “damn pow-pow who pissed in you cheerios?” Then he started to laugh at his joke, which wasn’t even funny by the way.

Vi, who hadn’t looked at her all day, turned to give powder a sharp look. “don’t start, powder. Mylo.” Mylo glared at her but stopped and started talking to Claggor.

Caitlyn was sitting in her seat, in her house, eating her favorite for breakfast. Powder clenched her fists, her nails making crescent moons in her palm.

“She’s always here,” powder muttered. “like a parasite.”

She couldn’t help it.

“POWDER!” Vi snapped as she slammed her fists on the table, causing everything on the table to wobble. Mylo looked at her and tried to hold in his laughter, Claggor looked at her weirdly.

Caitlyn looked away, her lips pressed into a thin line, she looked uncomfortable. Good, powder thought.

Vander put his newspaper down and started to rub his face like he had a headache. Powder noticed he only did that with her, like she was giving him a headache.

“Not today powder.” Vander said tiredly, he's always tired.

Tired of you.

Powder shook her head to clear it from the voices, she sat down in the chair that was the furthest away from anybody. She looked at the plate in front of her, her favorite thing for breakfast, pancakes. But she wasn’t hungry, not any more that is.

The rest of the morning, powder kept her distance from them, all of them. She didn’t want to be near them. Didn't want to hear Vi’s laughter blend in with Caitlyn's voice. Didn't want to see the way Vi looked at Caitlyn like she was her everything, like Vi used to look at her.

Now?

Now she's just a problem. For Vander, for Vi, for the world itself. A bomb that ruins everything in its vicinity.

Before half of the day was over, powder had a plan.

Powder was smart, she knew she was, hell that's why she gets bullied, she was smarter than her family gave her credit for. If they wanted her to be a problem, then she'd be one. The key to her plan was Caitlyn.

Caitlyn was perfect, too perfect, too nice, too good at making vi smile. But she had a weakness, everyone did, even the most perfect people. Powder was going to find her weakness, and then vi would see Caitlyn, the real Caitlyn. Powder had spent the rest of her afternoon working on her plan, perfecting it to a T. Fortunately and unfortunately, Vi and Caitlyn left, probably to smash their stupid faces together.

Probably to get away from you.

They didn’t want Powder around? Fine. But she’d make sure Caitlyn wouldn’t be around either.

A few days later, when Caitlyn was over and distracted, Powder slipped a folded note into Caitlyn’s bag.

I need help. Please. I don’t know who else to turn to. I heard you’re training to be an Enforcer. They’re going to hurt me. Meet me at the old docks at midnight. Come alone.

This plan had to work. Because Caitlyn is Caitlyn, the stupid bootlicking sister stealing piltie.

She would come alone, and powder would be waiting.

Midnight could've come quicker. Powder sat on her bed looking over a part of her plan, glancing at the door every few minutes after hearing the muffled laughter in the living room get louder.

Usually, powder would have felt the urge to scream, punch, or yell. But for today at least she felt giddy, she could barely sit still because of it.

Powder waited and waited, Finally, the time was right. After she looked back to make sure her decoy was in the bed, faking her being in her bed, powder fled quickly and quietly through the window.

The docks were abandoned at this hour, nothing but the sound of dirty contaminated water sloshing against the rotting wood.

Powder hid behind a stack of crates, heart hammering as she watched Caitlyn step cautiously into the moonlight. In Caitlyn's hand was the letter powder left, the other hovering near her holstered pistol, like she actually knew how to use it...

Pathetic.

“Hello?” echoed Caitlyn's voice in the quiet night air, powder could her the nervousness in her voice.

After Caitlyn took a few more steps, powder let out a deranged giggle, she couldn’t help it, this whole situation was kinda funny. The giggles soon turned into full on laughter until it died out slowly.

“who’s there? Show yourself!” exclaimed Caitlyn while her hand tightened around the still holstered gun. Turning around to face where the sound came from.

Powder stepped out from the shadows, tilting her head, faking innocence. “You came?”

“Powder? What are you doing here?” Caitlyn’s face twisted in confusion.

“I should be asking you that, Princess.” Powder’s face contorted into a feral grin though it didn’t reach her eyes.

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed, and she looked down at the crumpled note in her hand. “This was a trick?” she asked, confused and disappointed.

“What, disappointed you don’t get to play hero?” Powder taunted, taking a step closer to Caitlyn.

“This isn’t funny. You could’ve gotten hurt coming here alone. ” Caitlyn straightened, her shoulders tensing like she was preparing for a fight.

Powder laughed. A wild, bitter laugh that made Caitlyn take a step back. “Hurt? Please. I grew up in the Lanes. If anything…I’d say you’re that one that could get hurt.” Powder said with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Caitlyn opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Powder pulled a small object from her pocket and tossed it onto the ground.

A tiny explosion of blue smoke erupted between them.

Caitlyn coughed, stumbling backward, and Powder took her chance and shoved caitlyn hard. She hit the ground with a yelp, her pristine clothes now covered in grime.

Powder loomed over her, eyes gleaming in the dim light. Face twisted in anger.

“You don’t belong here,” she hissed. “You don’t belong with her.”

 “This is about Vi.” Caitlyn said with a look of realization.

Of course, it’s about Vi!

Powder crouched down, gripping Caitlyn’s collar. “She was mine first.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t care. “And then y-you just came along. And took her from me.”

Caitlyn’s expression softened, which only made Powder angrier. “Powder… Vi still loves you. She’s your sister.”

“No she doesn’t.” Powder’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She loves you now. Only you.”

Something flickered across Caitlyn’s face.

Pity

That was the final straw.

Powder pulled out another tiny bomb, just a flashbang this time, but Caitlyn didn’t know that.

“Powder, don’t—” Caitlyn’s eyes widened in alarm.

Powder dropped it right between them. A *BANG* and blinding light erupted through the air. By the time Caitlyn’s vision cleared, Powder was already gone.

The aftermath was worse than Powder expected.

Vander was furious.

Vi was livid.

Caitlyn went home covered in dirt, shaken but mostly unharmed. But that didn’t matter. The Kirammans found out. Not long after, Vander did too.

Chapter Text

“This is about you, isn’t it? It's always about you!” Vi shouted, she was angry, pissed, livid, all those combined.

“You hate that I have someone else, someone to keep me from going crazy, so you tried to scare her off?!”

“Damn powder your so selfish.” Vi said with a bitter laugh while shaking her head.

Selfish

The word hit powder like a bullet, the pain of it burrowing deep into her bones, her soul. Powder flinched, negative thoughts swirling in her head, she had seen Vi angry but never this angry. She had seen Vi punch, kick, break bones, yell at people who deserved it.

You deserve it.

But never at her, never like this. Vi loved her, protected her. But right now, now all she could see in her sisters eyes were rage, pure and unfiltered.

“Do you ever think about other people? About the consequences of your actions?” Vi spit out, voice trembling with rage.

Powder wanted to say yes, every single day she did, that she thought about it a million times over. But could she? Could she tell Vi that she stayed up every night wondering what she could do to get Vi to love her again? That she knew it would cause a fight, but she had been desperate? She wasn’t trying to hurt anyone...she just wanted to feel like she wasn’t alone?

Vi didn’t even give powder a chance to speak.

“Me and Caitlyn almost broke up because of you!” screamed Vivi, her hands curling into tight fists and her face twisted into something raw.

“You almost ruined the one good thing I have,” Vi’s voice wavered, but not with sadness. No, it was anger, deep, festering anger.

one good thing

one good thing

one good thing

one good thing

one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing one good thing-

“And for what?”

Powder felt her stomach sink, her throat tightens.

“I just…” she swallowed, voice small, fragile. “I just wanted you back.”

Vi’s eyes flashed with something unreadable.

“Back?” she repeated, voice sharp. “Back from what, Powder? From Caitlyn?”

“Yea...” The word dropped out of powder's mouth, no louder than a whisper, but Vi heard it.

Vi let out a bitter, humor less laugh.

“Do you even hear yourself, Powder?” Vi’s voice was hoarse, breathless from how angry she was. “Do you realize what you did?”

“I just wanted—”

“What?” Vi let out a sharp laugh. “You just wanted what, Powder? To get rid of Caitlyn?”

Powder clenched her fists. “I wanted you to see—”

“See what? That my sister is insane?” Vi threw her arms out. “Because that’s what Caitlyn saw. That’s what everyone saw!”

Powder’s breath hitched. That word. Insane. Vi had never called her that before. Vi had never called her that.

Her face twisted into something ugly. “You think I’m insane?”

Vi didn’t answer.

And that-that silence, it was worse than anything she could have said.

“You hurt her, Powder,” Vi went on, voice quieter now, but still filled with rage. “You could have hurt her worse. And for what?”

Powder was shaking now, her breathing unsteady, hands gripping the fabric of her pants.

 “You don’t own me,” Vi’s voice cracked. “You don’t get to decide who I love.”

Powder’s head snapped up.

Love.

She said love.

She said love.

Like Caitlyn was everything to her. More than Powder ever was.

“You don't own me...” vi repeated, saying that to herself more than powder.

Powder’s hands clenched into fists, fat tears rolling down her face. “I never said I did!”

She just wanted her sister, needed her.

“But that’s what you act like,” Vi snapped.

“Like I’m yours, like I don’t get to be happy with anyone else.” She took a step back, shaking her head.

“Like you’re the only person that matters.”

‘selfish’ the voices whispered in her ears.

Powder wanted to scream. Wanted to tell Vi she was wrong. That Powder wasn’t being selfish, that she just-she just didn’t want to be left behind again. But the words were stuck in her throat, suffocating her.

Vi wasn’t done.

“You’re so obsessed with the past,” Vi said, voice breaking. “But things change, Powder. People change.”

“So what?” Powder felt her nails digging into her palms, crescent moons marking her skin. she whispered. “You don’t need me anymore?”

Vi hesitated.

It was brief, barely noticeable, but Powder saw it. And that hesitation was enough, it was everything.

Powder took a shaky step back, her entire body trembling.

She had lost her. She had lost Vi. It was over.

Powder’s heart splintered.

“Vi, pleas-”

“No, Powder.” Vi’s voice wavered. “I am so tired of this.”

Tired.

Tired of her.

That word echoed in Powder’s head, bouncing against the walls of her skull.

She’s tired of you.

She doesn’t want you anymore.

She picked Caitlyn.

Not you.

Never you.

“Do you even feel bad?” Vi asked. “Do you even care about what you did?”

Powder did care. She cared so much it hurt. She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted Vi to understand. But Vi had already decided. Vi had already picked her side.

“What does it matter?” powder said, her voice hollow.

“Just admit it, Vi.” Her fingers dug into her arms. “You don’t want me around.” Powder let out a broken, breathy laugh.

Vi clenched her jaw. “You need help, Powder.”

“You mean I need to be fixed?” Powder let out a laugh.

Vi didn’t argue. She didn’t deny it. Powder swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Vi had given up on her.

“I hate you,” Powder whispered.

She didn’t mean it. But it didn’t matter.

Vi’s breath hitched.

“Yeah?” Vi murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I hate you too.”

Then she turned around. And walked away. Because there was nothing left to say.

Powder stood there, trembling, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, her hands shaking. She wanted to call out. To scream. To beg. But she didn’t. Because Vi had already gone. And this time, she wasn’t coming back.

Chapter Text

Vander sat at the table in his office, his hands clasped together, his knuckles aching from how tightly he held them. The flickering of the warm light barely touched the exhaustion in his face, the weight he carried sinking deep into his bones. He had spent the past hour trying to figure out what to say to Powder, how to fix this, how to make her understand. But he was beginning to think there was nothing he could say that would reach her.

Powder was curled up in the old chair across from him, knees pulled to her chest, refusing to look at him. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her body trembling slightly, and for the first time, Vander didn’t know what to do.

She wasn’t like Vi. Vi, who was strong, who knew how to take a hit and keep moving. Who could bottle her anger and use it to push forward. Powder, though...Powder felt everything too much, took every word like a blade to the heart. And right now, she was bleeding out in front of him, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“You scared Vi,” Vander finally said, his voice rough. “You scared all of us.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Powder flinched, curling in on herself even more.

“But you did. You went too far, Powder.” Vander let out a slow breath, trying to steady himself.

“I just wanted her to come back.” She swallowed hard, gripping her hair so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Vi’s got her own life, Powder. She’s got people she cares about.” Vander sighed, running a hand down his face.

“And I don’t?” Powder snapped, looking up at him with wet, angry eyes. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t love her?”

“Of course you do,” Vander said, but the way he said it lacked any emotions. He sounded tired, as always.

Powder let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe you think you’re doing the right thing,” Vander said, feeling like he was walking on eggshells. “But sometimes, what you think is right isn't what’s best.”

“So what? You’re taking her side?” Powder gritted her teeth, her breath uneven.

“This isn’t about taking sides,” Vander said, even though the way the words sat in his chest told him that was a lie. “This is about making sure you don’t do something you can’t take back.”

Powder let out a shaky breath, her fingers digging into her arms. “Vi...she-” her voice cracking. “She said she hates me. And I don't think she's lying.”

Vander’s stomach twisted.

“She doesn’t hate you,” he said, but the words felt empty like lies. Vi had been angry, angrier than he had ever seen her. He had to hold her back when she tried to storm out, had heard the venom that left her mouth. And a part of him, one he hated, understood.

Powder had always been different. Always needed more. And Vander had never known how to give it to her. Not like he did with Vi. Vi was easy to understand. She was like him, stubborn, tough, and always ready to fight. But Powder... Powder was something else entirely. A storm he could never quite hold in his hands. And now, that storm was getting worse.

“Vi’s angry,” Vander said slowly. “But she’s your sister. She’ll always be your sister.”

 “Not anymore.” Powder shook her head, tears slipping down her face.

Vander swallowed hard. “You just need to give her time.”

Powder looked up at him, eyes empty and voice hollow.

“Would you be telling her the same thing if it were me?”

Vander froze.

Powder let out a small, broken laugh. “No. You wouldn’t.”

“Powder, that isn’t fair—”

“No,” she cut him off, her voice shaking. “It’s true. Vi does something wrong, and it’s ‘she’s just trying her best,’ but when I do something wrong, I’m dangerous! I’m reckless!”

“Because you don’t think things through!” Vander snapped before he could stop himself.

Powder flinched, and the regret hit him instantly, but it was too late. The words had hit their target.

Powder stood up so suddenly the chair scraped against the floor, her entire body trembling.

“I get it,” she whispered, voice raw. “I’m not Vi.”

“Powder—”

She shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t have to pretend you understand me, Vander. You don’t.”

He wanted to argue, wanted to tell her that he did understand, that he cared. But the truth sat heavy in his chest, suffocating.

Because maybe, just maybe...she was right.

Powder stood across from him, silent. Her eyes once wide and blue like a storm, now dark and empty, about to break, rimmed with red. She looked so small, body trembling. It twisted something inside him, something ugly.

 Guilt, maybe. Or regret.

"You know why I'm upset, right?" Vander finally asked, breaking the silence with his rough voice.

Powder nodded, but she didn't speak. She just stared at her hands, twisting her fingers together. It made him uneasy, how quiet she was. Powder had always been the loud one, the one who filled every empty space with her presence. Now she just looked... lost.

Vander sighed. "Vi's got a lot on her plate, Powder. We all do. And what you did, it made things worse."

Powder grimaced. She swallowed hard, blinking fast. "I just wanted to help."

Her voice was so small. It made something sharp lodge itself in Vander’s chest. He ran a hand over his face. "I know, kid. I know you did. But things don’t always work that way. Sometimes help makes things harder."

"But I—" She bit her lip.

"No, Powder." His voice came out harsher than he meant it to, and he saw her shoulders curl in tighter. He softened his tone, but the damage was already done. "You need to start thinking, really thinking, before you act. Vi... Vi doesn’t have time to clean up after you anymore. She shouldn’t have to."

There it was again. Vi. Always Vi.

Powder felt it like a slap. Her fingers dug into her palms, nails pressing deep into skin. "I didn’t mean to hurt anyone."

Besides Caitlyn

"I know that." Vander exhaled, rubbing his temples. "But meaning doesn’t change what happened. Vi’s-she’s already dealing with enough, Powder. You need to start taking responsibility."

Powder looked at him, eyes glassy. "I do take responsibility."

"Then act like it, you’re not a little kid anymore. Vi gets it. Why can’t you? " Vander said, too tired to hold back.

Powder’s breath hitched. There it was again. Vi. Always Vi. The one who was strong, the one who was responsible, the one who had to pick up after Powder’s messes.

Vander stood up, letting out a deep breath. "I just...I need you to be better. That’s all."

Powder stood frozen as he walked away. Be better. Like Vi. Like the daughter he actually understood.

Later that night, Vander found Vi sitting outside, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

"I already know what you're gonna say," she muttered as he sat down beside her.

"Then you know why I have to say it." Vander sighed.

Vi scoffed. "That she needs help? That she’s a burden? That I have to fix everything because she won’t?!"

"She’s your sister, Vi. You have to look out for her."

Vi let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "I always do. And she never listens. Maybe-maybe Mylo's right."

Vander rubbed his hands together, trying to find the right words. "look, I know it’s hard. But you're older. That means something."

Vi turned to look at him, something bitter in her expression. "You mean it means I have to be responsible for her, even when she screws up?"

Vander hesitated. "It means you have to help her."

"And who's helping me?" Vi shot back, voice raw. "You always tell me to be strong, to take care of her. But who takes care of me?"

Vander had no answer. And Vi knew it.

She shook her head, standing up. "She’s never gonna change. And you’ll always expect me to clean up after her."

Vander watched her walk away, feeling like he had already lost something. He just didn’t know what yet.

Chapter Text

The dim light of the Last Drop’s backroom flickered, casting long shadows across the wooden table where Vander sat, his knuckles hurting from how tight he held them together. Across from him, Cassandra Kiramman sat with the same expression she wore during council meetings, but there was a softness in her eyes, one that told him she wasn’t just speaking as a councilor, she was speaking as a mother. Beside her, Tobias Kiramman was quiet, hands folded neatly on the table, stone faced.

Claggor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching and listening the exchange with an expression that was hard to read.

Vander exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

“I don’t know what to do with her.” The admission felt bitter on his tongue.

Cassandra didn’t hesitate. “Send her away.”

Vander’s head snapped up.

“Not as punishment,” she added quickly, sensing his immediate resistance. “But as a chance. A chance for her to get the help she needs.”

“You think she’s crazy.” Vander muttered.

“No,” Cassandra said firmly. “But I do think she’s troubled. And I think if you don’t act now, that trouble is only going to grow.”

Vander clenched his jaw. “You want me to give up on her?”

Cassandra shook her head. “I want you to give her a future.” She leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. “There’s a boarding school in Demacia. One of the best in the world. It specializes in engineering, mechanics, science...all things Powder already has a talent for. And more importantly, it offers structure, guidance. She’d be given the tools to control her emotions, to focus her energy into something productive.”

Vander exhaled sharply. “You mean she’d be far away from here. From her family.”

“She’d be safe,” Cassandra corrected. “Vander, I don’t say this lightly. What happened with Caitlyn...” she hesitated, glancing at Tobias, who remained silent. “Powder doesn’t understand the consequences of her actions. And that makes her dangerous.”

Vander stiffened.

“I know you love her. I know you’re trying. But love alone isn’t going to fix this.” Cassandra pressed on.

“She’s just a kid,” Vander muttered.

“She’s a kid who nearly ruined my daughter’s relationship,” Cassandra countered. “A kid who’s spiraling, who doesn’t know how to process the emotions she’s feeling. She’s not like Vi. Vi lashes out, but she understands the difference between right and wrong. Powder...” Cassandra sighed. “Powder thinks the ends justify the means.”

The words twisted something inside Vander.

“She needs more than what you can give her,” Cassandra continued.

“We’d pay for everything, her tuition, her supplies, her boarding. She’d have access to the best teachers, the best resources. She wouldn’t just be another Undercity orphan. She’d have a real future.”

Vander stared at the table, his heart pounding.

“She’ll never forgive you,” Claggor said quietly from the corner.

Vander looked up.

“You send her away, and she’ll think you’re abandoning her,” Claggor continued. “No matter what you tell her, she’ll see it as you choosing Vi over her.”

Vander swallowed hard.

‘what if keeping her here makes things worse? What if next time, she does something we can’t fix?’

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken worries.

Cassandra finally stood, smoothing out her dress. “Think about it, Vander. I know this isn’t easy. But sometimes, the hardest choices are the right ones.”

She nodded at Tobias, and together, they turned to leave.

Vander remained seated, staring at the flickering candlelight.

After a moment, Claggor sighed. “What are you gonna do?”

Vander didn’t answer.

Because for the first time in his life… he truly didn’t know.

The Last Drop was quieter than usual, the weight of the evening pressing heavy against Vander’s shoulders as he held a glass of whiskey. The conversation with the Kirammans still sat thick in his chest, choking him more than the drink ever could.

Powder. Damn it all, Powder.

He ran a hand through his graying hair, eyes shutting for a brief moment. How had things gotten to this point? When had the little girl clinging to his leg turned into someone the people around him feared?

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door opening. Vander didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Sevika.

The heavy drop of her boots hitting the floor, the way she never hesitated when walking into a room, it was always the same. But something about her stride tonight was different. Calculated.

Vander sighed. “What do you want?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled a chair out, the wood scraping against the floor,sat down across from him, and pulled out a cigar and lighter. Vander finally looked up and immediately noted the unreadable look on her face.

“Silco knows,” she said simply, while taking a puff of the cigar.

Vander stiffened.

Sevika leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Word travels fast, especially when it involves the Kirammans. You think people weren’t gonna talk about the golden girl of Piltover getting caught up in some Zaunite brat’s mess?”

Vander exhaled through his nose, his grip tightening around his glass. “This isn’t Silco’s business.”

Sevika raised a brow. “You sure about that?” she asked as she exhaled smoke.

Vander didn’t answer.

“You might not wanna deal with him, but he’s already dealing with you. He wants to talk.” Sevika let out with a humorless chuckle.

“Since when do I give a damn what Silco wants?” Vander gritted his teeth.

“Since Powder’s name is coming out of his mouth,” Sevika countered. “And we both know that can go one of two ways.”

The threat lingered between them.

Vander’s stomach turned. He didn’t need Sevika to spell it out. If Silco had taken an interest, that meant the situation was worse than he’d realized.

Powder wasn’t just his problem anymore.

Sevika stood up, adjusting her jacket, and putting out the cigar. “You can ignore him if you want, but he’s gonna keep pushing until you listen.” She turned to leave, then paused. “You should make up your mind, Vander. Before someone else makes it for you.”

With that, she walked out, leaving Vander alone with his thoughts.

His hands curled into fists.

Powder was already slipping through his fingers. And if he didn’t do something soon… He was going to lose her completely.

Vander sat in the dimly lit office of The Last Drop, his glass of whiskey still untouched in front of him. Sevika’s words lingered like a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Silco knew.

Of course, he did.

Vander had spent years keeping his people out of the spotlight, making sure Zaun was seen but never a threat, that the council had no reason to stomp them into the ground. But Powder’s mistake, her reckless, desperate attempt to push Caitlyn away, had drawn attention.

And the Kirammans… they weren’t just any family.

They had come to him earlier that evening, Cassandra and Tobias sitting stiff in front of him, their faces carefully schooled into neutrality, but their eyes… their eyes said everything.

Powder had crossed a line.

Cassandra, ever the politician, had spoken with careful precision. Tobias had been less measured. Vander had been forced to swallow down his pride, to clench his jaw and listen.

They weren’t wrong.

Powder wasn’t well. She hadn’t been for a long time.

“She’s… not dangerous,” he had argued, but even to himself, the words felt thin.

“She’s a child,” Cassandra corrected. “One who needs help, Vander.

And then they had made their offer.

A boarding school.

A facility in Demacia, one of Piltover’s most prestigious academies for gifted minds, specializing in students who showed exceptional intelligence but struggled to… fit in.

“She’s brilliant,” Cassandra had admitted, exchanging a glance with Tobias. “Her aptitude with mechanics, explosives, and chemistry is undeniable. At the academy, she would be nurtured, given structure, a future.”

“A future away from her family,” Vander had snapped.

“A future at all,” Tobias had countered. “Or would you rather Piltover decide she’s a criminal?”

That was the final blow.

It wasn’t a choice.

It was a sentence.

Powder either went to the academy, or she would be branded a threat to Piltover. A child of undercity with dangerous tendencies and no control.

She would be marked before she ever had a chance to prove them wrong.

And now, as Vander sat in the dark of his bar, staring at the amber liquid in his glass, he felt the weight of it all pressing down on his chest.

He had to tell Powder.

Had to make her understand that this was the only way to save her.

But damn it all…

She would never forgive him for this.

The office was filled with the heavy scent of burning incense, the smoke curling in the low glow of the gaslights. Silco sat in his chair, fingers steepled, face illuminated by the low glow of the aquarium, listening intently as Sevika recounted what she had learned.

Vander’s little Powder had made quite the mess.

Silco’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smirk, not quite a frown.

He had always kept a distant eye on Vander’s strays, not out of sentiment, but because he knew that anything Vander cared about could be used against him.

Powder had never been of interest before. She was weak. Dependent. A shadow trailing after her sister.

But now…

Now, Piltover was speaking her name.

Now, the Kirammans were involved.

Now, she was worth something.

“She’s being sent away,” Sevika said, arms crossed. “Piltover wants her out of sight, and Vander’s gonna let them take her.”

Silco leaned back, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. “Demaica,” he mused. “They’ll lock her in a golden cage. Reshape her. Turn her into something… useful to them.”

Sevika exhaled through her nose. “You want me to do something about it?”

Silco didn’t answer immediately.

This was an opportunity.

Vander was about to lose his daughter, my daughter. Not by death, not by Piltover’s chains, but by his own damn hand.

And that would break him more than anything.

Silco’s fingers drummed against the desk. “Not yet,” he decided. “Let’s see how this plays out.”

Sevika hesitated. “You’re really gonna let Piltover take her?”

Silco’s lips curled into something sharp. “Of course not. But timing is everything.”

Powder wasn’t just some troubled child anymore.

She was a pawn in a game she didn’t even know she was playing.

And soon enough… She would have to choose whose side she was on.

Chapter Text

Powder knew something was wrong the second Vander asked her to come upstairs. It was in the way he spoke, like there was a weight on his shoulders too heavy to carry. His hands shook just a little as he reached for his glass. The way Vi wasn’t there, how Mylo and Claggor lingered by the door, both unusually quiet.

Her stomach twisted, dread curling in her ribs. But she still followed him.

Because he was Vander.

Because he always had a plan.

Because no matter what, he would never abandon her.

The moment he told her, she realized how wrong she had been.

"It’s for your own good, Powder.”

No.

"Demacia will keep you safe. They’ll help you learn control."

No.

"I-I can’t protect you here."

NO.

Powder felt like she was falling, like the floor had been ripped out from under her. The words didn’t make sense, couldn’t make sense. She gripped the edges of her hoodie, her breath coming too fast, her chest too tight.

“You’re sending me away?” she whispered.

Vander didn’t answer at first. His eyes, the eyes that always looked at her with warmth, with patience, with love, were dark and distant, his jaw clenched so tight she thought his teeth might crack.

“Its not like that, kid,” he said finally. “This is… this is a chance for you.”

A chance.

Powder swallowed against the lump in her throat.

"Vi told you to do this, didn’t she?” Her voice shook. “She-she told you I was a jinx again, and now you don’t want me either."

Vander’s head snapped up. “No-Powder, that's not-”

“Then why?!” she shouted. “Why are you sending me away?!”

Vander pushed a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “You hurt a Kiramman, Powder! You hurt Caitlyn! Could've killed her if you messed up your grenades!”

She flinched.

She hadn’t meant to. It was just supposed to be a warning. Just to keep Caitlyn away, keep her from taking Vi away.

She hadn't thought-

She hadn't realized-

Vander sighed, softer now. “They would’ve locked you up,” he said. “They still might, if I don’t let them take you to that school. This is the only way.”

Powder’s hands curled into fists.

“You’re lying.”

Vander’s face hardened. “I'm not”

Powder shook her head. “You are. You’re lying to get rid of me.”

His expression shattered for just a moment, just long enough for her to see the hurt there. But she didn’t care.

She didn’t care, because he was sending her away. Because he was giving up on her. Because he didn’t love her anymore.

“You’re just like Vi,” she choked out.

Vander closed his eyes. "Powder—"

She ran.

claggor found her in the corner of their hideout, curled up with her knees pulled to her chest, hoodie over her head.

She didn’t look up when he approached. Didn’t move when he sat beside her.

Claggor didn’t know what to say.

He had known, of course, everyone had. Mylo wouldn't stop talking about how it was a “miracle” Vander wasn’t letting Powder “drag them all down.” But Claggor…he thought Vander would change his mind.

That, maybe, at the last moment, he would realize how wrong this was.

But he didn’t. And now Powder was leaving.

For a long time, they sat in silence.

Then, in a voice so small it almost broke him.

“Are you happy?” Powder whispered.

Claggor stiffened. “What?”

Powder finally looked at him, her blue eyes dull and glassy. “Are you happy I’m leaving?”

Claggor felt something crack in his chest.

“Of course not,” he said, and it was the truth. “Pow, I-I don’t want you to go.”

“Then why didn’t you stop him?”

He didn’t have an answer, because he didn’t try to stop Vander. Because some part of him, some weak, cowardly part, had thought maybe… maybe this really was for the best. Because he was afraid of what Powder was becoming.

Tears welled in her eyes. She scrubbed at them angrily, shaking her head.

“You should’ve fought for me,” she mumbled. “Somebody should’ve fought for me.”

Claggor swallowed hard.

 “I’m sorry.”

But it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t change this.

Couldn’t fix this.

Powder sniffled and turned away.

And Claggor sat beside her, feeling helpless, knowing this was the last time he would ever sit with her like this.

The hideout was quiet.

Everyone else had left, Vi was still too angry to look at Powder, Mylo never really wanted to be around her, and Vander…Vander was probably drowning himself in guilt and whiskey.

But Claggor stayed.

Powder had barely moved since he found her curled up in the corner. She cried herself into exhaustion, her tiny shoulders still shaking every now and then. He wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he could at least be here.

So he sat beside her, close enough that she’d know she wasn’t alone.

Eventually, she talked.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Claggor’s heart clenched.

He wanted to tell her that she wouldn’t have to. That they’d figure something out, that Vander would change his mind. But he wasn’t going to lie to her. She’d already been lied to enough.

“I know,” he said softly.

Powder sniffled and rubbed at her nose. “You think it’s gonna be fancy?”

Claggor tilted his head. “What?”

“The school.” She wiped at her face. “ I heard Vi say it’s for rich kids. That means they’ll have, like… big beds. And real food. Not fish guts.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Claggor huffed.

“It does when you’re not there.” Powder scowled.

His chest ached.

She was still just a kid. Just his little sister, who liked tinkering with her gadgets, who got excited over the smallest things, who used to follow him and Mylo around with those big, adoring eyes.

And now she was being taken away from them.

From him.

Claggor hesitated, then shifted closer and slung an arm around her shoulders. Powder tensed for half a second before sinking into him, gripping the front of his shirt like she was afraid he’d disappear.

“Y’know,” Claggor said, trying to keep his voice light, “you are kind of a little menace. Maybe it’s us who need a break.”

Powder let out a wet, hiccup of a laugh, punching his arm weakly.

“You suck.”

“I know.”

She sniffled again, pressing her face against his chest. “I don’t wanna go,” she whispered. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

Claggor’s throat felt tight.

He wanted to promise she wouldn’t be. That he’d come visit, that he’d sneak her out, that he’d fix this. But all he could do was hold her tighter.

“You’re not alone, Pow,” he murmured. “You’ll never be alone.”

Powder clung to him, trembling.

And for that night, just for a little while, she let herself believe it.

The morning came too fast.

Powder barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw colorful squiggles of Vi’s face twisted in anger, Vander’s tired disappointment, Mylo’s sneers. She clung to Claggor all night, but it wasn’t enough to stop the inevitable.

And now, it was here.

Vander stood at the doorway of the hideout, his expression unreadable. Beside him, a pair of enforcers, not ordinary ones, but high-class Piltover guards, waiting stiffly, their presence heavy. The Kirammans had made sure that Powder wouldn’t be able to run, not that she had anywhere to go.

Powder stood in the middle of it all, her small bag clutched tightly in her hands. Her stomach churned. She felt sick.

“You got everything?” Vander’s voice was rough.

Powder nodded mutely.

Claggor stood beside her, silent, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. Vi wasn’t there.

Of course, she wasn’t.

Powder swallowed hard. “Where’s Vi?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

Vander hesitated, his gaze softening. “She-” He sighed. “She needs time, Powder.”

That hurt worse than if he’d just said she didn’t want to see you.

She turned away so they wouldn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. A woman cleared her throat, stepping forward. It was Cassandra Kiramman. Her expression wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t kind either.

“Powder,” she said gently, like she was talking to a scared animal, “the school in Demacia will be good for you. It’ll give you a fresh start, a place where you can learn, where you’ll be safe.”

Safe.

Like she was dangerous. Like she was a problem that needed fixing.

She clenched her fists around the fabric of her bag.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice small.

Cassandra sighed, but her expression remained firm. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Powder’s breathing picked up. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

She turned to Vander, her last hope.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t make me go.”

Vander looked like he wanted to say something, like the words were stuck in his throat. But in the end, he only placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

“This is for the best,” he murmured.

The final nail in the coffin.

Her whole body went numb.

She barely noticed when Cassandra nodded to the enforcers, when they stepped forward to take her.

“Wait.”

Claggor’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension.

He turned to Powder and pulled her into a tight hug, so tight it hurt. “You better call,” he muttered against her hair. “Every week, got it?”

Powder gripped him back just as fiercely.

“Promise,” she choked.

Claggor pulled away reluctantly, his eyes red, his fingers twitching like he wanted to grab her back. But it was too late.

The enforcers guided her toward the car, their grip firm but not rough. She barely felt it. Barely heard the engine rumble to life. Everything blurred together, voices fading into nothing.

As she stepped inside, she turned one last time.

Vi still wasn’t there.

Her chest ached so badly she thought it might crack open. She pressed her forehead against the cool window as the car lurched forward, leaving t behind.

Leaving everything behind.

For the first time in her life, she was truly alone.

Chapter Text

The dim glow of Singed’s lab cast long shadows over Silco’s face as he leaned against the counter, his fingers drumming rhythmically. The air smelled of chemicals, smoke, and something bitterly metallic.

Singed stood across from him, calmly mixing a pinkish-purple solution in a beaker. His gaze, cold and calculating, flickered up only once before returning to his work.

“So,” Singed finally spoke, his voice as clinical as ever, “you want someone to watch over her.”

Silco exhaled through his nose. “Not just watch. I need reports. Updates. I need to know exactly how she’s treated, how she’s adapting. Everything.” His voice darkened. “If they try to break her, I want to know.”

Singed swirled the liquid in his flask. “Sending one of my own into Demacia isn’t exactly simple.”

“I wasn’t asking for a favor,” Silco said, straightening. “I was offering an opportunity.”

Singed chuckled dryly. “Of course. And in return?”

Silco smirked. “A place for your protégé.”

Singed finally set the flask down, his curiosity piqued.

“You want Viktor in Demacia?”

“He’s wasted here,” Silco stated. “They’ve been rejecting his research, haven’t they?”

Singed’s silence was answer enough.

“I can get him a position at the Academy. As a teacher,” Silco continued. “It gives him resources, access to their technology, an opportunity he wouldn’t get here. And in return… he keeps an eye on my daughter.”

Singed tapped a finger against the counter. “A scientist among Demacians… An intriguing experiment.”

“Do we have a deal?” Silco asked, tilting his head.

Singed smirked. “We have a deal.”

Silvermere Academy, Demacia

Viktor adjusted his cane as he walked through the pristine halls of the Academy. Everything here was so polished. The marble floors shined, the air smelled like books and expensive cologne, and every student he passed had a posture too rigid, too rehearsed.

They reminded him of wind-up dolls.

He had only been here for a few days, but already, he felt the suffocating weight of Demacian expectations. They were obsessed with tradition, with perfection. He wondered how long before they realized he didn’t belong.

But he wasn’t here for them.

His real purpose sat at the farthest lunch table, poking at her food with the disinterest of a girl who had lost too much to care.

Powder.

She was smaller than he expected. More fragile looking.

But he knew better than to mistake fragility for weakness.

From what Silco had told him, she had been discarded. Sent away like an unwanted pet. Viktor wasn’t sentimental, but even he found the cruelty of it… distasteful.

And yet, she wasn’t alone.

Across from her, Luxanna Crownguard was chatting happily, practically glowing in contrast to Powder’s muted and broken presence.

Viktor watched as Lux laughed at something, her warmth chipping away at Powder’s wary shell. The girl from the undercity barely spoke, but there was something in her posture, less tense, less closed off.

Interesting.

This would be easier than he thought.

Pulling out his notebook, Viktor made his first observation.

‘She is not broken yet.’

The first thing Powder noticed about Silvermere Academy was how quiet it was.

The undercity was never quiet. It always had the sound of distant sirens, the hum of neon lights, the murmur of people arguing, laughing, living, dying.

Here, the silence was suffocating.

Her first day passed in a blur. Introductions. Rules. More rules. A tour she barely remembered.

No one talked to her.

Maybe they already knew who she was. What she was.

On the second day, during lunch, that someone finally did.

“Hey! You’re new, right?”

Powder blinked, looking up from her untouched tray of food.

A girl stood in front of her, beaming like the sun. Golden hair, bright blue eyes, a uniform too neatly pressed. She looked like she belonged here. Like she fit.

“Uh…” Powder hesitated. “Yeah?”

The girl plopped down across from her without hesitation.

“I knew it! I’m Lux, by the way. Luxanna Crownguard. But everyone just calls me Lux.”

Powder just stared at her.

Lux didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re Powder, right?” she asked, like they were already friends. “I heard about you.”

Powder’s stomach twisted. “You heard about me?”

Lux tilted her head. “Yeah! I mean, you’re kind of a big deal. Not every student here gets a personal recommendation from the Kirammans.”

Powder’s grip on her fork tightened.

Of course they did.

They didn’t just send her away. They made sure everyone knew she didn’t belong.

Lux, oblivious to the storm brewing inside her, smiled again.

“So, where are you from?”

“The undercity.” Powder muttered.

Lux’s eyes widened slightly, but not in the way Powder expected. Not with disgust. Not with fear.

With curiosity.

“Wow,” Lux said. “I’ve never met someone from there before.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

Lux giggled. “Is it true the people there can build anything? I read once that engineers there could make tech out of scrap metal.”

Powder hesitated. “I mean… yeah. Kinda.”

Lux’s grin widened. “That’s so cool.”

Powder blinked.

Cool?

No one ever called her home cool before…

“Do you build stuff too?” Lux asked.

Powder shifted uncomfortably. “I… tinker.”

Lux gasped. “That’s amazing! What do you make?”

Powder looked down at her tray, suddenly unsure what to say.

Weapons. Bombs.

Things that got her sent here.

“Just… stuff,” she muttered.

Lux didn’t push.

Instead, she just smiled, resting her chin in her hands.

“Well, if you ever want to show me, I’d love to see.”

Powder stole a glance at her. Lux’s smile was warm. Easy. Real. For the first time since she arrived, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

Chapter Text

Viktor watched from the observation deck above the workshop, his gaze focused on the girl hunched over the metal framework on the table below.

She didn’t know he was there. Or maybe she did and didn’t care.

Powder had been at Silvermere for a month now.

It didn’t take long for the instructors to notice her. She didn’t raise her hand in class, rarely spoke unless called on, and yet, her projects were flawless. Her calculations, her designs… elegant. Efficient. Raw brilliance hidden behind layers of quiet trauma.

She didn’t show of.

She didn’t need to.

When others scrambled to meet deadlines, Powder turned in her work days early. Viktor had seen her build a functioning mechanical spider during free period and then take it apart, piece by piece, like it didn’t matter.

Like nothing she made ever really mattered.

And still, every evening, without fail, she climbed the stairs to the top floor of the library, past the “Students Only” sign, and borrowed the librarian’s old, dusty phone.

Every evening, she dialed the same number.

And every evening, no one answered.

Viktor had seen the change in her posture as the dial tone rang and rang. From hope… to quiet waiting… to numb acceptance.

She never left a message.

Just hung up. Gently.

And walked back down with her shoulders just a little lower than before.

Powder sat alone again.

The lunch table was quieter now. Lux had been sent on some diplomatic field trip “a Crownguard thing,” she’d said, and it felt like the one sliver of light had been shut off.

Still, Powder didn’t mind being alone.

She was used to it.

Her fingers moved over the brass casing of her newest invention, a self stabilizing gauntlet with pulse dampeners. Professor Warwick had said the assignment was to study the theory, not build it.

But she built it anyway.

She liked the way her hands could create something out of nothing. Here, in the silence, they made sense. They had purpose.

Unlike her voice. Or her presence.

They didn’t answered. Not once.

Not even Claggor.

The first few days, Powder had thought maybe there was a mistake. Maybe the signal didn’t go through. Maybe they were busy. Maybe… maybe they missed her.

But a month in, she knew better.

She was sent away like a storm in a bottle, corked and tossed into a sea of order, just to keep the mess far from Piltover’s polished glass.

Her fingers trembled over the wire coil.

She pressed them still. Hard.

They don’t get to break me.

Not again.

“She is frightening.”

Viktor’s voice was quiet as he held the phone to his ear.

“She’s learning faster than any student I’ve seen. Not just replicating designs…improving them.”

Singed’s voice crackled back. “Emotionally?”

Viktor hesitated.

“She’s stable. But she’s… withering. Slowly. Quietly.”

“She calls home every day.”

“And?”

“No one picks up.”

Silco’s voice cut in, sharp and low.

“They won’t.”

“Even the older boy?” Viktor asked, arching a brow.

“Powder here to be forgotten. Not to hear from her.”

Viktor frowned but said nothing more.

He closed the notebook, looking down through the glass.

Powder had finished the gauntlet. She flexed her hand inside it experimentally. Her face didn’t light up, didn’t smile.

No pride.

Just… silence.

‘You are brilliant.' He thought, almost bitterly.

And completely alone.

That night, Powder curled up in bed with the phone pressed to her ear.

The tone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She closed her eyes and whispered, just before it went to voicemail.

“…Claggor? Are you there?”

Click.

Silence.

She hung up.

And the dorm was quiet again.

Just like always.

Chapter Text

The sun was still low in the sky when Powder trudged through the courtyard, hands shoved deep into her pockets, the weight of the gauntlet blueprints heavy in her satchel. Her steps were silent on the polished stone, and her gaze barely lifted from the ground. She didn’t expect anything different today.

Just classes. Just work. Just silence.

But then-

“POWDER!”

She blinked.

The voice was loud, bright, impossible to ignore. A streak of gold barreled toward her before she could react, arms flinging around her in a hug so fast it knocked her back a step.

“Wha-”

“It’s so good to see you!” Lux beamed, clinging to her like they’d been best friends for years, like nothing had changed. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to ambush you, I just, ugh, it’s been weeks, and I missed you!”

Powder stared at her, stunned, still registering the contact.

“…You’re back.”

Lux grinned. “You noticed! I was gone forever, right?”

Powder looked away quickly, her voice quieter than a whisper. “…Yeah.”

Lux stepped back, finally releasing her. “I brought you something,” she said, digging into her bag. “It’s dumb, but I saw it and thought of you.”

She pulled out a tiny, handmade music box. It was simple, carved from lightwood and painted a soft teal. “It doesn’t play much,” Lux said. “But it reminded me of you. You like building things, right?”

Powder took it slowly, her fingers brushing the rough edge. She turned the key and listened as a delicate, shaky tune played out. She recognized the melody, but she couldn’t think about where she heard it.

Her eyes stung. No one had ever thought of her like that.

“Thank you.” she said, and her voice cracked.

Lux smiled softer now, her usual glow dimmed to something gentler, more careful. “You okay?”

Powder nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Lux didn’t push. She just looped their arms together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on. Let’s skip breakfast. I want to hear everything you’ve been up to. You look like someone who’s been secretly building a death ray in the workshop.”

Powder almost laughed. Almost.

She didn’t, but a sound slipped out of her anyway, a breathy exhale that was the closest thing she’d felt to warmth in weeks.

As they walked, she glanced sideways. Lux was talking about her trip, about the forests outside Demacia, about getting a splinter the size of a pencil. She was animated, full of life.

And Powder realized something.

She was still lonely.

Still bruised from the silence. Still waiting for a voice that never came.

But with Lux here?

It didn’t ache so loudly.

And that night, when she climbed the library stairs again and held the phone to her ear, she dialed the number like always.

But this time, when no one answered, she didn’t whisper.

She just hung up.

And walked away with a faint, ghostly smile.

She had something better than hope now.

She had someone who came back. Perfect.

Silvermere’s sky was streaked with lavender clouds by the time Powder slipped back into the workshop. Lux had offered to walk her back to the dorms, but Powder needed her tools, needed the weight of metal and wire between her fingers, something to anchor her before bed.

The music box sat on her desk now, right next to the gauntlet she’d finished days ago. She hadn’t touched it since Lux returned, but looking at it tonight… it felt different. Less like a scar, more like a starting point.

She reached beneath the workbench, fingers brushing past a cloth-wrapped bundle she’d hidden the first night she started it.

The pistol wasn’t elegant like her gauntlet.

It was precise.

Cold.

Simple.

Every piece had been filed by hand. The grip molded for her small fingers. The chamber still needed tuning, it jammed on dry fire, but the trigger worked. The safety clicked.

She checked it again.

Not because she meant to use it. Not yet.

But because she needed to know that if it ever came to it… she’d never be helpless again.

The next morning, Lux dropped beside her in class like she’d never left. She passed Powder a cube of folded paper without a word.

Inside, another sketch. This time of Powder aiming her pistol at a dragon made entirely of bad grades and broken family ties. Stick figure Lux stood behind her, holding a flag labeled

Team Powder

You don’t have to fight everything alone, you know.

Powder’s hand stilled.

She didn’t smile, not really.

But she tucked the drawing in her pocket instead of throwing it away.

That evening, when Lux caught sight of the weird looking pistol on the workbench, she froze.

Her usual brightness dimmed, just a bit.

“You… built that?”

Powder didn’t look up. “It’s just metal.”

Lux stepped closer, eyes soft. “Is it for you… or them?”

Powder paused. Then, slowly, she set her wrench down.

“It’s so they don’t get to decide who I am anymore.”

Lux didn’t say anything after that. She just nodded, and pulled up a stool beside her.

They worked in silence.

But this time, it didn’t feel lonely.

From the observation deck above, Viktor watched. Again. But this time, he took a different note.

Weapon construction, concealed intention. Protective purpose, most likely. Keep monitoring.

Silco’s voice crackled through the speaker. “She’s building armor around herself.”

“Or a last resort,” Viktor said quietly. “But she’s also… letting someone in.”

“She’ll need both,” Silco murmured. “Armor and someone.”

That night, Powder still called.

The line rang and rang and rang.

She whispered into the silence anyway. Her voice steadier this time.

“…I built something today. Two things, actually.”

A beat.

“You don’t get to break me.”

Click.

She tucked the phone away.

And went to sleep with Lux’s sketch in her hand, and the pistol disassembled beside her bed.

Still unfinished.

Still waiting.

But no longer the only thing she was building.

Silvermere Academy, Week One

The sun filtered through stained glass windows, casting fractured rainbows across the pristine marble floor. Powder sat at the edge of the dining hall, her tray untouched, eyes fixed on her hands.

They were shaking again.

She gripped her wrist hard enough to stop it, nails digging into her skin, trying to silence the tremor. Trying to drown out the soft static that buzzed behind her ears, the whispering. The voice. Her voice.

They're watching you. Look at their eyes. They know what you did. What you really are.

She clenched her jaw. Harder.

Focus. You just need to get through lunch. You just need to get through-

“Hey! You’re new, right?”

The voice was loud, sunny, it made Powder flinch.

She looked up sharply.

Golden hair. Blue eyes. A perfect smile sharpened by perfection. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a Demacian textbook titled "How to Be Loved."

The girl plopped down across from her, uninvited.

“I knew it! I’m Lux. Luxanna Crownguard. But everyone just calls me Lux.” Her words tumbled out like a spell she’d memorized. Fast. Flawless.

Powder just stared.

Lux didn’t seem to notice the silence. Or maybe she did, but she was too practiced at pretending it didn’t matter.

“You’re Powder, right? I heard about you.”

Powder’s heart twisted.

She always heard that phrase before everything fell apart.

“You heard about me?” Powder asked numbly.

Lux’s smile faltered, just for a heartbeat. But then it returned, brighter, tighter. “Yeah, I mean, you’re kind of famous, right? Not everyone gets a recommendation from the Kirammans. That’s... super impressive.”

Powder didn’t reply.

She didn’t trust the silence. Didn’t trust the kindness. Didn’t trust the flicker of movement she caught in the corner of her eye, a figure sitting just behind Lux, draped in shadows, watching her with hollow ice blue eyes.

She’s lying. They always lie.

The voice again.

Powder’s fingers dug into the table. “Are you real?” she muttered before she could stop herself.

Lux blinked. “Huh?”

Powder’s face flushed. “Nothing.”

Lux tilted her head, her carefully painted smile softening for the first time. “You okay?”

Powder didn’t answer. But her silence was an answer of its own.

Lux looked at her hands then, fiddling with her silver cufflinks. The Crownguard crest glinted. Her knuckles were red... like she’d been rubbing them raw.

“Sometimes,” Lux said quietly, “I ask myself that too.”

Powder looked up, startled.

Lux offered a crooked smile this time. Not the bright, perfect kind. Something tired. Human.

“I mean, everyone thinks I’ve got it together, but…” she laughed too fast, too brittle, “I once cried in a broom closet because my dress shoes didn’t match the new school uniform. It was the dumbest thing.”

Powder didn’t laugh. But she didn’t look away either.

She tilted her head. “Why didn’t you just wear the shoes?”

Lux tapped her nails on the table. “Because Crownguards don’t wear the wrong thing. Crownguards don’t cry in broom closets. Crownguards don’t fail.”

The name landed heavy on the table between them. Powder recognized the weight. Just not the shape.

“People back home told me I was a failure,” Powder admitted, her voice low. “They didn’t even say it to my face. Just sent me away.”

Lux stilled. “Your parents?”

Powder’s lip twitched. “No. My... caretaker.” She didn’t say the names. Not Vander. And definitely not the woman with the cold voice and too clean smile.

She felt it again then. The heaviness. The sensation of being watched. She looked past Lux’s shoulder.

The figure was closer now. Blank eyes. Her own sister face staring back at her, scarless, smaller, untouched. The version of her before everything went wrong. Before she stopped loving her.

“Stop it,” Powder whispered.

Lux blinked. “Stop what?”

Powder forced herself to breathe. The hallucination faded like mist.

“You okay?” Lux asked again, quieter this time.

Powder nodded too fast. “Yeah. I just... I get headaches some times.”

Lux didn’t press. She just smiled that worn-down smile again. “Me too.”

That night, Powder didn’t sleep. The whispers came louder in the dark. Her old toys sat in the corner like silent judges.

They left you because you’re broken. You always break things. You always ruin it.

Powder curled up beneath the blanket, rocking slightly, fingers twisting in the fabric. “Shut up,” she mumbled. “Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

Across campus, Lux stood before a mirror, her perfect hair loose around her shoulders. Her mouth trembled as she scrubbed her face clean, scrubbed until her skin was red, until the smile was completely gone.

She stared at herself. The emptiness behind her eyes.

“You’re fine,” she whispered. “You’re fine. You’re a Crownguard. You don’t cry. You don’t feel small.”

She reached for her journal and wrote the same line again, over and over.

Don’t let them see you crack.

 Don’t let them see you crack.

 Don’t let them see you crack.

The next day, Powder found a sketch slipped into her textbook. A small dragon doodle, breathing fire on a girl wearing goggles. The girl was punching the dragon in the face.

 Kick anxiety in the teeth.

In the corner, Lux had written: For the headaches.

Powder blinked. She almost laughed. Almost.

She folded the paper neatly and tucked it in her pocket.

They were both breaking, just in different directions.

But something about that week, the little exchanges, the silences, the messy kindness, started to build something.

Something that didn’t quite feel like healing.

But didn’t feel like drowning either.

And for now, that was enough.

The days blurred into each other. The hum of machines, the clink of tools, the smell of metal and oil, the sound of the cane clicking against the polished floor, it was the rhythm of Viktor’s life, the steady beat that kept him anchored. But as much as the work kept his mind occupied, his thoughts kept circling back to Powder.

He had observed her from a distance, at first. The way she sat alone in the workshop, her hands twitching as they worked on her gauntlets, the delicate yet rigid control she exerted over everything she built. There was a darkness to her, something unspoken that haunted her eyes. A part of her that no one else seemed to see.

Viktor had seen it, though.

It was in the way her voice would tremble when she spoke of her work. The way she avoided eye contact, as if she was afraid someone would see the cracks she was hiding. The anxious ticks in her movements, the way she jumped at loud noises, her gaze darting to the corners of the room as if expecting someone to appear.

There was no denying it, something was wrong. Powder wasn’t just a gifted inventor with a troubled past. She was struggling.

It had become harder to ignore after the incident in the courtyard, when Lux had wrapped her arms around Powder and pulled her into that hug, that gesture of affection that was so raw, so open. Powder had frozen in her arms, her breath quickening, and Viktor had seen it. The way her mind had snapped somewhere else. The way her hands had clenched at Lux’s back like she was holding on for dear life. Powder wasn’t just afraid of the world around her. She was afraid of herself.

It wasn’t just the paranoia. Viktor could see the deeper layers, the subtle signs of something far more complicated. There were moments when Powder seemed lost in her own head, her mind spinning in places only she could understand. Sometimes she would speak to herself in hushed whispers, her words too soft to catch, too broken to make sense.

But Viktor didn’t need her words. He understood the silence.

Schizophrenia. The word echoed in his mind. A word he had heard whispered in clinical circles, a diagnosis he knew too well. Powder’s world wasn’t just fractured. It was splitting apart. And it wasn’t something she could fix on her own.

She needs help, he thought, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the observation deck’s railing. But he also knew how dangerous that line of thinking was. Powder wasn’t someone you could just help. She didn’t trust anyone. Not really. And she didn’t want anyone to see the cracks she was desperately trying to hide.

Still, Viktor couldn’t stop himself from watching her. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t some clinical fascination. It was something else. Something he didn’t quite understand.

He found himself drawn to her, even when she was at her most withdrawn, even when she locked herself away in the workshop for hours on end, her hands moving mechanically as she assembled yet another invention. It was in those quiet moments that he saw the fragility in her. He saw the girl beneath the genius. The girl who was fighting a war no one else could see.

It started with small, subtle actions. Viktor would occasionally linger near the workshop, his presence barely noticeable. He’d drop off a tool he thought she might need, or offer a simple comment about her work. Nothing too invasive. Nothing that would force her to confront the things she was running from.

One evening, as Powder worked on her gauntlet, her hands trembling ever so slightly, Viktor approached.

“You’re making progress,” he said, his voice calm and steady, but not too familiar. “But you might want to adjust the pressure valve. It’s prone to overheating if the output’s too high.”

Powder glanced up, startled by the sound of his voice. Her eyes flickered briefly, uncertain, before she quickly returned to her work. “It’s fine,” she muttered, her tone sharp. She was on edge, as always, but Viktor didn’t push.

He watched for a moment longer before stepping away, his steps deliberate but soft.

She’s still in there, he thought, his brow furrowing as he turned toward the door. She just needs someone to reach her.

The next time he saw her was late at night, after everyone had gone to bed. Powder was alone in the workshop, as usual, her fingers dancing over gears and circuits. She barely acknowledged him when he slowly walked inside, but this time, he didn’t speak right away.

He simply stood there for a moment, watching her work, trying to understand the complexity of her mind. She was a puzzle, but not in the way most people thought. She wasn’t just a genius inventor. She was someone trying to put herself together, piece by fragile piece.

He cleared his throat, then spoke softly, almost to himself. “You don’t have to do it all alone, you know.”

Powder froze at his words, her hands stilling on the metal in front of her. She didn’t look up at him, didn’t respond. Viktor wasn’t sure if she had even heard him, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t expecting her to open up right away.

“I’ve seen what you’re capable of,” he said quietly, stepping closer but not too close. “But sometimes… it’s okay to let others help. Even if it’s just a little.”

For a moment, Powder didn’t speak. Viktor felt the air between them thicken with unspoken tension, and then, finally, she spoke.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was thin, almost a whisper, but there was an edge to it. She was trying to protect herself, to keep him from getting too close. “Why do you care?”

Viktor took a breath, his gaze softening. “I don’t know if I can help you,” he said honestly. “But I’ll try. If you’ll let me.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, he thought she might shut him out completely. But then, ever so slightly, her shoulders relaxed. She didn’t turn to face him, but the tension in her posture eased.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, the words just as automatic as her movements. “I’m fine.”

Viktor didn’t push. He didn’t say anything else. He just stayed for a little longer, letting the silence fill the space between them, not in an awkward way, but in a way that felt like a quiet agreement. A bond that didn’t need to be spoken out loud, just understood.

Viktor left the workshop just as quietly as he had entered. But as he limped down the dimly lit halls, his thoughts were still on Powder. He could sense the storm within her, the isolation that she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried.

He would keep watching. He would keep offering the quietest form of help he could.

And maybe, just maybe, she would let him in. Not all the way, no, he wouldn’t push that far, but enough to keep her from falling apart.

For the first time in a long time, Viktor felt the stirrings of something like hope.

Chapter Text

She fucked up.

She fucked up real bad.

And now powder’s gone, to Demacia, thinking that her sister hated her. She should've been more responsible...Janna what the fuck was she thinking?! Telling powder she hated her? Sure powder had been a little irritating and annoying but powder was her sister, she could never hate her.

Vi sat on the floor of their shared bedroom, back against the wall, fingers curled into the ends of her hair, tugging like the pain might replace the ache in her chest. It didn’t.

She should’ve been more responsible… more patient… more anything.

Vi swallowed hard, pulling her knees up to her chest, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The words had come out fast. Sharp. Loud. Like she was trying to hurt on purpose, but only because Vi was scared. Scared Caitlyn would leave her, scared the one good thing she had outside their broken home would disappear because Powder couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once.

But it wasn’t Powder’s fault.

It was hers.

Vi was supposed to protect her. That’s what big sisters do.

Instead, she yelled. She screamed. Told her she was crazy, insane. Told her she ruined everything. Told her she was tired of her.

Tired. Of Powder.

And Powder had flinched. Had stood there in the middle of the hallway, eyes wide. And Powder had whispered, so soft it barely reached her ears:

 “I hate you.”

And Vi… too angry to care, too wrapped up in her own spiral, had said the one thing she could never take back.

“Maybe I hate you too.”

Five words.

A knife straight through a child’s heart.

Then she walked away. The next time she saw her, it was laying on Claggor’s shoulder before everything went to shit, before powder left. Vander explained what was happening. That it was for her own good. That this school would help her. Give her a future. That the Kirammans would make sure she was safe.

And she didn’t say goodbye.

Couldn't even face powder.

Vi punched the wall beside her, knuckles cracking against brick. It didn’t help. It didn’t do anything.

“I’m sorry, Powder…” she whispered into the silence, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

But Powder wasn’t here.

And Vi didn’t know if she’d ever believe, let alone trust her again.

The silence stretched around her like a noose. The kind that didn’t choke. just squeezed slow, until it was all too much.

Vi sat there for what could’ve been hours. Maybe it was hours. Time didn’t move right anymore. Not without the little sounds Powder made, the constant tink-tink-tink of her tools, the hums of half finished songs, the breathy laugh when her inventions did something weird or wonderful or just straight-up stupid.

Now it was quiet. Too quiet.

 Too empty.

Vi looked around the room. Their room. Her side was messy, yeah, but Powder’s side? It still had all her stuff. The bed was still rumpled, little scraps of wires and gears spread across the floor, the shelf of dumb plush toys she’d refuse to get rid of still standing crooked in the corner.

Vi dragged herself over, sitting in front of the shelf, eyes scanning over the ridiculous collection Powder had built. A little monkey with one eye. The bunny, mister bunny, the toy vi had given powder when their mom died. A stuffed blue cat that used to purr until it caught fire last year, whiskers.

She reached out, fingers brushing the singed ear of the cat.

“She brought this one home after that dumb fair…” Vi whispered to herself. “Wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Said it reminded her of me.”

She let out a broken laugh.

“How the hell does this,” she held it up, waving the janky little thing-“remind you of me, huh?”

She paused. Her voice cracked when she answered herself, half mocking, half aching.

“Cause it’s strong, and it doesn’t care if it’s weird… it still works.”

 Powder had said that with so much pride and adoration.

And Vi, she’d just ruffled her hair and said, “Yeah, well. You’re the weird one.”

She clutched the toys to her chest now like it was all she had left. Because maybe it was.

She didn't even know if Powder made it to Demacia okay. Or if she was scared. If she was safe.

 No letters. No calls. 

Because when someone tells you they hate you… why the hell would you ever want to come back?

Vi curled up around the toys and closed her eyes.

 She didn’t cry. She’d done that already. For days. Weeks.

Now?

Now she just hurt.

And in the back of her mind, one thought kept repeating:

I hurt her.

I hurt my sister.

And I don’t know how to fix it.

The door creaked open. It barely made a sound, but Vi heard it anyway. Her ears were tuned for any shift, any echo of her. She didn’t move though. Not until the soft steps came closer, not until Caitlyn’s familiar scent reached her. Powder and polish and something sweet Vi could never name.

She stiffened, pulling the plushies closer to her chest like a child hiding behind a shield.

Caitlyn paused in the doorway. “Vi?”

Vi didn’t answer.

Caitlyn took a slow breath. Then she sat down next to her on the floor without a word, letting the silence stretch again, but this time, it wasn’t so crushing.

“I went by the Council archives today,” Caitlyn said quietly. “I was trying to find a way to track her. Or something that says she made it to Demacia. I haven’t found anything yet, but…” she trailed off.

Vi still didn’t speak. Didn’t look at her. But Caitlyn saw how tightly she was holding the toys.

“She’s not gone forever,” Caitlyn said, her voice gentle. “You’ll get to see her again. You’ll explain. You’ll fix it.”

Vi let out a shaky breath. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” Caitlyn admitted,. “I don’t. But I believe it. And I believe in you.”

That broke something.

Vi turned to her, eyes red-rimmed and tired and so full of guilt it made Caitlyn’s stomach twist.

“I told her I hated her,” Vi whispered. “She looked at me like I’d killed her. Like I was some stranger. And I-I just walked away. I didn’t even take it back.”

Caitlyn reached out, resting a hand over Vi’s. “You were scared. Angry. Hurting.”

“So was she,” Vi snapped, voice cracking. “And I pushed her away when she needed me most.”

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. She just squeezed her hand gently. “You’re not the only one who feels guilty.”

Vi blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I could’ve stopped her, helped her,” Caitlyn said, voice low. “I could’ve stepped in, talked to her, helped you both cool off. But I didn’t. I told myself it was a family thing. That I should give you space.”

She looked down at the floor.

“I’ve seen you punch people for less than what she said to you. And still, you didn’t lay a hand on her. That means something, Vi. It means you love her.”

Vi let her head drop onto Caitlyn’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean it’s enough.”

“It can be,” Caitlyn said softly. “If you don’t give up.”

For a while, they just sat there, pressed close on the floor of the broken room.

“I miss her,” Vi murmured.

“I know.”

“I miss me when I’m with her. I’m not whole without her, Cait. Hell, I don't even remember the last time I hung out with her.”

Caitlyn’s hand slid around her waist, steady, grounding. “Then let’s find her. Together.”

Vi didn’t answer, but the way her fingers curled into Caitlyn’s coat said enough.

Maybe she’d still have to carry the guilt. But at least she didn’t have to carry it alone.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since Caitlyn told her mother. About Powder. About what happened, or what hasn’t happened.

She’d expected anger. Maybe shock even. Something sharp, like always.

But instead, Cassandra just stood there in the hallway, still as a statue, lips parted like a breath had caught in her throat. And then came the guilt. Quiet. Heavy. A kind of guilt Caitlyn had never seen on her before, not even when talking about the war, or the lives sacrificed for peace.

She had looked away and simply said, “I thought I was helping.”

Caitlyn didn’t know what to do with that. What did it mean, to help a child by sending her across the sea, away from everything she knew? Away from the one person she loved most in the world?

Still, there were no calls. No letters. No message from Demacia.

No Powder.

Meanwhile, in Demacia… day 1

Powder sat on the edge of the stiff academy bed, arms wrapped around her knees, cheek pressed against the scratchy sleeve of the uniform they made her wear. It was too clean. Too starched. Nothing like her home.

Not that she had a home anymore-

But that doesn’t matter

This room was bigger than her old one, but somehow felt smaller. Quieter, but not in the nice way. It wasn’t the silence of late night tinkering while Vi snored half off her mattress. This silence was sterile. It was the silence of not being wanted. The silence before the storm

She hadn’t unpacked her things since she got there. She couldn’t. Her bag sat untouched in the corner, still zipped. Still full of the pieces of a world she’d been told to forget.

They’d told her this was a place for gifted children. That she’d be safe here. That she’d be surrounded by structure, by calm, by order.

But nobody told her it would feel like being buried alive.

She stared down at her hands. They didn’t shake anymore. That should’ve been a good thing. But it wasn’t. It felt wrong. Like even her nerves had given up.

She’d tried to be brave that first day. Tried to tell herself Vi would come. That she didn’t really mean it. That it was just a fight. A bad one, sure, but sisters fight, right?

But the second night passed.

And then the third.

And Powder realized something terrifying.

Vi wasn't coming.

Not because she couldn’t. But because she didn’t want to.

She laid back on the bed, curling onto her side, eyes fixed on the wall. They told her to rest. That things would get easier.

But Powder didn’t sleep anymore.

She just… waited.

Waited for a call, a letter, a sign.

Anything.

She even tried writing once. Folded the paper three times. Addressed it to the only name she knew: “Vi. The Lanes. Piltover.” But her hand hovered over the words.

What if Vi didn’t read it?

Worse... what if she did?

What if she read it and just didn’t care?

She crumpled the letter and threw it in the trash bin.

No one noticed.

No one ever noticed.

She thought of the way Vi looked at her that day. Like she was something broken. Something wrong.

“Maybe I hate you too.”

Those words rang louder than anything else in this cold, pretty place. Louder than the lectures. Louder than the silence.

Maybe Vi meant it.

Maybe Vi sent her away because she was broken. Because she was crazy. Maybe she ruined everything like they all said.

And maybe she was better off here. Quiet. Small. Forgotten.

A .... jinx

At least then, she couldn't hurt anyone again.

But Janna, did it hurt.

Demacia, Day 33

Powder didn’t mean to laugh.

But Lux had said something, so dumb, so fast, with that wide, clueless grin, and Powder’s laugh just slipped out before she could stop it. Like a hiccup. A surprise.

Lux’s face lit up like she’d just passed an exam.

“There it is!” she said, pointing like it was some rare flower she found in a field.

“You do smile. I knew it!”

Powder blinked. The laugh died in her throat.

She felt… caught. Like someone opened a door she wasn’t ready to see behind.

“I wasn’t smiling,” she muttered, pulling her knees up to her chest again.

Lux just shrugged and sat down beside her on the stone bench, their schoolbooks forgotten between them.

“Sure you were,” Lux said softly, voice tilting just enough to be teasing without feeling mean. “But hey, I get it. This place sucks when you’re new.”

Powder didn’t respond right away.

Because it didn’t suck as much anymore. Not with Lux around.

Lux was different. Too bright. Too warm. Too much like the sun through stained glass. She talked too much, laughed at her own jokes, and always walked like she was two seconds from skipping.

But Powder didn’t mind.

Because sometimes, when Lux leaned in too close or threw an arm around her shoulders, Powder’s chest didn’t hurt as much.

And that scared her.

Because it felt a little like Vi. But also… not.

Lux didn’t yell.

 Lux didn’t leave.

 Lux stayed.

And maybe that was worse. Because Lux made her feel like she mattered again. Like she wasn’t just something people fixed and sent away when she got too loud or too much.

“Hey, Powder,” Lux said one afternoon, as they sat on the library steps after class. “You ever think… maybe you were sent here for a reason? Like, not a punishment or exile or whatever, just… fate?”

Powder snorted. “Fate’s cruel.”

“Maybe,” Lux agreed. “But I think it gives people second chances too. And maybe you’re one of the lucky ones.”

Powder looked at her, eyes wide.

No one had ever called her lucky before.

That night, for the first time in almost a week, Powder unpacked one of her bags. Just one. Just the small one, full of scrap parts and broken metal bits she used to fix when her hands got too jittery.

She didn’t cry.

 She didn’t smile either.

But her fingers moved again. Carefully. Gently. Like she remembered how to build things without needing to shake first.

There was still no message from Piltover. No word from Vi.

But Lux had written a note.

It sat folded under Powder’s pillow, scrawled in loopy handwriting:

"You don’t have to be okay every day. I’m still glad you’re here."

Powder held the note close to her chest.

It didn’t fix the hole inside her, but it warmed the edges.

And maybe, just maybe…

She could live with that.

Powder was quiet again.

Not in the way that made you uncomfortable. Not the kind of quiet that begged to be broken with chatter or jokes or the tap-tap-tap of shoes down marble hallways.

It was the kind of quiet that Lux needed.

The kind that settled into your bones and wrapped around your chest like a blanket, warm but not smothering.

Lux didn’t tell Powder that. She couldn’t. Powder had enough pain in her eyes already, she didn’t need hers too.

But the truth was… Lux needed her.

Demacia had always been too much.

Too perfect. Too polished. Too blinding.

Everyone thought being a Crownguard meant she had it easy. Top of the class. Chosen by the Light. Beautiful robes, beautiful home, beautiful life.

But they didn’t see the way her mother’s eyes scanned her for flaws like cracks in glass.

 Or how Jarvan smiled too tightly whenever she hesitated before speaking.

 Or how Garen barely looked at her anymore.

They didn’t see the pressure. The weight. The way it built and built until it felt like something inside her would snap.

She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t break. Because if she did, they’d see. They’d know she didn’t belong here, not the way they wanted her to.

But Powder? Powder already knew what it felt like to be broken. And Lux didn’t have to pretend around her.

There was a moment the other day, in the greenhouse.

They weren’t even talking. Powder was fiddling with some broken mechanical bird she'd found in the school's junkyard, and Lux was… just watching her.

Something about her hands. The way they moved. Not with grace, not with precision, just stubborn purpose. Like she didn’t need permission to make something matter.

Lux had wanted to cry.

Because that was what she needed. Someone who didn’t expect her to shine or lead or perform. Someone who could just sit there in the quiet and not need anything from her but presence.

She didn’t tell Powder that either.

Didn’t tell her that the first time she made her laugh, Lux had gone to the bathroom and cried. Quiet, fast. Hand over her mouth.

Because that laugh? That cracked, shaky little laugh?

It was the first honest thing Lux had heard in months.

She’d started writing letters to herself again.

Not diary entries- Lux didn’t believe in those. But letters. Little things. Stuff she couldn’t say aloud.

Dear Powder,

 Thank you for making me feel like I’m not a fraud today.

 I know you think you’re the one who’s broken, but I think you saved me today.

 Again.

She never sent them, obviously. Powder didn’t even know they existed.

But maybe one day…

Maybe one day, she’d find the words to tell her just how much she mattered. Just how much Powder had become her safe place.

That evening, Lux sat beside her on the windowsill in their dorm. Powder didn’t say anything, just handed her a half-finished trinket with shy eyes and ink stained fingers.

It looked like a little sun. Twisted metal and imperfect, but it still caught the light.

Lux held it in her palm like it was sacred.

“You always give me the best things,” she whispered.

Powder shrugged. “I just fix broken stuff.”

Lux turned her head, smiled softly. “Yeah… me too.”

They didn’t talk after that. Didn’t need to.

And for once, Lux didn’t feel like she had to glow.

Just be.

Chapter Text

Vander had tried. 

He’d tried to play the game their way, nod when they nodded, shake hands with the people who’d rather see Zaun buried beneath Piltover than raised beside it. 

But it had been a month. 

A month of silence. 

A month of pretending Powder’s absence was normal. That it didn’t ache every single time he walked past her empty room. That he didn’t stay up at night staring at the little notebook she left behind, the one labeled “For Fixing Big Things”. 

She promised she’d call Claggor. 

She promised and she never lies to Claggor. 

So where the fuck was she? 

The Kiramman estate loomed above him like it always did, polished, perfect, pristine. But Vander didn’t feel small when he walked through its gates. 

He felt furious. 

The guards at the door recognized him instantly, shifting uncomfortably when he didn’t stop. 

“Councilor Kiramman isn’t taking visitors right now-” 

“She’ll take me,” Vander snapped, his voice like gravel and gunpowder. “Or I’ll take the damn door down.” 

They didn’t argue. 

Within moments, he was inside, boots tracking Undercity dirt across marble. He didn’t care. Let them see what their decisions cost. 

Cassandra appeared at the top of the staircase, serene as ever, but he saw it in the way her eyes flickered when she saw him. 

She knew why he was here. 

“Vander.” 

“Where is she?” he growled. “Powder. Where the hell is she?” 

No greeting. No formality. Just the question that had hollowed him out night after night. 

“Why haven’t we heard from her?” He stepped forward, looming with grief and fury. “She promised she’d call. I let you send her to that damned school because you said it was safe. That it was better. So where is she?” 

Cassandra descended slowly, each step measured like she could defuse him with calm alone. 

“She’s at the academy,” she replied evenly. “She’s safe.” 

“Safe?” Vander’s voice rose, cracking at the edges. “She hasn’t called. She hasn’t written. Not a word. You call that safe?” 

Tobias appeared in the hallway behind her, silent, arms folded. Always silent. Always watching. 

Vander’s hands curled into fists at his sides. 

“She promised,” he said, softer now. “Said she’d call. Said she’d let us know she made it alright. I waited. The kids waited every night, hoping she'd pick up a damn phone. Even Mylo.” 

Cassandra’s expression wavered, just a little. 

“We haven’t heard from her either,” she said, quieter now. “Not in over two weeks.” 

“What?” 

Tobias shifted, jaw tight. “There’s been… complications.” 

Vander’s stomach dropped. “What kind of complications?” 

Cassandra exhaled slowly, stepping past her husband. Her voice was thin but sharp. “War, Vander. It’s begun again. Noxus crossed Demacia’s border a few days after powder arrived.”  

“You didn’t think to tell me?” 

Cassandra’s gaze hardened. “And what would you have done? Stormed the Demacian frontlines with a wrench? The Kiramman name can only protect her so far when kingdoms start throwing fire and soldiers. For all we know as of right now, communication with institutions like the academy has been restricted. Prioritized for military use.” 

Vander’s shoulders tensed like coiled wire. “So what, we just sit on our hands? Hope she’s still alive?” 

“Of course not,” Cassandra snapped, finally letting her mask slip. “But I’d remind you that you sent her too. That we made this choice. You gave me your permission, Vander. Don’t stand here now and pretend your hands are clean.” 

That hit hard. And true. 

Vander swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “I know what I did,” he said hoarsely. “And I’m trying to fix it.” 

Cassandra nodded slowly. 

“So am I.” 

She turned, walking toward a nearby desk. A crisp letter sat unfolded beside a travel pack and council seal. Vander furrowed his brow. 

“What’s that?” 

“A retrieval order,” she said. “For someone I trust.” 

Tobias stepped forward. “Jayce Talis. We’ve asked him to go to Demacia under the guise of a diplomatic mission. But his true priority is the academy.” 

“He’s going to bring her back.” 

Vander blinked. “You’d really send one of your own councilmen across the sea for her? The golden boy?” 

“Yes,” Cassandra said, tired and honest. “Because I owe her that much. Because we do.” 

Vander sank into the nearest chair, the adrenaline draining from his system all at once. 

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding his breath. 

“You think she’s okay?” 

. 

. 

. 

“No.”

The next day...

Jayce had just settled into his lab when the knock came. 

His desk was a war zone, hextech schematics, soldering irons, half-assembled prototypes, and at least three mugs of cold tea his mother brought in. He was elbow-deep in a stabilizing core redesign when the door creaked open. 

“Councilor Talis,” said a voice from the hall. “You’re needed upstairs.” 

Jayce didn’t even look up. “Tell them I’ll be twenty minutes. I’m at a delicate point.” 

“It’s from Mrs. Kiramman. She said you’d want to hear this.” 

That made him pause. 

Jayce set down his tools, carefully wiped his hands on a stained cloth, and made his way out of the lab, every footstep dragging just a little with dread.

When he entered the Kirammans' formal briefing room, Cassandra was already there, poised, focused, as always, with Tobias beside her. Jayce stood straighter on instinct. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

“We’re sending you to Demacia,” Cassandra said, straight to the point. 

Jayce blinked. “Wait. What?” 

“A diplomatic mission,” Tobias added. “On paper. But your real priority is to retrieve someone. A child.” 

Jayce’s jaw actually dropped. 

“A... child? I- What?” 

Cassandra walked over and handed him a folder. He fumbled it open. 

Inside: a council-stamped mission order, travel authorization, and a small photo clipped to the corner. A girl, maybe nine or ten, wild blue hair as bright as a hexgem half a smile, big tired eyes that tugged at something in his chest he didn’t know how to name. 

“Her name is Powder,” Cassandra said. “She’s been at the Demacian Advanced Academy for Gifted Youths. We haven't heard anything from powder since she's arrived.” 

Jayce stared at the photo. “Okay, but... I’m not good with kids. I mean- look, I’m a scientist. Not a... guardian.” 

“You won’t have to be,” Tobias said. “We just need you to get her out. Bring her home. Quietly.” 

Jayce raked a hand through his hair. “Can’t you send a professional? A rescue team? Someone who doesn’t... panic when children cry?” 

Cassandra’s voice softened. “She’s not just anyone, Jayce. She’s family to people we care about. She matters. And she’s alone.” 

Jayce looked down at the photo again. 

Powder didn’t look angry or even sad in it. She just looked... tired, numb. Like she’d been holding her breath for a long time. 

“What’s the Academy’s status?” 

“On lockdown,” Cassandra said. “Because of the war. They claim they’re protecting students, but we’ve heard little. And frankly, I trust you more than most of our ‘diplomatic’ options.” 

Jayce laughed nervously. “Because I built a glowing hammer?” 

“Because you don’t abandon people,” Cassandra replied simply. 

That shut him up.

Back in his lab, Jayce stared at the tools on his bench. 

His hands should’ve been working. He had prototypes to finish, equations to run. Piltover’s future humming beneath his fingertips. 

Instead, he picked up the photo again. 

Powder. Alone in a war zone. No contact. No sign of life. 

Jayce swallowed. 

“Shit.” 

He gathered his coat. 

This wasn’t a schematic he could blueprint. 

But he’d figure it out anyway. 

Because maybe, just maybe... she needed someone to show up. 

And that, he could do.

Chapter Text

Jayce had never set foot in Demacia before, though its reputation had preceded it. He’d heard it described in the kinds of words people reserved for polished heirlooms, clean and pristine, white and blue, shining and proud. Now, standing in the shadow of its colossal gates, he could say with certainty that the stories were almost understated.  

The towering white walls gleamed under the midday sun, as if scrubbed by hand each morning. The air itself felt crisp and controlled, like even the wind had to obey certain rules. A pristine monument to order, worship, and tradition.  

But right now, all Jayce could see was a barricade, an obstacle carved from marble and authority. It didn’t help that his nerves were tangling in his gut like wires about to short-circuit. Maybe it was the war looming in the background, the tension that hummed even in a place so picture perfect. Or maybe it was just the gnawing thought that Demacia’s perfection wasn’t built for people like Powder… or for people like him.  

The moment the gates opened, he stepped through into streets that were almost too clean to be real. His boots clicked sharply against the immaculate stone, every step echoing in the still air. The city was beautiful, yes, but in a way that left him unsettled, beauty with edges too sharp to touch without bleeding.  

He made his way straight to the academy, its spires rising like spears into the sky, blue-and-gold banners snapping proudly in the wind. Inside, the polished marble floors reflected the light so perfectly that Jayce almost felt wrong walking on them. Long hallways stretched ahead, lined with portraits of stern faced heroes and military banners, each one whispering a story of glory and discipline.  

On the airship over, he’d tried to prepare himself. He’d rehearsed greetings, explanations, even whole conversations in his head. But every time, the words came out wrong.  

‘Hi, Powder. I’m Jayce. I’m here to take you home.’  

No matter how he phrased it, it sounded hollow. Maybe even insulting. He didn’t know her and she didn’t know him. And frankly, he wasn’t sure he deserved to be the one doing this. He wasn’t a caretaker. He wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t even a soldier, not in the way Demacia would respect. He was a scientist with too many unfinished projects and an already overfull plate, one who’d somehow been handed the task of retrieving a girl from a foreign academy in the middle of a brewing war.  

The thought made his hands clench inside his coat pockets. He could almost hear Cassandra’s voice in his head, calm but firm, explaining that he was the only one available, the only one she trusted to navigate the politics. But that trust felt heavier now, like a weight pressing down on his shoulders.  

And underneath it all was the smallest, most dangerous thought:  

what if she didn’t want to go?

Jayce had never felt more out of his depth. The sprawling white-stone courtyards of Demacia’s academy buzzed with the midday rush, students laughing, voices rising like a chorus of birdsong.  

Jayce’s eyes locked on the one figure he’d come for.  

There she was, sitting at a sunlit table in the dining hall, blue hair tousled, goggles hanging loose around her neck, her eyes bright as she leaned in close, listening intently to who he assumed to be Powder’s friend. Powder was smiling. Not the haunted, hollow half smile from the photo in her file, but a real smile, the kind that lit up a room.  

For a fleeting moment, Jayce dared hope.  

Then Powder’s gaze landed on him.  

Her laughter caught in her throat, silence dropping like a stone in a pond. The light in her eyes flickered and shattered, replaced by confusion, a sudden flash of panic.  

Lux’s smile faltered as she followed Powder’s gaze, her brows knitting in concern. “Powder… who is-?”  

Jayce swallowed his nerves and stepped forward cautiously. “Powder… it’s time to come with me. Your family- they need you.”  

Powder’s head jerked sharply, eyes closed tightly, as if trying to will him away. Her tray clattered onto the table, sending cutlery skittering across the floor.  

“No. No, I’m not leaving,” she said, voice trembling but fierce. “I just got here! I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t ruin everything! I promise.”  

A hush fell over the hall. Conversations stuttered to a stop. Students’ eyes flicked between them, curiosity and judgment hanging thick in the air.  

Jayce took another step, lowering his voice. “Powder, I’m not saying you’re to blame-” His voice cracked slightly, weighed down with guilt and urgency. “But there’s a war starting. Demacia and Noxus are on the brink. It’s not safe here anymore. Vander-”  

Vander’s name drew a sharp flinch. Powder’s lips curled with bitterness. “Vander?” she spat the name like a curse. “He sent you ? A blue belly? Couldn’t even come himself?!”  

Lux stood abruptly, stepping between Jayce and Powder, eyes blazing with protective fire. “She’s fine here. Safe here.”  

Jayce’s throat tightened, words faltering. “You don’t understand, if this escalates-”  

Before he could finish, a quiet, measured voice cut through the tension like a knife.  

“I’m afraid Councilor Kiramman has… misunderstood her influence here.”  

All eyes turned to the far archway, where Viktor leaned casually against a column, his cane tapping deliberately against the polished stone floor. His amber eyes gleamed, unnervingly calm as they swept over the scene.  

Jayce froze, mouth half-open. “And you are?”  

Viktor’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. “Doctor Viktor. I’m here to ensure the continued prosperity of the academy, and its students.” He took a deliberate step forward, each tap of his cane punctuating his words. “I hear there is concern over Miss Powder’s impending departure. Tell me, Jayce, is this true? That you’ve come to remove her?”  

How did he now my name?  

Jayce squared his shoulders. “I’ve been sent to bring her back safely.”  

Viktor’s smile deepened, but his eyes never wavered. “I see. And does she want to leave?”  

Jayce glanced back at Powder, who was now shrinking against the edge of the bench, her breaths quickening, panic bubbling to the surface a student with blond hair by her side, offering comfort.  

“I don’t think she does,” Jayce admitted. “But sometimes we have to do things for her own good.” he turned his gaze back at doctor Viktor  

Viktor’s gaze sharpened. “Ah, the old ‘for their own good.’ A dangerous phrase in times like these.”  

He turned on his cane, tapping it softly on the floor before gesturing toward a side corridor. “Come. Let’s discuss this away from prying eyes.”  

Jayce hesitated, weary of Viktor and how he already new things that hasnt even been said yet, then nodded, following Viktor down the quiet hallway lined with tall windows that caught shards of afternoon light.  

The corridor smelled faintly of polished stone and old books, but there was something else, something metallic, clinical.  

Viktor stopped before a heavy door, unlocking it with a slender key. The room beyond was dim, lined with tall shelves filled with delicate glass apparatuses and softly humming machinery.  

Jayce’s heart raced.  

“You know, Jayce,” Viktor began, voice silky smooth as he gestured for Jayce to sit at a small table, “Powder is no ordinary child. Her... talents are rare, unstable, and invaluable.”  

Jayce swallowed. “I’m aware. But that’s why she needs to be somewhere safe, with people who care.”  

Viktor smiled thinly. “And yet, she refuses to leave. She’s found something here, something this city and its ideals seem to give her.”  

Jayce clenched his fists. “She’s scared.”  

Viktor’s voice dropped, barely above a whisper, but every word struck like steel. “Which is exactly why I cannot let you leave with her in your care.”  

Jayce blinked, confusion flashing into suspicion. “What-? Cassandra assured me everything was clear. That I would have full authority to bring Powder home.”  

“Ah, Councilor Kiramman.” Viktor’s smile deepened, but it was no longer friendly. “So much trust placed in assurances that... do not account for all parties involved.”

Lux guided Powder away from the bustling dining hall, weaving through echoing stone corridors and grand archways until they reached a narrow staircase tucked behind a tapestry of the ancient Demacian battles. The steps creaked softly under their feet as they climbed, the noise of the midday crowd fading behind them like a distant storm.  

At the top, Lux pushed open a small door to a secluded rooftop garden. It was a hidden sanctuary, her hidden sanctuary. The warm sun filtered through delicate vines climbing wrought iron trellises, and a gentle breeze stirred the scent of blooming jasmine. The noise of the academy seemed impossibly far away.  

Powder sank onto a weathered bench, her shoulders trembling as the fight drained out of her. Lux sat beside her quietly for a moment, the silence a balm neither of them quite knew how to break.  

Powder’s voice cracked first. “I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to leave you.”  

Lux’s throat tightened. She swallowed down the lump of emotions she’d been holding back all day. Fear, frustration, hope, and something deeper, something raw. She turned to Powder, eyes steady and real.  

 
“Neither do I.” 

Powder looked up, searching, her blue hair falling into her face. Lux reached out, brushing it away gently, her hand lingering a moment against Powder’s cheek. 
“This place… it’s not perfect. You know that. But it’s the first time I’ve seen you light up. Like you’re not just surviving, but actually living.” 

Powder’s lip trembled. 
“I’m scared, Lux. Scared I’ll have to go back to being that girl nobody wanted. Scared I’ll lose you.” 

Lux’s chest ached. She wanted to say everything would be fine, but the truth felt heavier than that. 
“Sometimes, life isn’t fair. Sometimes it breaks us in ways no one sees.” 

Her voice cracked. 
“But I don’t want you to think you have to be perfect. Or strong all the time. I’ve been pretending for years, smiling when I wanted to scream, glowing when I felt like I was fading.” 

Powder’s eyes widened. 
“You? But you’re so… bright.” 

Lux was still for a moment, then laughed, a bitter, quiet sound. 
“Bright on the outside. But inside? I’m a mess. Just like you. And I’m tired of hiding it.” 

She looked down at her hands, twisting a loose thread on her sleeve. 
“Sometimes I wish I could just-” She clenched her fists, and in an instant, a faint shimmer of golden light flickered between her fingertips, glowing softly before she quickly swallowed it back, the light vanishing like a held breath. 

Powder froze. 
“What was that?” 

Lux’s face paled, eyes darting nervously. “I-I didn’t mean to-” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m a mage. But you can’t tell anyone, okay? Please. If they find out… it could ruin everything for me. Please...”  

Her voice cracked with fear, and for the first time, Powder saw behind the bright smile, a vulnerability so raw it caught in her throat.  

Powder blinked, processing, then her lips curled into a shy smile. 
“I won’t, I promise... that’s… actually kinda cool.” 

Lux looked up, surprise flickering across her features. “Cool? You don’t think I’m weird or dangerous?”  

Powder shook her head, a small laugh bubbling free. 
“No. It’s pretty. Like… like magic should be. Not scary. Not something to hide.” 

Her fingers brushed Lux’s hand, warm and steady. 
“Maybe… maybe being a mage isn’t something to be ashamed of.” 

Lux’s smile softened, hope blooming in her eyes. 
“Maybe not.” 

For a moment, the fear and the doubts seemed to fade, replaced by something fragile but real, a connection built on trust and acceptance.  

And in that quiet rooftop garden, under the wide Demacian sky, two broken girls found a reason to believe in something brighter.

Jayce’s patience snapped like a brittle wire. Viktor’s calm, measured words felt like poison in his veins, like an excuse to trap Powder here, to cage her under the guise of protection.  

With a sudden, furious motion, Jayce grabbed Viktor’s cane and twisted. The slender metal bent and cracked, splintering with a sharp snap that echoed through the silent corridor.  

Viktor’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t move to stop him.  

“No more games,” Jayce said through clenched teeth. “I’m taking her home. Now.”  

He turned on his heel and stormed down the hall, adrenaline propelling his steps, ignoring the uneasy glances of passing students and staff.  

The academy was a labyrinth, but Jayce knew where to find her, the dormitories.  

His heart hammered as he reached the heavy wooden door to Powder’s room.  

He raised his hand to knock, but the door creaked open just as he reached it.  

Inside stood Powder, framed by dim light, holding a crude, handmade gun leveled squarely at him.  

Her blue hair was tousled, eyes wide and fierce and at the same time distant, hands trembling but unwavering.  

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned, voice sharp as broken glass.  

Shit.  

Chapter Text

“Wait! Wai-” Jayce cut himself off by dodging the bullet that just came his way, hissing as it launched itself in the wooden door frame.  

“Powder! Just wait- put it down, put the gun dowwwWWWN!” He barely moved out the way before powder let out another shot.  

“Don't come any closer!” Her skinny arms shook, and her hands turned white by how hard she gripped the gun. “You’re not taking me back. I’m not going back there!” 

Jayce raised his hands slowly, palms out. He tried to steady his voice, but his heart was hammering so loud he barely heard himself. 

“Powder please, listen to me- no one’s punishing you. No one’s angry. This isn’t about blame-” 

“Liar!” she snapped, voice splintering into something raw. She drops the makeshift gun, her hands turning to her hair to grip now.  

“Mmmn... you- you're just like Vander! Liar, liar, liar, LIAR!” She screams just as her knees buckled, they made rough contact with the wooden floor, forming bruises and scratches. 

Powder wasn’t in the room anymore, she wasn’t here right now, Jayce could tell by the frantic and lost look in her eyes. She was in the room physically but her mind what gone, somewhere darker 

Jayce slowly kicked the gun away from her, and then into the room, trying his best not to further scare the poor girl. 

 “Janna” he muttered.  

‘He really was not good with kids’ 

“Powder…” he said softly, kneeling down but keeping his distance, lowering his voice like he would to a spooked animal. He could tell she couldn’t hear him. 

The girl had started muttering and whispering words he couldn't hear, body tense and ridged like a spooked animal, about to run. But then began to do something more frightening, her hands that were once pulling at her hair like a rope, were now bashing against her head... she was hitting herself, hurting herself. 

“Powder-” Jayce said as he watches it getting worse. “No- no, no, no, Powder, stop- please stop!” His voice cracked. He reached a hand toward her, hesitated, and pulled it back. “You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe-” 

Jayce’s chest ached. He forced himself forward, heart in his throat. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal, he closed the space between them inch by inch. 

Now he could hear her, words tumbling over each other like broken shards of glass being dumped into a trashcan. 

“- my faultmyfaultmyfault- shouldn’t be here- ruin everything- badbadbad— shut up shut UP!-” 

He had to do something; he couldn’t just watch... watch her tear herself apart. 

“Powder,” he whispered. “It’s not your fault. Not any of it. You’re just… tired. You’re so tired, aren’t you?” 

Her hands slowed, faltered, now deeply scratching her arms, leaving red burning marks across them. 

“...so tired,” she echoed, barely a sound. Her nails hovered now, trembling, just above her skin now, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop or just didn’t have the strength to keep going. 

Jayce swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.” 

He eased himself lower until he was sitting on the floor across from her. Not touching, not crowding, just there. His legs ached from crouching, but he stayed still, afraid even his breathing might spook her again. 

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” he said, voice shaking. “You don’t have to fight me. I’m not here to drag you away, not like this. I just… I need you to be okay. Please.” 

That’s when she looked at him, actually looked at him. Jayce’s heart ached painfully but kept soft eye contact and an even softer smile 

For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the ragged sound of her breathing, the way her chest heaved like each inhale was a battle she wasn’t sure was worth winning. Her pupils were blown wide, lost in some invisible war only she could see. It was almost like she was looking right past him. 

Jayce didn’t move. He let the silence stretch, hoping- praying it might feel like safety to her. 

Powder blinked once. Twice. Her gaze refocused, just a little, and her lip trembled. 
“I can’t go back,” she whispered, voice shaking like cracked glass. “They don’t want me. They never did. Vander… Vi... she- they hate me-” 

Her throat closed, cutting the words off in a choked sob. 

Jayce’s heart clenched so hard it hurt. 

 
“Maybe they didn’t know how to show it,” he said gently. “Maybe they were scared too. Sometimes… adults mess up. Even the ones who mean well. Especially the ones who mean well.” 

Something in her expression cracked at that. The fight bled out of her shoulders, leaving only exhaustion, only hurt. 

She looked at him once more, eyes dull and dazed, before she sagged, blinking slow, then slumped sideways to the floor, out cold before she even hit. 

Jayce startled forward on instinct, catching her shoulders before her head struck the wood. 

“Shit,” he breathed, heart hammering. She was light, frighteningly light. And covered in a cold sweat. 

He gently and carefully placed her onto the bed and quickly went for the trash can. Vomit and strangled gasps and wheezes came out his mouth, wiping it with his sleeve, he glanced back at the sleeping girl. 

‘Just what the fuck had this girl been through.’ 

With a heavy sigh he pulled himself up, trying to get himself back together. He had a job to do and now it's easier. But Janna, if he couldn’t feel the guilt eating him up right now... Jayce sank onto the edge of the bed beside her, keeping a cautious distance. His hands rested lightly on his knees, fingers fidgeting, his own chest still hammering. 

After a moment, he took a deep breath and carefully scooped her into his arms. She was so small, so fragile. If she woke, she might panic. But there was no time, he had to move before he collapsed too. 

Jayce rose, careful to keep her cradled against him, feet silent on the polished floor as he made his way down the dim hallway. A staff member with her freshly packed bags followed silently.